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whirlybirbs · 3 years

Note

"can you stop moving?" w/ cullen? i loved your other piece 🥺

; MAULING —

summary: the hunting party returns.

pairing: cullen rutherford / mage ! inquisitor (lavellan)

word count: 1.2k

a/n: i nearly scrapped this but the dialogue was too much fun, and i strongly enjoy cullen being reduced to a worried ball of anxiety over the herald so,,, y’know...... the other great feat in da:i beside corypheus....... bears

It’s Dorian’s voice that Cullen hears first — it’s a curt shout that cuts through the early spring air. Winter has lingered, and as Cullen pushes up from his bed and through the large doors to his quarters, he hears the desperate call for the healers.

The air is cold against his face. Bitterly so.

It’s early — the sun is just rising over the horizon and as he jumps into his boots, dressed in nothing more than his leathers and tunic, he can hear Sera trying desperately to keep someone’s attention.

Ser Cullen Rutherford can’t help the way his heart sinks.

You had set out with Dorian, Sera, and Bull two days prior — with the supply lines stretched thin after the battle at Haven, a ride through the Frostbacks may provide some game with spring slowing crawling into the days. There’d been chatter of some rams, fennec, and elk being spotted by scouting parties a week earlier. The entire Council had been thankful for this news — Cullen reasoned full bellies may result in an uptick in morale.

You’d been eager to take up the task, and...

“Sure, we can handle it, you said,” comes Bull’s voice, rising above the early morning fray that’s spilling into the courtyard, “Be enough meat for twenty men, you’d said!”

It’s dripping with sarcasm, the angry sort that works itself out of the Qunari under pressure — and as Cullen barrels down the battlements, into the cold air, he finds there’s plenty reason for it.

You’re slipping from the back of Dorian’s mount, into the arms of the healers, when he stumbles upon the scene.

“Oh good,” Dorian croaks, “Now, Cullen is here to witness the height of your stupidity, your worship. Isn’t that nice?”

Cullen’s eyes are wide — and almost immediately Sera has narrowed in on the flash of terrified concern at the gruesome scene before him. She notes that Cullen looks rather disheveled; that tunic of his leaves little to the imagination. Tight in all the right places as Dorian would say. Hm. He’s worried. Cully-wully looks a bit scared.

The trickster is laughing sheepishly, trying to step into the Commander’s view, when you speak up from the spot on the canvas stretcher. A bloodied finger waggles in the air as the healers shush you.

Maker, there’s mirth in your voice. “Worth it.”

“Was it, Inquisitor?” barks Dorian, moving to hand off the reigns of his horse as he rounds Cullen’s side, “Was it, really?”

“What in Andraste’s name happened?” comes Cullen’s voice, finally, as he spurs into action, pushing past Bull and Sera and Dorian to crouch by the healers. His hands are rasied, as if to silence the fray long enough to wrap his head around just why the Herald of Andraste is now laying amongst the mud.

You’re in horrid shape, and the amount of blood painting your robes is not lost on the Knight.

You, suddenly, find your pride has run off — and you feel small under Ser Cullen’s eyes for the first time ever. His hair, all wild blonde tresses that have been muddled with sleep, curls in the morning air. There’s worry etched into his expression and guilt is all that lands on your tongue in reply. It’s like cotton, and suddenly you feel sick.

(...Has he always been this handsome?)

You’re thankful Dorian is the one to respond in your stead.

“Her ‘holiness’ thought that a black bear might be a worthy opponent this morning,” he waves his hands, dark eyes looking incredulously at the woman he considers to be one of his closest friends — it would be almost laughable, the entire scenario, if the carnage wasn’t so horrible, “Something about pelts! And meat! And Maker knows what else!”

You cry out in pain — and Cullen’s gaze snaps quickly at the sight the peeled away bandages reveal. Bull or Sera or Dorian had done a good enough job patching you up, seeing as somehow you hadn’t bled out. The four long drags of a black bear’s claws run down your jaw, along the curve of your neck and shoulder. They’re deep. They’ve painted your tunic crimson.

You shiver. Bitterly, you avert your eyes from the lot of them hovering over you. “I hadn’t anticipated the mother —”

“The...!” Cullen’s mouth snaps shut, “Maker, just how many bears were there?”

At once, the whole party speaks. “Three.”

Cullen, really, can only shake his head and close his eyes. Maker preserve him. “I wish I hadn’t asked.”

“We have,” you inhale sharply as a healer, whose hands glow a warm orange, passes the magic over your cheek, “enough meat to feed the entire camp now.”

Bull tsks. “You almost became a kebab, kid. No use in serving up Inquisitor stew.”

“I —!”

Your voice drowns in the sudden flash of pain. This is a lesson. A rather nasty one. One that you’re hoping doesn’t scar, but... with the way the healers are chattering in hushed tones in Elvish has you imagining just how gnarly the wound is. It certainly felt like a lesson that would lay etched into your skin for months to come.

“Just rest, Inquisitor,” Cullen sighs, and you wonder how hard you’d hit your head on the way down — he looks nothing like his usual part, stripped of armor and furs. Now, in the morning sun, he’s no Knights Templar, no war-born Keeper of Mages, no lion crested Commander of the Second Inquisition.

He’s simply Cullen.

Exhausted, worried, and freezing Cullen.

“You’re going to need your beauty sleep now, my dear,” Dorian chirps, shaking his head, “Gone and ruined your beauty this has.”

Cullen frowns at that. You see it. It’s gone in a blink.

The tension you two had been playing upon for the last month is gone. Evaporated. In its stead, concern lingers. It snatches your breath.

Guilt, still, sits on your tongue.

“The meat...”

Your voice wanders off, finger hanging in the air — but, Cullen catches the meaning. He’ll have requisitions see to it. Sure enough, there’s an obscene amount being towed by Bull’s stead. In a make-shift, stick sled lay three enormous pelts and enough meat to keep everyone’s bellies full for the night.

Then this was not for nothing.

Cullen stands and you both avert your gazes.

“I’ll see to it that it’s cleaned and prepared, your worship,” and then, as he leans from one boot to the other and props his hands upon his hips, he speaks a bit amusedly, “And do get some beauty sleep.”

In the cold morning air, you sense a thaw. Not only of the ground but perhaps between the Knight-Commander and yourself.

And it’s not entirely unwelcome.

#cullen rutherford x inquisitor #cullen x lavellan #cullen x inquisitor #cullen rutherford x reader #cullen x female lavellan #hehe #dragon age imagine #dragon age reader insert #cullen rutherford x you

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lady-sapphire · 3 years

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Indomitable focus - Solas/Male Adaar

Solas was deeply ashamed. Ashamed of himself. Falling for the Inquisitor. A man! One of these damned qunari! And Solas was lost to him. He, of all people! But one look of these warm amber eyes and one whisper with this soft voice and Solas felt his knees weaken and a drop in his stomach. He was helpless, unable to withdraw himself from the presence of the other man.

“Indomitable focus?” “Presumably. I have yet to see it dominated. I imagine the sight would be … fascinating.”

It had happened the first time shortly after the Inquisition had arrived at Skyhold. Solas had spent an evening visit at the Inquisitor’s private chambers, drinking wine and talking about spirits and the Fade. Addar had chosen the specialisation of riftmages recently. Solas loved talking to Adaar. He was such a thoughtful person, an attentive listener with well-thought-out arguments during their conversations. They have talked and joked with Adaar wandering through his room. Then the Inquisitor had picked up a book from his desk. A treatise about spirits, Solas remembered. In the next moment Adaar had been by his side, showing him a paragraph in the book, but Solas’ concentration had gone out of the window. Adaar smelled good, a slight mix of musk and something Solas couldn’t identify. Warm radiating from this big body with strong muscles, trained from the years of being a mercenary. Solas had seen Adaar lifting heavy rocks, bars and enemies like nothing. He had studied the movements of the other man’s body more than he should have done. But as said, Solas was unable to withdraw himself from the qunari. The next thing he knew was the kiss, hot and wet against his own lips. Without hesitation, Solas returned the kiss. Lust grew in his crotch. Mouth against mouth, tongue against tongue, teeth and skin and hands and hot breath. Adaar pushed him gently to the big bed. Without force, but determined nonetheless. They lost their shirts on their short way. Large hands roamed over Solas’ skin, made him shiver and moan. He grasped Adaars large horns to keep his head in place and deepened their kiss. They laid on the bed between the pillows and covers and furs. Solas couldn’t remember when his pants had gone. He laid on his back, naked, under a big, strong, male qunari who was nearly as naked as he was, wearing nothing more than his smalls. But he wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. Adaars lips kissed their way down from his mouth to his neck, licking and nibbling at the soft skin. And Solas moaned out loud because it felt so good, wrapped his legs around Adaars waist and rubbed against him. Faster. More. Adaar pressed him in the mattress, left just enough space for Solas to move his hips. Solas came. It was such a long time ago that he had felt anything like this. Everything was too much and not enough at the same time. He couldn’t open his eyes, stars danced behind his lids. His skin was covered in sweat. Adaar lifted his upper body from the mattress, a large hand covered Solas’ cheek. He nuzzled against the palm, weak and missing the weight of the other man on his chest. Solas looked up. Warm amber and dark grey. Messy long silver blond hair between horns.

“You mumbled.” “Did I?” “Yeah. Everything alright?”

Silence. Realization hit Solas but he really couldn’t bring himself to care. He felt too good.

“Do you wanna go?” “No.” “Good.”

Adaar kissed him again. Slowlier this time. Solas’ mind went blank. He just felt the other one’s lips on his, his skin at his chest and Adaars big swollen cock against his groin. Never in his whole life, Solas had allowed anybody to take him. He had had sex before, yes. With female elves and as the active part. He allowed Adaar. Without fear or a second thought about it. And he loved it. The way the other man prepared him with oil and his fingers, the feeling of being stretched and filled, the slow movements and Adaars deep, soft voice in his ear, telling him how good he felt and how much he had wanted that. His second orgasm blew Solas’ mind away and he needed quite some time to recollect himself. Adaar stroked his back with soft fingertips and a hum deep in his broad chest.

“It’s alright. Just sleep.”

Solas was alone the next morning, a note on the bedside table. I’m sorry, I’m not with you. War table called. Make yourself at home. Solas left without a word or a note, unseen by the guards. He felt so ashamed. He, an ancient elf, gotten his brain fucked out by a qunari. But the feeling didn’t last long. That same evening Solas went back to Adaars chambers. And the next. And the next.

And now? Now, months later it had become an unwritten rule Solas spent the night in the Inquisitor’s bed. The rare exception was when he didn’t follow Adaar on his journeys. Solas had grown aversive to sleeping alone. They had never talked about it. They spent the evenings together, chatted like friends and fucked like lovers. Solas avoided every conversation about this topic and Adaar didn’t seem to concern. It worked. They both got what they wanted.

Next week they would march to the Arbor Wilds. The final battle against Corypheus was approaching, Solas could feel his old powers coming back more and more. His time at the Inquisition was coming to an end. And so his time with Adaar. His people needed him. The world needed him. He was the Dread Wolf, the only hope the elves had left. He couldn’t allow himself to kept back by petty feelings. Not for the people in this world, not for the world itself. Not for Adaar either. No matter how much it hurt Solas.

He knocked at Adaars door, unable to withdraw himself.

my AO3 Thanks to the lovely @kemvee, who helped me a lot by telling me about the @rare-egg-hunt. I had no clue about this. I had just seen @edda-grenade's wonderful art and muse kissed me. Please, don't judge me too hard. I'm no native speaker.

#Dragon Age #Dragon Age Inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #fanfiction #solas #male adaar #male inquisitor #male inquisitor adaar #solas x male adaar #solas x male inquisitor #inquisitor adaar #my writing #rare pair #rareegghunt2021

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wardenrainwall · 3 years

Text

Writing Tag Game

Tagged by @morganlefaye79 Thanks! This was a lot of fun!!

I shall tag... crap, uhm... @illusivesoul and @inky-does-art ? if you want and anyone else who wants to do this.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

63! Lots of one-shots.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

776,150

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Mercy

The Sarebaas and the Templar

Little Explosions of Hope

Mending All Things Broken

Secrets Kept

4. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Almost always! I am super appreciative of every comment I get, and usually I’ll go through and reply when I’m posting a new chapter (or if it is a 1 shot, I’ll do it within a day or so) but occasionally I just forget, then I feel guilty.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Now, this is a toss-up. I have written two fics with super tragic, angsty endings. One is Cadash/Blackwall An Abrupt End in which Rija Cadash dies after the final battle with Corypheus. Then the other is probably A Moment - A Lifetime which is Lavellan and Cullen and their happily ever after, except Cullen’s mind is going from the years of Lyrium use.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Hmm, happiest, I do usually try to end with good happy endings, so mostly that is what they are, but as for the best? I would say either Mercy or Little Explosions of Hope

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Nope, I never have :(

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I mean, that depends on the definition of hate. I’ve received some comments regarding my ability to write. Some comments about characters that were particularly nasty, that I felt was unjustified. (except when it was about Disaster!Evie, I wrote her intentionally to be loathed)

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Hell yes I do. Or at least, I used to. … The smutty kind? Lol. Graphic, filthy encounters, and sometimes soft and sweet and romantic ones.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that i know of!

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, I’m a sad basic american who only knows english, and no one has ever asked otherwise.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope, I’m terrible at that sort of thing. I can barely write my own fics, worrying about writing one with someone just stresses me out.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

That is a cruel, cruel question. Maybe a bit of a cop-out, but Blackwall x Anyone.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Probably With Her Lionheart, or Sal’Shiral Din’anshiral. I desperately want to finish them, but I dunno if it’ll ever happen.

15. What are your writing strengths?

First chapters and dialogue.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Descriptions and actions.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think it adds to the story

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Heh heh heh uhm… Well, wrote but never shared with anyone, was a little General Hospital fic, but as far as stuff that I posted, that still exists out in the internets somewhere, would be Roswell.

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I’d say, either Breathe (Aella Adaar/Blackwall series) because it was the first fic that I ever wrote for DA, and rereading that series didn’t make me cringe, lol. Or, Little Explosions of Hope, that one is just so long, and I was really happy with how it turned out. I really enjoyed writing Wren, my angry, disabled, elven sex-worker who Cullen fell absolutely head over heels in love with. Sure there are plenty of flaws in the story, and stuff that I’m not so happy with in retrospect, but overall I really loved the slow build of the relationships and shifts and growing as characters.

#tagged #writer meme #about the writer #about the fics

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squeaksquawks · 3 years

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tell a lil bit more about your Hawke and your Inquisitor 👀👀

HELL YEAH LET'S GOOOO

I kind of uhhhhhhhh went WILD and wrote POSSIBLY TOO MUCH so!

Athena Hawke entered Kirkwall as a cheeky but kind like 20 year old and left Kirkwall as a shell of a person HAHA. She's a warrior, so she had Bethany by her side and they were INCREDIBLY close, so taking her to the Deep Roads and making her a warden (a choice she made in a panic without thinking of what Bethany wanted) genuinely haunted/still haunts her.

She has the...worst case of RBF and people avoid her on the street when in reality mentally she's like "What should I get for dinner. Chicken? No. I had that for lunch." and Varric absolutely ribs on her for it and calls her some variation of grouch/grouchy which she HATES.

She romanced Fenris and it was very much a love at first sight of seeing a mans heart torn out of his chest while Bethany was in the background like "Athena. No. NO." She tried really hard to be Cool About It but it just lead to her like, glaring at Fenris a lot and him being like "...?" because, again, horrible case of RBF. When he left in Act 2 she was like "of course, take all the time you need." and then burst into The Hanged Man 20 minutes later like "VARRRICCCCCCCCCCC" in like, TEARS LMAOOOO. Eventually she and Fenris settle down and she finds a lot of comfort in how blunt he is, and I like to think he finds comfort in the fact that she tries to stay kind despite her life circumstances.

She loves Varric, adores Merrill, and would (and literally nearly did) die for Isabela. She and Anders are very co-workers esque and she thinks Sebastian's a drag HAHA

Athena's big thing is that she thinks Literally Everything is her fault and she could have, should have, done better. It informs a lot of her choices and obviously does not lead to the healthiest of mindsets. She also resents the fuck out of being The Champion because she resents that all of a sudden she is in charge of things and how did this HAPPEN (a common thread in my protags in different ways LMAOOO)

I think post Kirkwall she and Fenris shack up for a minute before they get back out there. I like to think all my protags take vacations after their games LMAOO THEY DESERVE IT. She also cuts her hair because it makes her think of her mom and is still keeping it short by the time Inquisition happens.

By the time Inquisition happens, because I love spice and sadness, she and Fenris are not necessarily broken up but they are a bit strained because of Hawke's tendency to throw herself into things even when they could be deadly, which Fenris would Prefer She Stop Doing.

Also, lil fun fact - Athena has a lot of patience and tries to stick to "no unnecessary murdering" until she snaps and goes wild. She IS a reaver, so. Circe........I do not have favorites, but, hypothetically, if I did, Circe Lavellan may possibly be my favorite.

She has the strongest personality out of her, Hera and Athena which was REAL FUN. She DOES NOT WANT TO BE INQUISITOR which is a very fun journey because by the time Samson tells her something isn't her business, I got really into playing as her and OUT LOUD, IN DISCORD, AS HER, I said "I am the INQUISITOR. EVERYTHING IS MY BUSINESS." When anyone would ask her if she thought she was the herald/believed in Andraste she HARDCORE AVOIDED THE QUESTION, just like she hardcore avoided questions about her intentions for the inquisiton after corypheus. (she did not know and she very much was like "we should be focusing on SAVING THE WORLD FIRST, HOW IS THAT NOT YOUR FIRST PRIORITY)

Circe was..............very popular. The way Cullen was animated made it seem like he had a GIANT CRUSH ON HER which my entire discord had a field day with, because for Circe humans are Always On Strike Two. (at some point there was a scene happening and Circe left the room and Cullen watched and my friend went "I THINK HE JUST CHECKED OUT HER ASS I AM NOT KIDDING") This became funnier when Cullen's plan was what ultimately saved Clan Lavellan because she very much was like "I owe this human man a life debt. I hate it here." Solas took her on that whole fade date and she was like "ahaha yes, FRIEND, FRIEND WHOSE FRIENDSHIP I VALUE," and she and Blackwall had a whole Flirty Thing going on until Bull showed up, which really tells you about what Circe's tastes are LMAOOO.

Circe and Bull are..............they...........mean so much to me..........They very much have a murder pact ("If I go mad"/"If I become an abomination") that they openly joke about to horrify people but ultimately would not if possible/would be in great pain if they had to go through with it! Which is fun! Circe would find comfort in Bull being like, a Thoughts Free Zone for a bit and then she'd be like Unfortunately I Now Have Feelings For This Man. She'd be very embarrassed about it all until she finally fessed up and then they'd be DISGUSTING TOGETHER LMAOOOOO. Just UNBEARABLY CORNY. Also, Circe would absolutely let Bull throw her in battle, and since she's a Knight Enchanter it's all very fun and chaotic.

Side note: Cole is absolutely a little brother to her, she dotes on him like crazy and adores being with him. She gets very defensive of him and spends a good chunk of her free time with him, especially after he becomes human and she can track him down more easily

Circe also would become more and more anxious of losing her personhood, of everything she's done be for nothing, of being remembered as a concept and not a living breathing thing - i'm talking like full on panic attacks, unable to sleep, having to be calmed down about it. - ESPECIALLY after Ameridan. She tries to (somewhat) prioritize joy after that, finally visits Clan Lavellan after avoiding them for literal years (I played Descent and Hakkon after the main game to give the game a better sense of time passing before Tresspasser), ect.

By Tresspasser she is Fed Up, not sleeping, not eating, and also her arm is doing That Whole Thing concerning the fuck out of Bull LMAOOO. The ongoing joke was that Bull had DEFINITELY suggested cutting her arm off at multiple points in time, and when it actually happened it felt very monkey's paw HAHA. She definitely freaks out on Solas and is like oh I gotta KILL THIS GUY!! Also, because it feels relevant, she DID NOT LIKE MORRIGAN and drank from the well.

Also! Playlists. Everyone has a playlist! I use these while drawing to get me in the mindset so they're not in chronological order but here's Hawkes, Circes, and Heras which is the most work in progress since I just finished Origins and need to.....maybe take out the MULTIPLE songs about dying HAHAHA

EDIT: also because I played the games out of order and used the default world states for 2 and inquisition due to some Choices I made during Origins Circe is uhhhhhhh going to have either Fenris try to kill her or Hera and THAT'S GONNA BE FUN FOR HER

#I feel like I'm pulling my wallet out and showing you pictures of my kids while I talk about why they should be in therapy #athena hawke #circe lavellan #ask #not art

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virlath · 3 years

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Meredith and Mythal

I can’t believe I’ve never thought about this before but what if what happened to Meredith was also a hint at what happened to Mythal?

When Andruil came, Mythal sprang on the hunter. They fought for three day and nights, Andruil slashing deep gouges in the serpent's hide. But Mythal's magic sapped Andruil's strength, and stole her knowledge of how to find the Void. After this, the great hunter could never make her way back to the abyss, and peace returned.

What if Mythal used Andruil’s knowledge of the Void and attempted to traverse and wield it’s magic for herself, causing turmoil within the evanuris?

What if Mythal went mad from the power just like Meredith, and eventually other members of the evanuris were pushed to “betray” and kill her, just like Hawke?

Whether you side with the templars are mages, Meredith will turn against you and accuse you of lying and being untrustworthy. She is entirely paranoid by the final battle, and even if you side with her, her accusations sounds to me like someone who thinks they have been betrayed....just like Mythal.

Their similarity in appearance is also pretty eerie.

Meredith’s blonde hair and headpiece is exactly like Andraste’s, who clearly has a link to Mythal.

Meredith’s fate reminds me of the triptych featured at the chantrys in DAI. Note the red fire and the sword, which is very reminiscent of Meredith’s own sword, which eventually became Certainty.

The sword featured in chantry artwork actually depicts the sword Hessarian used to kill Andraste. Interestingly, replica swords are now given to those who have performed an honourable service in the Tevinter Imperium and are called Blades of Mercy.

This leads me to the most interesting thing of all- Meredith’s conviction.

"Why is this taking so long? Can ones so evil truly be so powerful? Maker, guide your humble servant! Please tell me what I must do! What if... I'm not doing the right thing? What if this is all madness? No! I must remain vigilant!"

"What I have done is protected the people of this city, time and again. What I have done is protect you mages from your curse and your own stupidity! And I will not stop doing it! I will not lower our guard, I dare not!"

Meredith’s belief that she is protecting people reminds me a lot of Mythal’s own title- the All-Mother and Protector. Meredith is convinced that what she is doing is right and guided by the Maker.

But Solas says himself, Mythal was also known as the goddess of vengeance. Perhaps this duality is a hint that Mythal was already long influenced by the Void and its magic, because justice and vengeance are clearly two very different concepts, as evidenced throughout the da series.

It’s also interesting to me that Meredith and Corypheus, both imbued with red lyrium, call upon a higher deity to guide them. Perhaps the person behind the song within red lyrium is a being from the Void, with an ulterior motive...

#dragon age #da theories #meredith stannard #the blight #mythal #red lyrium #i have more theories but i'll save that drabble for another day...lol

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ahrorha · 3 years

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Flame of Winter

This is the final chapter, and it feels unreal to have come so far. The story is far longer than I ever could imagine. And I want to thank everyone who joined me on this journey.

Your kind words were a joy to have received. Thank you so much for everything.

I love you guys <3

Chapter 35

Upstairs in the Hanged Man in Kirkwall, Varric sat in his armchair. His room in the most famous tavern of Kirkwall had become his second office since he became the Viscount. Here he could hide for a while from the complaining nobles and stuffy politicians he was surrounded by in Hightown. He could clear his head here and listen to the common people living in Kirkwall, who faced, in his opinion, the real problems in life. Not that he could escape his 'assistant' (pain in the but) Senechal Bran here. Bran had just delivered another stack of letters that required his 'immediate' attention. Varric sighed. He would become bald, grey and worn out like the previous Viscount if he wasn't careful.

“I see you are still insisting on staying in this lovely part of town.”

Startled, Varric looked up and saw Dorian walking into his room, looking critical at his choice of furniture.

“Sparkler! You've already arrived. Take a seat.”

“Yes. My voyage was very boring and uneventful. No burly Qunari pirates visited to make it less tedious.”

Varric stood up to send for refreshments, and soon afterwards, he took a deep drink from a mug of ale while

Dorian was sniffing his wine before taking a careful sip. He raised his eyebrows in surprise at the excellent taste.

Varric laughed. “I got you something good. My knowledge of wine has improved after spending time with you and Broody.”

They both were silent for a while.

Swirling his mug of ale, Varric asked. “Have you gotten one too?”

“Yes. Though mine was a little different.” Dorian answered.

“How so? Didn't you get a letter? Mine just showed on my nightstand when I woke up.”

Dorian gave him a surprised look. “A little unnerving. Do you know who brought it?”

Varric shook his head. “No, and to be honest. After Hawke, the Inquisition and my trip through eluvian capital, there is little that still can surprise me.”

“Well, this might just do. I have talked to our little Snowflake.”

“What?!”

“I didn't get a letter. I got a sending crystal.”

“What is that?”

“A small magical marvel. It is a magical gemstone that can be used for communication. They come in pairs, and you can talk with the person that has the other one. With the crystal came a small note with a date and time.”

“She has the other one?”

“Yes, though she hasn't answered any of my calls to this date, but I talked to her just before I left Minrathous. She is doing well, though she feels guilty about how she left. We talked a long time about me and how I was after Iron Bull's betrayal. I have to confess I wasn't entirely sober after that.”

“So, it is true she is back with Chuckles?”

“Yes, they are back together, and she seems happy.”

Varric sighed. “Well, at least one good thing has come out of this mess.”

“She also told me that things are far more complicated than she ever thought, and she was unsure what the future would bring.”

“You don't say. I know a lot of people don't believe what Chuckles is claiming and are more worried about the Qunari. But after what I saw in the Crossroads and seeing so many elves disappear, I know something is going to happen.”

“True, though our dear Inquisitor hasn't told everything that happened.”

Varric looked curiously at him.

Dorian chuckled. “Do you know what the first thing she did was, when she saw Solas?”

“No.”

“She slapped him with all her might.”

Varric sputtered. “She did what?”

“I think it may be not as bad with her at his side.”

“Maybe? I got an extra note with my letter, from the Dread Wolf himself.”

“Really?”

“Yep. He confessed that he had spent the last two years looking over his shoulder, fearing for a shot from my Bianca. He also thanked me for looking out for her.”

They both huffed a laugh and nursed their drinks again.

“Do you blame her?” Varric asked.

“After everything that happened to her and with the Circle looming over her head? No. Though I fear what the future is going to bring.

“If I have learned one thing over the years is that nothing is simple.” Varric lifted his mug. “Let's drink. And I think we will come face to face with her or Solas sooner than we might expect.”

Skyhold was once again surrounded by a thick layer of snow. Cullen shivered as the cold wind tugged at his cloak. Winter had the Frostback Mountains full in its grasp. He looked up at the sky where slowly clouds were gathering. There would fall even more snow today. It would delay his departure even further back.

Feeling a little melancholy, he gazed over the walls. It had been almost eight months since the events at the Exalted Council, and soon he and the remaining troops would leave Skyhold for good. The fortress would become a mere outpost now the Inquisition had transferred into the personal honour guard of Divine Victoria.

Currently, the main body and command centre of the Inquisition was stationed in Val Royeaux. Most of the Inquisition's operations had already been transferred; what remained at Skyhold was the clean-up crew.

Cullen looked at how little was left of the once vast field of tents and huts in the valley. So much had already been deconstructed. A caravan of wagons was being loaded to bring the last of the supplies down the mountain. It was strange, they had arrived here with so little, and now they needed weeks to clear out the fortress.

It wasn't really necessary for him to be here, but it felt right to accompany the last of his men personally when they would leave. A final goodbye to another place he had called home.

Three years they had stayed at Skyhold, and somehow it felt like he hadn't achieved anything. True, many things happened here; they had defeated Corypheus and saved Thedas, but if what Ryan had told them about Solas was correct, then Corypheus had only been the beginning. He had a hard time grasping what Solas claimed to be. To

Cullen Fen'Harel was a character from elven folklore. In the past, he had never paid much attention to the Dalish tales about their gods. As an Andrastian, he had always believed that their talks about elven gods were no more than silly fairytales. Even now that he had spent time studying those stories, he wasn't any wiser as to how to prepare for an opponent that claims to have made the very Veil itself. But one thing was for sure, Solas had outsmarted them all, even Leliana.

It had been very sobering to see how many elves had disappeared after Ryan's confrontation with Solas. Over a period of weeks, servants, craftsmen, cooks and cleaners had left. They all disappeared overnight, not leaving any trace behind. And it wasn't only the Inquisition or Orlais that reported the disappearance of elves; it was the same in Fereldan, Nevarra and the Free Marches. Tevinter was keeping quiet, but they gathered enough information to know that they also struggled with people becoming missing. Whole families had left, leaving some alienages almost empty and the servant quarters abandoned. There were even reports of entire Dalish clans that hadn't been seen on their migration paths. It showed just how vastly Solas' network was and how his people had access to every organisation in Thedas.

Maybe the most dangerous thing was that no one could estimate how big Solas' forces really were. It showed just how no one took the elves seriously and how they could have operated without being noticed. Cullen had a hard time convincing others of the dangers those elves could represent. To most, the disappearance was a mere nuisance; they complained because their servants they relied on had left. And for once, they had a hard time finding a replacement.

What they didn't see was the threat those elves could represent. Cullen knew from his own experience how dangerous things could become once Solas would train these elves. The Inquisition itself had started this way; the first soldiers under his command were recruits from Haven, men and women who barely knew how to hold a sword. The same recruits turned out to be brave soldiers that won many battles and helped to defeat Corypheus.

Solas had achieved what hadn't happened in seven hundred years; he was uniting the elves of Thedas. Though Cullen couldn't guess what Solas' plan was. He had said to the Inquisitor that he would destroy the world, but Cullen doubted that Solas would destroy it in such a way that his allies wouldn't survive. But he wondered what Solas' plans meant for the humans. Whatever it was, it wouldn't be peaceful. With how things were now, no human nation would support any claim of the elves for land or power.

He shook his head. No, whatever was going to happen would end in more bloodshed.

His thoughts went to Eirlana. Was she back beside the man she loved? Or had Solas cast her aside just like after the defeat of Corypheus. He felt a pang in his heart thinking of her. He missed her more than he wanted to admit, and although she had rejected him, he hoped that wherever she was, she was happy.

Cullen entered his quarters, a familiar headache pulsing in his head. Without Eirlana's healing, his headaches had returned, as well as his cravings for lyrium. He sat down at his desk, feeling drained. With a sigh, he rubbed his tired eyes, knowing there wasn't any escape from his withdrawal. But there was no time to rest; even in an almost abandoned fortress, paperwork was waiting for him. Letting out another sigh, he grabbed a report to be read when his sight fell on a small raven scroll lying in front of him. With a frown, he took it, wondering where the scout had gone to who had delivered this. A message from a raven typically meant they needed a reply immediately. With ease, he broke the seal and unrolled it. A small pressed elfroot leaf fell out of it, and Cullen's heart skipped a beat when he recognised the familiar handwriting.

____________________

Cullen

I don't know if you want to hear from me, but I have a request.

Meet me alone at the grove tonight. I will be waiting for you.

Eirlana

____________________

Cullen sat there stunned, re-reading the short message. Why would she contact him? Grabbing a drink from his secret stash, he stared out of the window, not knowing what he should do.

The eluvian sprang to life in the small elven ruin. The eluvian was half-buried in the rubble, and Himel had to bow down to step through it. Immediately he checked the surroundings. Soon he was followed by other elven soldiers that spread out and did the same. The eluvian's surface rippled again a short while later, and Solas and Eirlana stepped through it.

Himel returned to them and kneeled down. “There are no signs of any activity in the vicinity, my Lord.”

Solas fussed at the fur collar of Eirlana's cloak, pulling it tighter around her neck. “Wait here for our return.”

“Yes, my Lord.” answered Himel. “Stay safe.” He then directed his men to their stations and guard this place.

“Are you ready?” Solas asked Eirlana, stroking her cheek with his gloved thumb.

Eirlana nodded. “Just a little nervous.”

“We will be alright.” Solas stepped out of the ruins in the open and transformed himself into a huge black wolf. Crouching down, he waited until Eirlana had climbed on his back. Once she had securely grabbed his fur, he rose and took off. The sun was setting, turning the snowy peaks into orange and pink hues wherever the twilight managed to peak through the heavy snow clouds. When they arrived at the mountain ridge surrounding Skyhold, night had fallen, and Solas slowed down. Casting a spell to hide himself and Eirlana, he carefully made his way over the mountaintop and down the valley. As of yet, he couldn't find anything unusual other than that the walls had far fewer guards and that the fires in the settlement surrounding the lake had dwindled in number. Skyhold was almost abandoned. Confident that there was no trap waiting for them, he fade-stepped the last distance into the grove.

Solas waited again, listening, smelling for any sign of trouble before lowering himself so Eirlana could slip off his back. He transformed back and walked with Eirlana to the oak growing at the far end of the grove. Silently Eirlana lay a couple of white flowers on the grave of their unborn daughter. She shivered when Solas took her in his arms, it still hurt that she had lost her, but the pain didn't sting as much as it used to. She could feel how Solas also mourned the loss. It was strange to be with him here together after the years she had mourned alone. But she was grateful they finally could share their loss without the burden of their secrets between them.

She leant against Solas, and he pressed a kiss on her head. “She will always be a part of us.” he said softly. “And who knows, maybe she has decided to come back.” His hand stroked her tummy tenderly. Under his fingers, he could feel the spark of a new life. “You have given life to something precious again.”

She shivered again under his loving stare, which turned concerned immediately.

“Are you alright? Do you feel cold? Do you need something?”

Grabbing his hand, she smiled. “No, I am fine. We both are. Though it's strange to be suddenly in the snow again.” She squeezed his hand to reassure him. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Solas' ears twitched as he heard footsteps in the distance.

“Stay back.” he whispered and turned back into a wolf. He narrowed his eyes when he saw the glow of a lamp. Silently he moved forward, curious if Cullen had heeded Eirlana's request.”

Cullen stepped into the grove alone. It had just begun to snow, and he peered through snowflakes, wondering if Eirlana would really be here or if he was about to step into a trap. Maybe Leliana was trying to test his loyalty in a twisted way. She had become highly suspicious and vigilant after what happened at the Exalted Council. Seeing no one, he walked further when suddenly a giant black wolf appeared from the dark. It was double the size of a big war-horse, and its six yellow eyes were glaring at him.

Startled, Cullen dropped the lamp and reached for his sword, cursing he hadn't brought his shield.

“Cullen?” Eirlana's voice called for him.

He hesitated to draw his weapon further when he saw her approaching from behind the wolf.

“I come as your friend. Are you alone?” she asked.

“I am alone.” he answered, not taking his eyes of the wolf. It had to be Solas, he thought. Slowly he sheeted his sword and spread his hands. “I am not here to hurt you.”

Eirlana smiled, seeing Cullen's gesture. “Solas, please.” she turned to Solas.

Solas took another deep sniff before he was satisfied that Cullen was telling the truth; with a whoosh, he turned back. He gave him another silent stare before he spoke. “You have nothing to fear from me, Commander. I am merely here to escort her.” He kissed Eirlana on her forehead before he stepped back and leaned his back against a tree, not letting his guard down.

Cullen felt a chill running through him; Solas wore a full golden and black elven armor under a black-furred coat. He looked nothing like the humble apostate Cullen knew. Though he had the same face, his body language and expression had changed dramatically. It now screamed confidence and self-esteem, and even without having consumed lyrium for years, Cullen knew he had never faced a more powerful mage.

It was a stark contrast with how Eirlana looked as she approached him. Her armor consisted of a silverite breastplate and arm guards, both of elven design and richly engraved. Under them, she wore finely tailored blue robes that were silver embroidered. Her cloak was lined with white furs. She looked radiant, like a noble elf from one of the old elven legends he recently read. Her hair had been intricately braided and decorated with a silver circlet. He also noticed silver jewellery encasing her left ear. It curled along her whole ear and had a couple of silver chains dangling down. Both jewels were adorned with small blue gems that glittered in the light of the lamp.

Cullen was stunned, not knowing if what he saw was real. Before him stood the two most wanted elves in all of Thedas. And they had just shown up, taking the risk of him betraying her request. Although now Eirlana was coming closer, he also could feel her magic radiating from her. It was stronger than ever before.

“Cullen?”

He realised he had been staring at her. “I...”

Not only Solas demeanour had changed, but she had also changed. She seemed stronger and more at ease. There was an air of self-confidence around her she usually only displayed when she worked as a healer. Her eyes had lost the sadness that he had seen in the past two years. She looked more content, happy. It gave Cullen both a feeling of relief and sadness.

“I am sorry about the way we parted ways.” Eirlana smiled at him.

Cullen looked back at Solas for a second. He was still leaning against the tree, he looked relaxed, but Cullen could tell he was listening and watching for any sign of danger.

He focussed back on her; he needed to know. “I understand, but I have to ask. Did you know about Solas?”

“Did I know he is Fen'Harel?”

He nodded.

“Yes, I knew. Did I know about his plans or his involvement against the Qunari at the Exalted Council? No. Though I always intended to leave the Inquisition and look for Solas after the Council.”

It shocked him that she knew about Solas' identity, but it wasn't surprising she had planned to leave the Inquisition. He couldn't see her go into a Circle.

Eirlana huffed a laugh. “This is more difficult than I thought. I want to tell you so much, though I find it difficult to find the right words.”

Cullen rubbed his neck, feeling awkward. This is ridiculous; they used to talk all the time. Why did he freeze now? “How... how are you?” he asked; it was the first thing that popped into his mind.

She looked at her feet, gathering her thoughts. “Good.” she looked at him. “I want to say wonderful, but it is more complicated than that. There is much I need to consider.”

He shook his head lightly and smiled. Her answer reminded him of Solas and how he used to give answers that only resulted in more questions. “I see you have spent much time with Solas.”

A beautiful smile of love and affection spread on her lips, giving Cullen a slight sting of jealousy, but he was also relieved to see her so happy.

“I did.” she answered. “Though many matters demand our attention.” She stared at the mountains in the distance. “Everything is much more complicated than I ever could imagine. Good and evil, right and wrong, they are not so easy to define anymore.” Sighing, she looked back at Cullen. “But I didn't come here to discuss such matters. I came to help you. Your symptoms must have returned for a while now.”

He nodded slowly, perplexed that she put herself in danger for him. They must be aware that both the Inquisition and the Chantry were looking for them. Not that their searches had any results, but they both had to know the danger they put themselves in by coming here. And yet, here she was, taking the risk of being captured just to help him.

“Come. Let's sit down.”

She walked towards the frozen water of the grove's spring and sat down on its stone edge. Cullen glanced at Solas, who watched them without saying a word before he followed her. She had removed her gloves and

raised her hands towards his face, activating her magic. He closed his eyes as her familiar magic engulfed him. As always, a sense of relief and peacefulness washed over him, chasing away his headache and discomforts of his lyrium withdrawal. Then something changed; he could feel her magic going deeper. The residual lyrium within him reacted immediately; he could feel it hum and answering the call of her magic. It felt both peaceful and overwhelming at the same time.

Cullen wondered, what more had she learned over these past months?

He took a sharp breath when he could feel the lyrium leave his body, burning away like small timber. It gave him chills throughout his body. He inhaled deeply when the magic finally ebbed away, and he felt cleansed and whole again. A little disorientated, he opened his eyes. Solas had moved next to them and offered his hand to help Eirlana up. He hadn't even heard him approach.

Looking at him, she smiled. “Thank you for coming and honouring our friendship. I won't ask secrecy from you. You may tell everyone what has occurred here.”

She pulled out a satchel from a small bag she carried. “Here this is for the others. It is not as effective as my abilities, but it will help them. I am sorry, but I can't risk it to meet them.”

Still, a little dazed, Cullen took it. “I will see to it that they get it.”

“ I have included the recipe to make more. Adan or any other skilled alchemist should be able to make them.”

Solas suddenly whipped his head around and stared up the walls of Skyhold. They could faintly hear some guards talking. He turned back and pulled Eirlana's hood up. “I am sorry, my love. It is time to leave.”

She nodded and gave Cullen a smile. “Farewell.”

Then she turned around and walked back to one of the bigger oak trees.

Cullen watched her before focussing again on Solas.

Solas studied him before he spoke. “I have to thank you for protecting her when I couldn't. I will never forget what you have done for her. I hope that our paths won't cross when you are operating in the name of the Chantry or the Inquisition. Live well, while time remains.”

He inclined his head and then joined Eirlana. Cullen noticed when he turned he had the same elvish ear ornament that she wore. Only his was crafted from dark metal.

Solas transformed into a giant wolf again and crouched down so Eirlana could climb on his back. Watching them, Cullen stood up and immediately could feel a difference in his body. Gone was the stiffness and the pain he was used to. He huffed, not even remembering a time when he wasn't in discomfort. His head was clear, and the constant calling for lyrium had disappeared.

“Goodbye, Cullen.” Eirlana said to him.

“Goodbye.” he answered. “Eirlana. I... please stay safe.” he then raised his voice a little. “And you! Don't you dare to leave her again, or a swear by the Maker I will...”

The wolf turned his head and closed slowly his to many eyes, as if he was acknowledging him. Eirlana smiled at Cullen and ruffled Solas fur. Cullen watched as they both turned invisible and a trail of paw-prints and disturbed snow let into the darkness. By now, it was snowing heavily, and Cullen knew that their tracks would be gone by the morning. Wondering what the future would bring, he walked back to Skyhold. At that moment, he shared Solas' sentiment and hoped he would never be forced to face Eirlana as an enemy.

Solas ran over the mountain passes. His heart tugged as he felt Eirlana's sorrow as they left Skyhold behind. He could understand her pain. She had given up so much to be at his side and would face even more heartbreaking decisions in the future. It was a fate he couldn't spare her from.

Suddenly her hand stroked the fur by his ear. Now they were truly bonded; she could feel his sorrow as he could feel hers. There was a spike of gratitude towards each other as they knew they were not alone.

Travelling through the snow, they went to face an uncertain future. But they knew one thing for sure. Being bonded, they would face it together.

This is the end so far. I can't wait for DA 4 to blow our minds again with long lost secrets and hidden lore. And our next heartbreak that will come (thnx Bioware ;p)

We already know that the next wizard in our party will have some hidden agenda. And I hope we will finally be able to romance a dwarf.

Until we meet again, for I am not finished writing fanfiction in the epic world of Dragon Age

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age solas #fanfic #Solas #solas romance #solas x oc #eirlana #flame of winter

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ink-asunder · 3 years

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The Heartless DLC - The Rest of the Story

I’ve given a lot of thought to this, but I’ve decided to drop my Dragon Age: Inquisition/Dragon’s Dogma crossover fic, The Heartless DLC. I’m not out of ideas, but it turns out retelling the entire last 2/3rds of the game WITH original quests was too much of an undertaking for me. That combined with my surprising distaste with elements of Dragon Age and issues with the fandom just made it a project that I have no interest in continuing at this time.

It’s not fair to keep my readers in the dark, even if I *do* plan to get back to it someday. So I’m going to give a heavily abridged but general summary of how The Heartless DLC would’ve continued and ended right here, just so you get the full story instead of me leaving you hanging. It’s also a fairly long post!

After the events at Adamant, the Inquisitor and Arisen ltake care of some side-quests, favor quests, and cleaning up some areas whilst also preparing for the ball at Halamshiral. As stated previously, the Arisen and Gale will be going on their own, not under the Inquisition. Once there, the Inquisitor searches for clues, and the Arisen very quickly realizes that there are pawns serving at the ball. Gale pretends to faint, which allows him and the Arisen to be temporarily excused while the pawns take them to the servant’s quarters.

Once in the privacy of the servant’s quarters, the pawns give Marnie an urgent update about the state of things in Gransys. The Duke wasn’t ill, he was trying to keep her away. Nothing particularly heinous is unfolding, but the pawns are worried the Arisen has abandoned them. Marnie assures them that she’ll return, but before they resolve the issue, the harlequin drops in and tries to murder them.

Cut back to the Inquisition. The Inquisitor finally finds some clues and escapes to the servants quarters with his companions. By the time they get there, Marnie and the pawns are nowhere to be found and everyone else is slaughtered. They briefly have a moment of “oh, so I guess we might have to consider Marnie did this” and move on. They find Marnie and the pawns engaged in battle in the courtyard, and the two groups converge for the rest of the quest. They discover the pawns have been traveling to and from Gransys by a Riftstone they brought overseas with them. This Riftstone is later transported to a grove closer to Skyhold for ease of access to the Pawn Guild. It might be noted that Marnie is the one who finds and unlocks the Empress halla door, mostly because her pawns were collecting whatever they could find already. She has Gale interrogate the man for her, then she brings the information to the Inquisitor. The empress is spared, Florianne is arrested, and the Inquisitor has enough evidence to ally all three parties.

Now that there’s a Riftstone at Skyhold, Gale is going out at night on jobs in other worlds. More pawns begin to frequent Skyhold. They don’t blend in well, but the Arisen is able to explain it away as if the Duke sent over members of his elite army, of which the Arisen is a commander. No one ever suspect she had that kind of station. The pawns all seem moderately wary of Solas, but decide he won’t pull anything in Skyhold around the Arisen, for whatever reason. Gale has the most influence over the other pawns aside from the Arisen because he is the main pawn in this universe. That puts him at a high position, even though he may be younger than many pawns he meets.

Gale still goes to Solas frequently. Their meetings range from Gale asking for help with spells to discussing the Inquisition and the Arisen. Solas starts asking Gale to keep their meetings a secret from the Arisen (red flag!). Meanwhile, Cole and Marnie settle their differences; Marnie says she was never upset with Cole to begin with, and they both make a point to be more objective and communicative with each other. Marnie resumes training Cole and gifts him a pair of climbing boots with spikes on the bottoms (shout out to RavenNox on fanfiction.net for mentioning the strider concept art in a review, because I hadn’t seen it before!).

After Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts, the Inquisitor decides to finally get in a good dragon hunt like I’ve been teasing. This is a long-ish “Dragonhunt Arc,” and it’s what I’d imagine Marnie’s main favor quest would be if this was a real DLC. They go to the Hinterlands to fight the Fereldan Frostback, (I know, I should be writing them getting back at that damn dragon in Crestwood, but I haven’t written anything in the Hinterlands yet, and I wanna get to it). There’s an epic battle where the Inquisition FINALLY gets to see more of that dynamic climbing from Marnie and Cole. Gale also shows some creative use of healing spells by preemptively casting healing spells while Marnie is in danger, then she’ll heal as soon as she’s injured and it’ll spare her, (Gale actually did stuff like this with consumable curatives while I was fighting the Ur-Dragon quite a few times, so I wanted to implement it).

At the end of the battle, the Arisen realizes that dragons are just animals here, as opposed to intelligent, self-possessed beings like in Gransys. Therefore, the only real “reason” she came to Thedas was a bust. She’s noticeably sullen and distraught for several days, and Gale begins to worry. Eventually, Gale reaches out to the Inner Circle for help, and they arrange a quiet evening in the yard where she and Gale could dress fancy and slow-dance because it was the one thing she wanted to do at Halamshiral and couldn’t do. There’s this vague internal monologue about how she never gets to keep what she loves, and it’s implied she only truly loves Gale, and it’s also a subtle reminder that she’s a fucking god, but anyway.

After the Dragonhunt Arc, I get back to the main quest, except I kind of don’t, because I want things to be more dramatic. They chip away at some favor quests, and oddly enough, Gale and the Arisen start to drift apart. This is due to several factors including but not limited to Marnie being preoccupied with other pawns and Inquisition-related duties, but it’s also largely because of a concentrated effort on several people’s part to get Gale to assert himself as an individual human as opposed to a pawn defined by his Arisen.

When they go to the Temple of Mythal, Marnie and Gale can barely keep themselves together. The group manages to complete the quest regardless. They ally with Abelas and Morrigan drinks from the Well of Sorrows.

When they face off against Corypheus, Marnie uses the Backfire skill when fighting the red lyrium dragon to ensure it dies. In that moment, a part of her is frighteningly powerful, almost like she is no longer human. (God this stuff sounds corny.) She passes out for a minute and Gale stays with her while she recovers and the others go to fight Corypheus. Corypheus probably delivers a villainous monologue. I was originally going to have Marnie and Gale bust in and at the part where Corypheus says "ancient ones, if you've ever been there, be with me now," Marnie says "I am one" but I decided against it. The Inquisitor lands the killing blow because this is his quest and his game.

During the afterparty, the Arisen and Gale interact with each member of the inner circle with the news that they'd be leaving for Gransys in the morning. Neither are drinking and they're both dressed as if they're going to leave any minute.

When Marnie and Gale are setting off, Cole comes to Marnie one last time and tells her she never will be alone. That reassures her and, for the time being, she seems ready to confront Grigori upon her return to Gransys.

When Marnie and Gale return for the Tresspasser DLC, they still haven't killed Grigori, but they did go to Bitterblack Isle. As such, their gear is dope and dragonforged, and their mental health is in shambles. Gale also converted to the way of the bow while they were there. They aid the Inquisition in fighting Qunari and finding Solas, and he and Marnie have a final showdown where he's revealed to be the Dread Wolf and she's revealed to be the Seneschel who reset the world so she could relive being the Arisen again and again. Solas needles her about why she redid everything, why she refuses to assume her place as Seneschel, and how many times she's done this same thing over and over again. Gale manages to shoot Solas from afar and they're all driven apart.

After the Inquisition returns to Skyhold and orients themselves, only Gale reappears saying his Arisen sent him in case they meant her any harm after her reveal. After the Inquisitor agrees not to compromise Marnie, Gale leads him to the ruins by the Riftstone, where Marnie's been waiting. They have a chat about her true origins and intentions, and she admits she didn't defeat Grigori because she knew she'd have to leave the mortal world soon after. She agrees to help the Inquisition when she can and places a Portcrystal by the Riftstone. They both agree that things are probably going to get a whole lot worse.

And that's where the fic ends. There's also a number of subplots I neglected to detail. Cole's favor quest, a few side quests related to the pawn guild, etc. As I said, I might return to the fic later on, but I really don't care for it or the fandom or the source material anymore. It's sad, but I'm happier elsewhere. And I thought it was only fair to leave some conclusion to the fic regardless. I might post certain chapters and snipets on my tumblr, but for the most part, this is the last you'll see of the official fic.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart to the readers and fans that have stuck with me through all this. I wish you all the best, and I'm sorry I couldn't give you the full fic. Stay safe out there!

#the heartless dlc #my fanfic #a conclusion of a project

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bloedewir · 4 years

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Some of my solavellan headcanon, during the Inquisition playthrough:

- Beginning: questions and asks for tell more. She's interested and sees how much he know and it flattered his pride. But then Solas starts to see a real open-minded person, not a tranquil marionette.

- Solas doesn't want to lie about himself as the romance continues, but guilt is blinded him. Duty above the feelings, despite own desires. My people, my promise, my purpose.

- He arguing with self a lot. Constantly deep inside there's a fight between "what must to be done" and "enjoyable side benefit".

- Inquisitor suspects something. She notice a strange hints, watching him and fully understand Solas is not the person he's trying to pretend to be. Love is blind tho. She doing nothing with that because of fear to hurt him by mistrust.

- Sera doesn't like the affair and reminds about that oftenly. Because she's much observant than other people thinks. Sera senses the lie.

- Varric is Solas' best man during the affair. A hidden solavellan shipper.

- Cole knows everything, but keeps quite. As the Compassion he can't bare the thought to hurt Inquisitor with a truth. But he talks with Solas much, and it's went in a circle: Cole says it's bad to lie -> Solas' guilt becomes stronger -> Cole is upsets, because he's Compassion.

- No matter what that wolf ass said in Trespasser dlc - they had sex. I bet my left hand on it. A whole year of Inquisition.. pfft, not a matter of debate.

- According to this, every night they spend together. Solas shows Lavellan the Fade. And he's a big spoon for sure. Weight of responsibility, the fear and permanent tiredness.. he want to protect her and give some rest, she's feel calm only when he holds her. Vhen'arla, the home of my heart.

- Vallaslin. She asks him to remove it. Because of meaning and because she believes in what he say. To that moment she started to think she's understand, when Solas is clearly honest and open.

- A lot of pressure and hidden pain in Crestwood scene, I think. He's gone too far, he loves to much more then it was expected and allowed. I believe it was just one heart beat for him, and everything changed. Removing of vallaslin reminded him about elvhenan, and who is he and always was. Harellan. So, he want to protect her, step aside to darkness and give her a chance to live, because he's clearly understand: no matter where he goes - she will follow.

- She's not believing this is the end. She continues call him ma'lath, and she knows he loves her, no doubts. Inquisitor presume, all's gonna be alright, when Corypheus will be defeated. By this way, the Crestwood episode give her the strength to make a final push.

- Dorian at her side. He's a friend she never have, like an elder brother. Holds her hand and promises all is gonna be fine. She calls him ma'nehn, my joy.

- Cassandra is a friend and role model. Inquisitor looks at her and seek for strength to be more like Cassandra: responsible, confident and honest in own words and beliefs.

- Seeker becomes softer tho. Because of Varric. Because the disrespect and irritation becomes trust and friendship first. Because it became a something more. Because he's only who make her laugh. Because he's see not only the warrior, but he sees her.

- After the final battle, when Lavellan saw Solas, at the kneel with broken orb, when she heard his voice - she understood. He's leaving, she can't stop him. Is it over.. is they over? A small painful thought could broke her heart, but she was unexplainable sure: it's not an end of their story. She let him go, promised to self to find him by any cost and then finally cried, kneeling within the stone ruins while everyone celebrated the victory.

- Two years made her tougher. Grim, nervous and sad, she's fully concentrated on her duties: Inquisition. There's no more Lavellan, she hides behind "Inquisitor". Day by day, night by night, she doesn't allowed to be self, or that pain may return and bring back sorrow, anger, fear and hurt.

- The Exaulted Council was one of the many other things she has to deal. But the friends made it special. Strangers at first, they became a family. It warmed her heart a bit, reminded her she's is still alive.

- Journey through the eluvians and forgotten old elven history bring back her old feels: both interest and confusion, a doubts and exciting. And finally she started to understand, where it goes.

- Squad looked at Inquisitor with sorrow and pity, like she was a toy in a cruel hands and doesn't understand it yet. I'll save him, that was the only thought, covered by fear, blood and fast understanding she's going to die.

- First look and heart stopped. The whole world has gone. His voice, the voice of man she still loves and.. stranger. Revealing and most wanted truth finally brings her the relief, not a fear.

- When he said about Veil, she surprised: why her heart is still beating, it has to be broken on a million pieces by now. She looked at him, there's a softness in his eyes when he look at her pale face. Ma'lath. My love.

- The mark is gone and the left hand, but pain is gone too. In a strange way life became brighter. She found a purpose, a reason to wake up in the morning.. a hope. It's much more than she had a day ago. I'll save you or die trying, ma'fen. Prideful stubbornness.. it's you taught me that.

*Lost Elf theme playing*

that's a long stuff, I'm sorry, I can't fix it on my phone 😣 and I'm remind: not my native language, sorry. again.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #da:i #dragon age: inquisition #da: inquisition #da: inquisitor #dragon age text posts #long reads #long post #solavellan hell #solasmance #solavellan #solas x lavellan #solas #lavellan #my headcanons

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ramonadecember · 4 years

Note

48+50 for the angst list 👀👀👀 I wanted to send more but I don’t wanna bug you too much 👀🔪♥️

Angst Prompts or OTP Prompts

because you big me SO much >:*** this got... longer than intended. and I think as I told you, it went entirely NOT in the direction I first planned... or really secondarily planned. 48 altered a bit to fit my needs. here’s your boys.

small warning for mentions of... coercive relationships? I guess is a good way to put it? cullen’s romantic history is kind of a mess.

48. “Can you promise me no one else has to get hurt?” + 50. “Do you even know what love feels like?”

“The things we do for love.” “The things love does to us.”

The evening had started with the lot of them in the main hall toasting to their success against Corypheus, but now it was Cullen and Dorian alone in the mage’s quarters, knocking their glasses together over the latest sentiment before downing the rest of their drinks.

Earlier, Dorian had watched as Cullen slipped out one of the side doors of the main hall and into the garden without a word, and because of his propensity for curiosity and his seeing inability to leave Cullen alone for long, he’d followed as well. He found Cullen tucked away on a bench mostly obscured by shadows, sitting with his head in his hands, only to raise it when Dorian startled Cullen by sitting down next to him.

“Needed a bit of air?”

Cullen nodded. “In there, it’s…” It took a moment for Cullen to decide how to phrase it until he settled on, “It’s a bit much.”

Dorian didn’t comment on the fact it had been a rather subdued, intimate affair, he thought he knew what Cullen was getting at, so instead he did comment on the fact they were a stone’s throw away from his room, a room that was always supplied with at least a few bottles of something. Cullen had said it wasn’t necessary and tried to apologize for pulling Dorian away from the celebration, saying they could go back, but though he stood and motioned back toward the hall, he made no move to go back that way. Dorian waved it off, and when he stood as well, looping his arm through Cullen’s, Cullen didn’t object to being led away.

Cullen opened up more once he had a glass pressed into his hands. He confessed that he knew they had much to celebrate—the war was over, they had won—but that he couldn’t stop his mind from going to all they had sacrificed to get there, to all who weren’t there to share in the revelry with them. Dorian decided another healthy pour of the dark liquor he’d been plying Cullen with was in order after that.

Conversation drifted to one of the other reasons the get together in the main hall had seemed so stifling, and that was because despite how much their dear Inquisitor tried to act like she was fine, she was barely holding it together.

Everyone knew what had happened—the dust settled on the final battle, they started to regroup, and there was one particularly notable disappearance. Solas was gone. Up until that point, Lavellan had convinced herself that it could still work out, but that was the final nail in the coffin that was her romantic daydreams.

She’d declared him dead. Others, thinking they were helping, tried to assure her not to give up hope, that he could just be loss on the mess that was the aftermath, but Lavellan only shook her head and more firmly said that he was dead.

Which is how Cullen and Dorian had arrived at their most recent toast. It had Cullen wincing and Dorian letting out a snort of a laugh.

“I envy her in a way,” Dorian said, swirling his freshly poured drink around the glass. “Able to cut him out so effectively like that. Andraste knows I’ve made a fool of myself trying to cling to what I should have run from long prior, all because I called it love.”

“Love hasn’t tended to work out in my favor in the past,” Cullen agreed. “You put your faith in someone, your trust, and then...” Inevitably, in Cullen’s experience, they let you down. He shrugged it off.

Dorian frowned, moving from the arm chair he’d curled himself up in to sit next to where Cullen had perched himself on the edge of the bed. He rested his head on Cullen’s shoulder, letting out a dramatic sigh, and for a moment they both sat there in silence, lost to their own thoughts.

When Dorian elaborated on some of his more failed attempts at winning love, it was supposed to be a way to lighten the mood, even if that particular flavor of self-deprecation brought with it a lot of daddy issues. He never meant for Cullen to feel like he had to share anything in exchange, but the alcohol loosened lips.

It started innocent enough with Cullen claiming his very first heartbreak was as a child when, after working so hard to win the favor of a neighbor girl, she chose someone else as her champion when they were playing at knights at a tourney. Dorian couldn’t quite disguise his snort or mumble of valiant since birth behind his glass, but Dorian’s laughter died out the more they swapped their tales of woe, the look of concern on his face growing instead.

It started with Cullen confessing that it took him far too long to learn that a Circle mage under his watch could never truly, freely be able to return his affections. Dorian winced, but like Cullen said, he had learned. He knew he’d like to think over a decade of time left plenty of opportunity for growth in person, he was sure Cullen would like to believe that as well.

Dorian’s tried to distract from whatever spiral that seemed to be sending Cullen’s thoughts down with a more light hearted story that ended with a sigh of, “You think you know somebody,” but it only ended up pulling Dorian’s concern in a different way when Cullen nodded his head along in agreement.

“Like when the man you once loved—“ probably still did, even if it wasn’t in the same way “—surfaces again as the right hand man to some darkspawn magister?”

Dorian’s eyebrows shot up and he pulled back a little to better look at Cullen. “Are you saying that you and that fellow currently occupying a cell in the dungeons were once...”

“Once, yes.” When Cullen was first reassigned to Kirkwall, most everyone was still treating him like he was damaged goods, but never Samson. He always knew that what Cullen needed wasn’t to be handled fragile and liable to fall apart at any moment, even when Cullen himself tried to use it as an excuse.

“We... drifted apart,” Cullen said with a shrug. Samson being ousted from the Order may have had much to do with it, and then when Cullen left Kirkwall, he left behind any shreds of a relationship that might have remained as well. That, and, “The then-Knight-Commander made it... difficult to maintain anything as well.”

“Relations discouraged amongst Templars?”

“It wasn’t that she was actively discouraging that relationship but rather trying to... promote a different one.” A crimson blush washed over Cullen’s face, he was sure Dorian knew what he was getting at.

“With that woman?” Dorian may not have known her personally, but in the past he’d gleamed enough information from Cullen and others to form his own opinion of Knight-Commander Meredith. “But she was your superior.”

Cullen grimaced, and Dorian thought maybe that was how Cullen realized what he did about the way he’d chased the affections of that mage.

“I was a good distraction to her,” Cullen said, and Dorian could understand that, everyone could use a little fun, even uptight Templars, but Cullen wasn’t finished and it made the difference. “It was for the best. If she was otherwise preoccupied then she—well—there was this sort of... implied promise that no one else could get hurt.”

No one but you, you fool, Dorian thought. “Cullen...” he managed to say instead. Of course Cullen would offer himself up like that if it meant taking the attention off of others.

“I.. really do think that she loved me in the end,” Cullen said, ducking his head. “In her own way.”

“You call that love? Andraste’s tits, Cullen—“ Dorian sounded properly horrified. “Do you even know what love feels like?” He may be no expert himself, but he knew it wasn’t that, wasn’t whatever Cullen was describing.

Dorian hadn’t meant to come off that harsh, but he was aghast at what Cullen was telling him. A wash of guilt came over him when he watched Cullen’s face fall.

Cullen’s eyes dropped down to the glass clutched in his hands as his hands as he turned it about, like the dark liquor might offer him up an appropriate response, but seeing as it’s what helped start this conversation in the first place, he doubted it. “I’d like to think I do now,” he said, his tone a little too tight. There was a flicker of eyes in Dorian’s direction.

Love felt a lot like taking time out of busy days to get a moment with each other, like chess matches with silences that didn’t need to be filled. It felt like leaving bits and bobs for the other because they thought it might make them smile and exchanging well-loved copies of favorite books It felt like an offer for quiet conversation when everything was ‘a bit much.’

#kinda ambiguous where their relationship is at BUT #cullrian #cullen rutherford #dorian pavus #dragon age #my writing #prompt fills #bh-chaotic

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askdragonagecompanions · 5 years

Note

Hi! I’m sorry if I’m annoying, but I wanted to ask, how would the DAI romances help the Inquisitor get used to their left arm being missing from the end of Trespasser? Sorry if it’s bad.

[Don’t worry you’re not annoying at all

Dorian: Maker Dorian feels horrible for what happened to his Amatus. The man needs a break. He had been away tending to some family business in Tevinter for the past few months and he had missed his amatus so much. He had gotten more excited than he probably should have when he was told he was going to be the Tevinter ambassador, because it meant he had an excuse to see his amatus. The man had hidden the anchor flare ups well at first. Dorian didn’t even know that the anchor was bothering the Inquisitor. He was just so caught up with seeing him, having to tell him he was going to take over his father’s spot as Magister... He should have noticed. He should have been able to do something, at least to make the pain less horrible. Dorian thought he was going to lose his amatus, after everything they’d been through he couldn’t lose the man now. Dorian postponed going back to Tevinter for months. His amatus needed him and the Magisterium could wait a few more months. Dorian stayed by the Inquisitor’s side, and with the Inquisition disbanded he had more time to just relax and heal. Dorian would help put on the salve and change the bandages in the first month so that infection wouldn’t set in. They started slow, just helping the Inquisitor put on his shirts at first, then when he had more energy they started on reworking his balance in battle. Even if he wasn’t Inquisitor anymore he would always need to protect himself. The first month was the hardest for the Inquisitor. Dorian doesn’t even want to think what it would have been like if he was alone. Some days he can’t even get the Inquisitor to leave his bed, so Dorian laid down next to him and just held him close. He would murmur sweet nothings, affirmations that the Inquisitor was still his amatus, that they were both still alive. He didn’t know what was going through his love’s mind, but Dorian made sure he was there for the Inquisitor every step of the way. When the Inquisitor’s arm is healed enough that it no longer needs a bandage, Dorian can see that his amatus is avoiding even looking at it. So, during quiet moments when its just the two of them Dorian gives it a little kiss, and then him a gentle kiss. “I love you. I am... so glad I still have you with me amatus.” and he lets the Inquisitor lean against him. Eventually he can no longer put off returning to Tevinter, but they each have the amulets Dorian charmed so that they can talk to each other. Dorian talks with his amatus every day... Maker he misses that man so much, but he’s confident now that the Inquisitor will make it. It’s going to be hard, but he no longer fears losing him. Whenever they do get to steal time to be with each other Dorian treasures it.

Solas: Solas knew that the anchor would eventually kill the Inquisitor if he didn’t do something about it. What he didn’t plan for was falling in love with her. After Corypheus was defeated he knew he had to leave. If he didn’t leave then he didn’t know if he ever could, and Solas didn’t want her to follow him on this journey. He was going to have to do so many things... he didn’t want to put his Vhenan through that it would be selfish. He had already been selfish by even entering a relationship with her. He couldn’t let his actions be her end, so he began to think of a way to lead the Inquisitor to him without exposing himself too early on. He couldn’t have the Inquisition stopping him, and he did need a way to warn the Inquisition of the Qunari’s plot. He used the Eluvians to lead the Inquisitor to himself. He knew she would be smart enough to follow the trail. He could save her. When she arrived her arm was worse than he thought. For a moment it was almost impossible to talk. His heart was in his throat and he wanted nothing more than to embrace her and hold her close. “So you really are him... you’re the Dread Wolf.” Her voice held so much sadness and contempt. Solas just hoped that she would understand why he hadn’t told her. He used his magic to give them more time, so that they could talk and he could try to explain what he was doing and why he had to do it. Solas removed his Vhenan’s arm so that the anchor would not kill her. He made sure her companions found her before leaving. Solas is not there to help her recover from losing her arms even though he desperately wants to be. He must walk this path alone. He has already put the Inquisitor through too much pain. She said she would prove him wrong, and Solas hoped she would. He would love to be proven wrong again...

Sera: It just wasn’t fair. The whole meeting to decide if the Inquisition was needed or not already sucked, but hey Sera turned it into a good thing and she and Inky got married and it was great! But then that stupid anchor... Sera felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. Inky had been looking a little green around the gills lately, but she always said she was just nervous and she’d be okay. Sera believed her of course cause it was her Inky, she fought Corypheshit and survived so Sera just assumed it was a little cold. Then the anchor started acting up more and more and it was physically hurting Inky. Her arm really started to look bad, and no matter the salves Sera put on it it was just getting worse. She knew it was killing Inky and it wasn’t fair! This was supposed to be their happy ending not Inky dying because of something she never asked to have, not full of Qunari warriors trying to kill them all and start a war cause of some wolf. Then Inky went through that mirror by herself and Sera kept trying to get through it because Inky needed her help and she was not going to lose her wife! Finally the stupid thing started working and they could get to Inky it wasn’t a pretty sight. Sera was a mess back at the Winter Palace while the healers helped get the Inquisitor stable. Sera couldn’t believe they were still going to make her address all those people after losing her fucking arm! Ugh, she was taking down names to pie later. She’s by Inky’s side the whole time. She can’t help but fret for the first week. It’s still giving Inky pain even though the healers all said there is no more fade magic in the arm that should be hurting her. They cuddle a lot and Sera tries to cheer her up whenever she can, but she understands that this has got to be really hard on the Inquisitor. She can’t imagine how it’s gotta feel, but Sera does love that they don’t have to worry about all the Inquisition business right now. She can just focus on helping get her Inky back on her feet. Sera’s very gentle, she tells a lot of stories about her favorite pranks she’s pulled especially on stuck up nobles who thought they were untouchable. She gets really excited as she tells Inky about how she’s been working on designing a pie arrow. On really good days she takes Inky to the gardens so they can look at the bees together. Sera makes it her goal to make the Inquisitor smile at least once a day even if it’s only for a second she’ll know she succeeded. She makes sure the Inquisitor knows she’s not going to leave her side, that she’s still Thedas’s most kickass woman ever, and that they’re friggin married! When the Inquisitor feels ready enough Sera starts taking her on small Red Jenny missions and she loves hearing her giggle while they prank the nobles that needed it. She stays by the Inquisitor’s side and is there for her whenever she needs her.

Iron Bull: Bull had a feeling that this meeting would be a bit of a shit show. It wasn’t that he wasn’t excited to see all his friends again and get to be with his Kadan, it was just that they had the worst luck out of anyone he’d ever met. Bull had known something was up with them for a while now. They wouldn’t tell him what, but he knew they weren’t feeling the best either. When he heard about the anchor flare ups from Leliana he was worried. They should have told him sooner. He... he knows he couldnt’ have done anything to stop it but he could have helped them. He could have supported them and given them someone to talk to if they were worried about it. Bull needed to stay strong though. his Kadan needed him to be strong and so he was. They were both going to make it through this together. He had been Tal Vashoth for a few years now so he had no idea that the Qun was planning such a large attack. He couldn’t believe they tried to get him to rejoin the Qun and abandon his Kadan. The final battle was so intense and he’d lost track of the Inquisitor. The anchor flare ups were happening so frequently and every time the Inquisitor would cry out. Bull just kept fighting, kept trying to keep enemies off of his Kadan. When they finally won and got back to the Winter Palace it was clear that Bull was nervous, well clear to anyone who knew him well enough. He knew what it was like to lose a part of yourself and for the Inquisitor to lose their arm it was going to be a big change. When they wake up he’s by their side, smiling and probably a little misty eyed because, “Kadan I love you so much, but please don’t ever scare me like that again.” And he kisses them. He speaks softly as he tells them they lost their arm and it pains him to see them look so distraught. He holds them close and assures them they’re not alone in this. He knows it’s going to be tough. The Inquisitor is going to have to learn and relearn a lot of things, especially in combat, but for the first month he makes sure that the Inquisitor is just taking it easy. Their body needs time to recover, to heal. Besides, with no Inquisition Charger stuff can wait. The Chargers stop by all the time. Bull takes his Kadan to the Tavern when they’re more stable and they all laugh and tell stories with the Chargers. They’ve all gotten hurt pretty bad. Bull gives the Inquisitor massages and little kisses and assures them they’re still a bad ass, still gorgeous, that their scars just show how tough they are. Bull likes scars. It’s proof that someone survived through something dangerous. Once they’re physically healthy again and they’re comfortable with it he starts stealing away nights with them again. Maker knows they need to release some of that tension. Bull is very encouraging. When the Inquisitor has a bad day and breaks down he sits with them and lets them get it all, lets them cry and vent, and he affirms that yeah this fucking sucks, but he helps them see the positives too. He loves the Inquisitor more than he thought possible, and to Bull just having them here is enough. He’s there for them, whatever they need he’ll give.

Blackwall: Blackwall had been terrified that he was going to lose the Inquisitor. He may not have had spy training, but he knew the Inquisitor and he knew there was something she wasn’t telling him. He would try to ask, but she kept assuring him everything was okay, that she was just worried about the meeting. He didn’t believe her entirely, but he wouldn’t press further. He kept giving her physical affection, though. Small kisses, assuring squeezes of the hand, hugs. He wanted her to know that he was there for her, that she could tell him anything. And then everything went tits up. Apparently the Qunari got the idea that the Inquisition was working with one of their enemies and were going to launch a full scale attack and so it was up to them to stop it and save the world... again. With each fight the Inquisitor just looked worse. She was exhausted and the anchor was definitely doing something to her. It was killing her. “Maker I cannot lose you...” He felt like his world was shattering and he hugged her. He hugged her close and tight and willed his tears to not fall but they wouldn’t listen. “We’re going to make it through this, both of us.” He couldn’t lose her, not now, not after everything they had gone through. She deserved peace, not death from something she couldn’t control. He was relieved when they won, but for a few days it was still dicey. The Inquisitor was in and out of consciousness, she had lost her arm, but it kept her alive. With the anchor gone she was finally starting to heal. Blackwall had known many soldiers who lost a limb before. They could still fight, it just took an adjustment period to learn a different way to fight, to learn new balance, and honestly just to accept that their limb was gone. When the Inquisitor truly wakes up he hugs her close and kisses her. “I thought I’d lost you...” He murmured against her. The Inquisitor took the news relatively well. She was determined to still attend the meeting even though she had only just woken. He was nervous she was going to push herself too far, but when the Inquisitor set her mind to something there really was no stopping her. He stayed by her side. She traveled with Blackwall, as he had made it his mission to help people like him, who had made mistakes in their past, to give them a second chance and hope. Blackwall helps the Inquisitor cope, he comforts her, when she cries and apologizes he assures her there’s no need. On days where she gets ghost pains Blackwall holds her hand and lets her squeeze to help with the pain. Most importantly he makes sure she knows that she’s loved, that together they can and have made it through the Fade and back.

Cassandra: She had gotten so busy with rebuilding the Seekers that she really hadn’t had a lot of time with the Inquisitor in the months before the meet. Perhaps if she had been there she would have known sooner. The world was already crashing down around then and then she learned that she was losing her love too? It was infuriating and terrifying and she pulled him into a kiss, “I am not losing you. You are not going to die on me.” It was an order. She wasn’t going to lose him, not after everything they’d been through together. She actually managed to get a laugh out of him and she smiled weakly. “You should know I’m not joking.” “I know.” He murmured and kissed her again. They one the battle. Cassandra did not care about her own injuries and shooed away any Healer that tried to attend to her. She would be fine. She wanted them to attend to the Inquisitor first, he was more important. Only once he was stable did she allow for herself to be tended to. Cassandra was surprised when he disbanded the Inquisition but a part of her was glad. It meant they could be together with no duties keeping them apart. When he woke up she was by his side. She broke the news as gently as she could. Cassandra knows she is not the best at being gentle or helping with emotions, but she has been working on it. Ever since she and the Inquisitor got together she wanted to be better for him. Mainly she helps with the physical aspects of losing a limb. She encourages him to work on his balance, to learn how to use just one arm, simple things at first, and the more he healed the more complex the exercises became. She spars with him, she does not go easy. He needs to relearn, he needs to be able to protect himself. When he gets overwhelmed she’s at his side and there to help him calm down. She tells him about how far hes come, how he’s survived demons, dragons, ancient magisters, and ancient magic that was killing him. She feels guilty when she’s the one who caused him to be overwhelmed. She’s only trying to help and she knows she can do too much sometimes. She makes up for it by holding him close at night and running her hand through his hair while she reads to him. She knows just how to calm him down and help him relax. When she sees him avoiding his arm, or looking at it with disdain she pulls him into a kiss and puts her hand on that shoulder. “I know it is hard to accept, but think of it as a sign that you survived, that you are alive because... I do not know what I would have done without you. I love you.”

Cullen: The Inquisitor has done so much for him, and honestly he was quite nervous about this meeting. Nobles forget too fast how the Inquisition saved them from the world being destroyed from a giant breach in the sky, and now that the threat was gone they wanted to make sure that the Inquisition was either disbanded or allied to a certain power so that they wouldn’t have to worry about a new power taking over. It was all bullshit in his opinion. He stayed by the Inquisitor’s side through it all. He loved her so much, though lately he was worried. Some nights he would wake to her gone from their bed. She assured him she was fine, just getting some water, but he didn’t believe her. She looked to shaken up. He assumed it was just nightmares, but she never really told him. Then her mark flared in front of him and his heart sank. Maker not now... he couldn’t lose her, but it wasn’t like they could stop either. The world was in their hands again and she had to fight, and he had to stay and make sure that everyone was prepared in case... in case she didn’t succeed. Before she left he held her close and kissed her, their foreheads pressed together gently. “Please come back to me my love... I... can’t lose you.” His voice was quiet and pleading. “I’ll do my best Cullen.” Their hearts were heavy, though. This was an impossible situation and her anchor was already so bad. When the party came back Cullen feared the worse when he saw how they were carrying her. The healers came and he paced outside of the tent until he was finally let in. Cullen didn’t leave her side. Maker she was okay. When she woke up he kissed her forehead and gave her a teary smile. His new mabari also came to kiss her and they both laughed. “He was worried about you too.’ He murmured. Cullen had helped others go through something similar back when he was a Templar. It was never easy, but having support helped. He did not coddle her, but when he saw her getting overwhelmed he would step in and help until she was ready to try on her own again. He reminded her everyday that she was not weak, that she had succeeded, that they were together and she was alive and that was all that mattered. It did them both good that they were no longer in the Inquisition. They had a chance to breathe. He was honestly ready for it. He was tired of fighting and he just wanted to settle. While she was healing he would lay next to her at night and tell her of how they could go visit his family back in Ferelden, how he wanted to build them their own cabin. She smiled and he grinned back. He knew as long as they had each other they could survive anything.

Josephine: One would have thought that with Corypheus gone her work load would have been easier, but it was the exact opposite. Without a major threat uniting the lands nobles began to either try and buy the Inquisition or call for them to be disbanded. In all her haste of preparing for the meet and trying to keep everything under control and calm Josephine had failed to notice her love’s declining health. They stayed so upbeat and when she did notice something she just assumed that it was nerves for the up coming meet. When she found out what was truly wrong she started to cry. Everything that could go wrong was. The nobles were threatening to disband the Inquisition, Leliana and Cullen were taking charge when they were supposed to be laying low and keeping the peace, and now her love was dying because of the anchor and there was nothing she could do. They still had to fight, to stop the Qunari attack and all she could do was try to keep the nobles at bay for a little while longer. She feels like her nerves are eating her alive the longer she has to wait to know if her love succeeded, to know if they are coming back to her. When they do she breaks down. She doesn’t care what the healers say she’s staying by their side the whole time. Josephine is already making plans. She’s going to contact some of the finest prosthetic makers she knows, she’ll get the healers to write down everything she needs to know to help ensure the Inquisitor makes a speedy recovery. She is going to do everything in her power to make them recover quickly and as smoothly as possible. She’s gentle and encourages them the whole time. When they break down she’s their to comfort them. When they call themself useless she presents them with a whole list on why they are the furthest thing from useless. She almost lost them twice, and she’s determined to not let that happen again. On days where they don’t want to get out of bed she stays with them and showers them in affection. She’s just happy to have them with her, to have them alive. It’s a few months later when she takes the Inquisitor to Antiva to meet her family. They still have bad days, she doesn’t expect that to go away. They went through so many horrible things, but she wants to build so many happy memories for them, so that when the bad days come around she can remind them that they’re not alone, that they’re loved, that each day is new and open for possibilities. She loves to hold their hand or lean against their shoulder. When it’s just the two of them at night she gives what remains of their arm a gentle kiss. Sometimes she sees a sad look in their eyes when they go to hug her and remember that it’ll never be the same, so she pulls them in closer and gives them a squeeze because “I love you. You’re here and I am so glad that you are.”

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johaerys-writes · 4 years

Text

Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan

A World With You, Chapter 23: Traitors and Tales

Tristan finally meets Hawke’s Warden contact, the infamous Loghain Mac Tir. Everyone knows him as the Traitor Teyrn, yet he isn’t the only one whose loyalty is in question.

Read here or on AO3!

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“You’re Loghain Mac Tir?” Tristan breathed, blinking in disbelief. “ The Loghain Mac Tir?”

The man before him stood tall and proud in his Grey Warden uniform. The uniform itself had seen better days, worn at the cuffs and its metal buckles dull with time and wear, but one wouldn’t know it by the way the Warden held himself. He rested his hand on his sword hilt, his unflinching gaze fixed on Tristan. He had an imposing presence, seeming to take much more space in the room than a man of his size should, and the look of someone that expected his commands to be obeyed, no matter who he was talking to. And they probably would.

Still. Tristan could not possibly be talking to the Loghain Mac Tir.

“The Traitor Teyrn?” the man said. His brows drew down in a frown, the lines of his forehead deepening. “The very same. I assume you’ve heard all the names. I’ve been a Warden for ten years, yet I’ll never be considered anything else.”

So. It really was him. The man that had risked losing Ferelden and the rest of Thedas to the darkspawn, that had doomed King Cailan and the vast majority of the Grey Wardens to death at the battle of Ostagar. The man that had plotted and schemed to keep himself in power, even when most Banns were against him. The man who had been forced to join an Order he had betrayed, and for all intents and purposes was now about to betray again. That was the man that Hawke had brought him to meet, that would give him answers about the state of the world.

Tristan frowned. They would have a lot to say after this.

“Hawke here tells me that you know why the Grey Wardens have disappeared,” he said, crossing his arms before his chest. “You believe that Corypheus might have something to do with it.”

“That is correct,” Loghain replied, his voice calm and steady. “It is my belief that Corypheus is the key. After Hawke killed him, Weisshaupt was content to forget the entire affair. But if I’ve learnt anything from all those years of being a Warden, it’s that blighted creatures can survive even seemingly mortal wounds. Why not Corypheus?” He turned away, taking a step towards the old desk, where maps and scrolls were laid out. “I began to investigate. I found evidence, but no proof. Soon after, all the Wardens started hearing the Calling.”

“The Calling?” Tristan asked. He didn’t know much about the Grey Wardens, at least not as much as he would like. The Order had a way of keeping their affairs firmly behind the doors of their fortresses, and with the Blight having ended all those years before they had slowly but steadily faded into a state of semi-obscurity. Yet, that “Calling” definitely sounded ominous to him.

He glanced at Hawke, whose face had taken on a sickly pallor.

“So, the Wardens think their time has come,” he said slowly. “That they are being called into the Deep Roads, to make their final stand against the Blight before the Taint takes them. They think they’re… dying.” His fists tightened, and the muscles in his jaw clenched. “You never told me.”

“I didn’t believe it concerned you.” Loghain looked at Hawke over his shoulder, and Tristan thought he saw something akin to compassion flashing in those icy blue eyes, pale like the morning sky on a frosty winter’s day. Hawke’s gaze remained cold. Cold and angry.

A ball of apprehension settled in Tristan’s stomach. From the little he had seen of Hawke, he seemed like a man that was phased by very little. What was it about the Calling that could make him so angry?

Loghain let out a soft sigh as he turned around to face them. “The Calling is a portent, like crows circling the battlefield before the fighting. First, come the dreams. Then the whispers, just at the edge of hearing. That is when the Warden goes to the Deep Roads, to die with honor. But few people, even amongst the Wardens, know that the Calling is simply a sign of the Taint taking over. A Warden that hears the Calling can’t think clearly. All of the Grey Wardens hearing the Calling at once… that’s madness.”

“So, that’s why they’re hiding. They’re all in a panic,” Varric said. He was a little way away, leaning against the wall of the cave, his features obscured by the dancing shadows of the torch above him.

Loghain nodded. “They are.”

“Corypheus is imitating the Calling to scare them. And the Wardens are playing right into his hand.” Tristan shook his head, his frown deepening. “We need the Warden’s help, now more than ever. This is the worst possible time for them to be falling for a trick like that.”

“This is no mere trick, Inquisitor,” Loghain said. “I can hear too, at the back of my mind. Sometimes I catch myself humming it under my breath. I know it’s false, but that doesn’t make it any less real. The Wardens believe it is real, and that is all that matters.”

Tristan rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his blood pounding at his temples. This was bad. Oh, this was very bad.

“Can you hear it, too, Blackwall?” he asked, turning to the only other Warden in his party.

Blackwall drew himself up, his eyes darting to Loghain and then to him. “I do not fear the Calling. Worrying about it only gives it power.”

Hawke’s gaze snapped momentarily to him, before returning to Loghain. His brows were drawn in a thoughtful frown, his lips pinched in a tight line.

Loghain gave Blackwall a look that coming from any other man would have looked like a glare, but the Warden just seemed... perplexed. He was watching them all carefully. At times, it felt as though not a single movement went unnoticed by his pale blue eyes. It probably didn’t.

Tristan pinched the bridge of his nose and took a breath, hoping to ease the pressure of the headache that had started taking hold, an iron cinch around his skull. What Loghain was saying was outrageous. If Corypheus did indeed have that much control over the Wardens, they were all probably doomed.

That was… If what Loghain said was true. And Tristan still had little proof of that.

He fixed him with a hard look. Time for more questions, it seemed.

“We met some Grey Wardens just before coming here,” he told Loghain. “They wanted to take you back to Weisshaupt for questioning. Apparently, the Warden-Commander of the Grey Wardens herself has ordered your capture. Why?”

Loghain returned his inquisitive gaze with a calm and composed one of his own. “Warden-Commander Clarel ordered an urgent meeting with all the Warden Commanders after it became known that all Wardens hear the Calling. She insisted, and most Wardens agreed with her, that a new Blight, perhaps the more devastating to date, is close at hand. She proposed a ritual involving blood magic. A desperate measure to prevent further blights. I protested the plan, called it madness. They tried to arrest me.”

Tristan opened his mouth to speak, but Solas was faster. He took a step forward, straightening up to his full height as he came to stand next to Tristan.

“What sort of ritual is this?” he asked Loghain. “What are the Wardens planning to do?” His voice was… not panicked. Not exactly. But there was the sort of urgency that was now gripping Tristan’s breath, too.

Loghain stared at Solas in confusion for a quick moment, then shook his head. “I do not know. Clarel wouldn’t say how she planned to do it, or where she had gotten the idea for it. Even had she said, I am no mage. Any details would be lost on me. But I know that tampering with blood magic is never a good idea. I wasn't the only one to oppose it, but my voice rings the loudest, I suppose.”

Sola’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing more.

“Where are they planning to do this ritual?” Hawke asked. Straight to the heart of the issue.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Loghain said. “I still have some informants in the Wardens, but they’re getting harder and harder to track down. I need time.”

“Time that, unfortunately, we do not have,” Solas replied quietly, and Loghain shot him a sharp look, his lips tightening visibly.

“Solas is right,” Tristan agreed. “If Corypheus is using them, things are infinitely more dire than originally thought. The Wardens cannot fall into Corypheus’ hands. If another Blight breaks out, there will be no one to stop it.”

"I'll do what I can," the grizzled Warden said, his expression stony and unyielding. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, Inquisitor, I have work to do. There's too much at stake to waste time with idle talk. "

*** Tristan was seething by the time they left the dark cave. Almond was chewing on a patch of sad and rain-soaked grass when he approached her. For a moment, he wished he was as untroubled as she was.

“We should water the horses,” he said, running a palm over her neck. “We have been riding them non-stop for hours.”

Blackwall nodded, and untied his own bay gelding’s reins. “I saw a small a creak on our way here. There were no darkspawn that I could see, but we should be wary.”

The brook that Blackwall led them to was narrow and bubbling, running swiftly over flat and slimy rocks. It was at the bottom of a small ravine, and finding a way around the large stones that seemed to sprout from every bit of ground was tricky, but in the end Blackwall was able to spot a path that would lead the horses there safely. By that time, the light drizzle had turned into proper rainfall, pattering on the hood of Tristan’s coat, running in small rivulets down his leather breeches, slithering into his boots and soaking his socks. If there was a place more miserable than this, Tristan didn’t know of it.

Cursing, he took out his flask from his coat pocket. Thankfully, he had remembered to bring it with him this time. The brandy -Antivan, earthy and aromatic- did work somewhat in warming him up. It didn’t do much to calm him down, though.

Loghain’s information had unsettled him to his very core. If everything he had said was true, then Corypheus had full control of one of the biggest military orders in Thedas, and the only one that could stand against a Blight. And if the Wardens were indeed preparing a blood ritual…

That had given Tristan pause. Why did it suddenly seem like everybody and their aunts were doing a blood ritual of some sort?

His fingers tightened around the mouth of his flask until his knuckles went white. Everything was so complicated and convoluted, that no matter how hard he tried to pick the threads apart, they kept getting tangled. If Dorian were there, he might have been able to talk through all this mess with him. He always seemed to have some brilliant insight to offer that Tristan hadn’t even thought of, no matter the subject at hand. And he always did have a way of asking all the right questions. Had he been there during the meeting with Loghain, he would have pressed the old Warden in a way none of the others could, gleaned every bit of information he held.

That was, if Loghain could be trusted. Something that was still very much in doubt.

The smell of burning smoking leaf reached him, and he glanced beside him at its source. Hawke had come to stand next to him, the soft orange glow of his pipe illuminating his face from within the darkness of his cowl. It unnerved Tristan more than he cared to admit that he never heard him walking up to him.

Hawke exhaled a thick, silvery cloud of smoke, then extended the pipe to him. “Want some?”

Tristan wrinkled his nose and looked away. “No, thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” Hawke replied with a shrug.

He might have been mistaken, but Tristan thought the rain was falling harder now, making him shiver and retreat further into his cloak. Or perhaps it was Hawke’s presence that was making him uneasy. There was something about him, something nagging at him, like an itch at the back of his brain that he couldn’t scratch. He took another sip of brandy to steel himself.

“How do you know Loghain?”

His question was abrupt, and his tone a tad sharper than he had intended. He felt Hawke stiffen beside him.

“I was looking for a friend when I learnt about the Grey Warden’s disappearance,” Hawke said simply. He brought his pipe up to his lips. Inhaled. Exhaled. The smoke blew past his lips, dispersing in the rain and wind around them. “I contacted Weisshaupt under an assumed name. Loghain happened to be in charge, and asked me to meet him. He already had his doubts about the Order at that time, so when he learnt who I was and what I had done, he offered to help.”

“I… see.” Tristan took another sip of brandy. Hawke’s answer had given rise to more questions, none of which would help enlighten him in the slightest. There was something missing still. Something in Hawke’s tone that he couldn’t put his finger on.

“Does my answer not satisfy you?”

Tristan bristled at his curt tone. He opened his mouth, then closed it, thinking.

“I suppose it comes as a surprise that you would trust someone like him for information,” he said carefully after a short while.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

His gaze met Hawke’s in an unabashed stare. “Was that a serious question?”

“I’m not sure. Was yours?”

Tristan frowned with the challenge in the other man’s voice. He took a deep breath, preparing to go straight for the offensive.“Loghain is known across Thedas as a traitor. He has betrayed country and king, and not just once. Now he’s willing to betray the plans of his own Order, an Order he has betrayed the past. You must be able to see my reservations,” he spat, making sure his words packed as much derision as he could fit into them. He turned to gaze at Almond, calmly drinking water, oblivious to the tension that had settled thick around them. When he threaded his fingers through her thick mane he realised they were trembling slightly, and he quickly shoved his hand back within the folds of his cloak. “You’ll be hard-pressed to find a person in the whole of Thedas that he hasn’t crossed.”

Hawke huffed a laugh. “The same could be said of me. Or you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Every time I hear news of you, you’ve made a new enemy. After your support of the mages, half the Templars and the Chantry would want nothing more than your Inquisition declared a heretical organisation and your head on a pike. Does that mean you can’t be trusted?”

“That’s hardly one and the same,” Tristan retorted, his irritation flaring hot and bright. “I had reasons for doing what I did. I did it to make people’s lives better, the only way I could at the time.”

“Anyone you ask will give you the same answer. I did what I did to make people’s lives better, or so I thought. And so did Loghain, I’m sure.”

Tristan scowled at him. “You can’t possibly believe that.”

Hawke turned around to face him, his expression very serious all of a sudden. “You forget that I’m a Fereldan first, Inquisitor, and then a Marcher. I know very well what he has done, and what his actions have cost the world. Still, he’s the only one that can help us at this point. What he has done in the past is irrelevant, compared to what he is willing to offer now. Sometimes, you have to suspend your disbelief in the face of utter chaos. Especially when you have no other options. Which I’m sure you don’t.”

Tristan gaped at him, his pulse beating madly against his throat. He tore his gaze away when he realised he had been staring, clicking his tongue in disgust. Almond whickered softly when he pulled her away from the creek and placed his foot on the stirrup.

“Let’s go,” he called to the others, deliberately steering his horse around Hawke, as if he were nothing but a tree trunk in his way. “It’s getting dark.”

No one spoke a word as they got on their horses. A deep, pensive silence had fallen over them all, the clop of their horses' hooves one the stony ground and the pattering of the rain the only sounds for a long while. They passed through empty villages and abandoned huts, their thatched roofs rotting on sopping wet beams.

The Grey Wardens they had met were not lying about the darkspawn either. Their eerie, guttural sounds and the hollow clanking of their decrepit armours echoed in the grey darkness that spread around them as the day rolled on. They took care not to venture too close to any of the abandoned settlements, staying clear off the main road. The darkspawn, oddly, left them alone. Soon, Blackwall started talking with Varric, and Hawke joined in their conversation, and it almost - almost - felt like things were back to normal. Only they weren't.

As he swayed rhythmically on his saddle, Tristan's head felt as if it were about to burst.

He let out a soft sigh and rubbed his eyes with his free hand, wishing for a miracle that would somehow end his troubles. The lightning strike that fell just a few feet away, making a sad, leafless tree explode, would have been ideal. Alas, his luck didn’t extend so far.

“We should look for the nearest Inquisition camp,” Varric said, his voice muffled from within his hood. “I’m not staying in this rain for much longer.”

“Ah, how I’ve missed this,” Hawke said with a wide smile. His earlier somberness seemed to have completely disappeared, as though he and Tristan had never exchanged a word.“Still haven’t found your love for the outdoors, old friend?”

Varric huffed a laugh, that was broken up by a shiver. “Don’t think I ever will, Poppy.”

“Poppy?” Blackwall asked. “Where did that come from?”

Varric opened his mouth to speak, when Hawke interjected. "Something that happened many, many years ago. I'm sure Varric will spare us all from hearing it.”

“No way I'm leaving our friends in the dark, Hawke!” Varric chuckled. “It's Captain Poppy, to be exact. Do you want to tell them the story, or shall I?"

Hawke rolled his eyes. “I had hoped we would avoid that, but some things are just too much to hope for, aren’t they?”

“You’re damned right they are!” Varric said cheerfully. “I’ll say it if you don’t want to. I’m a far better narrator anyway.” The dwarf straightened up on his saddle and cleared his throat, taking on a serious expression. “It was a dark and cloudless night in Lothering. Our hero - Hawke- was returning from a night at his favourite pub, The Frisky Minstrel-”

“The Tipsy Minstrel, Varric,” Hawke corrected. “She was tipsy, not frisky.”

“Let the writer embellish his stories in the way he sees fit, will you?” Varric protested. “Now, where was I? Ah, yes. It was a dark and cloudless night in the dead of winter when Hawke was approached by a nefarious stranger. “Greetings, young master,” the man said. “I am looking for someone to undertake an important quest.””

“What was the quest?” Blackwall asked. He seemed enthralled in Varric’s story.

“I was just getting there,” Varric said, shooting him a pointed look. He cleared his throat again, making his voice deep and raspy. “”Smuggle five sacks of poppy seeds on a small boat, under cover of darkness, from Lothering to a secret port in Redcliffe,” the stranger said. “That is all you need to do.” Hawke, as you can imagine, was intrigued. The quest was simple. The reward was handsome.”

Blackwall let out a short huff. “I bet you five sovereigns there were way more than ten sacks on that boat.”

“Hold on to your gold, Warden,” Hawke said somewhat gruffly, but the amused smirk on his lips hadn’t faded.

Varric made a dramatic pause, eyeing his audience. Even Solas had shifted slightly on his saddle to listen. Pleased, he continued. “Without hesitation, Hawke took up the man’s offer. “Aye, nefarious stranger,” said he. “I’ll do as you ask. I may be young, but I sure am brave.” Thus, our brave, young hero, still wet behind the ears and hanging from his mother’s skirts-”

“Alright, I think that’s quite enough,” Hawke stopped him, laughing. “You’re still as terrible a storyteller as you’ve always been, Varric.”

Varric’s eyes widened dramatically, and he looked at Hawke with an expression of wild affront. “Well, then why don’t you go on more interesting adventures so I don’t have to embellish as much?”

Tristan didn’t realise he had been listening attentively to their conversation, until Hawke turned towards him. “Don’t listen to him, Inquisitor,” he said affably, his smile dripping with barely concealed mockery. “Varric has a way of coming up with the most extravagant tales. You should hear what he says about you when you’re not around.”

Tristan rolled his eyes and looked ahead of him, scowling. How he wanted to wipe that smug grin off Hawke’s face. With his fist, preferably.

“Now, now, I’ve never talked about Blondie behind his back! Well. Perhaps only once or twice. And when my audience asked for it. Quite insistently, I may add,” Varric replied with a laugh. “Even Chuckles here has been known to enjoy my stories from time to time.” His wide smile didn’t falter an inch when Solas snorted derisively.

“It’s fascinating how whatever interest I lack in your stories, you’ll invent for me,” the elf retorted.

Blackwall let out a loud guffaw. “He’s got you there, Varric.”

The sudden din of battle in the distance cut everyone’s laughter short. Tristan pulled on Almond’s reins and glanced around him, trying to locate the source of the sound. A cloud of smoke rose towards the darkened sky, and it did not look like the smoke of a campfire.

“That must be coming from Crestwood village,” Hawke said, drawing his steed next to Tristan’s. “It looks like they’re under attack.”

“From whom?” Tristan asked, and felt foolish for asking.

Hawke gave him a wry, arrogant smile and kicked his stallion forward, its large hooves splashing in the mud as it picked up its pace. “We won’t know until we get there, will we now?”

#dorian pavus #dorian pavus fic #dorian fic #dorian x trevelyan #dorian x inquisitor #dorian/inquisitor #dorian/trevelyan #pavelyan #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #dorian x tristan trevelyan #aedan hawke #loghain mac tir #a world with you #johaerys writes

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pikapeppa · 4 years

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Fenris/f!Hawke and the Inquisition: Nothing Is Inevitable

Chapter 54 of Lovers In A Dangerous Time (i.e. Fenris the Inquisitor) is up on AO3!

In which Fenris and the crew wind down after killing the Avvar dragon by listening to Ameridan’s memories which are super lighthearted and not at all heartbreaking, and Fenris and Rynne have a Talk™.

Only an excerpt is here; read the whole thing here on AO3 (~9200 words).

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Ameridan’s memories floated out of the flask and separated into five globes of light. Fenris glanced nervously at Hawke. “Shall I just, er…” He gestured vaguely at the memories.

She shrugged. “It worked for your memories in the Fade. Hopefully it’ll work with these.”

He nodded, then reached at random for one of the memories. The memory flared briefly, and Ameridan’s mellow voice echoed through the air.

“I dislike being so far from home,” the voice said. “Halamshiral needs me. The darkspawn have grown stronger. Some of my brothers would let those creatures destroy Orlais; they think Drakon no better than the Imperium. But if we do not stand with the humans against the darkspawn, we might lose everything we have gained. I will fight this Avvar-dragon for you, Drakon… and then we shall drive back the darkspawn together.”

Varric sighed. “Shit. This, uh, explains a lot.”

Dorian grimaced. “Yes, quite. If the elves had helped Orlais during the Second Blight, Orlais might not have turned on them later.”

“Hang on,” Hawke protested. “It’s not the elves’ fault that Orlais burst in and stole their land from them.”

“I’m not saying it’s their fault,” Dorian said in surprise. “I’m simply making an if-then statement.”

“But…” Hawke stopped, then sighed. “No no, I see what you’re saying. Ugh, what an utter shitshow.”

“Agreed,” Fenris said quietly. If Ameridan had succeeded at killing the Avvar dragon and gone back to the Dales, and if the Dalish elves of old had joined Orlais in battling the darkspawn, then maybe the Exalted March on the Dales would never have happened.

Imagine if that were the case, Fenris thought. Imagine what Thedas would be like now if the Dales still belonged to the elves. An independent nation of elves, allied with Orlais, who were in charge of their own destinies…

Or maybe it wouldn’t be like that at all. Maybe after Ameridan and Drakon died, some other excuse would have arisen for an Exalted March, and the Dales would have been taken from the elves anyway.

Blackwall broke through his melancholy musings. “The Jaws of Hakkon failed to destroy the lowlands, but their dragon did lead to the end of the elves.”

“Yeah,” Varric said softly. “That’s probably the fairest way to put it.”

Hawke smiled at him. “That’s how you should put it in your book.”

Varric smiled faintly back at her. She squeezed Fenris’s hand and tilted her head at the memories. “On to the next?”

He nodded, then reached for the next memory. This time, Ameridan’s voice was wry with humour. “If I must go to the end of Thedas itself for Drakon, I am at least glad to have friends at my side. Telana and Haron have been arguing about Haron using the lyrium to fight demons. Some things never change.” Ameridan chuckled softly before going on. “Orinna has a new alchemical trick she wants to try, like pitch or tar but stronger: a recipe straight from Orzammar. They argue, fuss, and mock each other mercilessly… and I would be lost without them.”

The voice trailed away, and they were all silent for a moment. Dorian cleared his throat. “I wonder what that’s like?”

Blackwall harrumphed, and Bull pulled Dorian against his side while Sera scoffed. “What d’you mean by that crack?” she demanded.

“I jest, of course,” Dorian said hastily. “I’m moderately fond of you all, despite your lack of proper hygiene.”

Varric smirked and shook his head, and Hawke flicked the cap of a flask at Dorian’s head. Then Cole spoke up. “They were happy, then dead. But this is still here.”

They all fell quiet again. Hawke looped her arm around Cole’s shoulders and hugged Fenris’s arm. “Well, we’re not dead,” she announced. “Nobody’s dying anytime soon, so we’re all going to keep having a good time, right?”

Her voice was bright and cheerful, and her grip on Fenris’s arm was hard. He squeezed her hand as Blackwall replied. “That’s right,” he said gruffly. “Let us hope we fare better than they did.”

“We will,” Hawke said firmly. “We already have. Go on, Fenris, let’s hear the next one.”

He reached for the third memory, and once again, Ameridan spoke to them through the glowing globe of light. “I prepare now for my final battle against this dragon of the Avvar. I offer thanks to Ghilan’nain, halla-mother, and to Andraste, Maker-bride. As you were raised up from mortal men to stand with our creators, our makers, so raise me up now to defend this world.”

Fenris’s eyes widened. “Ameridan worshipped the elven gods and the Maker,” he said. He looked at Hawke. “I had wondered about this – why he said he would see Telana at the Maker’s side. He was Andrastian, at least in part.”

She made a little face. “That would have been a pain, though, don’t you think? Trying to reconcile two sets of wildly different religions? Why bother?”

“Belief is a funny thing,” Varric said philosophically. “Besides, an elven Inquisitor must have had a careful path to walk.” He glanced at Fenris ruefully. “Still does, I guess.”

“There is that,” Fenris agreed. He himself had never publicly revealed his religious uncertainty for concern that it would obstruct the Inquisition’s goals.

Cole spoke again, this time through Ameridan’s voice. “‘They’re not so different, Drakon. Just another pair of boots to walk the same road.’ He doesn’t see, wants it simple, but I can help him get there. There’s room for both.”

“Oh,” Hawke said softly. “That’s… kind of nice, actually. Making room for both…” She looked around at their companions. “Ameridan was a pretty inclusive sort of fellow, wasn’t he?”

“Sounds like,” Sera agreed. “Elfy-elves aren’t like that these days.”

Fenris twisted his lips ruefully. “They aren’t, no. If Ameridan had survived, lived to maintain the alliance with Orlais…” He trailed off before he could continue the thought. The path of what-ifs regarding Ameridan’s survival could only lead them to a very depressing place.

Hawke sighed quietly and leaned her head on his shoulder, and he looked down at her. “Are you all right?” he murmured.

“Of course,” she said. “Just tired, that’s all. Should we hear the next one?”

He nodded and activated the fourth memory.

“We have a plan,” Ameridan said. “Haron and Orinna will lead the Avvar elsewhere, so Telana and I can deal with the dragon. Telana believes we can seal the dragon away, even if we cannot kill it.” He sighed, and even through the echo of memory, Fenris could hear the bone-deep weariness in his voice. “It is less clear whether I can do so without sealing myself in as well, but I have little choice. This beast will wreak devastation across Orlais unless we can stop it now.”

Dorian shook his head sadly. “This still boggles my mind,” he said. “Ameridan saved all of Orlais from the Avvar, and no one ever knew.”

Sera wrinkled her nose. “People-people don’t do things so you know them. Good on ‘im.”

“She’s right,” Blackwall said. “Heroism shouldn’t be about fame. It’s about doing what’s needed, no matter the cost.”

At Blackwall’s words, Fenris’s stomach twisted guiltily. Blackwall had a point; some tasks needed to be done, no matter the cost. Killing Corypheus had been one of them, and killing this possessed dragon had been another. It was selfish of Fenris to wish that those necessary tasks weren’t his responsibility. They needed to be done by someone, and that bottom line should trump everything else.

But why does that someone always have to be me? he thought resentfully. As Ameridan had said before, demons and dragons were one thing; politics and posturing was something else altogether. Every political problem, every feud, every territorial dispute: was it truly necessary for Fenris to be consulted for everything?

Dorian, meanwhile, raised his eyebrows at Blackwall and Sera. “I didn’t mean– of course Ameridan didn’t do it for the heroism. It’s just… a shame, that’s all.” He eyed them incredulously. “Come now, you two can’t really not care if you’re forgotten from history. Don’t you want to feel that you, you know, participated in everything that’s happened here?”

Cole answered for them. “It doesn’t matter that no one remembers,” he said. “What matters is that they helped.”

Hawke wilted. “But if that’s all that matters, then why are we here listening to these memories?” she said plaintively. “Why are we getting all mopey over a bunch of people that we never met if their stories don’t matter?”

Fenris glanced worriedly at her, and she laughed lightly. “Not me, of course. I’m not moping. But I can see that tear in your eye, Bull.”

Bull chuckled. “Whatever you say, little Hawke.”

She grinned at him, but her smile faded quickly. “Seriously though,” she said. “This isn’t – nothing we do is for the recognition. That doesn’t mean you want to just be forgotten. Even you two,” she said to Blackwall and Sera. “Whether you care or not, you’re not getting forgotten in any of this.”

Sera wrinkled her nose and shrugged. Then Varric shrugged as well. “It is a damn fine story,” he said. “Shame nobody found it until now.”

“It is a shame,” Fenris agreed. He reached for the fifth and final memory.

Ameridan’s voice echoed through the frosty air. “Telana, my love,” he said softly.

Hawke’s fingers tensed against Fenris’s arm as Ameridan went on. “I should not have asked you to come with me, though I know you would not have stayed behind. You are a Dreamer, and this dragon the Avvar have tamed carries a demon inside it. I can see how its presence hurts you. You should be at Halamshiral reminding our people of our alliance with Drakon. Not here, risking death again with me.” He sighed. “Still, in the old tongue, your name ‘Telanadas’ means ‘nothing is inevitable’. I will remember your name and hope.”

For the final time, Ameridan’s voice faded away. For a long, frozen moment, they all sat in a subdued silence, and Fenris could hear Hawke breathing shallowly beside him.

Nothing is inevitable. The meaning of Telana’s name hung in the air like a chilling fog that sank straight down to his bones. Ameridan had thought of Telana’s name as a sign of hope, a sign that even terrible things could be stopped and avoided. But Fenris couldn’t ignore the ugly irony of what had ultimately befallen them.

The thing Ameridan had tried so hard to avoid – his wife’s death – was the very thing he had not been able to prevent.

Cole broke the heavy silence. “Too bright, blinding, breaking, broken. ‘Get to safety. I will seal us both away. It’s not forever. Come back with aid.’ But her leg was broken. She could only lie down and try to see him one last time.”

Varric sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Aw, kid.”

Hawke suddenly hid her face against Fenris’s arm. He turned toward her and stroked the nape of her neck. “Hawke…”

She shook her head and pressed her face into his neck and shoulder, and Fenris could feel the dampness of her tears on his skin.

He swallowed hard and clasped the back of her neck. Across from them, Sera sniffled wetly, and Blackwall put his arm around her. “Come now, girl,” he said kindly. “They’re together now, like Ameridan said.”

Sera scoffed and rubbed her nose. “Not crying about that, silly. Just something in my eye.”

Hawke took a deep breath, then lifted her face from Fenris’s shoulder. “Me too,” she said thickly. “Allergies or something, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sera said gruffly.

Hawke smiled at her. “You know what’s good for allergies?”

Sera leapt to her feet. “Punch!” she exclaimed.

“You’ve got it,” Hawke said cheerfully. “Come on, back to Stone-Bear Hold so I can mix up some punch.” She braced her hand on Fenris’s knee and started pushing herself upright.

He hastily took her hand and helped her to her feet. “Be careful, Hawke,” he warned. “Your mana…”

“I know, I know,” she said. “Taking it easy, no magic for the rest of the night.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “If you want to carry me back to Stone-Bear Hold, that might help me recover faster.”

“I could, if you need me to,” he said.

She grinned wickedly, and Varric shook his head. “You should know better than to offer to carry her,” he said dryly.

“Hush, Varric, you’ll ruin it,” Hawke scolded. She gave Fenris a winsome smile. “Oh please, most handsome elf in Thedas, will you carry me?”

Fenris huffed in amusement and pinched her waist. “Only if you need me to. It is not my job to transport you across Thedas. I’m not a nuggalope.”

“You’re right, you’re not,” she said promptly. “I’d much rather ride you than a nuggalope.”

Fenris scoffed and rubbed his mouth. Blackwall and Bull snorted, and Sera cackled loudly while Dorian rolled his eyes.

Varric shot Fenris a knowing look. “You walked right into that one, you know.”

“I know,” he said ruefully. “I regretted it the moment I said it.” He placed a solicitous hand at the center of Hawke’s back. “Come on, back to the settlement.”

Read the rest on AO3.

#fenris #fenris fic #Lovers in a Dangerous Time #fenris the inquisitor #fenquisition #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x f!hawke #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenrynne #jaws of hakkon #joh dlc #pikapeppa writes

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buttsonthebeach · 4 years

Text

Miles to Go

@lyrium-lovesong asked me to write about her lovely universe once more, and I jumped at the chance to tackle Cullen’s POV! Thank you for this treat, friend <3

I previously wrote Saltwater, which features Freya.

Pairing: Freya Lavellan x Cullen Rutherford

Rating: General

**********

Cullen Rutherford was, allegedly, a master of self-restraint. A man who had spent his life studying it, in fact. A man who had combed through the Chantry’s litanies searching for more and more and more of it. Seeking out where all the lines were and then judiciously avoiding or guarding those lines.

Some of that had fallen away, after Meredith. Kirkwall. But in large part he still prided himself on it. He did not take unnecessary risks in his chess games with Dorian. He did not lose his temper when Leliana and Josephine argued for courses of action that he disagreed with, or when they teased him. Most importantly, he had not once taken lyrium again.

(He’d opened the pouch yes, yes, looked at it, thought about it, dreamed about it, thrown the whole thing against walls, yes, but all of those were further signs of his self-restraint.)

And he, of course, did not spend time worrying about Freya Lavellan while she was away.

That, besides the lyrium, was his greatest self-restraint. At least in Cullen’s own eyes - he had not told anyone else he felt that way. Most people would laugh at the thought. The great Commander, struggling to restrain himself from giving in to worry. So he wore that secret close to his skin, beneath every layer of armor. Swallowed it down like a sick man’s bile.

He feared for Freya almost as much as he loved her.

She was in the Emerald Graves hunting Red Templars, looking for evidence Samson had left behind, when he articulated those words clearly to himself. It was two weeks after she’d left, and he was lying in his bed, looking up at the blue-black night above him through the hole in his ceiling, at the pinpricks of the stars. After so long inside stone walls and towers it was good to be reminded they were there. This night, the comfort of that thought was interlaced with thoughts of Freya - which stars she looked upon, where she was sleeping, how her day had gone, how many times she had risked herself in battle against Corypheus’s forces, against monstrous creatures.

The thoughts were as entwined as he wished they were at that moment. The stars are beautiful tonight, and I miss Freya. The breeze feels good, and I wish Freya was here. He longed for her so strongly that the longing took physical shape and crawled into bed beside him, half convincing him that she was there, her leg thrown across his, her head pillowed on his chest, the scent of her skin and her red hair tickling his nose. At one point, half-asleep, he reached out to touch her, to stroke her back and kiss her forehead, only to realize with a start she was not there. He knew soldiers who had lost limbs, and said it felt like this - like there were times the limb seemed to come back to them, so real they could feel it once again, only to vanish like smoke.

I fear for Freya almost as much as I love her.

There was a mathematical logic in that thought, he supposed, rolling over, trying to chase the feeling of loss away. Perhaps the Maker had always weighed out fear and love in equal parts, like a merchant weighing gold and goods (you must pay this much fear for this much love) and Cullen had never known it until now. What was not logical was how much he’d been struggling to sleep since Freya left. He’d slept alone most of his life, and there were still many nights when she slept in her own chambers even when she was at Skyhold. He should be more used to this than he was to having her here, her cold feet seeking the warmth of his body, her wriggling and stirring and even occasional snoring startling him awake.

And yet, there he was, unable to sleep. Unable to think of anything but her.

Some self-restraint.

So he sat up, slung himself out of bed, and went to put on his armor. Maybe the ritual of that would be enough to bring him back to himself, his discipline. Instead he found himself thinking of her again, of the time she asked to be taught how to help him with his armor, how he’d told her it wasn’t necessary, he knew how to remove it and don it himself. How she’d rolled her eyes at him.

“I know that,” she’d said. “But I want to learn. Just because you can do something yourself doesn’t mean you should always have to.”

And just like that, there were phantom hands alongside his own - smaller and more gentle, hands used for picking herbs and healing the sick, and Cullen wanted to drop his hands to his sides and let them take over. To surrender to the feeling of being loved and cared for.

But no one was there. Not really.

Maybe she isn’t coming back this time.

He strode out of his chambers, willing the thought to stay behind.

As he made his way down the rampart that connected his chambers to the rotunda, he saw a soldier approaching at a quick step, and instinctively straightened his posture, tensed his jaw. He needed to be Commander Rutherford, now. Not some lovesick fool.

“Commander Rutherford. Did someone already come to wake you?”

“No. I had an idea to improve our defenses here, and I wanted to walk and make notes before the idea left me.”

Lying to people under his command never failed to leave a bad taste in his mouth, but it was still better than the truth. Your Commander misses his lover so much that he can’t sleep.

“Oh. That works out I suppose. I was sent to wake you and tell you that you are wanted at the War Table. The Inquisitor has sent urgent correspondence back from the Emerald Graves. She thinks she may know where Samson and his lot can be found - where we might get to the secret of Samson’s armor.”

Cullen’s heart leapt twice - once at the thought that they might have his former colleague pinned down, and then once, even higher, at the confirmation that this news from Freya was recent. That there would be a letter from her waiting at the War Table, written in her hand, that perhaps other letters had arrived, more personal ones.

You have truly gone soft, Rutherford. Focus.

He followed the soldier through the rotunda, across the cavernous great hall, past its empty throne, and down the long crumbling corridor that led to the War Table. Leliana and Josephine were both already present, Josephine looking particularly tired, while Leliana looked as alert as ever. He wondered what sort of impression he presented.

“Well,” Cullen said. “Let’s see this letter.”

“Letters, actually,” Leliana said, handing him a packet of parchment, and once again, Cullen’s heartbeat picked up its tempo, just a little, just enough for him to notice, at the thought that they all might be from Freya.

Instead they were all in Samson’s hand, dark and angular. He pressed hard on his pencils and quills whenever he wrote, leaving splotches and splatters of ink, or smearing the charcoal. Cullen experienced a moment of childish frustration, wanting to push them aside and ask if there had been any from Freya, or if these had just arrived with no context at all. Then a wave of shame washed over him, settling by his feet, lapping at his ankles, making him feel cold even beneath the layers of armor. He had dedicated himself to the Inquisition and its cause before he ever dedicated himself to Freya. How dare he let his personal feelings interfere with the task at hand for even an instant? Especially when being a good commander was the best thing he could do to ensure Freya’s safety?

“She got these from intercepting caravans of red lyrium in the Graves, yes?” Cullen asked as he skimmed them for more details, a picture already forming in his mind. None of the letters directly stated where the red lyrium came from, but they did talk about how long it was taking to get where it was going, and that gave him an idea of where to start looking on the map.

“That is correct. I am reading her letter now,” Josephine said, and Cullen’s eyes flicked towards her, seeing the parchment in her hand, seeing how the candlelight illuminated it so that he could see Freya’s handwriting clear as day. Cullen would let her finish reading it. It would be his turn soon enough, and then he could trace the letters, and it would be as close as he had come to touching her in weeks.

“Does she say where they were found?”

Cullen continued his questioning and studying, half of his attention on the smugglers’ letters, half on the answers Josephine and Leliana gave. He was forming a picture in his mind, imaging both the paths of the Red Templars and Freya in the Emerald Graves. She’d been there once before already and told him how brilliantly green they were, and how haunted they seemed. Life and death entwined. What stories would she bring back to him this time?

“Emprise du Lion,” he said finally. “I can study the maps and routes more thoroughly tomorrow, but I am fairly certain. They are quarrying the red lyrium in Emprise du Lion and then shipping it throughout Thedas. The Emerald Graves has been a major thoroughfare, but I am more than willing to believe that Freya has made a mess of that plan in the course of acquiring these letters.”

Pride tinged the words - because he feared for her, yes, but he was also fiercely proud of her. This brave and capable woman who chose to come back to him when she was done saving the world.

(Even if it seemed like it would never really be done, like it would only grow more dangerous each day.)

“As am I,” Leliana said. “I would respond telling her to rendezvous with us here in Skyhold before heading out to the Emprise, but she says here that there is a matter Solas wishes to attend to in the Exalted Plains. Depending on how long that takes, she may not be able to return to us in Skyhold before the passage is blocked by snow and ice.”

“That is not the worst turn of events,” Josephine mused. “We might wish to redirect Inquisition forces to aid her before she gets there. Your spies for intelligence, Cullen’s soldiers for support against the Red Templars, my nobles for supplies and shelter.”

“Agreed,” Leliana said. “We will continue to coordinate that with her as she heads to the Plains and back. Cullen?”

It was a good plan.

It was a good plan that would keep Freya away from Skyhold for several more weeks, and send her into the depths of the Red Templars’ organization.

He felt his fingers tightening on the letters, and forced himself to relax.

“Yes. Let us begin drawing up the letters and other orders.”

They worked long enough on the plans that by the time they emerged, the sky was beginning to lighten - deep navy turning to a softer shade of blue, gold and pink tingeing the easternmost mountaintops. Cullen knew that soon Freya would wake and see the same dawn.

I hope you get the chance to enjoy it, love. I can’t wait until the next time we watch one together. I miss you. I love you.

“Cullen,” Josephine called. She held out a small square of parchment as she approached. “This was tucked inside the envelope that everything else came in. I only just noticed it. I believe it is for you.”

Cullen waited until Josephine had walked a distance away, and then he unfolded it, and saw Freya’s messiest handwriting, and six short words.

I miss you. I love you.

An echo of his own unspoken words just moments before - a miracle as real as anything in the Chant of Light. A reminder that his life was not all self-restraint and fear. That love could outweigh all of it, and yet also lighten every burden he carried. It was not a guarantee against all the darkness in the world, against all the things that could go wrong - but it was a miracle nonetheless.

Cullen smiled and walked on, ready to face the dawn.

#beach writes #beach does commissions #cullavellan #freya lavellan #cullen rutherford #lyrium-lovesong

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nightingaletrash · 4 years

Note

10-14 with your Hawke for those character questions?

Thank you!! and joke’s on you, I have two of them and so I get to talk about both of them >:D

010. Do they believe in love at first sight?

Garrett: he did when he was younger. He had a bad habit of developing feelings for any other boy who showed even the smallest signs of returning his affections, and when he was a kid, he often got pretty upset when the family had to move. Now he’s an adult he knows that love is slow and is pretty different from infatuation, so he’s kind of decided that love at first sight isn’t really that reliable.

Marian: surprisingly, she kind of does. She feels like she knows the difference between wanting to sleep with someone and actually loving them, like her parents did. She experienced a lot of the former, but never really felt the latter. Then she met Isabela and realised pretty quickly that this is someone she wouldn’t mind if there could be more than just a fling there. She definitely enjoys telling people that it was love at first sight when telling her exaggerated stories.

011. How would your character court the person of their dreams?

Garrett: he’s small gestures. Little things like paying attention to things Fenris needs or wants, invites him to go for walks around Hightown, covers his tab at the Hanged Man, and plays cards with the gang despite being really bad at cards because this is something Fenris likes to do and is good at. He also takes care to watch his back in fights, and offers to tend his wounds after a battle.

Marian: gifts. She sees things she thinks Isabela likes and just buys it without thinking. She pays attention to hat shops - Bela loves her hats after all - and pays her tab at the Hanged Man. Also engaging in their favourite activity of bothering Garrett and Fenris through their shared wall. They have a huge amount of fun with that one.

012. What makes your character embarrassed?

Garrett: making a social fumble is his biggest one. He gifted Isabela what he thought was an ordinary Rivaini Amulet… and ended up bright red with his face pressed into the counter after she pointed out that it was a Fertility Amulet.

Marian: she is unfamiliar with embarrassment. Absolutely unacquainted. She’s the type of person to laugh off everything and anything.

013. Have they ever been bullied or teased?

Garrett: Marian routinely teases him, and engages in playful sibling bullying for Act 1 and most of Act 2. She stops after their reconciliation between Acts 2 and 3, though she still gently teases him a little.

Marian: I mean, people can try, but it doesn’t really work. Again, she laughs off everything. Playing the fool is her go-to tactic to shut down that kind of thing, and it serves her incredibly well. That being said, Isabela and Fenris both like to tease her for it in their own ways.

014. Detail one secret shame your character feels.

Garrett: hmmm… I mean he has a lot of shame, and none of them are particularly secret… I guess the most private one he has is that he feels responsible for his father’s death and not being able to save him.

Marian: Corypheus. She thought she had killed him after stumbling her way into freeing him. She kept what happened in the Legacy DLC a secret from everyone who wasn’t directly involved; meaning only Varric, Isabela, and Carver knew about Corypheus. Then she learns that not only is he alive, he’s the one responsible for the destruction of the Conclave, the Wardens, and the continued spread of Red Lyrium. She got Varric to keep it secret from Garrett… though the truth finally came out after she stayed behind in the Fade.

#anon #da2 #garrett hawke #marian hawke #i love these two so much they're my losers

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bigfan-fanfic · 5 years

Text

Codex Entry: A Note from the Commander

Cullen paced his office, waiting for the tentative knock that had become the little Inquisitor's custom.

Tap. Tap-tap.

"Come in." Cullen announced. He still felt awful about the origin of the knock. It had come after Tash, his only thought to help Cullen with his paperwork, walked in unannounced and nearly taken a box of lyrium tools to the head. It was weak of him, he thought, unforgivable that he unloaded his own inadequacies onto the child, the Child of Andraste, who had so much more on his mind than one man's self-imposed struggle.

Tash opened the door, walking in with his usual bright smile. "Good morning!"

"Good morning. You received my report?"

The boy nodded, shaking his horns in an arc. "Yes, I did!"

Cullen hesitated, as he always did when discussing military matters with the child, although Leliana and Josephine had long since left behind their trepidation. "And... do you have any thoughts about allowing me to join you?"

Tash looked surprised. "Of course. I'd be honored to have you there, Cullen!"

He nearly chuckled at how quickly the response came. The boy was nothing if not eager.

The little Inquisitor had brought his usual team of Varric, Cole, Blackwall, and Dorian. It was almost surprising that Tash preferred to bring Dorian rather than Vivienne, his self-appointed instructor, but Tash always explained it as diversifying the range of magic brought with them. "No need for two Knight-Enchanters when you can have twice the variety of spells!"

Cullen had not yet had the chance to witness them all in action. But Tash was a powerful apostate mage, far more powerful than he had been expecting. The boy clambered onto a small pile of crates as a vantage point and sent spells flying from his hands in every direction, knocking aside spikes of red lyrium flung by the Red Templars.

Even Cullen had to admit that the explosion of color as red met the vivid purple of Tash's lightning magic was beautiful. And the barriers Tash provided were like nothing Cullen had ever felt before. It was as if a warm summer wind was caressing his skin, or, as Tash probably thought of it, as though his magic was hugging Cullen tightly, protecting him from harm. His glowing golden Spirit Blade was only used on the rare occasion that something got past the other four.

Tash's long-ranged tactics freed Dorian to enter the fray with the Tevinter magic greatsword that the Inquisitor had had Dagna craft for him. What it lacked in efficacy as a melee weapon, it made up for in magical enhancement, as Dorian let loose with devastating Energy Barrages of both fire and ice magic, as well as his own brand of necromantic magic. "Having a nice time, Commander?" Dorian called cheerily to him after slicing neatly through a Red Templar.

Cole, of course, moved like a shadow, slipping into nigh-invisibility before striking and fading into the background. He had grown much bolder in his combat choices since becoming more human, and would often throw his daggers or interact with the others, shouting encouragement or warning. Twice Cole threw his dagger into a spell from Tash, igniting it with lightning magic and causing an arcane explosion when it made contact with a Red Templar.

Varric was making it his business to protect Tash. Any ranged combatants that targeted him found themselves the subject of a furious hail of arrows from the storyteller, and there were always new traps forming a defensive barrier around the little Inquisitor.

Blackwall and Cullen moved in tandem, their disagreements with each other since the revelations of Blackwall's true identity forgotten in the heat of battle. Buoyed by Tash's barriers, they struck as one, Cullen blocking a strike so that Blackwall could move in with his sword, and Blackwall deflecting an arrow as Cullen wound up to slash at a nearby Red Templar.

Eventually they made it through the Shrine of Dumat, with Tash proclaiming loudly and often his lack of appreciation for the decor. In stark contrast to the Iron Bull, Tash seemed to have a vehement dislike, if not outright fear, of dragons.

"Don't be afraid, lad. We've faced enough dragons that you should be an old hand at dragonslaying." Blackwall clapped the boy firmly on the shoulder, earning a reproachful look.

"Yes, yes." Dorian said, the familiar teasing light in his eyes. "What's that phrase Bull's so fond of using in relation to dragons? Taarsidath-an-halsaam?"

Tash's eyes widened. "I don't know a lot of Qunlat, but I don’t think that that’s a phrase for polite company. And besides, it's good to be afraid of giant lizards who could eat you, crush you, or roast you."

Cullen nearly chuckled despite the seriousness of the mission. "Not these ones. They're stone and metal. They will not hurt you."

Tash looked at him darkly. "It's all been tainted with red lyrium. They just might."

That shut them all up rather quickly.

Blackwall kicked open the final door, and Cullen felt a spike of fear as Tash went rushing forward.

"Oh no, oh no." Cullen heard the boy murmur as he went skidding across the stone on his knees toward the semi-recumbent figure at the far end, dressed in Circle robes, the Sunburst etched upon his forehead. "Are you all right? What did they do to you?"

Cullen's brow twitched as he realized the identity of the mage. "This is Maddox, Inquisitor. He was made Tranquil in Kirkwall. Under Knight-Commander Meredith."

Tash put a hand on the Tranquil's cheek, tenderly. His eyes were already watering. "You poor thing."

"Inquisitor..." Maddox said weakly. "I'm afraid you won't find anything. I destroyed it before you came in."

Cole seemed in distress, pacing back and forth. “No, no. Not another one. Someone I can’t save. But he doesn’t think you want to help.”

"You... but why? Why would you work with him? With Corypheus?" Tash wondered blankly.

"Samson is the only one who cared. I am Tranquil, Inquisitor. Even other mages are repulsed by my kind."

Tash glanced down at his hands, glowing with spirit magic. "Why isn't it working? Dorian!"

Dorian moved to assist Tash's spells, and Maddox coughed. "You are young, and naive, Inquisitor. Do not waste your strength. I poisoned myself so you could not force me to give up Samson's secrets."

"No. I won't accept that!" Tash said, his breathing becoming labored as the light intensified. "You don't deserve to die."

"Tash, please." Dorian warned, the green light becoming white.

With a dark look, Tash lurched forward, sticking his hand into Maddox's mouth while continuing the spell with the other.

Cullen moved forward, ready to rip the boy away from Maddox, but the light became blinding. When their eyes cleared, Maddox was curled on his side, retching, purging his stomach of the poison, his body suffused with white light. Tash, meanwhile, lay sprawled, unmoving, on the floor.

- - -

It took far too long for the Inquisitor to awaken. Tash groaned groggily on the military cot in Cullen's tent, some distance from the Shrine of Dumat. Varric and Cullen were both pacing, and it was obvious that the others were somewhere nearby.

"Do you have any idea how stupid that was?" Cullen growled as soon as he thought the boy was lucid enough to hear him.

Tash sat up, clutching his head briefly. His eyes had widened at Cullen's tone.

There was silence. Even Varric seemed to expect an answer.

Tash set his jaw. "Is Maddox alright?"

Varric nodded. "Better than alright. He's the healthiest Tranquil I've ever seen. You may even have cured the limp he's had since Kirkwall."

"Which begs an answer to my previous question." Cullen insisted, still raging.

"I'm sorry. I know. I'm the Inquisitor. My life is too precious to gamble on any one person. I have to save Thedas." Tash said numbly. Rehearsed.

Cullen approached, looking as if he would shake the boy, but Varric calmly sidestepped into his way. “Careful there, Curly.”

Fists clenching and unclenching, he resumed pacing. "Inqui- Tash. Ataashi. Your life is precious. But not just because you are the Inquisitor. Because you are you. What do you think would happen to me if you died? Or Varric? Or Josephine? Or anyone? We cannot lose you. Not even to save Thedas."

Tash lowered his gaze. "I just... I wanted to save him."

"Maddox made his decision. I'm sorry to say this, but he should have been left to it." Cullen snapped.

"No." Tash snapped back. "Maddox didn't make his decision. Maddox was made Tranquil. By a Templar. The Templars who are supposed to protect mages! And so, like anybody, he made friends with the only person who saw him as a person! Maybe, if there was just a little more niceness in the world, he'd be on our side instead! And maybe, because of me, he still can be! I'm not going to feel bad about saving people that I can save. I'd do it again if it came up! It's the only way people won't be afraid of mages anymore! The only way people won’t be afraid of me!"

Varric patted Tash on the shoulder. "Shit. Look, kid, anyone who knows you sure isn’t going to be afraid of you. And you know you don't have to do this alone. You’ve got us. All of us. It isn't your responsibility to save every single person out there."

Tash began to cry. "But there've been so many people I couldn't save. The Templars at Therinfal Redoubt, Sahrnia. Felix. Warden Stroud... Please. If I can just save one..."

Varric grunted softly as Tash hugged him tightly. "Oof. Dimples, those weren't your fault. There was nothing you could do."

"Exactly! And this time, I can help Maddox! So why shouldn't I?"

Cullen clapped a hand over his eyes. “You will be the death of me, lad. You truly see this as how you can help?”

Tash nodded.

"Then...very well. But please, Ataashi, for all our sakes, be more careful about it."

- - -

(A letter delivered to Inquisitor Adaar by messenger from the desk of Commander Cullen, shortly after the capture and judgment of Raleigh Samson)

Tash,

I am sorry. It seems that I may have scolded you too harshly. Dagna's reports inform me that Maddox's services and skill in crafting have become invaluable to the Inquisition, even if he does seem to put Harritt on edge. This has only become more true since you placed Samson under my charge. As for his part, he has been rather more forthcoming than we expected with information about Corypheus' movements. Leliana believes that this is directly related to Maddox's survival. She says that your kindness was a better incentive to sway Samson than any torture or interrogation tactic.

I find myself in awe of your enduring mercy, Inquisitor. Permit me to say that you have grown into a fine leader, one I am proud to follow.

Cullen

#tash adaar #my ocs #oc #my writing #long post #codex entry #commander cullen #varric #maddox

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