warpedlegacywrites
Bearing Every Core
A place for all my writings, responses to prompts, drabbles, random inspiration, etc.
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Chapter 22: What Festers in the Shadows
Their wounds have festered in the darkness for too long. Only exposing them to the light will cleanse them, and allow them to heal.
“Tess…” A sob tears from his throat.
The wind lashes at his back, blowing his hair across his face. Behind him, the waves crash over the shore, displacing a flock of cormorants. Cal watches their flight with great interest, but dutifully remains at his master’s side.
“Maybe we’re both broken,” Theresa finally utters, still not meeting Cullen’s eye. “I… don’t know how to fix this.”
Her words sink in like a blade, so painful he can hardly breathe. He has no defence against it. No shield against such a raw and vulnerable confession. But the pain brings with it a kind of clarity, as all the self-deception falls away.
“Maybe…” He licks his lips, tasting salt from tears and sea spray. “Maybe it’s not yours to fix. At least, not yours alone.”
As he speaks, a heavy desolation settles over his shoulders, as the finality of it finally sinks in. It was a beautiful dream. It’s lasted far longer than he could ever have hoped. Far past anything he could ever deserve. Now, it’s shattered, and he’s standing amidst the shards, unable to step away without being cut. But it’s the only hope he has of maybe, one day, reassembling it.
Perhaps that hope is foolish. But when it comes to her, he’ll gladly play the fool.
DAFF tag list: @rakshadow, @rosella-writes, @effelants, @bluewren, @breninarthur, @ar-lath-ma-cully, @dreadfutures, @ir0n-angel, @inquisimer, @crackinglamb, @theluckywizard, @nirikeehan, @oxygenforthewicked, @exalted-dawn-drabbles, @melisusthewee, @blarrghe, @agentkatie, @delicatefade, @leggywillow, @about2dance, @plisuu
#my writing#the black city#while time remains#theresa x cullen#cullen x trevelyan#theresa trevelyan#cullen rutherford#grief#and its effect on a relationship#love is a verb not an excuse#love must be chosen never forced#they will persevere#this is not an end but a new beginning
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Fiercely Perish
I wrote this story for April Fool's Day four years ago, and it's still one of my favorite things I've written. This was so much fun, and I especially loved seeing people in the comments slowly realizing what I was doing lol.
“Ser Dorian, you there?” A familiar voice came through the sending crystal as clearly as if they were standing right next to him.
“Krem, what can I do for you?” he asked pleasantly.
“Sorry to disturb you-” Krem always was so polite, “-but the scouts just spotted a cart coming up the way. Looks to be the Chief.”
“Ah, so he managed to make it before nightfall after all.” Dorian had wondered. He knew the big lummox well enough to know he didn’t rise early by choice if he could help it. He’d half expected another fortnight before seeing so much as the tips of his horns.
“Barely,” Krem chuckled lightly. If there was one exception to his professional decorum, it was in ribbing his intrepid leader. “Cart’s moving at a snail’s pace. Might have to make him a tent out here at forward base, unless you had other plans?”
It was ever so slight; the faint hint of amusement in his voice disguised as a question. Yes, Krem was always polite, but still no one’s fool.
“No, go ahead and send him up,” Dorian replied. His gaze twitched to his left, where his bed sat, still unmade from the night before. “I think we may find room for him after all.”
“Sure thing, ser.” Krem ended the communication.
Dorian fought off a sense of foreboding as he set his own sending crystal down, hoping he hadn’t made a mistake.
#my writing#fiercely perish#the iron bull#dorian pavus#action#self-contained story#adoribull#dorian pavus x the iron bull
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Chapter 21: Perfect Storm
Weeks of suffering and turmoil have all built up to this moment, and Theresa and Cullen may have reached a point of no return.
Theresa stands on the precipice, and looks down.
Her dreams of late keep returning her to her favourite view from her balcony at Skyhold. Her whole life, circling the same point of reference. As steady an anchor as the Black City that floats on the horizon.
She feels it the instant Cullen’s mind enters the Fade. The shift in the flow of thought is unmistakable. Her awareness has been trained on that empty pocket where he normally manifests, perched like a hawk scanning the horizon. Deliberating with herself.
The air around her ripples with worry. A slow-building fear has been taking shape in her mind despite her best efforts. Fear that he’s keeping something from her. Fear that she knows what. And that fear turns her thoughts inexorably toward an imprudent notion.
Theresa stands on the precipice, and looks down. Down into darkness and decay. Into the festering blackness of Kirkwall laid out below.
She shouldn’t. It’s wrong to enter another’s dream without permission. The ultimate transgression. The very thing most feared about Dreamers. Never before has she crossed that threshold, and especially not Cullen’s. Only guarded from the outside with wards, or pulled him into her dream. To protect. To shield.
Is that not what she would be doing here? If he won’t tell her the truth of it… She cannot let him linger in pain. If she’s to help him, she has to know.
Theresa stands on the precipice, looks down, and takes the leap.
DAFF tag list: @rakshadow, @rosella-writes, @effelants, @bluewren, @breninarthur, @ar-lath-ma-cully, @dreadfutures, @ir0n-angel, @inquisimer, @crackinglamb, @theluckywizard, @nirikeehan, @oxygenforthewicked, @exalted-dawn-drabbles, @melisusthewee, @blarrghe, @agentkatie, @delicatefade, @leggywillow, @about2dance, @plisuu
#my writing#the black city#while time remains#theresa x cullen#cullen x trevelyan#rosalie rutherford#theresa trevelyan#cullen rutherford#feynriel#feynriel x rosalie rutherford#relapse#grief#relationship troubles#trauma#ptsd#this is a heavy one y'all fair warning
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Chapter 20: Treading Water
They're both drowning, pulling each other down.
“Theresa?” His voice – his whole body – trembles as he stares at her and repeats, “We’ll be alright, won’t we?”
“I hope so.”
He sucks in a sharp breath, looking at her as if seeing her for the first time. She doesn’t blame him – she hardly recognises herself anymore.
“We will,” he says, once again more to himself than to her. Calling on that unwavering faith of his she has always admired and never understood. “We’ve been through the crucible before. The Maker would not have set us on this path if we couldn’t find our way out.”
She flashes her teeth in a feral, humourless laugh. “The same Maker that templar probably prayed to? Just stop, Cullen. Stop trying to mythologise it. There’s no grand purpose in this. No rhyme or reason. My pain is not simply a means to an end. It happened . To me . It's not divine. In fact, it's perfectly banal. His hatred… your faith… the fanatics who idolise me… it all comes from the same place.”
“You can’t believe that.”
“Of course I do!”
“No. You would never have me if you really thought this way. You wouldn’t have married me if you truly thought I…” He stares down at his hands, but what he sees in them, Theresa cannot say. “...Would you?”
“I’ve told you before, Cullen, that I can’t be your absolution.”
DAFF tag list: @rakshadow, @rosella-writes, @effelants, @bluewren, @breninarthur, @ar-lath-ma-cully, @dreadfutures, @ir0n-angel, @inquisimer, @crackinglamb, @theluckywizard, @nirikeehan, @oxygenforthewicked, @exalted-dawn-drabbles, @melisusthewee, @blarrghe, @agentkatie, @delicatefade, @leggywillow, @about2dance, @plisuu
#my writing#the black city#while time remains#theresa trevelyan#cullen rutherford#cullen x trevelyan#theresa x cullen#dorian pavus#dorian & trevelyan#grief#unhealthy coping mechanisms#relationship troubles
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Chapter 19: Crescendo
Cullen struggles to cope as it feels like everything is unraveling around him.
Cullen isn’t sure which is worse, the waking or the dreaming. Both bring pain and sorrow in different forms. His dreams are devoted to wounds of the past, while the waking world is filled with the emptiness of the present. And the future… He can no longer imagine a future.
He is no stranger to grief. But in all those losses, the pain was in the absence. In the missing pieces. The silence that replaces their habitual humming, the empty spaces where they used to sit. Eyes that still seek them out when he enters a room.
Perhaps that’s why it took him so long to fully process his own parents’ deaths. That was a loss he’d already mourned years ago. He remembers Tess saying something similar when learning that her own father and brother were killed at the Conclave.
But how do you mourn the loss of what you never had?
DAFF Tag List: @rakshadow, @rosella-writes, @effelants, @bluewren, @breninarthur, @ar-lath-ma-cully, @dreadfutures, @ir0n-angel, @inquisimer, @crackinglamb, @theluckywizard, @nirikeehan, @oxygenforthewicked, @exalted-dawn-drabbles, @melisusthewee, @blarrghe, @agentkatie, @delicatefade, @leggywillow, @about2dance, @plisuu
#my writing#while time remains#the black city#theresa trevelyan#cullen rutherford#cullen x trevelyan#theresa x cullen#grief#trauma#ptsd#self loathing#templars vs mages#old wounds being reopened#this one hits hard fair warning
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Chapter 18: Black and Blue
Despair and Regret are heavy burdens, and Theresa is bent beneath their combined weight.
Day bleeds into night and back to day. Wake blends into sleep, neither restful. Rosalie brings a tray of food that she ignores. That happens twice more before her body forces her to give in, and she downs a bowl of porridge. Her hand shakes so badly she spills half of it down the front of her shift. She asks for sliced fruit next time instead.
A cloud of tension pervades the mansion. Days pass with barely a word spoken within its walls, and the few that are heard are stiff, clipped, and reserved. Eyes are downcast or shut. People come and go from her room, from her home, and she doesn’t mark them or respond to their inane questions or pitying faces. Bodies pass each other as strangers, with shallow acknowledgement and false courtesies.
Grief lays across them, thick as a morning fog that never leaves, casting everything in grey, dull tones, as if all colour is draining from the world.
DAFF tag list: @rakshadow, @rosella-writes, @effelants, @bluewren, @breninarthur, @ar-lath-ma-cully, @dreadfutures, @ir0n-angel, @inquisimer, @crackinglamb, @theluckywizard, @nirikeehan, @oxygenforthewicked, @exalted-dawn-drabbles, @melisusthewee, @blarrghe, @agentkatie, @delicatefade, @leggywillow, @about2dance, @plisuu
#my writing#the black city#while time remains#theresa trevelyan#cullen rutherford#theresa x cullen#cullen x trevelyan#grief#tw miscarriage#post trespasser
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Art by RAB
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hadestown lyric prompts (act I)
someone's got to tell the tale, whether or not it turns out well
there ain't a thing that you can do when the weather takes a turn on you
come home with me
the gods sang his song of love and the world sang it with them
if you ain't six feet underground you're livin' up on top
let's not talk about hard times, pour the wine it's summertime
the flowers bloomed and the fruit got ripe and brother, for a moment there, the world came back to life
to the world we dream about and the one we live in now
he could make you see how the world could be, in spite of the way that it is
and for a moment I forget, just how dark and cold it gets
all I've ever known is how to hold my own, but now I wanna hold you too
I knew you before we met and I don't even know you yet
long as we stay with each other, then it will always be like this
takes a lot of medicine, to make it through the wintertime
an eye for an eye (and he weighs the cost) a lie for a lie (and your soul for sale)
well, til someone brings the world back into tune, this is how it is
oh you gotta keep your head low, if you wanna keep your head
lover, what have you become? I don't know you anymore
if you don't even want my love, I'll give it to someone who does
strange is the call of this strange man
I want a nice a soft place to land, I wanna lie down forever
the choice is yours, if you're willing to choose
seeing as you've got nothing to lose
take if you can, give if you must, ain't nobody but yourself to trust
cast your eyes to heaven, you get a knife in the back
oh my heart it aches to stay, but the flesh will have its way
with all your heart? well, that's a start
wait for me, I'm comin', wait I'm comin' with you
if all you got is your own two legs, just be glad you got 'em
who are you to think that you can walk a road that no one ever walked before?
don't give your name, you don't have one
and I am not alone, I hear the rocks and stones echoing my song
a lot can happen on the factory floor when the foreman turns his back
anybody want a drink?
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hadestown lyric prompts (act II)
I can see you're blinded by the sadness of it all
they can look, but they don't see, you see: life's easier that way
that's what it looks like to forget. forget what? who you are and everything that came before
a lot of spirits gotta break to make the underworld go round
flowers bloom, until they rot and fall apart
I remember someone, someone by my side, turned his face to mine, and then I turned away
come and find me, lying in the bed I made
whatever happened, I'm to blame
you called my name. you came.
it ain't no use, you're bound to lose
why beat your handsome brow? nothing changes, anyhow
If it's true what they say, is this how the world is?
what's the use of his backbone, if he never stands upright?
but who are they to say, what the truth is anyway?
'cause the ones who tell the lies, are the solemnest to swear
no answer will be heard to the question no one asks
our answer matters more than anything they say
it isn't for the few to tell the many what is true
is it true? is it true what they say?
all of his sorrow won't fit in his chest, it just burns like a fire in the pit of his chest
nothing comes of wishing on stars, and nothing comes of the songs people sing, however sorry they are
why do we build a wall and then call it freedom?
if I raise my head, could I change my fate?
if I raise my voice, could I change the way it is?
why do we turn away instead of standing with him?
why are we digging our own graves for a living?
if we're free, tell me why we can't even stand upright?
what has become of the heart of that man, now that he has everything?
the more he has, the more he holds, the greater the weight of the world on his shoulders
I can't promise you fair sky above, can't promise you kind road below, but I'll walk beside you love, any way the wind blows
I don't know where this road will end, but I'll walk it with you, hand in hand
men are fools, men are frail, give 'em the rope and they'll hang themselves
every coward seems courageous in the safety of a crowd
nothing makes a man so bold as woman's smile and a hand to hold
it's not a trick? no, it's a test.
the dog you really gotta dread, is the one that howls inside your head
who are you to think that you can hold your head up higher than your fellow man?
who am I to think that she would follow me into the cold and dark again?
the coldest night of the coldest year comes right before the spring
I used to see the way the world could be, but now the way it is is all I see
you are not alone, I am right behind you and I have been all along
the darkest hour of the darkest night comes right before (the dawn)
it's an old song, and that is how it ends.
it's a sad song, but we sing it anyway
to know how it ends, and still begin to sing it again, as if it might turn out this time?
I learned that from a friend of mine
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Chapter 17: Bells in Kirkwall
The hours of the day are marked by the ringing of the chantry bells. But that is not all they signify. (Definitely pay attention to CWs for this chapter...)
Her thoughts of the future lately have been optimistic. Hopeful. The whisper of doubt is still there, of course. The quiet little voice in the back of her mind that never stops asking, What if? What if she makes the same mistakes as her mother? What if she can’t love the child as she should? What if the child doesn’t love her?
What if she does everything right… but then Solas succeeds, and it’s all for naught?
But it’s quieter now, easier to ignore. She watches the children play, listens to Cullen’s soothing voice, and it grows quieter still.
DAFF tag list: @rakshadow, @rosella-writes, @effelants, @bluewren, @breninarthur, @ar-lath-ma-cully, @dreadfutures, @ir0n-angel, @inquisimer, @crackinglamb, @theluckywizard, @nirikeehan, @oxygenforthewicked, @exalted-dawn-drabbles, @melisusthewee, @blarrghe, @agentkatie, @delicatefade, @leggywillow, @about2dance
#my writing#the black city#while time remains#theresa trevelyan#cullen rutherford#theresa x cullen#cullen rutherford x inquisitor#post trespasser#whump
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Chapter 16: The Crimson Council
After long months of planning, the delegation to address the growing problem of red lyrium finally takes place. But for all her meticulous planning, there's one thing Theresa hasn't accounted for.
Several voices rise at once, some concurring and some dissenting, and already Theresa sees things getting horribly sidetracked. She raps loudly on the table with one of her paperweights, waiting for enough of the din to quiet down before shooting Varric a pleading glance.
He quickly clears his throat and raises both hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Let’s keep this on task, shall we? Our first and biggest problem is that we’ve all found ways to deal with it on a smaller scale, but those methods are either temporary, ineffective, or impractical on the scale we’re talking about. And to stop this, we’ve got to think big. Continent-big.”
Feynriel crosses his arms and gives a thoughtful frown. “For the sake of argument, what happens if we do nothing? Nature is incredibly adaptable – isn’t there any chance that things will work themselves out?”
Everyone grows still, looking to Theresa and Varric, who share another grave look.
“No,” Theresa says flatly. “There’s no chance. I’ve seen firsthand the damage it will do if left unchecked. It will eat the world.”
Feynriel eyes her warily. “Figuratively?”
“Literally.”
The note of silence that follows is chilling. But at least now, everyone understands the stakes.
DAFF tag list: @rakshadow, @rosella-writes, @effelants, @bluewren, @breninarthur, @ar-lath-ma-cully, @dreadfutures, @ir0n-angel, @inquisimer, @crackinglamb, @theluckywizard, @nirikeehan, @oxygenforthewicked, @exalted-dawn-drabbles, @melisusthewee, @blarrghe, @agentkatie, @delicatefade, @leggywillow, @about2dance
#my writing#while time remains#the black city#cullen x trevelyan#cullen rutherford#theresa trevelyan#varric tethras#vivienne#sebastian vael#lots of cameos in this chapter!#politics and machinations afoot!#and theresa's own control issues coming back to bite her
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Chapter 15: An Enchanted Prince
Kirkwall welcomes the arrival of the Prince of Starkhaven… and his enchanting companion.
“No one appreciates the necessity of cooperation more than I,” Vivienne begins in silk-swaddled tones, “but before cooperation, there must first be trust.” Her eyes find Theresa’s, sharp and elegant as a stiletto hidden inside a sleeve. The challenge is made.
Theresa dabs her mouth with her napkin before rising to meet it, bracing herself against the fresh wave of nausea the motion summons.
“You are quite right,” she says, directing her focus, not at Vivienne, but at Sebastian. “Trust has been broken, and I would like to make amends.”
She reaches inside her robes to pull forth a small, slender package, and slides it across the polished wood. Sebastian catches it with the reflexes of a skilled warrior, unwrapping it to reveal a leatherbound journal, worn slightly at the corners and lightly splattered with dark stains, but otherwise intact.
“That was stolen from your private quarters,” she continues. “Stolen by agents under my orders.”
DAFF tag list: @rakshadow, @rosella-writes, @effelants, @bluewren, @breninarthur, @ar-lath-ma-cully, @dreadfutures, @ir0n-angel, @inquisimer, @crackinglamb, @theluckywizard, @nirikeehan, @oxygenforthewicked, @exalted-dawn-drabbles, @melisusthewee, @blarrghe, @agentkatie, @delicatefade, @leggywillow, @about2dance
#my writing#the black city#while time remains#theresa x cullen#theresa trevelyan#cullen rutherford#sebastian vael#vivienne dragon age#vivienne de fer#cullen x trevelyan#post trespasser#fantasy politics#theresa's reticence biting her in the ass#argument to spiciness in no time at all
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Chapter 14: What's to Come
Alone in their bed, Cullen and Theresa speak of things to come.
“You’re not broken,” he says, gazing up at her with unbridled adoration and conviction.
She gives a bitter laugh. “Aren’t I? I dissolved the Inquisition, but can’t fully let it die. This upcoming coalition is proof of that. No matter how I try, I can’t seem to let go.”
“It’s the red lyrium that’s refusing to let go. I think the coalition is more than warranted, and a brilliant response.”
“You’re flattering.”
“Come now, we both know I’m far too earnest for believable flattery. You’re changing the subject again.”
A smirk pulls at her mouth. “You’re right – you are far too earnest for your own good. It’s a family trait.”
He grins and rolls onto his back, pillowing his hands behind his head. “I don’t know if I should hope or dread that as something our child could inherit.”
“Better that than my duplicity.” There’s a hint of bitterness to her tone, though her smirk hasn’t fallen a jot.
He frowns. Where’s this coming from? “You’re clever – far cleverer than me. You’ve seen ways around problems I couldn’t imagine if I tried.”
“Most of that’s through reckless experimentation. You’re far more careful.”
Maker, she’s stubborn . “I think you mean paranoid. I can’t even enter a building without analysing it for escape routes.”
“I approach every conversation as if it’s a negotiation or a recruitment opportunity.”
“Are we competing?” He gently admonishes her with a raised eyebrow.
“If we are, I’m winning.”
He laughs, a full-throated cackle that starts in his belly. Hearing her follow suit sends his heart soaring, and he rolls over to kiss her still-smiling lips. Then he rests his forehead against hers with a soft sigh. “Let’s face it, we’ve never been good at normal , you and I.”
DAFF tag list: @rakshadow, @rosella-writes, @effelants, @bluewren, @breninarthur, @ar-lath-ma-cully, @dreadfutures, @ir0n-angel, @inquisimer, @crackinglamb, @theluckywizard, @nirikeehan, @oxygenforthewicked, @exalted-dawn-drabbles, @melisusthewee, @blarrghe, @agentkatie, @delicatefade, @leggywillow, @about2dance
#my writing#the black city#while time remains#theresa trevelyan#cullen rutherford#theresa x cullen#dreams of the future#and also fears#these two are terrible at optimism#but they try#post-trespasser#cullen x trevelyan
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Chapter 13: A Much-Needed Respite
Theresa is feeling the stress of recent events more than usual, and Cullen convinces her to spend some time at the bath house to recuperate. While there, she's confronted with a revelation she's unprepared for.
Charter nods, already onto the next item. “Sutherland’s reported back.”
Theresa’s heart skips. For a report to come in all the way from Skyhold that quickly… That was either very good, or very bad. Judging by Charter’s face, she’s not optimistic.
But she’s not prepared for her answer. “It was a demon of Regret.”
Theresa’s whole body grows cold, despite the languishing heat. Regret! Oh Solas… “How much damage did it do?”
“A lot,” Charter answers flatly. “It slaughtered the caretakers who refused to evacuate with the Tranquil, but thankfully there were no other casualties. None of Sutherland’s crew were killed, either.”
Alive, but not unharmed. Theresa allows herself a moment’s sorrow for the loss of life. Still, it could have been much worse. Regret is relentless, and its roots go deep. “Does Leliana know?”
Again, Charter nods. “And she wanted me to warn you…”
“She’s closing it off.” Theresa swallows past the sudden lump in her throat.
“I’m sorry, Inquisitor.”
“Don’t be. It’s the right call.” She shakes her head, feeling her hair sway with the motion, frizzed and weighted by the humidity. I’ll have to find somewhere new for the Tranquil to go.
It had been a beautiful dream, but all dreams must eventually end. A lesson Solas also must come to learn.
But this raises a new problem. “Skyhold’s loss will look like a weakness to those watching from the outside,” she says carefully.
“Yes,” Charter agrees. “Sister Nightingale said she’d keep it quiet for as long as possible, but she’s also stirring the pot within the Chantry. There are a lot of daggers pointed at her back at the moment.”
“Stirring the pot” likely means dropping some rage bait into local discourse, and seeing who rises to bite. Theresa guesses there will be a new controversial edict issued by Divine Victoria in the next few days. Leliana is not one to mitigate risk. And if any of those daggers slip past her defences…
“I understand.” Theresa keeps her eyes on Charter, though her attention is trained keenly on Rosalie.
DAFF tag list: @rakshadow, @rosella-writes, @effelants, @bluewren, @breninarthur, @ar-lath-ma-cully, @dreadfutures, @ir0n-angel, @inquisimer, @crackinglamb, @theluckywizard, @nirikeehan, @oxygenforthewicked, @exalted-dawn-drabbles, @melisusthewee, @blarrghe, @agentkatie, @delicatefade, @leggywillow, @about2dance
#my writing#the black city#while time remains#wtr: tbc#theresa trevelyan#cullen rutherford#rosalie rutherford#charter dragon age#post-trespasser#cullen x theresa#cullen x trevelyan#dragon age fanfiction
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Swept Away - Masterpost
A03 Link
18 chapters/75,162 words
M rating
Romance/Action/Mystery
Think Pirates of the Caribbean meets Pride and Prejudice
All artwork by @theluckywizard
Beta'd by @rakshadow
"Since the moment they met, she and Isabela had been stuck on each other. A stone in the currents of each others' lives. But now they were the current. Josephine was being swept away, and for once she didn’t fight it."
Isabela has found herself in a spot of trouble (as she does), and needs to lay low for a while. Lucky for her, Varric knows an Antivan friend who needs a security escort for her new trade venture. Meanwhile, Josephine is facing down an arranged marriage and coping with her disappointment at missing her chance for her one great love - all while trying to manage her family's newly recovered trade status.
What happens when a force as unstoppable as Isabela meets an object as immovable as Josephine? Or is it perhaps the other way around?
#swept away#isabela#josephine montilyet#isabela x josephine#wlw dragon age#sapphic dragon age#my writing#reblogging for femslash february#femslash february
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Chapter 12: The Wolf's Jaw Pendant
While Theresa and Cullen are out of town on secret Inquisition business, Rosalie has a most unexpected encounter.
[Rosalie] follows [Feynriel's] gaze to a nondescript elven woman, stout but tall – taller than most elves Rosie has seen. She bears no Dalish markings, but something undefinable in her demeanour tells Rosie that she’s no ordinary city elf, either.
Feynriel greets her in Elvish, sounding cautious. The woman responds in kind. Her tone is polite and calm, but whatever she’s said, he clearly doesn’t like it. His hand tightens around his staff, and the wisp at its apex begins to vibrate with the rising energy he’s gathering.
“State your business,” he orders in Common, sharp and brittle, more fearful than Rosie’s ever seen him.
Frantically, she tries to remember how to summon a barrier. It’s been so long since she’s practised anything but nature spells.
“There’s no need for that,” the stranger answers, also in Common, attention shifting to Rosalie with a smile that’s chillingly uncanny, as though the muscles aren’t quite sure how it’s done. “You’re frightening the poor girl.”
Feynriel doesn’t take his eyes off the stranger. “Don’t trust it, Roe.”
“Why not?” Rosie’s heart hammers in her throat, all attempts at a barrier forgotten in her mounting fear. Wait, “it”?
“That’s no elf,” he says. “It’s a spirit.”
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#my writing#the black city#while time remains#theresa trevelyan#cullen rutherford#rosalie rutherford#feynriel#cal the mabari#merrill#dragon age fanfiction#theresa x cullen#cullen x trevelyan#post trespasser#solas#the dread wolf#fen'harel#whose shadow looms long across theresa's path
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Happy Friday! For some Theresa/Cullen Battle Couple Fluff, "Night Out"? (Maybe how they wind down after getting jumped in hightown on a date night?)
Happy @dadrunkwriting! I had a fair bit of fun with this prompt. I would have liked to include more of the alley fight itself, but my brain can't wrap itself around combat writing tonight lol.
Theresa rests her hand on her hip and huffs at an errant curl that falls across her eyes, surveying the damage. “All things considered,” she says, “it actually turned out to be quite a nice night.”
Cullen stares at her, somewhat incredulous. Though he shouldn’t be surprised. After six years, he should really see things like this coming. Even so, he feels compelled to once again be the voice of reason, futile though it is.
“Our first night out without Ellie in months had to start late because Rosie forgot she was watching her, our favorite tavern is closed thanks to a petty feud with a rival barkeep, I’m pretty sure the meat we were served at the pub we did end up eating at was raw, and on top of that, we get mugged on our way home.” He gestures down at the several unconscious figures splayed across the alley before the two of them.
“Well, they certainly tried.” Theresa’s mouth tilts with a smug smirk, eyes alight with adrenaline in the moonlight. “And I’ve already told you – that meat wasn’t raw, it was medium-rare. It’s how it’s supposed to be cooked.”
One of the figures stirs, and lets out a pained groan, probably deeply regretting his return to consciousness. A broken nose will make someone regret a lot of things.
“I refuse to believe that we’re supposed to give ourselves food poisoning for the sake of flavor.” Cullen steps up to the would-be mugger, tilting his face up to him using the toe of his boot. He waits until the man’s eyes slowly blink open before he speaks down to him. “I take it you and your companions have learned your lesson?”
The poor sod tries to nod, but his chin is trapped by Cullen’s boot. Cullen releases him and lets him gather his compatriots while he goes to stand next to Tess.
“Must you always point out only the negative?” she asks with a musical tone, smirk still firmly in place.
“Oh, please do point out what positive might be gleaned from tonight’s disaster?”
Anyone else might assume her to be completely nonchalant about the bruised glares pointed her way. Cullen knows it for a mask – behind that careless air, there’s a glint of calculation in her eyes, and the glint of steel about her flashing teeth. She’s watching them all quite carefully. When they launch their secondary attack, foolishly presuming her guard down, they don’t even notice the rising scent of ozone in the alley, or the spark of electricity in her palm.
Not that it would have done them much good if they had – there’s nowhere to dodge her chain lightning in this narrow space. Cullen manages to flatten his hands over his ears to block out the worst of the deafening strike, but it’s a near thing. The muggers, having finally learned their lesson, turn tail and run – those who can. The rest are dragged or carried out between them.
“We got to work out our aggression,” she answers, making a show of blowing at the tendrils of smoke arising from her fingers. Cullen watches her mouth as she does, the soft petals of her lips perked into a rounded shape designed to tantalize him. “And we still got to have a night out, just the two of us.”
She looks up, catching him watching her, blinking in surprise. Another mask – he doesn’t believe for a moment she wasn’t doing that deliberately and solely for his benefit.
“In fact,” she continues, her voice dropping to a register that never fails to stir that primal response in his core. “The night doesn’t have to end here.”
Cullen’s heart jumps within his breast at the thought of taking her right here, right now, in this filthy and now blood-stained alley. However, common decency maintains its hold on him, and he forms a much better plan.
“I know a place not far from here that will rent us a room by the hour,” he says, holding up a finger at her arched eyebrow. “But you have to promise not to ask how I know.”
“Well, now I want to ask even more.”
He chuckles and rubs at his neck. He walked right into that one. “It’s not what you’re thinking,” he says, somewhat sheepishly. “There’s an inn I used to frequent, but it’s because I would always play chess with the old barkeep when business was slow.”
“That’s very sweet of you – though I’m not sure why you’d be embarrassed about it?”
“Well… it’s not the sort of place you’d expect to see anyone young enough to still be working,” he admits reluctantly. “I didn’t exactly have many options for companionship among the other templars, and that old biddy was just about the only person who could beat me at the game as often as Mia… until you, that is.”
Theresa’s eyes glisten with fondness as she cups his face. “I’d love to meet her.”
“Let’s hope you don’t,” he laughs. “If she’s the one working the bar, we’ll never make it up to the room! She’ll insist on a match then and there.”
#my writing#dadwc prompts#battle couple#fluff#cullen rutherford#theresa trevelyan#cullen x theresa#cullen x trevelyan#established relationship#parents getting the rare night out#except it's cullen and theresa#so of course it's not normal
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