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jawsofhakkontranscript · 3 years

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Where Once We Walked

Side quest: Where Once We Walked

Characters involved: Ameridan (memory)

Inquisitor Ameridan has granted the current Inquisition access to his final memories. Retracing his steps will offer insight into the former Inquisitor's life.

(The dialogue from this quest has been transcribed by u/whiptrip on Dragon Age subreddit, so credit goes to them.)

[1] Memory at the beach.

Ameridan: I dislike being so far from home. 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.

First additional comment:

Cassandra: But he died here... and the elves ignored the Second Blight as it spread across Orlais. So began the animosity that led to the destruction of the Dales.

Dorian: If the elves had helped Orlais during the Second Blight, Orlais might not have turned on them later.

Vivienne: If the elves had not ignored the Second Blight, relations with Orlais might never have soured. Orlais and the Dales might never have gone to war.

Solas: But he never returned... and the elves of the Dales ignored the Second Blight. Less than one hundred years later, that hostility turned to war and the elves lost their homeland again.

Second additional comment:

Blackwall: The Jaws of Hakkon failed to destroy the lowlands, but their dragon did lead to the end of the elves.

Iron Bull: So the ancient Hakkonite asshole didn't destroy the lowlands like they wanted, but they did get the elves.

Varric: (Grunts.) Looks like the Jaws of Hakkon indirectly destroyed the Dales.

Sera: Pride-cookies. Frigging again.

[2] Memory at the Tevinter cavern.

Ameridan: 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. 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.

Additional comments:

Solas: The more things change...

Cassandra: A dwarf getting on someone's nerves... I can't imagine.

Dorian: Yes, what's that like?

Varric: This Orinna sounds like good people.

Sera: Different and spitting, but still trying. Learn those lessons, now-people.

Vivienne: Every age has those destined for greatness, it seems.

Iron Bull: Sounds like the old Inquisitor could've used someone bigger up front.

Blackwall: Let us hope we fare better than they did.

Cole: They were happy. Then dead, but this is still here.

Memory at the Tevinter ruin.

Ameridan: We have a plan. Haron and Orinna will lead the Avvar elsewhere, so Telana and I can deal with the dragon. My spirit companion believes we can seal the dragon away, even if we cannot kill it. 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 stop it now.

First additional comment:

Cassandra: No one ever knew. Their heroism was lost to history.

Dorian: He saved all of Orlais from the Avvar, and no one ever knew.

Vivienne: What extraordinary courage. A pity history forgot them.

Varric: It's a damn fine story. Shame nobody found it 'til now.

Second additional comment:

Solas: He did not do it for recognition. He did it because it was necessary.

Blackwall: Heroism shouldn't be about fame. It's about doing what's needed, no matter the cost.

Cole: It doesn't matter that no one remembers. What matters is that they helped.

Sera: People-people don't do things so you know them. Good on him.

[3] Memory at the shrine.

Ameridan: I prepare now for my final battle against this dragon of the Avvar. All is in place. 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.

First additional comment:

Sera: Ohhhh, he's one of those. Elfy-elves don't like that these days. Or anything.

Cassandra: Inquisitor Ameridan, who helped bring the Inquisition into the Chantry, built a shrine for the Maker and the elven gods.

Vivienne: He prayed to both Andraste and the elven gods? What a quaint idea.

Blackwall: The Inquisitor honored both the Maker and the elven gods.

Iron Bull: He made a shrine for the human gods and the elven ones. You don't see that much these days.

Second additional comment:

Cole: "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.

Varric: Belief is a funny thing. An elven Inquisitor must have had a careful path to walk. (If the Inquisitor is an elf) Still does, I suppose.

Dorian: You had something similar in ancient Tevinter. People kept the holidays but renamed them for the Maker. So instead of celebrating Andoralis at the start of summer, you have Summerday, and it's about the Maker.

Solas: It's a rare mind that has room to honor both beliefs equally.

[4] Memory on the Lady’s Rest island.

Ameridan: Telana, my love. 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. Still, in the old tongue, your name, Telanadas, means "nothing is inevitable." I will remember your name and hope.

First additional comment:

Solas: Ameridan was correct. The presence of such a powerful spirit would have caused a Dreamer like Telana immeasurable pain.

Dorian: A Dreamer like Telana would have been sensitive to demons. This spirit of Hakkon would have caused her a great deal of pain.

Vivienne: Dreamers are said to be sensitive to the presence of demons. I imagine this Hakkon demon caused Telana significant pain.

Cassandra: Dreamers are said to be sensitive to demons. A creature like Hakkon would have caused Telana terrible pain.

Second additional comment:

Iron Bull: More pain than watching her husband and all her fighting buddies get killed?

Varric: No more pain than watching everyone she loves die, I imagine.

Cole: 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.

Sera: It hurt the Inquisitor too. You can tell because he took so long to say "she died."

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heartslogos · 4 years

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the declassified texts of the inquisition’s elite [119]

(614): Hey Girl, we got home safe! (1-614): I know, I drove you -

Evelyn presses her knuckles to her forehead.

“Oh, so Hawke’s awake is she?” Ellana asks, tugging Evelyn’s phone out of her weak grasp and flicking through her text messages. It’s oh so very casual. It’s like she does this all the time. Evelyn would be more concerned with the breaking of boundaries if it wasn’t — well. Evelyn’s been conditioned to accept certain personal breaches at this point. And frankly, she’s the Inquisitor.

She’s got bigger things to worry about than Ellana Lavellan reading her text messages right in front of her. Now if this was Sera it would be a different story, but this is Ellana and Ellana can keep a secret for so long that the original parties involved in said secret could forget about it. And she wouldn’t tell them about it at all.

This may or may not have happened to people Evelyn knows. It may or may not have happened to Evelyn, herself very recently.

Evelyn eventually had to convince some people in one of their repair shops to crack open the safe for her and then sign a binding legal document swearing they would never disclose what was inside of the safe.

Josephine hasn’t asked her what those contracts were for but she was good enough to write them up as a side project anyway.

Evelyn never claimed to be a perfectly scrupulous person above corruption and abuse of power. Sometimes you just have to throw your weight around as Inquisitor. What’s the point in all of the stress, personal harm, mental fatigue, and constant criticism if you can��t occasionally use some of the perks for personal gain?

Evelyn might not have volunteered to be the Inquisitor, but she’ll be damned if the benefits of being said Inquisitor are less than being a tenured professor at the College of Ostwick.

No, assigned parking and an office with a window are not, in fact, enough of a perk to being one of the most notoriously spoken about people in recent history.

“It’s Garrett,” Evelyn says.

Ellana blinks, and looks back down at Evelyn’s phone. “You really need to change the names on your phone. Do you have them all listed down as just Hawke? There’s four of them.”

“Obviously not, I have Bethany and Carver by first name,” Evelyn says. “For the other two you can just guess which one it is based on how they type. Garrett texts like he’s trying to be a twenty year old girl and Marian couldn’t find punctuation or capitalization of her phone auto corrected it for her. I’m fairly certain she goes back and removes everything autocorrect puts in.”

“That is like, the exact opposite of how they text me,” Ellana says, pulling out her phone to compare, “And now you’ve got me paranoid that I’ve entered the wrong numbers under the wrong Hawke’s. Except that can’t be true because I’ve definitely been texting one or the other while they were physically present and I’ve seen them look at my text convos.”

“It’s the Hawke’s,” Evelyn says, “They probably modulate how they text depending on who they’re texting.”

“That sounds like a lot of work to be crediting Garrett and Marian with.”

“They put a lot of effort into the worst things,” Evelyn points out. “Things that, one would think, don’t deserve any kind of thought or attention at all.”

“Fair point,” Ellana says, still comparing texts. “How come you were driving Garrett around last night? Wasn’t it your night off because you have early morning meetings today? The one we’re about to go into being one of them?”

“Because it’s Garrett and he wouldn’t stop texting me until I went to pick him up,” Evelyn says. “I was getting take out in the downtown food center and he saw me and would not stop calling or texting me until I joined him and then he got so drunk I had to drive him and his friends back to their hotel.” Evelyn groans. “My take out was miserable by the time I got back.”

“What did you get?”

“Pizza.”

“Pizza’s always better cold.”

“Cold pizza just makes me think of undergrad,” Evelyn says, “I never want to go back to undergrad. I would sooner become a Chantry sister than go back to undergrad willingly.”

“I sense some passionate feelings about your university days.”

“What you’re sensing is the decades old sense memory of living off of top ramen, cold days old pizza, and energy drinks. I had two majors and a minor, and I was taking about six classes and a half plus lab per semester. I honestly don’t know how I survived intact. I have nightmares about it sometimes, you know?”

“No, actually, I don’t want to know.” Ellana slides Evelyn’s phone back to her. “I feel like your undergrad and my undergrad were vastly different experiences. Namely in that I didn’t try to kill myself by signing up for that many classes at once and only did one major and one minor. Also I still lived at home so I wasn’t eating garbage all the time.”

“Don’t need to brag about it.”

“You need to stop being bitter about undergrad and start being bitter about something more recent,” Ellana decides, “Like Garrett Hawke.”

“There are some scars that just never leave you.”

“That’s why they’re called scars, Evelyn. They aren’t really supposed to.” Ellana gives Evelyn a funny look. “Stop trying to be poetic and dramatic. You’re terrible at prose and you haven’t a single poetic bone in your body. Leave that kind of thing to people with more flare than you do and focus on the stuff you’re good at that isn’t sulking about your undergrad studies. Like…being really firm and intimidating.”

“Being a teacher.”

“Exactly.” Ellana nods. “Being strict and keeping people on track and making sure no one goes too far off topic. You know, acting blinders for people. But without actually blinding them. Just keeping them focused and relatively emotionally stable and on task.”

“Are you comparing my presence to blinders on a horse?”

“Yes.”

Evelyn mulls that over. “Not the worst I’ve been compared to. I’ll take it.”

#heartsfic #gather your party and venture forth

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sinkat-arts · 5 years

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Undone - Cullrian Fragment/Perma-WIP

A dream remembered as the world comes to an end....

Note: This evening has found me poking around my unfinished fic folder, and I stumbled across this fragment from December of 2016 (god, that feels like a century ago). I abandoned it because I honestly didn’t know how to get it where I wanted it to go... I only had a feeling of what the story should be. It was more emotion than plot. Anyway, there are bits that I like about this fragment, so here you go. If you’re of a mind to read something that leaves our heroes’ fates looking very gloomy, of course...

---

The Inquisitor had fallen - broken, bloody, barely drawing breath.

Cole was locked inside himself, silent but with eyes wide and screaming.

Sera’s mind was blasted, her twisted mouth howling outrage at the thing in the sky. When she’d been hit and her sense obliterated, Thom had charged forward in blind fury to end the creature responsible, but what could one man do against a god?

Varric and Cassandra were missing, long since separated from the group. Maker only knew how well they fared wherever they ended up. They weren't there, though... and that was for the best. Maybe they’d survive a little longer than the rest of them.

Bull’s hulking form was slumped. Silent and unmoving, hunched protectively over Vivienne. For her part, the First Enchanter was racing against time, words muttered in rapid succession, fingers weaving signs most mages never even knew existed as she desperately drew out the oldest magicks to keep her unlikely friend alive. She worked feverishly, even as her own life hung in the balance.

And that left two. Two standing against someone they'd once called friend. Two standing against someone they'd broken bread with and asked counsel of. Someone who'd once fought to save them just as hard as they now fought against him. But that time had passed. He was no friend. He was no advisor.

He was enemy. He was destruction. He was despair.

And so they stood, weak, wounded, weary, each holding on for the others’ sake. A former Knight-Captain of the Southern Chantry and a Magister of the Imperium stood shoulder to shoulder and, for a fleeting moment, hand in hand. They squared off - pitifully, but trying - against the impossible thing tearing the sky to shreds, just as he commanded it to. The Dread Wolf, terrible and large with its face full of eyes, menaced the darkened sky. A looming spectral avatar of the man himself, it snarled as remnants of the veil hung between its teeth in bleeding green clumps and strands. And Solas… no… Fen’Harel watched it unfold - all to his design - a serenity on his face that was in violent opposition to the brutality he demanded. They were, all of them, shattered against his will.

“Well, it's certainly not looking good, Commander,” Dorian quipped through labored breaths as he pushed bloody strands of hair out of his eyes, his other hand wrapped around his staff in a white-knuckled grip. It was all he could do to support himself. “At this rate, I'll have to cancel every one of my appointments next week. Mae’ll have my head.”

“I rather think she'll forgive you,” Cullen chuckled weakly. “I must admit... this isn't my idea of quality time. Maybe next time, we should…” His words cut off as he staggered in place, dizzy from the blood running freely and far, far too quickly from his shield arm. The extent of the damage... that was unknown, hidden by layers of cloth, leather, and armor. However bad it was, he couldn’t feel it any more, and that was a kindness.

“Whoa there,” Dorian breathed, voice a soft rasp as he used what precious energy he had left to keep the other man from falling, careful to avoid the arm that hung uselessly at Cullen’s side. “We're quite the sorry sight, aren't we?” he asked with a smile, though his voice trembled.

Cullen didn't even try to fight it and fell solidly against Dorian’s chest. These would surely be their last few moments together, so he'd take full advantage of the temporary calm over the battlefield. He dropped his sword to wrap his good arm around Dorian's waist, holding him as tightly as Cullen dared. The force of Cullen's weight brought them both to their knees on that bloody field, and they went down holding one another, clinging to each other like they clung to all those years between then and now. The stolen moments and all-too-short reprieves. All the promises of after. After Tevinter was stable. After Solas was taken care of. We'll be together for real after.

A memory, unbidden and from a sweeter time, came to Cullen's mind. A gossamer image of a sunlit morning where there was just the warmth of their bodies pressed together and the sounds of their hearts beating and the fluttering of soft kisses across expanses of bare skin in the afterglow.

‘“Do you ever think about... marriage?”

“So, you want to make an honest man of me, do you?”

“I'm serious, Dorian.”

“I know you are. You're always serious. And that's why I love you.”

“But?”

“But marriage... for a long, long time, that word only meant a life that was... impossible for me to survive. It’s hard to... divorce myself, so to speak, of that association.”

“Yes... Your father, your family... I can see why... I’m so sorry. It was unkind of me to ask...”

“Hush now, I’ll not have mournful sorries here! Not in my bed. We’re going to enjoy this glorious sun and pretend we haven’t a care in the world, or so help me...”

“Yield! I yield!”

“Good, I’m glad you can see reason.”

“Yes, but... we do have a care. We have too many cares, in fact. Until they’re put to bed...”

“Yes, until we can breathe without fear of assassins or the end of the damned world…”

“After, then. We can be together after.”

“We're together now, amatus.”

“You know what I mean. I love you... married or no, I want a real life with you. No more cross country journeys to steal just a day or two. A home. For us. For always.”

“Home? How... dreadfully domestic. It sounds wonderful.”

“Then you would? You would choose to build that life... with me?”

“Only in a heartbeat.”

“I'll hold you to that, Magister Pavus.”

“I expect you will, Commander.”

Home. A life. After.

But what did they do now? Now that there would be no after. It was bitter, wasn’t it? They were so damn close. They'd fought tooth and nail to this point, clawing their way to face him in battle, only to be crushed so completely by the full strength of a jaded god.

It wasn't fair.

And so they held each other, there at the end of all things, under that torn and angry sky. The foundation of their world shifted; everything headed towards a calamity that no one could stop. Powerless. They were powerless to stop this.

“A dog,” Dorian said, voice muffled from where he'd nuzzled into Cullen's neck.

“What's that, love?” Cullen asked softly as he buried his face into dark hair wet with blood and sweat but still beautiful. Still full of Dorian's scent. Still a comfort to his soul.

“I would have gotten you a dog. Once we had our... home. One of those awful mabaris. I’d have acted the longsuffering martyr, of course, but just seeing you happy... That would have been my reward.”

Cullen's throat was suddenly thick. He was choking, heart breaking even as he smiled and rasped out his response. “And we’d have had a nice house - with land - away from it all. I'd make you a study and you’d fill it with whatever books your heart desired.”

“I'd have dragged you to all number of Tevinter social events. You'd have hated it, of course, but you'd be the most handsome, most bright… the best thing there.”

“You'd have met my family. They'd have loved you like their own and made sure you got seconds and thirds at dinner.”

“There'd have been nights in front of the fire with tea. The dog at our feet, me reading, you lying with your head in my lap, dozing off.”

“How dreadfully domestic,” Cullen mused.

“How positively wonderful,” Dorian returned.

It was a lovely fiction, it really was. Enough to bring a real smile, however weak and small, to Cullen’s ashen face. In another world, maybe, they could have had this dream of a dream. This world, however… this world was not made for beauty or kindness or the comfort of a home and heart and warmth. This world was made for gnashing cruelty and ripping loss. This world was made for stone and ice. This world was... undone.

#cullrian #it was meant to turn around #but stopped coming to me while things were still bleak #anyway I haven't made anything new in a long time #so I thought I'd share this #I did at least spend some time editing and refining #that counts right?#blood #injury #fanfic #it's been so long I've forgotten what I even tag my writing

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auds-art · 5 years

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Solavellan AU- Rated E for eventual shenanigans

What if Lavellan was not the Inquisitor, but a simple healer, come as an emissary from her clan to assist the refugees gathering at Haven? Would she be able to prove, without the anchor, that this world was not what Solas expected? Will she still be able to change everything?

It wasn’t a hot day, but Ellana felt a bead of sweat trickle down the length of her spine. Whether it was nerves or the large bag of dried elfroot she was carrying, she couldn’t say. She breathed in deeply, and the cold stung her lungs, but refreshed her at the same time. A fresh wave of energy hit her right in the chest. With that came more anxiety. She shielded her eyes and looked over her shoulder. If she hadn’t know they were there, she likely would have missed them in the trees. Their bows weren’t drawn, but they were ready nonetheless, their eyes scanning ahead. With a huff of reluctance, Ellana returned to her trudge through the snow. This was her duty, as First, and she motioned to her one visible companion to follow.

Maereth nodded, quickly coming to her side. The fort was in sight now, if you could call it that. They had passed the remains of the village, and the smell of charred flesh was still clinging to the back of Ellana’s throat.

She held up a hand, halting their progress. Maereth stopped instantly, waiting for her to signal again. She could see humans below, what looked like Templars, clashing and fighting, preparing for something. Of course, news had spread. The survivor, whom some were beginning to call the Herald of Andraste, was the key to closing the tear in the Veil.

“This place is setheneran,” Maereth whispered, their voice a harsh ghost of a sound that was nearly lost on the breeze.

“I haven’t seen any felandaris,” Ellana returned, then glanced at them askance. “But I can feel the vibration.”

Her companion repressed a shiver, but they had never been fond of the beyond. Ellana checked on their hidden guards one last time before she pressed forward, Maereth one step behind. At first, when they two emerged from the trees, they were largely unnoticed. Then, as Ellana expected, the training soldiers began to stop, to turn, to stare. A few weapons were drawn, but nothing was aimed at them. It took only mere moments before two shems—humans—Ellana corrected, approached them.

The woman was tall, elegant as she walked, hips swaying, hand on pommel. The man beside her was impossibly large, fur-trimmed cloak making him appear even larger. He stopped just slightly behind the other warrior, and Ellana took that to mean she was the superior of the two. Of course, she knew their names. She knew what their functions were in this growing, well, movement she supposed. She reminded herself to breathe.

“I am Ellana Lavellan,” she said, keep her voice low, melodic and soothing. They were not a threat, and she prayed these humans understood that. “I’m here as First from clan Lavellan to offer our assistance to Haven and the people gathered here.”

Cassandra looked between the two, not trusting. She narrowed her eyes, and not because of the glint from the sun. “You...two,” she paused, emphasizing the word, “are here to help?”

It did seem a bit strange, when put like that. Ellana nodded, her large eyes sparkling in the blinding sun. “I’m our clan’s most talented healer.” She said it plainly, and reached around to pat the large satchel on her back. “We’ve brought enough elfroot and other healing herbs to last our clan a month. I imagine it would help to bolster your supplies. If you have a healer, I would be happy to speak with them and see how we can best assist.”

“Out of the goodness of your hearts, is it?” Cullen didn’t sound angry when he spoke—more tired. Wary.

“We were near when it happened.” Maereth’s voice was deep and still, like the rumble of summer thunder in the distance.

Ellana pressed a hand to their shoulder, knowing their patience was much shorter than her own. “My apprentice speaks truth. We would have been here sooner, but we are a cautious people. We wanted to help, but did not know how. After much discussion, our Keeper has decided this is the best course of action.”

“He’s your apprentice?” Cullen sounded genuinely shocked. “But he looks to be ten years your senior.”

Ellana could sense the instant tension in her companion. “They are only a handful of winters older than I,” Ellana corrected, gently but firmly emphasizing the correct pronoun. “And they only realized seven seasons ago that they were drawn to healing.”

It was a partial truth. Maereth was interested in healing, yes, and had been studying with Ellana for the last two years, but they were a rogue, an assassin, and were to be Ellana’s protection.

“May we see?” Cassandra asked, motioning at the bags both elves carried. Without hesitation, Ellana dropped her satchel and opened it. There were bricks of dried and packed elfroot, and Maereth revealed much the same, with a few other herbs and dried flowers. Cassandra’s eyebrows shot up.

“That is an impressive amount. Yes, I am certain our potions master, Adan, will be grateful for the help.”

Cullen, perhaps to make up for his faux pas earlier, stepped forward. “I will get you through the gate’s. Come, and I apologize for my earlier mistake.” This last he said, looking into Maereth’s eyes. The rogue nodded their acknowledgment, but said nothing.

The lion-crested man led them past the crowds, many of who had begun their sparring again, and into Haven again. The large doors were open, but soldiers killed about everywhere. Cullen spoke a few words to a handful of ironclad warriors, and turned to the elves. “You’ll be unharassed while you’re here. Our potions master, Adan, as Cassandra said, is in the back. To the right of the Chantry.” As he turned to leave them to it, he paused, and looked back. “I’m Cullen Rutherford, and I apologize again for not introducing myself before.”

With a polite nod of his head, he turned and was a gone. Ellana watched him go for only a moment, then made eye contact with Maereth. They nodded once, and followed Ellana’s lead as she made her way through the sea of humans. There was some muttering, stares at the blood writing on their faces, but mostly the quicklings kept their distance.

There was that panicking sensation in her chest again. She never felt comfortable near the Chantry. It was just a matter of meeting a particularly ardent worshipper before she was accused of being an apostate. The relief that hit Ellana in the gut was palpable when she saw another elf. No, he didn’t have a vallaslin, but his broad shoulders and height let her know he was no city elf.

He was aware of her gaze, sensing it. His eyes, a piercing blue, met hers, and she could immediately see the curiosity that sparked. She adjusted her path, aiming for him. She stopped a few feet short of him, and inclined her head respectfully.

“Hello,” she tried, almost tripping over the elvhen that nearly spilled from her lips. It was rude to assume that every elf she met spoke their language, so she would wait to see. “Would you be kind enough to direct my friend and I to the potions master?”

“Adan,” Maereth supplied, the gruff sound emanating from where in their chest.

“Ah, yes,” the elf said, his voice deep, regal. Oddly, it made Ellana’s toes curl in delight, an embarrassment given their lack of footwear. Maereth would notice. “Master Adan works from that cabin,” he continued, looking behind her. Ellana glanced over her shoulder to spot the cabin. Hard to miss. Only a few feet away.

“Thank you,” Ellana said, a smile dimpling one of her cheeks. At his nod, the two turned together and knocked upon the door.

A voice, not tempered by patience, answered. “Whatever Maker-damned person that is better be bringing the supplies I ordered, and not suffering another self-inflicted injury—and yes, training counts as self-inflicted!”

“Well,” Ellana said, raising her voice to be heard through the door, “we have two satchels of healing herbs, dried and ready to be brewed into potions.”

It sounded like something slammed closed, a tome, perhaps, and the door was abruptly thrust open. A man with more scruff than beard opened the door, eyes wide beneath bushy brows. “Dalish!” he exclaimed, truly surprised. That was better than knife-ear, Ellana supposed.

Needless to say, Adan was grateful for the help. He set them to work, and as they were unloading the dried herbs, brick by brick, the potions master appraised them.

“I’m surprised to see the Dalish actually taking an interest in human affairs.”

He hadn’t said much, up to that point, other than to give out orders. He clearly didn’t mean it to be an insult, but Ellana could almost feel Maereth tense beside her. The sun was beating down upon them heavily, where they were working on a table Adan had set up out front. It warmed the air nicely, giving the icy atmosphere a golden feel.

“While the hole in the Veil concerns all peoples,” Ellana said, gently, “we are hoping to break some of the stereotypes surrounding the Dalish.” She wiped her brow on the back of her arm, smiling over at Adan to keep the tone friendly. “We all share this one realm. It makes sense to work together for a greater good, doesn’t it?”

She couldn’t help her eyes sliding to the mysterious elf just a few feet away. His back was to them, so she felt free to examine him at leisure as she worked. His hair was shorn, close to the scalp, which, to her, seemed to emphasize his handsome features. Of course, it could just be the mystery of a non-Dalish, non-city elf. That wasn’t why she was here, however, so she quickly returned her focus.

“I agree,” he said after a moment. “If only more Dalish did!”

Well. She had tried. She said nothing, and as the silence lingered, the human mage paused his own work of hanging embrium. “...I can see how that sounds, and I apologize. I don’t mean that elves—what I mean to say is—well, I know, the past—well, dammit, I’m trying to say that elves have a good reason to want nothing to do with us.”

Ellana smiled, and inclined her head, fingers deftly separating bricks of elfroot. “Yes, but we hope to put such things behind, if we can. Someone must make the first gesture, and we need to look to the future.”

They fell into silence. After the herbs had all been sorted, separated and properly stored, they used the remaining sunlight to prepare a few potions.

“Are you staying?” Adan asked as the dusk chill swept away the remaining warm glow of day. “I can get a cabin for the two of you, maybe. I was using the one there,” he waved at the cabin to the right, directly across from the one the tall elf had disappeared into. “But I can move into here with my work.”

Maereth looked at Ellana. She nodded once, and they snorted softly. Ignoring them, Ellana produced her dimpled smile yet again. “Yes, we shall stay. For a few days, perhaps longer. Our clan plans to leave the area in two weeks, so we will rendezvous then.”

Adan sighed in relief. “Thank the Maker. This,” he said, waving gruffly at the pots and piles of herbs, “is not my forte.”

He saw them settled into their cabin, and disappeared. Maereth sighed heavily as they unrolled the small bundle they carried beneath their satchel. They wrote something onto a scroll so small it might as well have been a blade of grass, and slipped out the window facing the Chantry hall. They were going to release a small bird, which would inform the Clan of their expected departure.

It had been a long day. Ellana expected tomorrow they would meet with the Spymaster, Leliana, and softly hoped to see the so-called Herald. Her hand glowed, she had heard. That would be quite the sight.

With such thoughts dancing behind her eyelids, she slipped into a light sleep, not bothering to wait for Maereth to return. She trusted them implicitly, as they did her. They’d see themselves to bed, and would waken her if they needed her.

xxx

Solas sat before the hearth of his cabin, gazing at the flames as he prepared himself for a walk in the Fade. That young elven woman was fascinating, as was her clan. Wanting to work with humans, focusing on, what had she said? The greater good? Of course, it didn’t change anything, but it was...interesting, nonetheless.

As he set the wards he always used before sleep, it occurred to him that he was going to enjoy the coming two weeks, if only to see more about this clan Lavellan.

#solas #solavellan #solavellan au #dragon age #ellana lavellan #solavellan fic #lemon

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cosmiciaria · 6 years

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Dragon Age Inquisition Review (Spoiler Free!)

I know, I KNOW, DOES ANYBODY STILL TALK ABOUT THIS GAME? *just you* I DON'T CARE!

Maybe now that it was (almost) confirmed that Dragon Age 4 is a thing, people will come back to the older games. I must admit, I jumped completely BLIND into this game: haven't played Origins or II, never knew anything about the story – just so you know, the only thing I knew prior to playing this game was Alistair and the infatuation everyone (men and women) feel for this man. I knew it was an rpg, that you create your own avatar and that you could romance some characters, but that was all. IN FACT my knowledge of this game was so little that I thought Alistair was a main character in this one! Just imagine!

Fortunately, Dragon Age Inquisition is pretty friendly to newcomers: it doesn't overwhelm you with information, it tells a self-contained story and it's conclusive (or… not so much. I'm looking at you, dlc expansions). Of course, that doesn't mean that I haven't scouted throughout the whole internet for all the deets, but that's on me.

So you play as the Inquisitor: a character you create. Male or female, they can be Human, Elf, Dwarf or Qunari. It's worth noting that, whereas it's good to have variety, Bioware failed to deliver good animations for each of the races, due to the fact that dwarves and the Qunari (too short or too tall respectively) are sometimes cropped out of the scenes or their animations just don't match their arms or legs. It's a bit sad, for it could've been a great opportunity, but in the end, it seems the game was created for you to play as a human.

I chose to be what later I realized was the worst thing in all Thedas: a female elven mage. It wasn't until a few hours later that I noticed how much hate mages received! And my elf, being a dalish, a tribe of elves that abandoned those who lived in cities and strived for reviving the old ways, living in forests and such, were despised even by the other elves as well. So I was Inquisitor Lavellan, the worst scum on Earth. Great! Personally I adore mages and they are always my first choice when it comes to character creation. You might guess some of my later decisions in the game based on this.

You're thrown into the game with a weird mark on your left hand. First thing you know, you're a prisoner, and Cassandra and Leliana (two returning characters) are interrogating you in the dungeons, demanding answers. Of course you don't understand a thing they're talking about, until they show what YOU, YOU ABHORRENT CREATURE have created: a huge green breach pierces the sky, opening the way to the Fade, the land of spirits and demons. And you, you ABHORRENT CREATURE must close it, because it was you the one who opened it! You and your mark! You're led by Cassandra, a female warrior and Seeker of Truth, to the heart of the breach. In your way you'll meet two future companions, Varric (from DAII) and Solas, another elven mage. Now the squad is formed, you venture into this veil, only to find a vision of the past: Divine Justinia, the woman Cassandra served and the leader of the Chantry, asking you to run away before something explodes. The suspicion on you just grows stronger, but also the respect and the mystery around the mark of your hand. You fail to close the breach, and you're left unconscious for a couple of days.

You wake up in a cozy and warm place: Haven. This will be your hub-world for at least twenty hours. I MUST tell you this, for I felt the game only started when these first twenty hours finished: you're given quests and the story progresses fast enough to make you feel safe and secure in your way. The Inquisition es formed to fight this breach in the sky, and you must recruit as many companions as you can. Only after completing the initial quests and reuniting all the playable characters can I safely say the game starts.

Haven is attacked by Coripheus, a bad bad bad guy (you can notice he's evil because of his appearance, so evil and cruel, evil, evil man) and his archdemon, a huge black dragon. They tore down the whole place. You, as the main hero/heroine, must save everyone from total doom. You of course succeed in this (after a really annoying battle with fiends spawning every two seconds without allowing you to fricking spin a wheel), but Haven is forever destroyed in the process.

Thanks to Solas, the squad finds a new headquarters to live in: Skyhold, which is SO BEAUTIFUL AND REMINDS ME SO MUCH OF HOGWARTS- pretty useful for the Inquisition's purposes. You're officially named the Inquisitor, which for my character was a big deal, because she was not only a fricking hated mage, but also a fricking hated dalish elf. I made her always stood up for her race and her abilities, which served a greater purpose I believe the game hid very well: to break with prejudices. This is easy to miss if you play as a rogue human or warrior human, but when you play with other races, especially elves or Qunari, you can see how things change.

It's just a detail, but this hate for elves is such that when you do the Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts main quest and you need to gain points from the Orlaisian court, an elf starts off with ten less points of approval than a human. It's stupid, it's tiny, but it goes to show that prejudices are a huge thing in this game. Don't even get me started with mages, goddammit!

I know this all goes back to the previous games, and that's why I've read/watched what happens in those. Still, it's good that Bioware lets you redeem past characters with yours in Inquisition.

So now that you're at Skyhold, many new main quests unlock, many new main areas unlock as well and the game actually starts! I won't say the first part was just a prologue, for it's not, but it feels like the action picked up the pace once you get to your new home. As I said, being in Haven makes you feel comfortable and warm. The game creates a false feeling of safety before dealing a devastating blow, and that hit me hard.

From now on, you can do side quests, explore areas, close some rifts, talk to your companions and follow the main storyline as you please. It's all up to you! I won't spoil what happens, but I will talk about other stuff, like its characters.

Let's start off with your main Inquisitor. Their personality can vary between three main reactions to everything: either you're generous and solomonic, sarcastic and ironic, or direct and blunt, mostly unfriendly. I always went for the first option, but sometimes I needed to be a fricking bitch to get things done. One of the most important instances in which you can see right through your main character is the Sit in Judgment quests: after some main quests, you're given the option to judge certain characters that took part in it. The choices aren't the same for each case and mostly depends on your decisions or actions throughout the game, but again there are three main options: to give them a fair punishment (like community work), lock them up in the dungeons or execution. It kind of reminded me of Game of Thrones, when Ned tells Bran that the man dictating the punishment should wield the sword, well, it goes along those lines.

You can also begin a romantic relationship with the romanceable characters available to your race and gender. Specifically, a female elven Inquisitor can romance Cullen, Solas, Josephine, Iron Bull, Sera and Blackwall. A female human Inquisitor can romance all of the above, except for Solas. A female Inquisitor of the other races can romance Josephine, Iron Bull, Sera and Blackwall. And a male Inquisitor, doesn't matter the race, can romance Cassandra, Dorian, Iron Bull and Josephine again. So, once again, without even knowing it, I chose to be the most desirable Inquisitor in all Thedas! I believe the romantic relationship adds too much depth to both the romanceable character and your Inquisitor: you'll see them interacting in ways that are not available in other instances, and also develops their characters well beyond what the game wants to show you at first glance. Personally, I chose Cullen (I swear I didn't know ANYTHING about him from past games – I later investigated, and it fits so well that he falls in love with a mage!), but I'd advise you to try the other relationships as well. Cof, especially, cof, cof, Solas, cof, cof, damn you dlc expansions.

Let's talk for a bit about your companions. These will be your playable characters for the rest of the game. Prior to the attack to Haven, you can recruit Blackwall, a grey warden, with a past that hides more than meets the eye; Vivienne, an enchantress so beautiful that it made me question my sexuality a few times; Dorian, the most handsome mage in all Thedas that unfortunately only has eyes for men and not for this poor female Inquisitor who's been friendzoned by him; Sera, a rogue elf who doesn't like much magic or the elves or anything related to the Fade, but has the most interesting and funniest personality out of the team; Iron Bull, a mercenary Qunari who works with his team of rogues and is perfectly open to whatever sexual practice you're willing to try; and Cole, a spirit of a boy taken straight out of an anime and that sometimes made me want to cry myself to sleep with his storyline. These guys, alongside Varric, Solas and Cassandra, will accompany you to your missions. For each place you go, you have to choose three of them to form your team, but at each camp you can swap your characters just like that. Three warriors, three mages and three rogues, each of them specializing in one of the branches available for the class the Inquisitor belongs to. I recommend you to bring them all to your missions, maybe just walking around with them, for they interact with each other and their reactions are so natural and casual that makes me wonder how many lines were recorded for this game! And it adds so much to them and to their personalities!

At Skyhold, you'll have your counselors waiting for you at the war table: Cullen, your hot-as-hell-and-I-want-you-to-marry-me-you-sexy-pixel commander; Leliana, the master of spies and mother of all secrets and crows; and Josephine, your well educated ambassador, whose accent made me rethink in how many ways can the letter R be pronounced and that I've been saying it wrong my whole life.

All of these characters are unique and memorable. Companions and counselors will give you quests related to their backstories, in which you can learn from them and, if you're romancing them, advance further in your relationship. I strongly recommend you play all of their quests, for it develops the main story, and it makes you understand them. These are all morally grey characters, none of them are black or white, and sometimes some of your decisions in their quests can alter the ending of the game. So backle up, because there are these Social Links to complete and- sorry, wrong game.

For the most part, Dragon Age Inquisition remains with a serious and ominous tone. That's why there are certain scenes that melted my heart and robbed me of a few laughs and giggles, like the night they all play cards and Cullen ends up naked because he lost, or the man you have to judge that's angry at you and throws goats at Skyhold's walls – Maker's Breath, that one was a gem! And let us not forget about Cass and her filfthy readings! For these moments, I'm terribly grateful, for they remind me that sometimes it's good to relax and give these poor, tortured characters a break.

The voice acting in this game is just flawless. I can only speak for Cullen's romance, but his voice actor nailed it perfectly. There were scenes with him that destroyed my heart, and only because of how he spoke, so soft and sweet. AND LET ME JUST TELL YOU, THIS CUTSCENE:

IF YOU LISTEN CAREFULLY YOU CAN HEAR MY HEART BREAKING IN THE DISTANCE

The music score in this game was better than I expected. The main theme fits so well the tone of the story, and I was left impressed by the songs you can hear in the taverns! They're there, in the background, but if you stop to listen, you find magic and charm in their lyrics. Unexpected to say the least!

Visuals are also a delight. Except for character models, sceneries are colorful and vivid. A pity some animations are rigid and repetitive.

However much I loved this game (and Cullen Wullen Cully Wully), I must say it's far from perfect. Most of my issues stem from technical problems and bugs: more than once my character was trapped in the falling animation without being able to make her walk, sometimes a character would disappear from a cutscene and suddenly the other characters would speak INTO THE VOID, some trophies are bugged and wouldn't pop up, etcetera, etcetera. There’s little room for appearance customization, with only short hairs for both male and female (Gods how I wish mods were a thing in consoles). I'm also quite angry that the actual ending that most probably will lead to Dragon Age 4 is in the expansion pack Trespasser, which is only 5 hours long and it currently costs (in Argentina PSN) over 17 dollars. If you've been following our poor and sad history with exchange rates, you'll know that's a lot of money for just a few hours of story I can easily find in YouTube (although I want to play it so bad!). I've bought complete games cheaper than that. Hell, this whole game costed me only 6 dollars!

That aside, and if you're able to oversee the bugs, I assure you, this is a great game. Gameplay is fast paced, the specialization for each character is deep and it marks a difference with the others, and the way you develop a friendship with each of your companions melted my heart. During the epilogue, you get to speak to each of them and the things they say to you can be synthetized in "dhajkdjakldjakldklas!!!".

I entered this world without a single piece of knowledge of it, and now, Dragon Age has gained a new follower. I'm thinking about playing the first two (of course, a fricking female mage again, because GO MAGES, GO!), only to cry in a corner waiting for the fourth installment to ever see the light of day.

If you liked The Witcher, or World of Warcraft, or are a fan of the past games, you can’t miss this one. Go, become the Inquisitor, kill some dragons, save the world, have some fun with your partner, love and care for Cullen Wullen Cully Wully, thank you.

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overthinkingfeathers · 6 years

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@carabas mentioned Imshael offering more choices than his original three a while ago, and the idea has been bouncing around my head ever since, so.

The man at the center of the courtyard wasn't human.

He was doing a good job pretending. Tiny details were wrong - skin not nearly flushed enough from the bitter winds, footsteps vanishing seconds after he moved - but those were things Lavellan wouldn't have noticed immediately, if at all. No, the telltale sign was his energy, the massive pull of Fade behind him. Once, before Cole and before the aching mark on her hand, she wouldn't have noticed. Now if she closed her eyes, she could almost see the outline of it, trace the tendrils that were spiraling to her. The anchor, it seemed, was always hungry for the Fade, and spirits provided.

Of course, the fact that he was standing calmly among patrolling Red Templars was a bit of a giveaway too. She never would have mistaken him for harmless.

"Ah, so the hero arrives. But is it hero? Or murderer? It's so hard to tell." He was turned halfway around, dramatically anticipating their approach. Arrogant or justly confident? Lavellan wasn't sure which.

"So this is the demon called Imshael," said Varric, eyeing his coat with contempt.

Imshael cleared his throat, turning to give them the full brunt of an impressive glare. "Choice. Spirit."

"Maker give us strength!" Cassandra hadn't sheathed her sword since they had stepped into the Keep, and now she was raising it, preparing for battle.

"Wait. Wait. Wait. These are your friends? They're very violent. It's worrying." His eyes swept over them warily, taking in the blood and viscera spattered across their armor. The templar nearest him stirred in agitation, and he glanced at his own reinforcements before settling. "True to my name, I will show you that you have a choice. It doesn't always have to end in blood."

Everything she had ever been taught told her to attack, to not even let him finish his offer. Some spirits meant well, but she had heard enough to believe that he wasn't one of them. But the trek up had been tiring, and her mana wasn't fully restored yet. Stalling for a few minutes wasn't the worst idea she had ever followed through on. "Talk."

"Yeah, that... never ends well," Varric muttered.

"Simple. We don't fight, and I grant you power. Shower you with riches. Or maybe virgins. Your pick. Then we all live happily ever after." He smiled. "Well, not all of us. But who's counting?"

"No." This was the spirit that Michel was so worried about? Lavellan had overestimated them both.

"Hmm," said Imshael. "You made that choice too quick. Decisive. I like that. Most people go for the easy ones. Let me try again. How about... safety?"

Behind her, Varric snorted. "A demon offering safety? That's a stretch."

"Oh for... Choice! Spirit!" He raised his hands in exasperation, then smoothed back his hair as if to calm himself. "Not for you, Inquisitor. You're quite capable of handling yourself. No, safety for your clan."

Lavellan didn't say anything.

"Tell me, do you really think they're safe in Wycome? Oh sure, maybe they're treated well now, but eventually a plague or famine will sweep in, and who do you think the humans will blame?"

A muscle in her jaw twitched. This was more like she expected. "Us. They always blame us." It was the answer he wanted, but it was also the truth.

"Exactly!" Imshael seemed pleased that she was following along. Every elf learned that lesson quickly, she wanted to point out. Every one of them lived with fear in the background. "Surely you know by now that you can't protect them. Sitting in your fortress, so far away, waiting for weeks on end for even the simplest reply. Did they live? Did they perish? The mightiest force in all of Thedas and you can't even get an answer."

"Food heavy and tasteless, sleep fleeting, I should never have left, I should be there," Cole murmured behind her.

"Not helping." Neither of them were wrong, much as she hated to admit it. Every time she dispatched teams to help her people, she thought she would throw up. By the time they received an answer, the anxiety had worn her ragged, and she had felt like she was barely holding on. She would gladly throw herself into a rift if it meant never fearing for her family again.

"See, even Compassion here agrees! It is Compassion, isn't it? So hard to tell in this world. Everything's so... murky."

"He's trying to fool you, Herald," Cassandra said. "Be wary. He's just saying what you want to hear."

"Yes, of course, the Chantry is the one who upholds their promises. That's why the Dales are swimming with elves right now and why part of Fereldan was set aside just for the Dalish. Oh, and who can forget Andraste's faithful Shartan, forever immortalized in all his elven glory? Yes, the only person fooling anyone about elves is me." Imshael's voice was thick with sarcasm. "Your ability to see right through me wounds, Seeker of Truth."

"Silence, demon! Your lies will not work here!" Cassandra took a threatening step forward, but Lavellan held a hand in front of her, blocking her path. She didn't need to take her eyes off Imshael to feel Cassandra stiffen in rage and surprise.

"I've corrected you over and over again, but you still insist on using that hurtful term. Does it make me a demon to offer options? What's the point of offering something no one wants? Please. Choices were one answer is obviously superior are boring." He turned his eyes towards Lavellan. For the first time he looked sincere, and that scared her more than anything else had. "Herald of Andraste, you have my promise that none of the words I'm saying are false. Choices made in lies are hardly choices at all. No, everything I offer is possible."

"If - if - I take you up on that offer, what do you get out of it?" She shouldn't even be considering this. Damn her. Damn him. Damn this entire world.

"I walk out of here and go somewhere else. Offering the same choice over and over gets boring. I'm ready for a change of scenery."

"That's it? I let you leave, and in return, you keep my clan safe?"

"You seemed surprised that I value my own safety. I know how many obstacles you faced getting here, and I'm not interested in being one more." He grinned and leaned in conspiratorially. "Let me let you in on a little secret. Chantry or not, Corypheus or not, big change is coming, Herald. I want to be here to see it."

"What kind of change?"

"No, I don't think I can tell you. Besides," he waved dismissively, "I doubt you'd believe me. You'll just have to wait for that one."

"Inquisitor, listen to me." Varric sounded more careful than she had heard him ever be before, and hidden beneath the slow words was a hint of long buried pain. "It sounds easy right now, but it's not. That's not how these things work. I've seen it before. I don't want to see it again."

The spirit shrugged. "I suppose you'll have to deal with your friends's negative opinions about this deal, but who cares about that? They're not going to tell anyone."

Beside her, Cassandra snarled and took another step forward until Lavellan's hand was pressed against the cold steel of her breastplate. Still she didn't take here eyes off Imshael.

"I believe our time is running short," he said. "I do like to give people some time, but I don't think your friends are going to grant you the luxury. What will it be? Safety for the people you left behind or an unnecessary fight now?"

The winds howled through the ruins, bouncing off half destroyed statues they would never understand. In the Emerald Graves, despair and rage tumbled through the rifts at greater rates than they did anywhere else. The first time she had heard a despair demon shriek there, she had been overcome with grief. Through eyes that were not her own, she had seen a vast, gleaming army marching towards them. Behind them, smoke had cried out the border towns fate, the fate they were soon to share. And even that was not enough; later, when thousands of trees grew from her people's bodies, they had to spread their roots around statues proclaiming them to be heretics and savages. She blocked here ears in the forest now.

The people with her now would die for her. She would die for them. Lavellan wouldn't deny that. But they were only a few, and the Chantry was many. How many times had she proclaimed her faith in the Elven Pantheon, pointed to the devotion tattooed into her flesh, only to be told her own thoughts didn't matter? She was an icon, an image to be used. "These traditions were forged by the Chantry's most trusted mages," Leliana had said about elven techniques. "That cannot be denied." Good people, people who she trusted and who trusted her, easily led by their religion. And hadn't she learned at the Winter Palace that even city elves weren't safe? They were Andrastian, raised in a city and knowledge about human customs, and they were still disposable.

Her clan wouldn't stand a chance against a city full of strangers. They'd be dead within a year.

"I accept. You keep my clan safe, and I let you walk out of here." The words sounded stronger than she wanted them to. The decision should have been harder.

"The choice is made. The deal is struck. Nice doing business with you, Herald of Andraste." As soon as he said it, the Fade behind him gained in intensity, flashed a blinding green that she was sure no one else could see, and the sense of finality settled in on her. The choice was made indeed.

As Imshael strolled away, Varric echoed her thoughts: "Shit."

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erendis-the-star-brow · 7 years

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My Lion

A little drabble (ok, it’s only barely over 5,000 words...) of my Inquisitor Aeryn and Cullen. You can read it on AO3 as well. (”The Lion of Ferelden” belongs to Suzanne Van Pelt, song can be found here. I DO NOT CLAIM HER SONG, IT TOTALLY BELONGS TO HER)

Cullen rubbed at his neck as pain surged from his spine. He had been bent over his desk, reports and surveys strewn across the expanse of oak. After his morning drills with the troops, he had spent the majority of the day pouring over parchment that needed his attention. The last time he had looked up, sun was spilling into his tower through the slits of windows that faced the east. Now, the sun was gone, the sky outside a rich pink with splashes of orange highlighting the high clouds.

Cullen stretched his back, groaning from the pops of vertebrae. His stomach ached from the lack of food, but he pushed the sensation away. He’d luckily ate a slice of hard tack and drank water before his morning routines, which was better than some days when his withdrawal symptoms wouldn’t allow anything to cross his lips without fear of it coming back up.

A stack of reports sat in front of him, ones that needed Aery- the Inquisitor’s attention as well. He felt his cheeks redden with the thoughts of the mage. What was brewing between them was … well, he wasn’t sure what it was yet. He’d had liked to think they were friends.

But there was more than that. She had been there when his will to fight against lyrium almost crumbled. She was the face who walked in on his and Cassandra’s argument about his remaining the Inquisition’s Commander. He felt he could no longer serve to the best of his abilities. Nausea and heat flashes dogged him all day long. Sleep eluded him most nights and the night did find peace, the fade laid traps and nightmares for him. When Aeryn walked in, the shame of his state forced him to leave the room, begging Aeryn’s forgiveness. He half-expected her dismiss him on the spot, seeing his weakness and knowing he wasn’t worthy of the Inquisition’s or her time.

He had sat out his lyrium kit on his desk in his tower afterward, hating himself and the glowing blue liquid, and yet, yearning for it. He should have gotten rid of it months ago, but he just couldn’t let it go. Yet another weakness…

Self-loathing, rage, frustration boiled within him and he threw the kit, narrowly missing the blonde mage’s small form as she crossed his open door as the kit practically exploded on the wooden frame. He begged yet again for her forgiveness and confessed to Aeryn about… everything. Kinloch, Kirkwall, his desire to serve and be more, but it just wouldn’t leave him. He had sworn to fight for the Inquisition’s cause, he shouldn’t be hindered by anything. He should give as much as he had the Chantry years before. Lyrium would help him focus, help him to forget the past, help him to be a better leader.

He should have been taking it…

He wasn’t even aware of the pain in his clinched fist as he slammed it against his bookshelf until he felt the sticky warm blood within his glove. Aeryn rounded to stand before him, though she was significantly shorter than him, her beseeching gray eyes peering into his as she asked him to forget the Inquisition, and asked of what of he wanted. What did he want? Did he truly want lyrium? To fall into the nothingness of the drug; to forget the bad, but also the good?

No… he wanted to be free.

But his past still haunted him; it may never leave him. He didn’t know if he could endure, but Aeryn pressed her palm to his chest, above his heart, storm eyes gazing into his soul as she confirmed her belief that he could.

Maybe if she believed, maybe he could as well.

After that, Aeryn was constantly on his mind, even when he struggled with the torment of withdrawal. Pain blinding him to all else, he’d lie in his bed, tossing and turning, sweat clinging to his brow. When he thought couldn’t get through it, lying under the stars, with thoughts of an end bringing peace almost overwhelmed him, she’d materialize in his mind. Her soft gaze, her smile, her dedication… Aeryn playing with the children of Skyhold, teaching them about plants and their many uses. Laughing over a vain one-sided complement from Dorian or reading a new book with Varris, playing chess in the garden… her bringing him a bite to eat or a book she thought he’d enjoy. Those thoughts made the pain a little easier. As the days passed, his mind cleared, focusing on her, which helped spur him to his work. What little he could do to make the world a better place would help her to be safe as well.

Some time passed, he found himself crossing the battlements, thinking on all the things he needed to bring to the war council when the breeze ruffled his hair, catching his attention. Normally, Skyhold was a bustling center of commerce, a military hub, a network of spies, but at this one still moment, with no one around for once, Cullen found his feet transfixed against the dark stone. Skyhold was a truly wondrous place, mountains towering on all sides, the sun glinting against the silver white snow and blue ice. The air was crisp and cool, but fresh. Kirkwall was a city of pollution and mist, the air always heavy and muggy. But Skyhold was the opposite; so open and free.

Cullen smiled in spite of that small voice in the back of his mind whispering all the tasks undone that day. It was nice to be able to relax and enjoy the moment. Times like this were few and far between. Honestly, he couldn’t remember the last time he had taken the time to just breathe.

Cullen heard the soft footfalls coming up beside him. He knew who it was even before she spoke. He had grown to know her footsteps. Her supple boots padded softer than the troops hard boots.

He thanked her awkwardly for her kind words and affirmation in his abilities, tripping over his words. Why was it always hard to say the right thing to her? Everything always sounded better in his head before he spoke with her.

Aeryn stood beside him on the battlement, eyes bright and alive, listening to his every word. The light breeze lifted strands of her straight blonde hair. Cullen was always annoyed how he would get so distracted over those tiny little details about her. As he continued, he expressed his regrets, his hopes, and she hung on every word. He gazed out at the surroundings while her eyes were glued to him.

A smile touched her lips as she spoke, “For what's its worth, I like who you are now.” Even after all he had done? Done to mages? All his sins had been laid bare before her, she should have accosted him. Threw him to the wolves. Being a mage herself, she shouldn’t be so at ease standing next to him, the infamous Knight-Captain of Kirkwall, Meredith’s second in Command.

“Cullen, I care about you. You’ve done nothing to change that.”

She cared. Aeryn was willing to see beyond Cullen’s past. Beyond Kinloch, beyond Kirkwall, to see the man he truly was. The man whom he hoped to be. For nothing else, at least, for her.

So, where did all this leave them? She did only care for him as a colleague? Friend? Maybe something more?

Maker, he hoped so.

Shaking his head slightly to shake his pointless wishes, he pushed the chair back away from his desk, gathering up the reports in his gloved hands. He wanted to make sure to drop these off to the Inquisitor’s desk before it became too late in the evening. The Inquisitor tended to drift toward the tavern some evenings, enjoying the company of her inner circle, especially Dorian, Varric, and Iron Bull.

He made his way through the main hall, quickly pardoning himself around the many nobles who congregated in the hall. One time a noble complained to Josephine that the Commander would never get a proper arrangement for marriage if he didn’t slow down and mingle -which, of course, ensure that he would always rush through the hall even more briskly, just to stick it to the Orlesians.

Cullen entered into the Inquisitor’s door, marching toward the door to her quarters. As he approached her door, he pecked on the door with his knuckles. No answer. In case she didn’t hear, he rapped again, and once again, no answer.

Assuming Aeryn wasn’t in her quarters, already retired to the tavern for the evening’s festivities, he opened the door.

As soon as he began to walk through the threshold, he immediately regretted his impetuous assumption. Far above, even through the small opening, he heard the strum of an instrument. Maker damn it all, why would he think its ok just barge into her quarters? He should have come earlier and dropped off his reports to her at a more appropriate time. The Inquisitor only had one desk: the one in her quarters. Maybe he should have sent a female messenger to drop off his reports. Thinking back on the Orlesians hovering all over the hall, he could only imagine the rumors those vultures are formulating. The Commander sneaking into the Inquisitor’s quarters this late in the day, stealing her virtue?

Cursing himself, he made a turn to rush back to his tower as fast as his feet could carry him, but Aeryn’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Oh, lion, my lion, your deafening roar…”

Her voice flowed over the chords on the lute she strummed, like water over a brook. He had never heard her sing before. For that matter, he never knew she was musically inclined. Some mages would be taught by the chanters some musical talent, but they tended to be limited in their lessons since the chanters could only sing the Chant. He had heard her hum before while bounding around Haven and Skyhold, but nothing quite so… enthralling as this.

Cullen wasn’t even aware he entered fully into her quarters, standing at the bottom of the stairs, hand on the stone wall, straining to hear her melodious voice.

“Will again be as loud as it once was before

We fight through the nightmares, the shades and the fade

Til the war has been won and the tides have been swayed”

Cullen felt his feet being pulled by her voice, taking the stairs slowly one at a time. He was entranced by her, drawn to the plucks of strings at an andante pace.

“Haunted by your past

those that came before

Nightmares rule your night

fear they come once more”

Stopping short of the final stair, Cullen peered over the wall separating the stairs from the floor of the room. He tried to hide between the space of the railings so he could duck back down if need be. Aeryn wasn’t found at her desk or anywhere in the room. Confused, Cullen craned his neck to see that she had moved her desk chair to the open balcony door, a lute laid over her lap, her fingers dancing across the frets as her other hand plucked the individual strings in a cadence of chords. The last bands of light from the setting sun shown upon her face, her blonde hair unbound, falling down in swirls of gold and silver, framing her freckled face.

Maker’s breath, but she was beautiful.

“Chased by memories

figures in the dark

Clawing through your mind

they have left their mark”

Images of Kinloch immediately appeared in his mind, causing Cullen to start to tremble. No, this is real, Aeryn's singing was real. Cullen’s chest burned where the scars of the desire demon’s claws had cut into him years before. There were no demons now; no blood mages, no claws, no pain. Just her voice. Only Aeryn.

She repeated the chorus as Cullen listened intently, forcing his focus on her eyes as they fluttered close on she held out notes with her voice.

“Oh lion, my lion your deafening roar

Will again be as loud as it once was before

We fight through the nightmares, the shades and the fade

Til the war has been won and the tides have been swayed

Sword and shield in hand

not a soul can see

Behind those amber eyes

lies a silent plea”

Her song reminded him of Maryden, the minstrel in the tavern, and songs she would serenade the tavern patrons. If Aeryn ever wished to perform in the tavern, she would the star of the show, Aeryn’s sweet lilting voice would win over any who listened, and Maryden would be out of a job.

“Suffering in silence

the burden you must bare

Getting lost

in the depths of your despair”

Whoever Aeryn was singing about was someone she definitely cared greatly about. He could feel the conviction in her voice, as if it were sitting beside her and singing along with her in harmony. Her emotion bled out of her and into the room around her. Nothing else stirred in the room, not even Cullen. He was bewitched by her.

“Oh lion, my lion your deafening roar

Will again be as loud as it once was before

We fight through the nightmares, the shades and the fade

Til the war has been won and the tides have been swayed”

Cullen couldn’t help but feel as though he was trespassing. The song was definitely not for herself. Her heart bled for this person she was mentioning in the piece. He sifted through every person he could think that the Inquisitor’s song could have been meant for. Someone who suffered, someone whom she fought beside, especially in referenced to the nightmares, shades, and fade. But who? Iron Bull? A lion was an animal to be feared, much like the Qunari. He had not love for the fade or the denizens of the Fade. He was also a Ben-Hassrath from Seheron. Cullen heard the tales of the suffering of that island, and Bull made no secret his time there or the hardships he experienced there.

“Lay your past to sleep

let the fear subside

No matter how lost you are

You don't have to hide”

Aeryn’s voice quivered slightly as she sang, making Cullen’s heart squeeze in his chest. He saw a single trail of silver slide down her cheek.

He shook his head, it couldn’t be the Iron Bull, not that she didn't care for him. He was like an older brother, constantly picking and protecting her, never indicating that she had such strong feelings about him. This had to be a person that Aeryn cared for deeply, maybe even loved.

Cullen’s heart sank. Was there another? Rubbing the back of his neck, Cullen made to turn back down the stairs, feeling like an intruder on the Inquisitor and her secrets, shame biting at his heel. He shouldn’t be there, he had no right to listen to her song, to her heart. Especially when it would never belong to him. Whoever was lucky enough to be given hers better realize how grateful they should be. What he wouldn’t give to her his.

“The templar on his knees

fighting to be free

Rise anew to be the man

you were meant to be”

Templar? Cullen was struck frozen in place. A templar fighting to be free? There were few templars in Skyhold, and none of which Cullen knew spoke with Aeryn outside of decorum. A faint hope swelled within him. Was this song about… him? Was he self-absorbed enough to think that she was singing for him? He returned the top of the stairs, feeling like a child pressed against the stone wall on the night before Saturnalia, peeking over the edge for presents.

“Oh lion, my lion your deafening roar

Will again be as loud as it once was before

We fight through the nightmares, the shades and the fade

Til the war has been won and the tides have been swayed”

Cullen could no longer stand in the shadows. He should have turned around, returned to his tower, holding her secret as his, like a precious pearl that belonged only to him. But he was compelled to remain. It was the power of Aeryn. Not the Inquisitor or the Herald of Andraste, but Aeryn Trevelyan. Only her.

Haunted by your past? The burden you must bare? Fight to be free and arising a new man? It was everything he had told her… She had taken the things that he had told her: his pain, his suffering, his curse, and created something beautiful from it. Something that was hers, something that was a burden to him and now was a beacon, all leading back to her.

As Aeryn began the ritardando to the end, her breath becoming airy and soft.

“Til the war has been won… and the tides… have been…”

She hesitated on the last note, as she breathed out, “swayed…”

Cullen paused in place as Aeryn huffed at herself, her arm swinging around the lute to rub the sleeve of her long tunic against her cheek.

“Get ahead of yourself, Aeryn,” she breathed as she vigorously wiped her eyes. Cullen wanted very much to cup her face in his hands and wipe her tears away with his pads of his fingers. The thought of her crying, especially on his account, broke his heart. He wasn't fooling himself hoping she was singing for him, but in any case, he couldn’t allow her to cry alone.

“That was-“ Cullen began, but Aeryn gasped and jumped, leaping out of her chair, her lute clattering to the floor.

“Cullen!” Aeryn yelped and Cullen immediately regretted his intrusion yet again. Had he no shame?

“I-I’m sorry! Pardon my intrusion,” Cullen took two long strides to her desk, depositing the reports, and turned to leave. He knew his face was beat red.

“No! Please wait,” Aeryn raced after him, but he made it to the stairs first, taking each step as fast as he could to escape. He couldn’t face her. He thought he could, but, turned out, he was a coward; he couldn’t stand in her light.

“Cullen, please!” Aeryn pleaded, and Cullen couldn’t ignore it. He paused as his hand touched the knob on the door, pivoting toward her.

Aeryn stood at the top of her stairs, her right hand over her chest, gripping the front of her tunic. Her eyes were panic-y as a halla's, her lips parted slightly as she breathed quick breaths. Was she out of breath because he had frightened her or because she had rushed to catch him?

“Did,” she began quietly, seemly fearful of scaring him away, “I mean, did you need something from me, Commander?”

Commander? Disappointment coursed through him. The unemotional moniker struck him wrong, especially after what he just heard. Obviously, he had been mistakened.

“Just had some reports for that required the Inquisitor’s attention, I humbly apologize. I did not mean to intrude on your Worship’s time,” his words came off more harsh than he meant it. He wasn’t angry with Aeryn… He wasn’t sure what he was feeling at that moment. And he was not a man who enjoyed feeling not in control, so he twisted the door handle and tried to make his way out.

“Cullen, wait! Please,” Aeryn bounded down the stairs and Cullen felt his feet plant in place. Even his own two feet betrayed his senses. At that moment, he just wished he had stayed in his tower. Then he wouldn’t be in this ridiculous situation.

Aeryn took her place at his side, her fingers reaching out tentatively to touch his armored arm, “I thought we could talk?”

Cullen turned his head toward her, his brows low over his eyes in confusion until she continued, “Alone?”

“Alone?” Cullen echoed, his brows now lifted up in surprise. Backtracking quickly, “I mean, of course. But I think we are already alone," he observed meeting her gaze.

“Right, of course, how silly of me…” Aeryn scrubbed her hand over her face in frustration. He couldn’t help but find the action adorable.

Finally she looked up at him, “Could we speak some place else alone?”

Cullen stepped to the side, indicating with his hand for her to lead the way. Holding up a finger in a gesture that made him wait, she raced back up the stairs to grab her cloak and met him at the door, ready to go.

They walked side by side, walking in cadence with each other. They made their way to the battlements again, which had become their impromptu meet-up spot. They walked in uneasy silence, neither wishing to break it in fear of shattering what was between them, causing the other to run.

Cullen couldn’t stand it any longer his hand finding its way to rub the back of his neck, “It's a nice day.”

“What?” Aeryn stopped dead in her tracks, perplexed. Of course he had to say the most absolutely idiotic thing he could think of. Day had ended some time ago and now, the sky was a rich purple, tiny glittering lights flickered to life in place of the once bright white clouds.

“It’s,” Cullen storked his neck like mad in embarrassment, “There was something you wished to discuss.”

Aeryn paused and looked up at the stars. It reminded him of that night back in Haven when they star-gazed together after she had returned from Redcliffe. He waited patiently. He’d wait all night if she needed it.

“Did you at least like the song?” Aeryn asked offhandedly. Cullen couldn’t help but laugh at the question, letting out some pent up energy that had been inflating him since he had first stepped into her quarters.

“It was... lovely," again, very eloquent, "I didn’t even know you could sing,” Cullen moved toward her.

Aeryn gazed down at her twisting fingers, “My mother had me take singing lessons at an early age, then, in the Circle, the Reverend Mother had a lute and taught me how to play. Maryden has been showing me more techniques.”

Aeryn paused, her fingers twisting more harshly against each other, “Do you know who that song is about?” Her question barely above a whisper.

Cullen’s breath caught, he prayed he wasn’t wrong, “I- I believe so…”

Aeryn’s hands wrung together so hard that she grunted in frustration, throwing her arms out wide, before stating, “Cullen, I care for you, but-“ she stopped short, becoming somewhat agitated at herself.

Cullen was bewildered, “What’s wrong?”

“You left the templars, but… do you trust mages? I know what they did to you in Kinloch, I wish I could go back into the past and save you from having to live with those experiences every day… I completely understand if you can’t, but… Could you think of me as anything more?”

This was not how Cullen envisioned how his evening would have turned out.

“I could. I mean, I-I do… think of you,” Cullen stumbled, again hating himself for his lack of eloquence at times like this, “And what I might say in this sort of situation.” Cullen walked ahead of her, his head hung in shame at his clumsiness.

“What’s stopping you?” Aeryn breathed, following closer than he anticipated.

Cullen once again turned to her, facing her with her back to the battlements, “You’re the Inquisitor. And we’re at war. And you…” he felt like he was babbling, “I didn’t think it was possible.”

This was her chance. If she felt nothing for him, this was her out, he would not hold her to him. As much as he yearned for her, she was free to leave.

Aeryn shifted slightly, looking a bit sheepish while glancing away then back at him. “And yet I’m still here,” she replied coyly to him with a lift of her shoulders.

Cullen couldn’t resist anymore. He would not push her, but if she was saying what he thought she was saying, he couldn’t hold back any longer, “So you are…”

He leaned into her, he could smell the vanilla and lavender soap she used. He didn’t dare touch her yet, allowing her all the chances to move away from him if this wasn’t what she wanted. “It seems to much to ask.”

Cullen looked into her gray-green eyes, looking for any signs of displeasure, and when he found none, he lightly laid his hand on her hip, moving closer, “But I want to-“

They were only inches away from each other, all one had to do was move in and their lips would brush. Cullen’s heart thundered in his chest. Never had he felt this way about kissing a woman, but something about Aeryn caused him to feel like that young templar recruit again. He never wanted it to end.

Aeryn’s lashes fluttered close, her head tilting toward his, and he closed his eyes as well, ready to take the plunge.

A door closed nearby, “Commander!”

Cullen was stricken in place, his hands on the Inquisitor’s hips, entirely too close to even be thought of just having a friendly discussion.

Aeryn’s eyes rolled up into her head as she expelled an exasperated breath. Her head bounced to the side, allowing Cullen to leave to talk to the intruder.

Jim, the young recruit from Lelianna, approached with a small pile of reports in his hands, “You wanted a copy of Sister Lelianna’s reports.”

Cullen couldn’t hold back his biting tone, “What?” It was evening, and while normally he didn’t mind receiving late reports, he had hoped that this would be the one night he would not receive any reports!

Jim was clueless, “Sister Lelianna’s report? You wanted it delivered ‘without delay’.”

With Aeryn standing awkwardly behind him, Cullen bared down on the poor recruit. He hoped his expression was as frustrated and angry looking as he felt. Jim just looked at him, then peered at the Inquisitor, who was self-consciously wheedling back and forth.

Finally, the boy put two and two together, realization dawning on him, “Or... to your office… Right…” He backed off, arms off to the side as you would do to an angry animal to make yourself look smaller.

Cullen felt himself straighten as Jim receded back from whence he came.

He heard Aeryn’s voice behind him, “If you need to-“

Cullen turned back quickly, pulling her into him, cutting off any words with a gasp. He framed her face with his hands, and before Aeryn could question anything, Cullen captured her lips in his

At first, he was worried he was being too bold because Aeryn froze in place, but as he continued to kiss her, she gave into him with a small sigh, pulling him closer with her hands buried in his mantle.

This was… pure paradise. If he died at that moment, he would die happy. He had kissed other women in the past, but those were all fleeting and lustful, usually a means to an end. But this -this was something different. Something more. He couldn’t describe it, so lost in the experience of it. They were both wrapped within each other’s arms, safe from the world, lost in each’s breaths and soft brushes of lips.

Cullen was the first to pull away, “I’m sorry. That was- um” he felt lightheaded, “really nice.” Cullen smiled in spite of himself, relishing the memory of her lips on his.

Aeryn’s eyes were still bright with surprised, “I believe that was a kiss,” but a sly demure turn of his mouth spoke of other things, “But I can’t be too sure. It’s all a blur.”

Cullen couldn’t suppress his laughter, too caught up in Aeryn just being herself, “Yes, well…”

No more words were needed, he could take the hint. As he moved back to envelope her, he hoped this wasn’t some cruel joke of the fade. He was in too deep to turn back now or to have this ripped away from him in burning light of morning after a bad dream. But, nothing from the fade ever felt this real. Aeryn was here, he was here, and at that moment, that was all that mattered.

When they both parted again, Aeryn pressed her forehead to his, her lashes resting on her cheeks, a contented smile gracing her features as she breathed heavily.

“So,” Cullen broke the silence, lifting his hand to gather the fly-away hairs the wind had captured and place them behind her ear. He pressed his palm to her sun-kissed cheek, “Am I the Lion?”

Aeryn snorted, “Of course! Have you seen how intimidating you can be?” She leaned back away from him, not to escape, but to have a better look into his eyes.

Cullen’s happiness bubbled within him, “You know, lions are associated with Orlais, and as fond as you know I am of Orlesians, I think a Mabari would fit me better.”

“Oh yes, Mabari just rolls the tongue,” Aeryn lifted her hand in a minstrel flourish as she sang, “Oh mabari, my mabari, your slobbering drool. See? Not quite as fanciful as a roaring lion.”

Cullen laughed heartily, enjoying her joke at his expense, “Okay, okay, I understand. Lion does sound better, even if it does remind me of those vultures.”

He gathered her hands into his and brought them to his lips as he pressed a kiss to her knuckles, “Just know, if this isn’t what you want… If ever, you want to get out-“

Aeryn pressed up to his mouth one last time that evening to silence him, surprising him this time. He felt a shudder slide down his spine as her tongue feathered over his lower lip, “I think less talking would be prudent in the future, especially of things that are better left unsaid.”

Cullen nodded, not sure what just happened. But whatever it was, he looked forward to more of it in the future.

(”The Lion of Ferelden” belongs to Suzanne Van Pelt, song can be found here. I DO NOT CLAIM HER SONG, IT TOTALLY BELONGS TO HER)

#cullen x trevelyan #cullen rutherford #dragon age #canon divergence #developing relationship #developing characters #this got out of hand #it just wouldn't leave it alone #sorry not sorry #dragon age fanfic #fluff

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sky-scribbles · 7 years

Note

For the DA romance asks: 2 (for Cassandra) for her and Talan, and 9 for Elera and Blackwall!

Ooh, great questions!

2. Did Cassandra become Divine? What impact did that have on your Inquisitor’s relationship, whether or not she became Divine?

So far, softened Leliana has become Divine in both my worldstates, so Talan and Cassandra didn’t have to face that particular problem - but the threat of it was something that troubled them both. Talan, being a vashoth for life - and a vashoth caring for an apostate mage sister, no less - doesn’t particularly trust the Chantry to begin with, and the idea of them taking the woman he loved away from him was enough to get his blood boiling. He doesn’t know if there’s a Maker, and he doesn’t believe anyone can know if deities of any kind exist, so organised religion tends to annoy him a bit. When the messenger first turned up at Skyhold to say that either Leliana or Cassandra might be called to the position of Divine, his first reaction was to storm away to the Herald’s Rest and knock back several tankards of ale, at first fuming, then brooding, then just sitting in silent fear, then telling himself that he was being selfish, then just moping (and then Bull showed up with some rather stronger substances. Talan doesn’t remember the rest of the evening.)

As for the impact on his relationship with Cass… I think there would have been a few short arguments (along the lines of ‘this is the last straw, the Chantry sucks’ ‘no it doesn’t’) but as soon as Cassandra realised Talan’s anger just came from his fear of losing her, these little quarrels quickly settled into quiet, serious discussions about how they’d deal with it. If anything, the threat of being torn apart made them closer, since it made them seriously talk over and reconcile their (rather differing) views on the Chantry, and faith and religion in general - and Cass was very touched when Talan promised he’d stick at her side and still love her even if they couldn’t be together. But Talan was 100% for Leliana becoming Divine - a free world for mages meant a safer world for his little sister - so they agreed pretty early on they’d both prefer that eventuality. And since that worked out just fine, all was well that ended well.

9. How did your Inquisitor react to the gossip about their relationship, if there was any?

Oh yes, there was certainly gossip. Most of it was pretty banal - all the difference-in-station and difference-in-age and difference-in-species stuff that people like to whisper about behind closed doors.

Elera’s a calm and dignified soul, and her reaction to most of the gossip was just to ignore it. Being born Dalish, she barely has a concept of ‘station,’ so she responds to those gossipers by just shaking her head in bewilderment at how anyone could think something like that matters, and being blind, she tends to think that age and species are just matters of appearance and she really doesn’t give a damn about them. Maybe other people do, but as far as she’s concerned, there’s no reason for her to care or to respond to it. As long as she and Blackwall are happy, she’s not going to get her feathers ruffled because of other people’s ignorance.

The only gossip that really troubles her is that from her fellow elves - the ‘he’s a shem taking advantage of her’ and ‘the best hope for the elves is in a shem’s pocket’ sort of talk. Because it absolutely troubles her when people think ill of Blackwall, and she very much wants to be a beacon of hope for her people. After some worrying (and talks with her besties Solas, Sera and Cole, all of whom have very different opinions on the issue), she just decides that the only way to confront this sort of thing is just to prove through her actions that being in a relationship with a human doesn’t affect her loyalty to the elves at all. (She also writes home to her mother to say that yes, the rumours are true, yes, I really do love this human, and no, you’re not going to talk me out of it, so please break it to dad as gently as you can.)

And then, of course, there’s a lot more malicious gossip flying around after the Big Reveal. Elera tries to confront this simply by sticking with Blackwall, making it clear to everyone that she stands with him, supports him, holds nothing against him and expects everyone else to get over themselves and let it go - but occasionally she’s stung into a more direct approach.

I’m pretty sure I once heard some people in the Herald��s Rest gossiping nastily about the sad bear after Revelations - I didn’t hear the conversation well and can’t find it again for the life of me. But I headcanon that at one point Elera overhears such a conversation, finally snaps, and sits down to join the gossipers, all friendly talk and can-I-get-you-a-drink, under the facade of the Inquisitor just stopping to check in on some of her soldiers… and just when the soldiers in question have started to think ‘thank the Maker, she didn’t overhear us’ she looks them in the eye and says, ‘Tell me who the braver man is. The man who was once cruel, but forces himself to change and confronts and accepts the world’s hatred, or the man who has always been good, but makes snide comments about another when he isn’t there to defend himself?’ Her tone is so icy that the gossipers quickly spread the word about Skyhold - do not insult the Inquisitor’s boyfriend.

Elera and Blackwall have far fewer problems with gossip after that.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #cassandra x inquisitor #cassandra x adaar #blackwall x inquisitor #blackwall x lavellan #otp: i see you #long post #sky's ramblings #oc: talan adaar #oc: elera lavellan

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heartslogos · 7 years

Text

newfragile yellows [104]

“My sire abandoned this world and all of its inhabitants a long, long time ago,” Ellana says, calm as the sea and the sky as Evelyn’s hand - singular - slowly opens and closes. “He left for some greater world that only he can see and remember, one where I have no place. He and I work at cross purposes. We are both blind dreamers in each other’s eyes.”

What the hell does that make Evelyn, then?

“You knew who was behind all of this and you said nothing,” Evelyn’s voice cracks. A thousand warnings not to trust the Witch of the Wild. A thousand ways Ellana has betrayed that foolish, stupid trust. Maker.

Ellana looks straight into her, “The mark of magic you bore was familiar, I knew this. When we entered the Temple of Mythal together and I assisted you, I knew that they, too - the sleepers and Sentinels - there would recognize it for what it was. He was my father. He raised me. He loved me. He taught me. He forsook me. He abandoned me. He cast me out.”

“And you still helped him,” Evelyn says, glaring at the woman, “You helped him. You let him do this. You say you two aren’t working together, that the two of you have opposite goals and purposes - then why this?”

“Because this I could not stop,” Ellana replies, “Because I had no way of telling you who my sire was. Because if I had told you that my father walked among you, a wolf among your hounds, you would not have believed me. Look at Sera - she walked through the Temple of Mythal, saw you ask her favor, and still she denies and denounces with every breath. Look to your Chantry, that of which you are so devoted, and how they strike down my existence with every breath. Look to every single person surrounding you - from your beloved and precious Commander to the stable boy. Not a single one of you would believe.”

“So you stay silent? There were other ways.”

“I tell you that my father is the Dread Wolf. I tell you of what he has done. Would you believe me, Evelyn Trevelyan?” Ellana asks, “Suppose you do. Will you move others to believe me as well? Or are you now under the spell of the Witch of the Wilds as Celene was? Let us take this hypothetical further, now. Suppose I do not tell you of the Dread Wolf, but simply point you in the direction of him. I tell you that there is a man in the forest who you must seek to end this, for this is the one who started. You ask me, now, how do I know? Where is my proof? Because you are Evelyn Trevelyan and you would never condemn or raise a hand against a living creature that has not struck you first, or has not been proven guilty beyond a doubt.”

Ellana tilts her head, “In what world do you believe me? In what world do you trust me as anything other than an outsider who has hurt the Iron Bull before, who has frightened the court of Orlais, who has frightened your Inquisition with my otherness?”

“I would have believed you.” Evelyn lunges forward, pushing past the tearing and burning pain in her - her stump - and seizes Ellana by the collar of her damn fur and shakes her, “And even then - even then. Even if I did not believe you. You could have done a thousand and one other things. You could have acted on your own, you could have found some way - some - “

“And just how powerful, just how quick, just how sly, and just how all knowing do you think I am, Inquisitor?” Ellana sneers, “That I could work behind the scenes - alone, without any assistance - to thwart this? To find all of his spies? To cut off his entire network? To find every single insurgent root and strangling vine and watching eye? Was I supposed to single handedly work over your Spymaster and your Ambassador and Commander all at once, behind you? Do you underestimate your people so much that you think I wouldn’t be caught if I could do those things? And then what? How do I explain myself then, Inquisitor? Tell me. Tell me how I should have done better. Tell me how I could have saved you.”

“Leaving again?”

“Did you know? Everyone is always caught in the act of leaving. All of us are leaving all the time,” Ellana replies, turning her head to slowly look up at him. “We are all always saying goodbye.”

She’s always had beautiful words for the most painful and common of events, Bull muses.

Ellana returns to making sure her belongings are carefully and securely bundled together. Bull is used to traveling light, but he’s a soldier and a - now former - spy. Ellana carries less than he does, even. he wonders how it’s so easy for her to leave so many things behind.

How has she lived so long without collecting anything worth keeping? Worthy staying?

“But you don’t,” Bull points out, “Say goodbye.”

“Goodbyes are sad,” Ellana remarks, “Goodbyes are final. As the world and time flows, so do people. I do not like saying goodbye, the Iron Bull, not to the people I want to see again.”

Ellana’s eyes are soft, but the edges of her face are sharp.

“I will never say goodbye to you, or give you a chance to say goodbye. Because I want to see you again and again and again and again,” Ellana says, “Because wherever I go I want to think that you are where I can come back to.”

“A little cruel, to leave and expect to be welcomed back so easily.” Though Bull supposes that he hasn’t made a particularly good point, seeing as he pretty much did welcome her back into his heart. Did she ever really leave it?

“Not expect, hope,” Ellana replies. “I hope for it, but I do not ask for it.”

“And if I asked you to say goodbye?”

“Would you?”

“Depends. Would you accept it? Would you respect it?”

Ellana smiles, “I respect you.”

“But would you respect it if I asked you to say goodbye?”

Ellana is silent, her eyes searching him.

“Yes,” She answers, softly, barely a real sound. “If you told me to say goodbye I would never come back. You would never see me again. I would never look for you. Not in Dreams, not in waking.”

Bull searches himself for a door to close on this chapter of his life. And he finds it gone.

He breathes softly and exhales long.

Ellana seems to be waiting.

“Will you ask?” She finally says.

“No,” Bull answers, “Not this time.”

Perhaps the next, when he is better prepared. Perhaps next time, when he is truly ready.

#heartsfic #gather your party and venture forth

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