#but also link is likely ambidextrous and could probably learn to use a sword with his left arm

[science-lings]

You could combine the idea of Zelda’s dragon features spreading with the idea that not all the gloom was purged from link’s body? When he has a particularly bad episode, Zelda’s light powers are the only thing that can bring him comfort/lessen the pain. That also introduces moral conflict where Zelda doesn’t want to see link suffering but link doesn’t want Zelda to harm herself for his own benefit

ooooh tragic... bc i feel like the situation would be like, either she uses her magic to keep the gloom at bay so he can keep the use of his arm and not be in a whole lot of pain or he has to get his connection to the gloom severed, literally. So at first the decision is easy, with her secret stone, her light power comes so easily and at first there are no obvious downsides.

Then she starts gradually growing scales, and her teeth and nails get sharper and a little bit iridescent, and at some point little horns start to grow from her hairline. It's a little troubling but Zelda still thinks it's kind of fascinating and none of those are really much of an issue, but no matter how much they slow his treatments to get her own changes to slow, it only keeps progressing for both of them.

And while Link needs her light power to keep his sword arm, it gets to the point to where Zelda's more mental symptoms from her time as a dragon are getting worse, she's disassociating more, she's going into trances, her thoughts and memories are getting progressively foggier and who knows what could happen if it gets even worse. Would she start to lose her memory? Would she start to forget who she is? Would she forget where or when she is?

Even if it means sacrificing his sword arm, they have to put a stop to it before she hurts herself even more, and after some arguing, they both come to the conclusion that it needs to be amputated. It showed no signs of getting better the whole time she had been treating it, it would always return just as strong the next day.

Perhaps before it was Rauru's light power in his arm that kept the disease at bay, and each bit of pure light magic from the shrines weakened it's grip on him, but it was never enough, and there may not even be enough light magic in the world to combat it without consequences.

So at some point, they have to accept the arm as a loss. It's a small price to pay really, none of the sages died in the fight against Ganondorf, any other sacrifice was so minor that they're lucky the most debilitating thing lost was the swordsman's most essential arm.

[aikoiya]

LoZ: TotK - Consequences

I really wish that Link hadn't simply gotten his arm back or that the restoration was temporary & he'll eventually have to amputate it.

Grim, I know, but it would've made for some interesting possibilities in future games.

For instance, I think it'd be cute if Zelda made him an automail arm out of Sheikah & Zonai Tech. He's more likely to use it in such a case.

At the same time, it could end up causing Link to become ambidextrous as he tries to learn to fight with his left hand before being surprised by Zelda with a new arm. (Which would be a cool way to circle back around to Link being left-handed again.)

If this happened, could Link possibly learn to dual-wield 1-handed weapons like Riju?

That'd be pretty sick & I can see Vicious Sickles & Demon Carvers being brought back as a result.

Maybe even the inclusion of knives like kodachi.

What if you could wield 2 different weapons at once? A 1-handed sword in 1 hand & a knife or short sword in the other?

That could result in some interesting fighting styles. Then you could play as more of a rogue in full Sheikah gear.

You could also basically integrate the functions of the Sheikah Slate/Purah Pad into the arm itself much like how Rauru's arm did while letting Zelda keep the actual Purah Pad. Maybe have Zelda & him be able to communicate throughout the next game through them.

I also think that it'd be important to space out the arm's abilities throughout the game rather than just giving them all to you at the beginning in quick succession. This would result in soft blocking certain things like they used to in old games.

Which, honestly, was sort of a part of why I enjoyed the old games. The backtracking. Which, I know, probably controversial. But I enjoyed it!

Ironically, I also very much enjoyed hunting for Heart Pieces. I guess that I just feel like the Shrines can get... a bit sterile...

And, yes, even fetch quests. I enjoyed the whole experience!

That isn't to say that I hate this new style of gameplay. I just... kinda wish that there was a bit more of the old games integrated into it.

And, while I can live with the durability. I feel like... there should be some equipment that doesn't break. Just certain things like maybe a hamaxe or pick-hammer, a shovel, a bug net, a fishing rod. Maybe a clawshot that you can hook to spears so that throwing them is more viable.

If not that, then maybe the inclusion of an old Sheikah weapon called a Jōhyō, or chained kunai. A Jōhyō, unlike the grappling hook, could be used as an actual weapon & would still work as a grappling hook. And to upgrade it, you turn it into a Jōhyō Han Kote, or Kunai Vambrace, which basically turns it into a half clawshot, half grappling hook that still works as a weapon. Could even work in close-quarters combat as a hidden blade like from Assassin's Creed.

Or, they can break, but they don't disappear & you have to go to a nearby blacksmith to have them repaired?

Though, regardless of whether they are unbreakable, I like the idea of them being upgradeable too like how they were in Skyward Sword.

LoZ Wild Masterlist

[madamedeher]

No pressure

Cullen and Trevelyan fight to release something unspoken. What happens when that becomes not enough? a.k.a the one where everyone knows but the couple.

Maybe it's just me, but I almost never see fics of Cullen pining. I thought it'd be interesting to explore that. Also I'll be loosely messing with the canon in this story. Nothing too story shattering, just a few tweaks you might notice. If you'd like, you can go to my oc page on here and see what I envisioned Maxwell to look like. (Spoiler: he's based off my own inq lmao) just go to the oc page and Andrew Trevelyan is who I described :)

Also this is on AO3! I’m a bit paranoid with the link purge but my profile is /users/ordinarycrayons :)

Come two weeks, it will have been one year since the inquisition had been formed. Cassandra tried to argue that the inquisition was official once Trevelyan accepted his role, but he thought it was too self righteous to agree to that date.

Varric, Trevelyan’s self claimed “closest dwarf” was now standing in front of Cullen’s desk, a knowing gleam to his eye and a smirk ever present on his face.

“All I’m saying is you’re invited.”

Cullen sighed lightly. Varric has decided to celebrate the first nameday of the inquisition by holding a grand game of cards. Apparently everyone in the inner circle will be there, and then some.

“Plus,” Varric leaned in a little, smugness on his face ever present.

“Max is definitely coming.”

Cullen couldn’t help but bristle. He never thought of himself to splay his emotions out on a platter, but even before Haven’s collapse Varric took it upon himself to tease the commander for his one sided infatuation for the Inquisitor.

“Like I have told you, I will probably be busy. Thank you. I will send Maxw— the Inquisitor my regards.”

“Whatever you say, Curly. If you manage to unglue yourself from your desk, invitation’s always open.”

Varric turned on his heels out Cullen’s office and once Varric was out the room, Cullen let out a breath he did not realize he was holding.

Maxwell Trevelyan was not an enigmatic man. He wore his heart on his sleeve, heaving his opinions like he does his broadsword. He seemed to have a permanent tan to his already brown skin and dark freckles that dusted his face, accentuating an innocence that wasn’t exactly there.

Cullen would often daydream about those freckles. They complimented dimples and round cheeks, making Trevelyan look much younger than he actually was. The amount of teasing they both got when it was found out Trevelyan was the same age as Cullen still makes the blond burn in embarrassment.

His thoughts on the leader had shifted recently. What it had shifted to, though, Cullen still does not know.

Trevelyan has never called Cullen by his name, always some form of Commander. In turn, Cullen always tried to make it a point to call him the Inquisitor. Even if Cullen finds himself saying it offhand to himself, noting how easy it slides off his tongue, how it would be so gratifying to have Trevelyan grab him and make him say his name over and over and— Maker.

The Inquisitor had been gone for two weeks, something about peace talks in Orlais. He’d be back by the morning, no doubt irritable from dealing with stuck up nobles day in and day out. Cullen very much looked forward to seeing him again, much to his chagrin.

Cullen stood from his desk and paced for a moment. A slow throbbing was approaching from behind his eyes, a sign that his body was getting too tired to go on without pain.

That night, Cullen touched himself, spilling Maxwell from his lips.

He didn’t have feelings for Trevelyan, oh no. Simple infatuation. Forbidden fruit. Nothing real there, whatsoever. Truly. Hopefully.

+++

As predicted, Trevelyan was back in Skyhold by dawn. Josephine was on him the moment he stepped into the fortress, asking about how it went, who he impressed, who he more importantly pissed off. Vivienne, who attended the talks, stepped in to answer. Maxwell was brooding the moment they left Orlais and was not in the mind to answer her questions.

A random Orlesian had mentioned his father, how he was a noble who fell from grace by scandal. That scandal, being him and a servant creating Trevelyan’s half sister. Great stuff for Trevelyan’s psyche to go over several, several times.

His legs walked for him at that point. His target, Commander Cullen’s office. He knew the commander wouldn't be asleep right now, as many times as they've done this.

Something of a ritual had formed between the two. When one was upset, they would invite the other to spar. Neither has ever declined the other and it proved to be therapeutic in some primal way.

With a hard knock, Trevelyan announced himself outside the office and walked in. Unsurprisingly, Cullen was hunched over his desk, though he was still dressed in casual clothing, his armor sitting well placed next to him.

Looking up, Cullen acknowledged him.

“Good morning, Inquisitor.”

Then, the ritual begins.

Trevelyan would comment on the time of day.

“Morning, commander. Up early today I see.”

Cullen would make a comment on his work load.

“Yes, I have much to do.”

Trevelyan would proposition.

“Don’t you need a break, Commander?”

And Cullen would fall for it.

“I suppose I do. Meet you by the usual place?”

The, “usual place” was near the southern entrance of Skyhold, where only some immigrants and the merchant would see them. They use to practice by the tavern, but they eventually gained an audience. Trevelyan didn’t mind, but Cullen drew the line when he overheard Iron Bull and Dorian wondering if who wins the spar means who takes the other that night.

He didn’t tell Trevelyan the exact reason why he wanted to move, citing the noise of the crowd was distracting and if Trevelyan suspected another reason, he didn’t show it. Since then, they fought in their place. Truthfully, Cullen has several places mapped if they gained a crowd once again.

Trevelyan waited patiently by their spot. He took it upon himself to grab their usual weapons. Cullen relied on a rather large wooden shield and right handed sword. Trevelyan had his two-handed broadsword tucked into his elbow, leaning on it as he waited. Both weapons were old and dull, only able to do real damage if using blunt force.

Cullen bounded towards him ten minutes later. His lion helm was left behind, but his usual armor was donned. Trevelyan wore similar armor, though his was less stylized.

“Commander.” Trevelyan handed Cullen his sword and shield, a half smile on his face.

Cullen’s heart thumped in his chest. Their sparring use to be simple, he played as it was. But when his feelings deepened into whatever they were, their dueling fueled more. An itch he couldn’t scratch was the only way he could describe it.

He watched as Trevelyan oriented himself with the sword. It was a tad smaller than his actual battle weapon, with the hilt being a thinner leather than usual as well.

“Ready, Inquisitor?”

“Always, Commander.”

No matter what, it felt like the world disappeared when they did this. In Cullen’s mind, it was just them in this moment. No Inquisition, no reports, no worry. Just them.

The pair rounded themselves, facing the other. Cullen noted how even though Trevelyan’s brown eyes looked very tired, he still managed to create a spark behind them.

Trevelyan was the first to move, stepping to Cullen’s right side, swinging his sword. It was a test, as Trevelyan never actually made his swing come all the way down to hit Cullen’s shield. The pair locked eyes again and Trevelyan let out a breathy laugh.

“Did not expect cold feet from you, Inquisitor.”

“Simply gauging my prey.”

Prey. Cullen let out an incredulous noise and suddenly charged with his shield, catching Trevelyan off guard and knocking him back with a loud oof.

Trevelyan recovered quickly, but not before Cullen got a good jab at his rib, causing the other to groan in pain. With a well placed turn, Trevelyan brought his foot up and kicked Cullen’s shield towards the left, stuttering the commander’s reflex and bringing down a harder than intended swing to Cullen’s side. It made the commander make his own noise of pain and he gripped his side as best he could.

He knew there would be a big purple bruise there in a few hours. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

Trevelyan came at him again, his sword menacingly in front of him. Cullen blocked last minute with his shield and pushed back, staggering the man for a moment. Cullen did his best to round his own sword back to the other, but it was successfully blocked by the left metal bracer Trevelyan wore. Not missing a beat, Trevelyan awkwardly switched his sword to his non dominant right hand and clumsily hit the bottom of Cullen’s thigh.

Cullen reminded himself to warn the Inquisitor about learning to be ambidextrous with his weapons. Two-handed weapons tend to spoil those wielding them.

They pushed off each other, both slightly out of breath. Mirroring the other, they both stepped towards each other and arched their swords, the swords hitting each other with a loud metallic pang. Trevelyan pushed against Cullen and the commander pushed back, deadlocking the two into a power struggle. Cullen was close enough to Trevelyan’s face he could count the freckles on his nose. He got to twenty before a voice cleared from behind him.

Trevelyan was the first to back off and an innocent grin spread on his face.

“Are you two playing nice?”

Morrigan. Cullen whipped around and put his hands to his sides. He felt as though he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

“I always play nice. What isn’t nice is watching people without their knowledge.”

There was no bite to Trevelyan’s scolding.

“Oh, but I am not a nice woman. Is it a crime to watch two attractive men beat each other with sticks?”

“Ah-ha! I knew you thought I was handsome.”

“Tis’ not a secret, Maxwell. I am not the shy type.”

Before Cullen knew it, he realized the pair were… flirting?

A knot of jealousy settled in Cullen’s stomach. It made him feel hotly ashamed and a bit nauseous. He brought his hand to the bridge of his nose and pinched, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.

Trevelyan mistakenly thought it to be lyrium withdrawal pain and placed a comforting hand on Cullen’s shoulder. It made his heart beat even harder.

“As much as I enjoy this chatter, is there truly something you needed?”

When Cullen opened his eyes, he found Morrigan transfixed on him. He shifted uncomfortably under her stare.

“I was hoping to discuss The Winter Palace with you.”

Her gaze shifted between the two and settled on Cullen again, her face looking more knowing than before.

“That is, if you two are quite finished.”

Trevelyan straightened and stuck his sword into the ground. Clapping a hand on Cullen’s back, he smiled warmly at him and stepped towards Morrigan.

“I guess we’ll have to finish this later. See you later, Commander.”

Cullen watched Trevelyan and Morrigan walk off together. They started their light flirting again from what Cullen could tell and the weight in his stomach seemed to have snaked up to his chest, constricting his heart. He cleared his throat and looked down at his feet, willing the emotions to fade away. Cullen made it a point to himself to get over this crush effective immediately.

“Oh, and Commander,”

Morrigan’s voice rang out again, though she was much farther away. Cullen sheepishly looked up from his brooding thoughts.

“Shall I remind you I am not the villain here?”

Trevelyan looked between the two, settling on raising his eyebrows at Cullen. Although Trevelyan didn’t really know what Morrigan was talking about, he was surprised to see a bashful look on Cullen’s face.

+++

Cullen has not spoken to the Inquisitor since they’re last sparring. He’s not quite sure if he appreciates or hates that fact.

It’s easier to forget about his situation with Trevelyan this way, even if he misses him. Besides, it isn’t as if he is purposely avoiding the other. Trevelyan has made no attempt to talk to him. Although, that fact stings, so Cullen tries to forget that as well.

Varric’s celebration is tonight. Cullen made no plans to go up until earlier today. After a rather tedious war meeting, Leliana stopped Cullen to talk to him alone in the hallway out. Once again, Trevelyan made no attempt to talk to him and it grated on his nerves more than it should have. Them standing in the cramped space between the main hall and Josephine’s office did not help his growing nerves.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

Cullen’s voice sounded strained even to his own ears, causing him to briefly wince.

“You are going to the celebration tonight.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You think I do not know of what is going on between you and the inquisitor?”

Cullen blinked and felt the tip of ears grow hot.

“I do not know what—”

“Do not lie to me, Commander.”

“...there is nothing unprofessional between me and the Inquisitor. I say that truly.”

Leliana’s eyes were piercing, as if she was trying to read his mind. Cullen would never admit he wouldn’t be surprised if she could.

“That is precisely the problem.”

Cullen stepped back and hit his back against the brick wall. He’s sure if he saw his face it would show a look of complete and utter confusion. “Are you suggesting me and the Inquisitor start some illicit affair?”

“If I thought it would just be a some dirty affair, I wouldn’t be standing here.”

“Then I am at a loss as to what you are suggesting.”

The woman shifted her weight to her left foot and crossed her arms. A ghost of a smirk was on her face.

“I know love when I see it, Commander. It is something to be cherished. The Maker made us this way to embrace love, not run away from it. Do you not understand that?”

Cullen’s heart started thudding against his chest and he instinctively rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn’t meet Leliana’s eyes even if he wanted to.

“It is not mutual.”

The smirk widened on Leliana’s face. “Because you have been rejected, or because you refuse to consider it’s possibility?”

Cullen had no answer. He had not even entertained the thought that the Inquisitor might feel the same way. Trevelyan had made no moves, had he? Belatedly, Cullen realized he and the Inquisitor spent the most time together out of everyone in the inner circle. Trevelyan is the one whom Cullen bared his deepest struggles to, and Trevelyan was the only one to take the time to comfort him, tell him how proud he was of Cullen. While Cullen wasn’t as eloquent as Trevelyan when it came to praise and feelings, when he did do the same to Trevelyan he could swear he saw a blush come to the warrior’s cheeks. It all came naturally, and Cullen kicked himself for being so hung up on their names.

Leliana spoke again. “Are you coming to the celebration?”

Cullen steadied himself on his sword, gripping the handle hard. He tried not to get his hopes up.

“Yes.”

+++

The tavern was bustling. It seemed as though everyone in skyhold had stuffed themselves in there, from the chargers drunkenly guarding their corner of the bottom floor to even Vivienne chatting idly to Dorian and Solas, all three drinking some expensive wine Varric managed to get his hands on.

Trevelyan was drinking a tankard of beer with Blackwall, Cassandra, and Varric. Their conversation devolved the more the night went on. While he didn’t drink that much, Trevelyan saw his companions get more and more inebriated. By the time Varric managed to round up the inner circle for their wicked grace game, Sera was asleep on the floor and Bull was so loud it was starting to make Trevelyan’s ears ring.

“And THEN, and then, oh shit boss you’re gonna love this one, and then he went, ‘But I barely knew her!’” The table erupted in incredulous laughter and a solid eye roll from Cassandra. Trevelyan tried to hide his laugh behind his drink, clapping Bull on the back for his story. Naturally, the conversations went on. His hand in the card game wasn’t great, but he didn’t really mind. It felt good to celebrate something amongst the string of tragedies he has to deal with.

Varric sat next to him, the two occasionally sizing each other up. Josephine was the best at the game, but Varric could bluff like nobody’s business. It gave Trevelyan a sense of confidence being around him when playing wicked grace. It wasn’t until he jabbed Trevelyan in the ribs with his elbow did he get his head out of the game. He nodded his head towards the entrance of the tavern and Trevelyan’s eyes landed on the blond that was making his way through the door.

Cullen walked towards the table but stopped just short of it. Varric stood up and waved the commander over.

“Glad you made it Curly, saved a seat for you.”

Trevelyan looked wide eyed at Varric who shot back a wink. He went off to drag another chair to the table, leaving Cullen to sit down next to the inquisitor.

Cullen’s entrance didn’t stop the flow of conversation, but Leliana, who was leaning against one of the support beams in the tavern threw Cullen a look. She turned to whisper something to Cassandra who was some steps away. Cassandra not so subtly glanced at the pair with raised eyebrows. Both Cullen and Trevelyan looked elsewhere to avoid the questioning eyes.

“I… guess I have arrived too late for the game.”

“Don’t worry, there will be plenty more rounds. Lest we forget your last game.”

Cullen smiled at Trevelyan despite the embarrassing memory. “Ah, I do not plan on losing my clothing tonight, though.”

Trevelyan perked up at Cullen with newfound confidence. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

Something told Cullen they might not be talking about the game anymore and he looked away shyly. He never knew what to do in these situations. Especially since this is the first time in many years he wanted their affections in the first place.

“S-so, uh, I feel as though we have not seen each other in a while.”

Trevelyan deflated at that and Cullen recoiled slightly wondering if he said the wrong thing. Thankfully, Trevelyan continued on the conversation. “Why is it always I who seeks you out? You’re free to come to me for a change, you know.”

A hardened tone took over Trevelyan but he still tried to mask it with a forced lightness. Cullen felt the guilt wash over in a wave. He had never thought about that. For the past year, it had always been Trevelyan who progressed their friendship. It hit Cullen that even if he had feelings for Cullen, Cullen was not showing any signs himself that it could go anywhere. Tonight felt like it was a turning point in their friendship— or what it could be.

“I came tonight. I… hope that is a sufficient start.”

“You act as if you came to the party only for me.”

It was invitation to go further, Cullen saw it clear as day. Trevelyan was baiting him to go farther, and he knew he would always go for his game.

Cullen acknowledged him.

“Perhaps… perhaps I did.”

Trevelyan craned his seat to look out a window at the far side of the wall to their left.

“It’s getting quite late, Cullen.”

Cullen’s eyes widened and he could feel his pulse thud in his ears. He wanted to ask Trevelyan to say his name again, over and over. It was by far the only sound Cullen wanted to hear from then on. He had half a mind to ask him to say it again before he remembered what he was doing.

“Yes, I finished my reports early.”

Trevelyan prepositioned.

“Well, I’m sure you deserve a long break.”

And Cullen falls for it. Every time.

“What do you suggest we do, Maxwell?”

The grin that split onto Trevelyan’s face was unfiltered excitement and it made Cullen mirror one of his own.

“Walk me to my quarters? It is just so late.”

“Of course, dear inquisitor.”

+++

Cullen had never been in Maxwell’s quarter’s since it was being built in the first place. It awed him how much of Maxwell emanated from the room since he last saw it. The Orlesian linens had been replaced by woolly blankets and fluffy pillows that looked perfect for winter. The couch, desk, and bookshelves were all the same but had been covered by different memorabilia Maxwell had collected over the past many months. His desk especially was cluttered with dozens of half written missives and reports. Cullen wonders how he manages to get anything done with the mess in the way. Incense sits in the air as well, a mix of cherrywood and lavender. It relaxed both of them greatly.

Behind him Maxwell stokes a fire he lit. It was late fall and a chill had comfortably settled over skyhold.

When the fire seemed to be going full force Maxwell stood. He and Cullen shared a brief moment of eye content before they both looked away nervously. Maxwell admittedly didn't think this far into this, considering he didn’t even think Cullen would accept the offer to walk him to his room.

“I like your quarters.” Cullen blurted out after a beat of awkward silence.

“Do you?”

“Yes, I now know why you smell so good.” He faltered at the tail end of that sentence. Cullen inwardly smacked himself. You smell so good? Maker, Cullen, you’re bad at this.

Maxwell laughed behind his hand, “Thank you. I’m glad my… smell? Pleases you.”

Cullen hoped his face didn’t seem to red, but just in case he looked down at his boots to hide at least some of the embarrassment.

Maxwell walked towards an empty loveseat that was in the corner of his room and pushed it towards the fire that crackled noisily. He sat down casually and patted the spot next to him, beckoning Cullen who obliged readily.

“I’m glad you agreed to come with me to my quarters. I’ve… admittedly missed you. And I’ve been wanting to speak about something.”

This time it was Maxwell looking down at his feet. Cullen wanted to reach out and hug him.

“What did you want to speak of?”

Maxwell took a deep breath and looked up, but not at Cullen. “Cullen, I care for you, more than what I’ve let on and I—” He shook his head and tried to gather his words.

“I don’t— I don’t know where I’m going with this. I just want to know if you could care for me as I care for you.”

Cullen felt his mouth dry and he swallowed thickly. He tried to bring up words but nothing seemed to do justice.

“I could. I-I mean I do. I’ve… often wondered what I might say in this situation.” Cullen’s voice wavered a tad but he continued, “I didn’t think it was possible for there to be something, much less admit to it.”

“Now that it is possible, what do you intend to do?”

Maxwell was looking at Cullen now, the pair meeting each other’s eyes. Cullen shifted closer to Maxwell and started to slowly lean into the other’s space, closing his eyes and hoping he’s met with what he wants.

With a sharp intake of breath, Maxwell met Cullen halfway and kissed him.

Cullen had imagined this a dozen times, in a dozen different ways. He knows it’s cliche to say it is like no other, but he can not remember a time where something as simple as a kiss filled him such an indescribable joy.

They seperated momentarily, looking into each other’s eyes with a newfound ferocity. Cullen grabbed Maxwell by his collar and pulled him back into the kiss, their mouths naturally falling open to explore the other. Maxwell tangled his left hand into Cullen’s hair and moved to straddle his lap, his other hand finding itself on the other’s waist.

It stirred something familiarly warm deep in Cullen’s belly, causing him to involuntarily moan. He could feel Maxwell smile into the kiss and it caused him to smile back, effectively ruining the kiss they had going. It devolved into a fit of shy giggles and chaste face kisses between the two.

“I can’t remember the last time I was into another man’s lap.”

Cullen pressed several kisses along Maxwell’s jaw and neck, causing the other to crane his neck back for better access. A passing thought wished Cullen would divulge in as many love bites as he could.

“If I get what I want, I’ll be the last lap you’re in.”

Maxwell meant to softly put their foreheads together but misjudged the force of it and thonked their heads together, causing another bout of breathy laughter.

“Whatever you want, I’ll grant it.”

Maxwell brought his hips closer to Cullen’s and ghosted contact. In retaliation Cullen settled his hands on Maxwell’s hips and brought them together himself, the hard grind bringing groans out of both of them.

Their lips connected again, the kiss hard and wet. They fell into a slow rhythm, grinding until they were both hard and desperate against each other.

“Grant me a spot on your bed?”

Maxwell smiled crookedly and stood, taking Cullen’s hand in his and leading him to the bed. They kissed on their way there, unbuckling and fastening each other’s clothing the best they could until they fell on the bed in their underclothes, never separating until both needed a breath. Carefully, Maxwell made his way from Cullen’s mouth down his chest, leaving a trail of wet kisses across his torso and taking a moment to lavish a nipple with teeth and tongue. It made Cullen’s breath hitch in his throat, stifling a kean that came with it.

Calloused hands made their way down Cullen’s soft thighs, tracing a map for Maxwell’s lips to follow. It was slightly ticklish, Maxwell’s plush lips mixed with his rough stubble rubbing against his thighs, it forced Maxwell to steady a hand against his stomach to keep him from squirming too much. With steady hands, Maxwell pulled off Cullen’s last bit of clothing and discarding his own in the process.

They stared at other, breathing heavily. Maxwell tried to drink up the sight in front of him as much as he could, while Cullen tried to commit to memory what it looks like to have one of the most powerful men in Thedas kneeling above him completely naked.

Without wasting another second Maxwell puts his lips to Cullen’s dick, kissing the head, then spreading them just enough to suckle at the tip. Cullen quietly gasped, swallowing hard. It had been years since anyone had touched him this way. He never thought he would find someone he trusted enough to take to bed, yet here he was, thanking Andraste and the maker himself for allowing him to climb into Maxwell’s space.

Maxwell got more bold as he worked, taking more of Cullen into his mouth. Cullen unconsciously thrusted into Maxwell’s slack mouth. He couldn’t very far, the arm that steadied him earlier was placed back on his stomach, restricting his movement. A frustrated groan escaped Cullen before he could catch it and caught Maxwell trying not to smile. The brunet pulled off and licked the precome that got on his lips. “You’re so cute.”

Cullen flustered and pressed his lips into a tight line. He didn’t trust himself not to say something completely embarrassing.

“Can… can I take you?”

That got Cullen’s attention. Maxwell had settled himself in between legs that Cullen didn’t know he could spread that far. Maxwell had clear sight of his hole and it made Cullen want to close his legs out of bashfulness, yet he relented on the thought.

“Y-yes. I… I don’t… I’ve never...” Cullen looked up at the ceiling, willing the Maker to not let him mess this up.

“It’s okay, we, um, we don’t have to.”

“No! I mean. No, I want to. I just... have never been taken. Please, I do want you.”

Maxwell flashed a warm smile then pressed a long kiss to Cullen’s lips.

“If anything becomes too much, you know to stop me right?”

Cullen nods and takes a deep breath. He lets his legs fall open as they were and watched Maxwell’s gaze fall from his face to between his legs. He knew his face and chest were flush red yet he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. Maxwell reached over him to ruffle inside his nightstand for a small container. When opened, the smell of mint and earth filled the air and Cullen looked at Maxwell questioningly.

“Don’t ask why I have it, but it’s oil with a special root infused. Will help with comfort, helps relax muscles.” Maxwell dipped his fingers into it with a shrug. The liquid was even thicker than oil and the smell made Cullen’s nose tickle.

When Maxwell made first contact with Cullen’s hole, he circled his index fingers around the ring before pressing up to his first joint. Cullen tensed under him, not parsing the feeling very effectively. It was hard to describe, especially since Maxwell took this as an opportunity to start sucking his cock again. He sighed, but it turned into a breathy whimper. Maxwell finished pushing his first finger into Cullen, quickly doing the same thing with his middle finger. After a moment of adjustment, Maxwell pulled his fingers out only to slowly put them back in. It took everything in Maxwell not to fuck Cullen right there, the man above him spilling little mewls and begs the more he moved.

Maxwell didn’t have to explore the inside of Cullen for long before he found his spot, causing the blond to buck up into Maxwell’s mouth and choking his lover, making him sputter on his dick.

“Oh— oh Maker I’m sorry, so sorry.” Cullen slurred a little, hazy from the pleasure he was receiving but nonetheless felt bad for choking Maxwell. The other man shrugged and smiled, coughing a little.

“No need to apologize. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like that a little.”

Cullen gasped and Maxwell chuckled lowly, pressing a small kiss to the top of Cullen’s thigh. He moved his fingers again over Cullen’s spot, making him moan and slam his eyes shut. Occasionally, Cullen would be able to find it himself when he fingered himself, but he was always too awkward to get the right angle. He wondered what else Maxwell would be able to tease out of him. The thought made him shudder.

“I think I’m ready, please, Maxwell,” Cullen pleaded, pulling at Maxwell’s arm to get him close. Maxwell obliged and settled above Cullen, but he didn’t expect Cullen to grab his cock and shakily stroke it, causing him to cry out. He ignored his own pleasure for the sake of Cullen and didn’t realize how desperate he was starting to get.

Swatting Cullen’s hand away, Maxwell lined himself up with Cullen, pressing the tip to him and slowly pressing in, causing both of them to moan. Maxwell hitched Cullen’s legs up to wrap around his waist, of which Cullen readily clung to.

Maxwell added more oil to where they joined and in a slow swoop put his cock to the hilt in Cullen. Cullen shook below him and Maxwell kissed all over his face, from his nose to his cheeks to his lips.

They stilled, letting Cullen adjust and Maxwell catch his breath. Cullen was... divine. Tight and warm, so soft and sweet under him. Somewhere dark in his mind wanted him to be like this more often, pliant and cute, wanting to be taken care of. Without thinking, Maxwell searched for Cullen’s hand, binding their fingers together to help anchor him. He left little kisses on Cullen’s neck, letting his free hand stroke Cullen’s side.

Cullen breathed heavily, feeling increasingly impatient in the stillness. “You… you can move…”

Not needing another cue, Maxwell experimentally rolled his hips, making Cullen grunt and seize. Another thrust, and another, and Maxwell falls into an easy rhythm. The thrusts weren’t particularly fast, but they were deep, causing Cullen to whimper everytime Maxwell bottomed out. Again, though, Cullen grew impatient and requested Maxwell go faster. He happily obliged, quickening his pace.

It was Maxwell’s turn to groan, the pleasure that coiled in his stomach making his shake. He buried his face into Cullen’s neck, tightening his grip on his hand and latched his lips on the tender skin, surely leaving a love bite for later. Cullen under him was alternating between moaning and catching his breath, the slap of skin ringing obscenely through the room. If the balcony doors had been opened even a fraction the couple would have surely been heard.

Maxwell was lost in the scene but caught himself enough to move to stroke Cullen’s cock. A low sob emanated from him, Maxwell not only stroking him but his thrusts brushing against his prostate. Cullen’s eyes were shut so hard he was starting to see stars behind his eyes and every thrust pushed out a chorus of ah ah ah.

Cullen’s free hand found its way into Maxwell’s hair, pulling hard and making Maxwell loudly whimper. Cullen foggily made sure that he would remember that for later.

Maxwell removed himself from Cullen’s neck and pressed their foreheads together. Cullen took it upon himself to kiss Maxwell open mouth. The kiss was noisy and messy, neither of them having the right mind to fix it.

It wasn’t long before Cullen felt that telling coil in his belly. His toes curled and his mouth fell slack, his eyebrows furrowing and a long deep cry left his mouth. Hot strings of come covered both of their stomachs, Cullen shaking and bucking against Maxwell, his body not knowing whether he wanted to get closer or farther away from the thrusting.

Maxwell willed his eyes open to watch Cullen come undone, which only egged on his impending release. His pace quickened brutally, his thrusts getting out of rhythm. Cullen writhed and loudly whimpered, overstimulation getting the best of him.

Maxwell tried to bury his head in Cullen’s neck again but Cullen stopped him, pulling his hair again and keeping his face where it was so he could watch Maxwell cum. His eyes screwed shut and he yelled brokenly, spilling inside Cullen, his stroke only breaking when he couldn't physically go on.

The two of them breathed heavily, Maxwell falling on top of Cullen after a moment. Cullen felt like jelly under Maxwell, and urged for another kiss that Maxwell happily gave him. He pulled out after they pulled away, both of them shuddering at the loss of contact.

Taking it on himself, Maxwell cleaned them off with a wet cloth from his wash basin. He discarded of it and quickly made his way back to the bed, lavishing Cullen in little pecks on his face.

Maxwell was the first to speak. “Are you okay, honey?”

Cullen nodded and smiled lazily, tackling Maxwell onto his back and throwing a leg over his.

“I’m more than okay.” Cullen’s voice was listful and soft. The good feeling in his heart had shackled itself there.

“Are you staying here tonight?”

Cullen swallowed and looked at Maxwell. “May I?”

Maxwell grinned and snaked his arm around Cullen’s shoulder, grabbing on the blankets that were jostled off the bed and throwing it across the pair.

“I’d love nothing more.”

The fire made earlier was dying down but the blanket was warm enough between them. Nonetheless, Maxwell snuggled closer to Cullen, placing a kiss to his forehead.

For the first time since either of them joined the inquisition, they went to sleep without a worry.

+++

Josephine was tipsy and counting her winnings from wicked grace. She scanned the room but didn't see her desired person anywhere. "Has anyone seen the Inquisitor? He promised to have a drink with me after I won!"

Varric let out a hearty chuckle and Bull gave his own belting laugh.

"Haven't you noticed who else is missing, Josephine?" Bull's voice boomed and his tankard sloshed.

Josephine looked around again and noticed Commander Cullen was gone as well.

"Are they fighting again? At this time of night?"

Varric leaned into the table and raised his eyebrows.

"They're doing some sword fighting alright."

Bull laughed and Cassandra who caught the tail of that conversation sneered.

Josephine looked at Varric before it hit her. Oh. Oh.

[floreatetona-a]

“ Ille sinistrorsum, hie dextrorsum abit:        unus utrique Error, sed variis illudit partibus. ”

             “ One wanders to the left, another to the right:                   both are equally in error, but are seduced by different delusions. ”

  ~  Horace, Satires, 2.3.50-51

Mun Concordia here – in response to my co-mun’s note in this post about Hook being right-handed, I thought I’d crawl out from under my rock and provide some more information on Hook’s right versus left-handedness. 

As it is all too easy to be deceived by the many stage and movie versions of Peter Pan that have been released, let us establish once and for all that canonically it is the right hand that James Hook looses and replaces with an iron claw: Peter explains in chapter 4 that he “cut off a bit of [Hook]….He has an iron hook instead of a right hand, and he claws with it.”(1) That established, the next question that is invariably asked is, “which hand was James’ dominant one before its loss?” – and it is here that one has to do quite a bit of digging.

James M. Barrie, the author of Peter Pan, linked himself to Hook through not only his first name but also in playacting with his godsons, the Llewelyn Davies boys – Barrie usually pretended to be Hook when playing Peter Pan related games with the boys.(2) He was right-handed for most of his life, but in writing so frequently, around 1920 his right hand gave out due to writer’s cramp and he had to learn to write with his left – which is ironic, given his connection to Hook. Barrie once said that “there is not the same joy in writing with the left hand as with the right….The right has the happier nature, the left is naturally sinister.”(3) “Sinister” is a Latin word meaning wrong, unfavorable, or adverse. “Sinisterior” means on the left or on the left hand.*(4) Twice in the novel and play versions of Peter Pan Barrie uses the word sinister to describe Hook:

“He was never more sinister than when he was most polite, which is probably the truest test of breeding.”(5) -- PETER. Dark and sinister man, have at thee.(6)

Lacking a right hand, it follows that the word sinister – especially given its Latinate root – should be used in conjunction with Hook. But Barrie suggests that Hook was not wholly evil, as he “loved flowers…and sweet music” – what if he became sinister in the figurative sense only after the loss of his right hand, which rendered him as literally sinister and bent on revenge?(7) We’ll never know for sure, but it’s entirely possible given Hook’s history and interests as described in Barrie’s additive and draft texts.(8)

One final note: when Pan and Hook duel in the novel Barrie writes, “Peter was a superb swordsman, and parried with dazzling rapidity…Hook, scarcely his inferior in brilliancy, but not quite so nimble in wrist play, forced him back by the weight of his onset.”(9) Noting that Hook is stiff in his fencing style is rather significant – one could argue that he isn’t so nimble with his wrist play because he is conceivably fighting with his non-dominant hand. Indeed, during the same scene in the play Peter manages to whip Hook’s sword out of his hand.(10)

Barrie never outright says which hand was Hook’s dominant one before its loss. Considering all the above details, however, one can conclude that James Hook was very likely originally right-handed – in cutting off that hand, Peter forced Hook to become left-handed, rendering him sinister and hateful for his loss. He would have had to relearn not only how to fence, but also how to eat, write, and attend to the many other things required of him. Some things he would never be able to do to their full capacity again, like play his Baroque flute.  Just one more tragedy in the life of Captain James Hook, that “not wholly unheroic figure.”(11)   

*Conversely, the word “dexterous” (derived from “dexter”) means right or on the right side/hand, and has a connotation for correct or “in the right.”(4) “Ambidextrous” means “both right-hands.” 

Citations: 1. Barrie, JM. Peter and Wendy, ed. Anne Alton. Buffalo, NY: Broadview Editions, 2011. 2. Ibid. 3. Ibid. 4. Simpson, D.P. Cassell’s Latin Dictionary. New York: Wiley Publishing, Inc., 1968. 5. Barrie, Peter and Wendy, ed. Alton 6. Barrie, JM. Peter Pan or the Boy Who Would Not Grow Up. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1956. 7. Barrie, Peter and Wendy, ed. Alton. 8. Including “Captain Hook at Eton” (1927 speech) and a draft of Hook’s soliloquy (1904), notably. 9. Barrie, Peter and Wendy, ed. Alton. 10. Barrie, Peter Pan. 11. Barrie, Peter and Wendy, ed. Alton.