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"A slut never wants a clout whilst her apernt holds out." [Apron-string-hold: property held in virtue of a wife.]
Miss M. A. Courtney, Glossary of Words in Use in Cornwall: West Cornwall, 1880, p. 1.

FREE FLOW FLAVA — Delusion
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0CZ1vJGn0mM

"But, for Want of Room, I was obliged to postpone it till this... And, indeed, herein lies the chief Art of a Planter, 
to plant so that he may have a quick Return ; for, as Man's life is but short, in Comparison of a Tree's, it behoves 
him to prevent the usual Discouragement as much as in him lies, viz, — Of Planting for another to enjoy. — ...
which very likely would answer better than what one of my Neighbours did, who, being possessed of a House and 
large Orchard by Apron-string-hold, felled almost all his Fruit-Trees, because he every Day expected the Death of 
his sick Wife, and then all Trees, standing on the Premises, were to be another's."
William Ellis, Modern Husbandman, For the Month of November, Chapter XVI. Of planting trees &c., 1744, p. 118.

Leandra Amell withers necromantic transfer to Hawke. In his exile, Malcolm had brought own Starkhaven daughter.

Two Feet — Love is A B*tch
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lrF9oikJu-w

"I have great faith in fools — self-confidence my friends will call it."
Edgar Allan Poe, Marginalia, November 1844.

"For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride
In the sepulchre there by the sea— In her tomb by the side of the sea."
[« Car la lune jamais ne rayonne sans m’apporter des songes de la belle Annabel Lee ; et les étoiles jamais ne se lèvent 
que je ne sente les yeux brillants de la belle Annabel Lee ; et ainsi, toute l’heure de nuit, je repose à côté de ma chérie, 
— de ma chérie, — ma vie et mon épouse, dans ce sépulcre près de la mer, dans sa tombe près de la bruyante mer. »]
Edgar Allan Poe, Annabel Lee, poem, trans. Stéphane Mallarmé, 1849.

Agents of every species try to catch remains of Ferelden Archdemon; memories of three Grey Wardens carry weight.