#cullavellan angst

[sewerpigeonart]

we never got quite close enough to death for my liking

[cachien]

the conflict between "finish my inquisition run before veilguard comes out" vs "start a new game to romance blackwall as cadash so that they can be a couple of reformed criminals together" is insurmountable

[greypetrel]

Distance.

Ages ago, @salsedine sent me not one but 2 prompts from this Florence prompt list. You can find the first one here for some mutual F!Mahariel/Morrigan pining, but the second one...

Big God is one of those songs I really like and always need to listen to… twice or thrice in a row. I wanted to do it good and catch the feeling and I felt like I always was going out of theme. I wrote this prompt. And re-wrote it. And re-wrote it again. Settled on an idea. Wrote it twice. Re-read it and be angry at it.

I was considering changing the character (in my mind it's an Aisling song, but MH), or making it crack, but then I read Florence talking about it, describing this song as a “obviously, an unfillable hole in the soul, but mainly about someone not replying to my text"...

… And I realize I already wrote it in one of my ten thousand iteration.

So here you go it’s angsty. Post Trespasser. AND it’s epistolary, because I wanted to try it. Maybe I’ll post the bigger version on AO3, it’s Aisling’s pov and it got discarded because it was getting LONG even for my standards. That needs an ending and some more editing, tho, so here you go in the meanwhile.

37. The best of the best and the worst of the worst CW: Mental illness, PTSD, Depression

Sometimes I think it's getting better And then it gets much worse Is it just part of the process? Jesus Christ, it hurts Big God – Florence + The Machine

Skyhold, August 27, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling,

Just writing to check in that you got there all right. Stupid of me, since you left but… What, few hours ago?

I hope you can forgive me for organizing all this. I swear it’s not to send you away, it’s not because I don’t want you, but I don’t think staying here was doing you any good. Three days in a bed are too many, my love, I hope you can forgive me for worrying.

I am already missing you, before you can think of anything else. If you need, please know that I’m but a letter away. Ask, and I’ll come running.

All my love, Cullen

---

Skyhold August 29, 9:44 Dragon

Hello, love.

I’m told you arrived all right and you settled in Stone-Bear Hold, and I wanted to give you a welcome myself.

Don’t take these as any pressure to reply. Take your time, I am here waiting until you’re ready.

Pet Storvacker for me as well, would you?

All my love, Cullen

---

Skyhold, August 31, 9:44 Dragon

My love,

Nothing much happened, don’t worry. It’s all bureaucracy and I’m quite bored.

I must say that you were right, your room is indeed dauntingly big - I’m rolling my eyes at your smug grin, right now. I left all the pieces of my armour on the floor, one beside the other, to fill it a little and to recreate some mess. You can laugh. Since you’re gone it’s all too tidy, and I miss you.

All my love, Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 3, 9:44 Dragon

My love,

I missed yesterday, sorry about that.

I’m fine, it was just a busy day. Before you ask: yes, I’m eating regularly and I’m fine.

I think Dennet is a little bored, without you and Little Brother around. I caught him snorting grumpily at a horse that obeyed to him right away, the other day. I hope Little Brother is well, I am sure I don’t have to tell you to give him an apple from me.

Or should I? I got told you didn’t go to the stables onc  Nevermind that, you surely know better.

Love, Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 5, 9:44 Dragon

Is it already a week since I last saw your face? It seems a lot more.

I slept in my old loft tonight, it’s less big and daunty and I had a lot of work. It feels void anyway, without you, and whatever company there is at lunch can’t hold a candle to you, even if I appreciate it. See? I’m also eating with other people, like you’d want. It’s not really the same without you, but I’m holding on. And struggling to make these letters longer, as you’d want too.

Without you making shenanigans with Dorian and Sera, it’s all too quiet, and there’s really little to report.

Beside that I miss you.

All my love, Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 7, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling,

I hate to speak about work, particularly right now. But this bears importance to mention:

If you’re approached by Sapphira, please turn her away. She came up with a plan and… We turned her down already, Cassandra is dealing with it. Do not worry at all, but if she comes to you, please be wary, I doubt she is your friend. I doubt she was ever our friend.

I hate to write this letter with such things. My plan was for you to forget about work for a while and figure things out, and look at me. You really married the wrong person not to talk about work, I fear.

I am sorry, love. I hope you’re doing better and are more rested. I hope you can get out of bed in the morning with no problems.

If you are and you do, then missing you so much is fine.

I love you, Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 8, 9:44 Dragon

Love,

I’m making up for yesterday’s letter with a better one.

I managed to convince Cabot to give me the recipe of his scones, and to let me try it with his supervision.

I did some turns in the kitchen back when I was training, and well. I’m no baker in any way, but they didn’t turn out so bad for a first trial. I think you’d like them. And it was pleasant to do. By the time I’ll see you again I hope I��ll be better.

Maybe after I’ll learn these I’ll ask the cook to teach me to make custard, what about it?

I hope you are eating enough.

I do miss you, a lot. Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 11, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling.

I understand you aren’t well. I understand you need time and space, all too well.

This is in no way meant as a criticism or to withdraw anything I ever professed for you. I still love you, I still want you, I have no intention of leaving you, ever if you’ll let me stay.

It’s just been a difficult night and I fear that-

I don’t know what to think of your lack of answer and it’s terror-

I’d need for you to write back, just to

Please-

Never mind that.

I wish you answered to me. Just once. Tell me you’re fine, tell me anything, really.

Please.

I shouldn’t send this.

I do love you, I do, and I wished you were fine and you were here.

C

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 12, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling,

Never mind the letter from yesterday.

I’m sorry I sent it, I shouldn’t dump that on you right now.

The love still stands. I’m better now. Could use a full night sleep, but this bed is just so damn big. I complained to Josephine and she laughed because apparently you told her the same thing.

She told me to say hi, maybe you’ll read this before her letters? Well. We all miss you.

Love, C.

---

Stone-Bear Hold, Kingsway 13, 9:44 Dragon

Cullen,

I am so sorry-   Please, if you-   If you can bear to forgive-

I’m sorry, I really am that you’re not well and facing it alone. Before you can tell me so: no, I don’t mind listening. Please, tell me more. I hope you are really better, and it’s not something you wrote to make me feel better. Don’t lie just to spare my feelings, please, I’m better knowing.

I know you’re strong and you’ll make it through, you did so many times before and you’ll do it one more time, I trust you. Just, take it easy, please. You made the right choice and it’s good to pursue this path, even if it’s difficult and it hurts and thirsty.

You can do it. You already did it. More than once. I have not many things to believe into, right now, but I do believe in you.

I am fine.

Since when you started seeing that as a lie? I do wonder if it was exactly when you started complaining about it, or if you realised sooner. Comes to mind I never asked you.

I am surviving, I can’t say anything more than this, I am afraid.

It’s… I am so sorry. I have forced myself to read your letters just today, in truth.

Physically I am fine. I am not in pain, the wound closed well and the Healer is happy with it, says that beside the scars I have nothing to fear anymore. My balance is still off, but I trip and bump less and less. Nonetheless…

I am given things to do. I help the Augur and Sigrid Gulsdotten in their activities, and it’s good and honest work. The morning is for people, helping them out, preparing rites, picking herbs when we finish them. The afternoons the children come for lessons, and I’m more another student than a help, but the Augur doesn’t seem to mind much, and I quite like listening to the lore. I can’t but wonder if the Lady of the Sky was also a not going there.

After that is when time stops. I don’t know what to do, honestly. I lived so much out of roles and paths pre-traced for me that now that I’m out of them all I find myself in the void. Do I like the things I do because I had to, because of habit, or because I sincerely do? When I am left with nothing left to do, I don’t know anymore. I don’t know what I like and I don’t know who I am.

That’s why I haven’t replied before. It’s like… I think back of the person I was, and it doesn’t feel like I’m her anymore. I am terrorized at the idea that I’ll open those letters and they’ll all be addressed to a person that’s not me anymore. I can’t take it, right now. Thank you for having written, and thank you for not having written to her.

I miss you so much.

I miss you most at lunches: no one here can hold a candle against you, too. I miss our conversations and your friendship.

I miss you in the afternoons, because all that comes to mind is that I could curl in the corner of the couch in your office. Complain because it’s always full of boxes of reports and there’s no space. And just watch you work.

I miss you at nights the most. Sigrid is a good hugger, but she’s not you, she hasn’t your smell and she cuts the hugs always short.

Tonight I missed you so much that… Ida Sigridsdotten and Annike Majasdotten married, today. I put up a dress and smiled and helped the rites as I was asked to. But when it was over, and people started walking to the Hall for the banquet I missed you so much, I couldn’t ignore the memories. It was so unbearable that I fell back and decided to open one of your letters. Just one, I thought, I need to know who you were talking to.

It was so brief -not that I expected anything else, I know you. So I opened another. And another.

I couldn’t avoid answering your last letter, I hope you don’t mind if this is so long. It compensates for all those days of silence, I hope.

I really hope it does.

Is it ok for me to conclude this with expressing love? I am not sure who I am anymore, I don’t know what I like, but I do know that I love you. Reading your letters was a breath of fresh air. Ironical no? I get so much of it, these days.

Write to me again, if you wish.

With all the love I can muster, from exactly where I don’t know but it’s there, Aisling.

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 14, 9:44 Dragon

Love.

Another calm day, full of bureaucracy.

I do hate dealing with money and calculating. You’d laugh at me and tell me it’s simple maths and do everything in five minutes.

Sometimes I still look up from my desk and expect you napping on the couch. I don’t think it did you so well, and I’m glad you’re out there doing better things, and I won’t lie: it made me feel observed. But now that you’re away, I do miss that too.

Maker, I miss your mess. Frida went through all your drawers, now they’re unbearably organized.

I do wonder: are you reading?

C.

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 15, 9:44 Dragon

My love,

You would be happy in knowing I just made a fool of myself.

Your letter came, and I just took it and ran away without realizing, leaving apparently Josephine and a trio of Comtes who lent us money and were discussing of reparations standing in the Great Hall, mid speech.

If I don’t answer anymore, Josie came for my head.

Now, with order.

I am afraid you never were much of a liar, my love. I realised you weren’t fine as you told it the first time in Haven, you have always worn your heart on your sleeve. Honestly? I liked that in you from the start. I only hope this new you still has it, it was endearing and soothing. But if you don’t feel like that anymore, it’s fine anyway. But please, don’t lie to me. No need for it.

I wish you were here too, but I don’t think you’d like being here. For the rest, I’m fine. Really. It was just a bad night. I’m better now that I heard from you.

As for the rest, I can think of a couple of things you like: magic and animals. You love horses. Maker knows you worried me so and busied Josie enough to make you presentable again after the stables to like horses out of duty. What about it?

Answer, if you’d like. I understand if you don’t. I’ll keep the love with gladness.

All my love, Cullen

---

Stone-Bear Hold, Kingsway 17, 9:44 Dragon

Cullen,

Please don’t let Josie reach you. Or if she did, hello Josie, can I have his cape back to remember him by?

Thank you, love   Cull   my love. It all brought a smile, and it was something I needed. That was a lovely long letter, please keep it up, I appreciated it so much.

I don’t want to see horses. My balance is still off when I’m walking and I would hurt myself on a horse, for real. And I don’t think I could   And I would hate to see you smug with a “I told you so”.

But yeah, I guess so. I pet Storvacker whenever she comes around, and it’s nice, she’s very beautiful and such a good creature. I think she remembers I saved her, but maybe it’s just wishful thinking. How’s Bran? Is he keeping you good company, did he learn to duck and not fetch?

The children hijacked the lesson, today, when the topic fell on Hakkon Wintersbreath. We went overtime because the kept asking me about the dragons I slayed, if it was true. Someone out there had spread the rumour I dealt with the three in the Emprise all at once? I had to struggle to convince them it didn’t happen like that, and they were even more disappointed than when I told them that slaying dragons is just a sad thing to do and I hated doing it.

Oh, there’s one thing I hate. Does it count?

I do love you, and I miss you a little less now that I’m writing back. Thank you for being so patient with me. I do love you, a lot. You’re one thing I really like.

Are you feeling better? For real.

Say that I’m sorry   hello to the others from me.

A.

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 19, 9:44 Dragon

My love,

It does count, and I think it goes into the liking animals box. Anything else? I remember you were quite fond of swimming, if I recall correctly our first visit to Honnleath and our last one in Wycome. What about it? If you can catch a sunny day, the water should still be warm enough to bathe.

And sweets. Do they have something sweet to eat? Should I ship down there your candy stash?

Bran is fine, and is keeping me good company, thanks. He misses you too, but I’ve been fairly successful in teaching him not to sleep where you should be on the bed. Now he sleeps at my feet and I have to curl up. He still fetches, but we’re working on that too.

I am feeling better, I swear. For real, I took it easier in the last days and delegated some.

I firmly believe you wouldn’t fall if you tried to ride. I saw you. Maybe don’t start with a gallop, ease yourself in? I am sorry if I insist, but please, don’t let fear stop you. You love riding and you love that horse. And I’m sure he misses you too. And I’m not saying that to pressure you, but because you always light up when you talk about horses and about Little Brother, and I’m sure he misses you too. But it’s ok, ignore this paragraph if it bothers you, you surely know best what’s good for you.

Everyone says hello. There are various recommendations of hugs, and get well soon and missing you and a choir of “Horns up” from the Chargers and Dorian.

I second the missing, and the horns up too.

C.

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 25, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling,

I am sorry if I told you something wrong.

Please, ignore the last letter.

Little Brother is well taken care of, safe as can be, and I recommend to give him extra apples and extra cuddles. Do not worry about him, love, and please forgive me if I insisted.

If I see another Comte pretending we borrowed money from him without papers to demonstrate it I swear I’m throwing them down the battlements. Bran growling at him had been a nice addition to the group. Josie too gave him a biscuit for his good job.

I happily announce you that I have a recipe for custard and a successful attempt to my record. It was good, I’m waiting for the first lemons to try it properly and try to make it as you like it.

I do miss you, love, and I worry. Forgive me if I said the wrong thing.

I do love you even if you’ll never ride again. Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 28, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling.

You know what?

Fuck the Comtes.

Josie and Cassandra can hold their own for a while.

Wait for me.

C.

---

Stone-Bear Hold, Kingsway 28, 9:44 Dragon

Cullen.

I’m sorry. Again. I really am.

I was angry at first. And hurt. The thought of not riding again… I have been scraped clean of so much, that the idea of realizing that I had given away that too was unbearable, even in theory. You were right in insisting, because yes. I do love horses not out of duty.

Spirits, or whatever power there is in this world, how many weeks of waking up before the dawn I did back in Haven, because I didn’t want a mount out of duty and out of a choice made for me, but I wanted that horse? With you, it’s the one thing I don’t want to give up on, and you reminded me I had to.

But you were right. – I miss your smug smile, now, I would so much love to be able to kiss it away.

After two days of being angry, I decided to go to camp out of spite.

I hate how people there can’t talk to me and the pity there. I should thank you for organizing my stay with the Avvar, it was… It was what I needed.

Anyway.

Little Brother was, indeed, angry. I can’t hardly blame him. I know how he’s feeling.

I stood there in the paddock, as in the first days. He ignored me for hours. And then he approached me. Bumped me to the ground with his head.

I deserved it, poor thing. I left him on his own for a month. And I know he must have felt abandoned and… And nobody should feel like that.

I cried for the first time in a month, and we cuddled.

You were right, my love. It did me well.

I think I’ll get back in the afternoons.

I never answered to you about magic and… I’m not using much magic. I’ve been seeing Desperation again in my dreams. Nothing much, I’m still here and I’m fine, both the Augur and Sigrid are aware. The Augur has been very helpful. I’m telling you because it may help you too.

He says that for all negative spirits we attract, there’s a good one too. The good one is lingering around, we just need to see it, even if it’s a little more difficult to tune down the noise of the other.

I feel mine: there’s Cole around, lingering at the edge of my vision. He hasn’t approached me yet, but I feel him, always there. At the ready should I… Well, I do need him. But I need him from afar.

I’m not yet ready to face head-on what happened, and facing him would mean that.

But I’m writing you from the stable, forgive the wobbly calligraphy. I hope you can still read it, but my desk is furry and breathing. I couldn’t take his head away from my legs, and I don’t want to. He needed this, and so do I.

I stopped crying, but I think I’ll get back at it in some minutes. It’s good for me, and I missed it too.

I feel hopeful today.

Thank you for pushing me to come here.

Thank you for knowing me better than I do. I needed that. I still do.

I will be ready to see Cole and talk with him. Eventually.

I think I’ll try to hop on Little Brother, tomorrow.

I should probably stop writing. I do miss you keenly, right now, and I wish you were here. Do not fret here, tho: you have work to do and I don’t want to distract you any more than I’m already doing, love.

I am fine. I’m not lying.

Please do not worry, and remember that I love you. Even if you make me angry at times.

I love you and I miss you, and I hope I’ll dream of you tonight, and that it’ll be a nice memory. It’s not that hot to swim, unfortunately, but I’ll be able to dream of when we did in Wycome.

Love, quite a lot of it even if it smells like horse, Aisling

---

Stone-Bear Hold, Kingsway 29, 9:44 Dragon

Cullen,

Nothing much to add since yesterday, honestly.

I just wanted you to be the first to know: I am waiting for Little Brother to be saddled. I need to find a way to do it myself, but-

*the rest is written in a calligraphy even less readable and clear than the rest, clearly scribbled very quickly.*

You must be kidding- Who am I writing to, I’m telling you directly.

Spirits, you’re so sappy it’s lucky I love you.

Or not, the lucky one is definitely me.

Here? Really? With all those reports?

Ok I’m done, I’m asking you.

---

---

Stone-Bear Hold, Kingsway 30, 9:44 Dragon

Hiding this in your boot as you sleep, if you won’t notice when you’ll put it up tomorrow, know that it’s the reason I smiled at you. Well, one of the reasons, not the only one and not the most important. But still.

Nothing much, I just wanted to say thank you, and reiterate that you’re impossible and stubborn and totally the fun police. And that I love you because you are.

Thank you, really.

A.

[ellenembee]

Have you been meaning to replay Inquisition before DA:TV releases but haven't gotten around to it? Do you like Cullavellan angst and fluff? I've got just the fic for you:

The Revelation of all Things

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Dragon Age

Relationships: Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford

This novelization of DA:I events:

clocks in at a 600K+ words to cover all main DA:I quests through the base game as well as original characters and events.

is COMPLETE!

overflows with both self-indulgent fluff and heartrending angst.

is rated E for later lemons but is actually a reeeealllyyyy slooooooow buuuuuurrrrnn.

contains at least one POV chapter for many of the inner circle members and glimpses at their lives within the Inquisition.

The real question, though, is why spend a week wandering around the Hinterlands when you could be reading this fic instead?

[shivunin]

✨Self-Rec Tag Game ✨

Rules: Share five of your own fanworks (fic, art, etc.). Then, tag five more people to share the things they've made. I’ve put categories below, but they’re more guidelines than rules.  1. Something you absolutely adore 2. Something that was challenging to create 3. Something that makes you laugh (or smile, if that fits more comfortably)  4. Something that surprised you (in how it turned out, how much other people liked it, etc.) 5. Something you want other people to see

@gaysebastianvael and @dungeons-and-dragon-age tagged me back to do this; thank you both! c:

Tidal Lock (T, 20k words, Cullavellan): This fic is the first finished thing I posted to AO3. It's a pretty different style from the other things I've written, but it's my comfort read for myself. I love stories that loop in on themselves, so have a big ol soft spot for it c: Writing Cullen as a kid was so fun and I fully intend to do it again sometime.

My Fenris scarf. My hands are a bit shaky, so I have a hard time drawing things. Unfortunately, I needed to draw the lyrium brand design straight onto the yarn (not a great surface for drawing things, btw) before I could embroider them into it with the glow-in-the-dark yarn. It turned out really well, but just putting the design down with chalk paint took at least three hours (only a little less than doing all of the embroidery)

3. Ohhh man, I'm having trouble deciding! Here are three options:

This ficlet about Elowen and Cullen after they almost kiss. They are both such an absolute mess, this conversation is even messier, and every time I think about it I get the giggles c:

This ficlet about Hawke producing most of a deck of cards from her and Fenris's person after a night at the Hanged Man (I just...think it's funny to imagine her sticking them into his belt during a card game and Fenris fully knows, but pretends he doesn't. for the bit)

This fic on AO3 (explicit) with Arianwen and Zevran; specifically the part after the smut things are done, when they're dusting each other off and lightly arguing about their little competition. They're just...such dorks sometimes.

4. Search Your Hands (E, 13,581 words), easy. I actually had this most of the way finished six months before I finished it, but I was convinced it was too silly to post (and thankfully @star--nymph convinced me that it was worth finishing <3).

One of my favorite things about writing Cullavellan is exploring the funky little miscommunications that happen with you're in a multicultural relationship and this fic was inspired by that. There's just a mismatch between Cullen (who, having very few personal possessions, is almost certainly inexperienced at receiving gifts) and a cultural tradition involving gift-giving as an expression of Serious Romantic Intent. I did not expect it to be as well-loved as it is, but it has (by a dramatic margin) the highest kudos to bookmarks ratio of all my stories (at ~1/3) and is like...the fifth most-kudo'd thing I have on AO3, which is wild for a one-shot with minimal smut.

5. Wander the Drifting Roads!! (M, 108,331 words)

It is the fic I am most proud of (though I think Palimpsest might be my number two at the moment) and it's also, indirectly, the reason I wound up actually deciding to participate in the Dragon Age fandom. I wouldn't have most of my fandom friends without Wander, so just that would be enough for me to want to share it.

Friendship aside, though, I think it's some of my best writing. Cullen is exposed to red lyrium and loses his memory in between the main game and Trespasser. His Lavellan (Emmaera) has to figure out how to carry on without him as Commander or her lover and they take a very long road back to each other again. If you're okay with some angst before a happy ending (or if you're really into yearning), I think it's a great exploration of what makes someone who they are: is it a formal title or role? is it memory? is it the circumstances they've overcome to get where they are? or is it something less easily-defined than that?

Writing Wander was very challenging (especially towards the end) but so rewarding and worth it. When I want to feel that very particular sort of hurt you get from a sad fic (the kind that twists in your heart), I open up Wander again and put myself through chapter 7.

(I want to stress that it does have a happy ending lol, and a whole anthology of sweet domestic things to follow it up, but I think most people hang onto the hurt part of the hurt/comfort in Wander lol)

I tried to tag most of my mutuals when I made the original post, but: @daggerbean I'd love to see what you've made! and anyone else who wants a reason to show off your fanstuff is welcome to join in c: Tag me so I can see!

[lavellanvibes]

Who wants some cullavellan trespasser angst?🙋‍♀️

[haverdoodles]

(TW: drug withdrawal, addiction recovery)

A War Within

— (Cullen & Ellana)

.

Immediately upon entering Cullen’s office, Ellana was surprised by a wine glass hurtling towards her face at an alarming speed. Deftly, she stepped out of its path and watched as it shattered against the doorframe near where her head had been moments before.

She glanced down at the broken glass littering the floor, then at Cullen – who was standing in the middle of the room, his face contorted in an expression of horror – and closed the door.

“I take it that wasn’t meant for me,��� Ellana observed. “Target practice, Commander?”

“Oh Maker,” Cullen groaned, shoulders slumping. “Inquisitor– Ellana, I am so sorry, I wasn’t thinking–“

“I am quite unharmed, Cullen, it’s alright.” Ellana said, her eyes already assessing him worriedly from head to toe.

The man was a wreck.

Cullen wore nothing but a sweat-drenched tunic and his leather trousers, looking incredibly uncomfortable despite being clothed in far less layers than he usually wore. Ellana could spy his armour and furs tossed haphazardly across the room, as if he had been pulling them off in a hurry. His hair was uncharacteristically tousled from being tugged at repeatedly, and his face was more haggard than Ellana had ever seen it – and she had seen him after some particularly brutal battles.

He looked miserable, she deduced with a pang. Cullen looked desperately as though he wished to rush over and sweep her in his arms, though instead he hung back uncertainly, his arms wrapped around his waist like a nervous boy.

“Cullen,” Ellana breathed. “I told you to tell me if it was getting worse.”

Cullen flushed and averted his face from hers, his shoulders curving further inward in an unconscious display of shame. “I didn’t… I didn’t want you to see me like this. Like an addict.”

Ellana shook her head, stepping carefully over the broken glass and entering further into his office. ‘He certainly spared no object,’ she thought, eyeing the scattered papers and splintered wood that surrounded them both.

“You are addicted to lyrium,” she said gently, “And you are recovering. This has never been a deterrent for me, you know that.”

Cullen still wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Every day, I wake up fearing that your opinion has changed.”

“An irrational fear,” she reminded him. “I am not going anywhere, Cullen, whether you like it or not.”

Ellana took a seat on the edge of his desk and opened her arms invitingly. Cullen wasted no time sinking into her embrace, releasing a shaky sigh. He buried his face in her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her slender frame. Ellana had grown accustomed to his bear hugs, and actually quite enjoyed them, but this time was different. He was hugging her not out of joy, but out of pain and fear.

“Where does it hurt, vhen’an?” Ellana whispered, reaching up to wrap her arms across his broad back.

“Everywhere,” Cullen hissed, just as a shudder wracked his frame. He groaned. “It feels as though my bones are grinding themselves together. I can’t – I can’t breathe, I can’t think – I should be taking it.”

“No, Cullen.” She told him firmly.

Cullen tensed, recoiling from her touch. “Do you wish to see me suffer?” He half-sobbed, gripping at her shirt with a vengeance she knew was not truly directed at her. “I have men who depend on me, men who trust me to lead them into battle and bring them home. How can I do that if I am like… this?”

“Cullen, listen to me,” Ellana snapped. She was using her Inquisitor tone, and she hated it, but she knew it was the only way to snag his attention. “It is because your men depend on you that you are doing this, remember? You wish to break free from the Chantry’s shackles, to prove to Templars and addicts everywhere that ties to lyrium can be broken. The soldiers know this. They admire you for it.”

“It hurts,” Cullen whimpered. “My blood is on fire. I can hear the lyrium singing. It’s so beautiful…” He was shivering now - Ellana shifted closer so that the entire front of her body was pressed against his, in an effort to lend him some of her heat. Her heart ached.

“My sweet Cullen,” Ellana whispered, stroking a hand through his sweaty curls. “You are so brave. I am so proud of you, vhen’an. So proud.”

“I love you,” he managed to say, before releasing a deep groan of agony. Cullen slumped bonelessly against her, and Ellana could feel his erratic heartbeat, so quick and fragile. Her eyes filled with tears.

“I love you too,” she told him with quiet ferocity. “And I will never leave you, do you understand? We will get through this together.”

“Don’t leave me.” A plea, barely a breath, more of a brush of his lips against her shoulders.

Ellana squeezed her eyes shut and tried her very best not to cry.

[donttelljim]

Anger - Stories of Thedas Day 7

Dragon Age Inquisition Cullen / Lavellan Inquisitor Lavellan confronts Cullen, her partner and supposedly trusted military advisor, about what happened to her clan... (On AO3 here) ================ Anger stung Aredhel’s eyes with enough fury to guard her from her grief. That grief, when she fell into it again, would drag her down from this Inquisitor’s tower, down from Skyhold and into a pit from which she couldn’t foresee an escape. She couldn’t imagine finding the strength, the will or the self-forgiveness to crawl out of it. Yet, the Inquisition - this human creation that had taken her away from her people, her true duty; the human creation that had committed… this - needed her. She must gird herself for now, and so, grief would have to wait. For now, she only knew anger, and betrayal. She looked at him without recognition; the betrayal drove in deep. Her heart was as numb as it was armed as she regarded Cullen. He stood hopelessly across the desk from her, his own expression enraged in order to speak through his guilt, the rest of him floundering in a clear admittance of it. "Your soldiers did this,” she snarled, nose curling. Her hands curled, too, feeling as though they could claw into the desk. Magic strained to fill her palms, to pull primal power from the wood beneath them in defense of her clan. But it was too late. She had not been there. She had been here, allowing this. Trusting him.

If he had come to her in humility, perhaps Aredhel could still look at Cullen and see the person she had come to love and trust, had allowed into her bed - the bed that now lay behind him, visible over his shoulder in a mocking reminder of her naivety. At every turn, she had valued his counsel, had placed ever-more in his hands, both of the Inquisition's mission and of herself. He had seemed reliable, safe, even as she learnt the truths of his past. She looked at him and saw the sun, forgiving and overlooking the blood on his hands; it was a part of history, a different man. But this blood was fresh. Had he come in humility, she might have forgiven him. Instead, he came with blame. "Your people attacked our soldiers!", he retorted. She could hear the frustration in his voice. Usually, she would be inclined to be understanding; to see the issue from his perspective, to interpret the struggle for goodness behind whatever misstep he had taken. She had none of that mercy to spare today: that well had bled dry with her people. "Of COURSE they attacked, if they saw an armed force bearing down on them!” Her voice attempted to crack on her, her eyes to tear - she fought them both. Her hands slammed against the desk; “I assumed I could trust you to be tactful.” "I assumed I'd been given all the information! What a shame we don't have any Dalish advisors to hand.” He looked to her pointedly; vexation rocked through his every word, attempting to destabilize them, but he kept them gripped in an audible first. Again, through his anger, he appeared hopeless. Regretful. She didn’t care. The Inquisitor scoffed, staring at her Commander, marveling at his audacity. Rather than firing heatedly back, she slowed, the room turning steadily cold around her, the change having nothing to do with magic. “I forgot how much practice you’ve had in justifying your errors, Commander.” She studied him pointedly, appraising him as though seeing him for the first time. “Always someone to blame.” The ex-templar surged forwards, wanting either to rise to the attack or buckle under it, but he allowed himself neither. Voice struggling for control, its pain revealing itself in every taut word, he pressed a gloved hand to her desk, leaning forwards and meeting her eyes. His were earnest yet bloodshot from their mutual hostility. “You know I treated this mission with care,” he uttered, voice lowered and softened, but far from unarmed. “You know I wanted the best. These things just happen sometimes. Elves -” “HO! Oh yes?” Aredhel straightened up, stepping back and folding her arms, her eyes twin daggers meeting his. The Dalish First stared the human down, daring him for his next words. “Elves what?” Cullen hesitated, realizing what he’d begun, and to whom. The first syllable of a word attempted to venture forth, but the sound cracked and wavered in his mouth. Seeing that he wasn’t about to continue, Aredhel attempted to finish the thought for him. “Elves ‘do this’? Can’t be reasoned with? I suppose they attack ‘at random’.” She sagged, years of oppression making her heart and bones feel heavy as she attempted to explain to this outsider. “Cullen...Has it occurred to you, the violence your people have leveled at us? What that does to people? Treating an armed unit as hostile isn’t ‘random’ after that...What else could they do?” Understanding and guilt gradually dawned on the face she had once found so blindingly bright. Perhaps she would again some day, but right now, she couldn’t imagine it, and it didn’t matter. “I…” Cullen struggled, his heart sinking. He cleared his throat, attempting to set right what no words could: “On reflection, I should have -” Aredhel sighed. She wanted to ask how calmly he would have received an unannounced group of mages descending on his home, back in his years in Kirkwall. The comparison was an apt one, but even in her fury, she didn’t want to be cruel. She loved him, even if today she despised him. Instead, she simply watched him with regret. She had left her clan behind for this Inquisition, but truly, her heart had left them for him. Sharing in each other, planning to share a life, accepting a future of human-looking children: for him, she hadn’t looked back. Studying his face now, her heart ached for the people who had trusted her. The face of their slaughterer was that of a stranger. And yet, a stranger could not have wronged her so completely. Deadened, Aredhel regarded Cullen and found that she had little emotion left to spend on him. She had already spent so much on him, over the months: there was none left. Sighing again, tone numb from disappointment, she reached for energy enough to at least speak: "I didn't expect you to approach this like such a - " "Such a what?”, he challenged. His face, collapsed with exhaustion, hardened again: Aredhel saw him bristle, a fresh indignation ignite within his defeated eyes. Straightening, the human held her gaze, taking his turn to dare her for her next words. “Go on. Say it." She would. Raising her chin, she leant forwards; she didn’t blink; didn’t turn away. "A Shemlen” The look Cullen gave her was stone. Behind his face, Aredhel saw something of his regard for her die. She would regret it tomorrow: today, she was glad for it. Let it die, along with everyone she cared for. "I see.” Stepping back, the Commander ducked into a curt bow. “Inquisitor." Without another word, any further attempt, he left. Aredhel set her jaw, watching him go, hating him with every step. The moment the door clicked shut, her heart broke.

[tarasylnin-lavellan]

Justice's Ally

so one of my mutuals characters will be in the next installment the wonderful @w-h-4-t s Harel and she is a HUGE part of this piece since this is very heavily based off of the dialog that she and I ran back and forth for this so thank you lethalan you are amazing

Okay my lovelies here is safe for work recap so that you will be up to speed.

Tara has a terrible dream in which she is chased through a twilight forest. This forest is filled with massive dark crystal formations and trees that seem to stretch up out of sight. She is hunted and attacked by something that resembles the Dread Wolf. After she wakes terrified and half awake she loses the iron control she always keeps. We find out why, she has a spirit bound to her, Cullen reacts badly to this news saying she is an abomination and runs from her.

Tara is left with no choice in order to ensure her own safety she flees Skyhold. She is fleeing for the arbor wilds knowing that she can evade capture there and figure out what in the world she is going to do now.

Now on to the regularly scheduled angst

Dorian had decided that he wanted to read "Draconica the study of Dragon kin." He picked this up rather than the two before it in the stack. "Knowing us we are going to have to fight some scaly monstrosity soon." A small note fell from the pages in the dawn light, and Dorian caught it. His eyes scanned it quickly it was in Tara's precise script. He felt his heart tear at the terse words, "oh no, isa'ma'lan." He felt the outrage rising in him a bitter flame, that bastard ran her off! Dorian stormed toward the tower, people clearing out of his way quickly.

Dorian slammed the door open, and Cullen started violently halfway pulling his blade free. Dorian flicked his hand and all of the doors to the tower locked. "You, bastard if you hurt her so help me," Cullen stood rigid his eyes locked on the younger man. Dorians temper flared " SHE WAS YOUR LOVER, AND MY SISTER!!! THE ONLY FAMILY TO EVER LOVE!" Cullen cut him off his voice harsh and hurt "she is an ABOMINATION!" Dorians face grew dangerous as he looked at the ex templar "HOW DARE YOU!" his hands began to smoke faintly as he clenched them.

Cullen's face contorted in apprehension "You cant even control yourself." He let out a pained breath "maybe Meredith was right, maybe you are all abominations waiting to happen. Cullen looked tired and sad as if he didn't want to believe what he said. Dorians keen eyes caught the doubt in Cullen, he worked to calm the fury and outrage in his heart.

"She has always been like that, you ignorant bastard! She is a miracle not a MONSTER!" Cullen slammed his hands on the desk making things jump crazily. "MAGES its always MAGES WHY you blasted mages keep using me." Cullen's eyes welled with tears of grief, and he gritted his teeth hands shaking on his desk. "USE YOU?! she left to save you!" Dorian waved his hand "ah you are impossible, she was born like that she didn't change your eyes did." Cullen looked up frustration and hurt flashing in his amber eyes, "your glib tongue do you no favors mage!" Dorians hands rested on his hips, "shut up, just shut up and listen to yourself. This is Tara, our Tara, you're calling an abomination you washed up chantry fanatic! You want to call her monster, mage killer? We all have things that we would rather others not know. But Tara is.... SHES DONE EVERYTHING TO MAKE SURE SHE NEVER FALLS INTO A HOLE LIKE THAT BUT YOU you have..."

Cullen scoffed at the mage "you didn't see her, you cannot tell me my eyes have changed." Dorian scoffed right back "let me guess... she woke up screaming and fell out of the bed. And then hmm let me guess a blue light formed from her skin and her eyes glowed blue white." Cullen's eyes widened in surprise "who do you think holds her after those awful nightmares when you aren't around golden boy? My greatest regret is that she'd sacrifice her stupid selfless beautiful soul for an ignorant bastard like you. My beloved sister ran because she knew you would be forced to kill her, TO KILL HER FOR YOUR DAMNED HONOR. She didn't want to put YOU through that not for the sake of her own life! Knowing her she'd let you kill her," at this Cullen's face paled visibly "I see that I am right the damned fool, offered her life in payment, typical." Cullen growled "Enough!" slamming his hand on the desk again in pure emotion. "How HOW am I to look at her.... when all I see is that THING, HOW DO YOU THINK I FEEL!"

Dorian looked at the torn man, "you feel as though she lied to you and used you. We cannot change the fact that Tara didn't tell you of her nature. However we must look at the intent, Commander. Not everything is this rigid black and white you blasted Andrastian's love so much. I will never know the pain you feel right this minute, but I do know that we are missing someone integral in our lives. Someone who has just run to maker knows where to save us." He sniffed in distress " its just like her, isn't it? She loves us so much.... that she would do anything for us....even... at the expense of herself." She would run to her death but she knows, she knows that it would break you to put her down. So she shattered everything she has instead for you. I know the courts Cullen, I know peoples faces from years of living in that snake pit and yours is all too easy to read. You think her cruel for hiding, and terrifying for the albatross. You cannot simply pull all of that love out, you idiot. All those restless nights, up at all hours researching Lyrium addiction and treatments. Her every waking moment, spent looking after your shattering body and mind." Dorian sighed heavily "do you have any idea how many times I had to peel her off her desk because she had passed out there? She is painfully selfless, and in your ignorance and fear you close your heart to her.

In Tevinter she would be accepted she would even be admired for what she is. She is a rare person, a true spirit born, a person who dies but a spirit breathes there own life into to bring back. But here? here she would be killed without question, simply for existing."

"She tried not to love you, the fool, but she simply couldn't help herself. Every day that woman puts up a Fucking WALL, EVERY DAY. And the moment she lets it down you prove her right and tear out her heart. And yet she left for YOU to save you the pain of her death. She would rather you despise her than grieve her. She probably wishes she were truly dead right now."

Cullen's voice was weak and pained "....magic.. exists to..."

"If you finish that sentence, Templar I will have no mercy for you" Dorian snarled. "Don't you dare quote scripture at me, I know spirits, I know those things you call demons. And Tarasyl'nin is not one. Don't. You. Dare. All that wonderful woman has done has been to SERVE others, she asks for nothing in return EVER. You are not out there by her side in battle, she will throw herself in front of anything to protect the innocent. Now tell me Templar is that the actions of an Abomination?"

"STOP IT she lied to me," Cullen barked in response but his heart was wavering desperate to believe. "She lied to protect you, because she adores you. You know our Tara can be a bit abrasive but when she loves, she loves hard. She would do anything for the people she cares for. Why cant you see that? just put the armor and the scripture away for a moment. Take a step back, its Tara, she never truly hid from you, Cullen she only wanted to be loved" Dorians voice hitched on the word loved. "She just wants what all of us want to be loved, for who we are. She tried so hard not to love you, to stay away from you but she couldn't help it. So she tried to protect you to let you think she was...normal. She wanted to protect you from her, HER of all people. The person who would throw herself to her knees and, let you kill her if you thought that was right." Dorians eyes filled with tears and he wiped them away viscously "she knew... the moment that you found out that you would kill her or she would have to run. She made plans to make sure you could never find her." Dorians chest hitched painfully " and now I have lost the only family that loves me." He looked at Cullen sullenly "I wish she had never met you, I tried to warn her damn you."

A heavy silence fell over the pair each lingering in the grief that filled the room like choking smoke. At last Cullen let out a sigh and massaged his forehead, "what is the dem-...the spirit like?"

Dorians eyes widened in astonishment "Pardon?" Cullen let out a slow breath " the spirit, what does it do? or think...or what?" Dorian eyed him warily "you...you actually wish to know?" Cullen looked up at the ceiling "I... rifts are tearing apart the world, A magister god has appeared and I have just learned the woman I love is part spirit. The world cannot get any more mad, perhaps instead of resisting like I have always done.... I... suppose its time to... learn. to get accustomed to this. Besides " Cullen looked down with reddened eyes "I cannot bear to lose the only good thing in my life after so much horror."

Dorian watches Cullen, his eyes discerning and shrewd, "as you wish Commander. Tara told me that she was still born this can happen with twins. Her mother begged the gods for help to save her daughter. Apparently a spirit heard her instead, and a blue white shape wrapped itself around the still child. In that moment she cried out but her eyes glowed faintly blue. The spirit is tethered to her it is all that keeps her alive, it is not so much a voice in her mind as hmm her subconscious. It influences her but cannot control her actions. However it is protective of her much as you beloved hounds are. It will appear in times of great stress and danger, it is the spirits power that she uses in battle. Her power is limited and focused because it is the spirits strength. It inspires her and at the same time, it grates on her taxing her. Think of it as ice melting in water except the ice is melting very very slowly. Its a part of her that is slowly blending into her. She is a living bridge to the fade and all that lies beyond.

Cullen let out an apprehensive breath "what spirit is it?" his hands clenched painfully on the wood. Dorian watched this impassively "It is a strong willed but impartial spirit... Justice... you templars know its darker form I know vengeance. As I recall that fool of a man Anders was possessed by one like it. However the difference is, Tara made no deal she has always been like this. She has grown in the shadow of this burden, she is not some foolhardy apprentice looking for power. She would rather destroy herself, than let the spirit corrupt her, as I fear she may now."

Cullen's eyes fly wide and he pales visibly "makers breath....we have to find her! The inquisition! the.. the... Tara.. she is out there!! Alone!" Cullen franticly tried to gather things, seemingly without direction. Dorian chuckled faintly at the man, "you are proposing that we attempt to find a Dalish woman, in the forest, with a head start no less?" Cullen whirled looking frantic " what other choice do we have? If we send a raven, it will not know where to find her! We... there has to be some way, makers breath if only she had a phylactery." Dorian cut him off "you honestly want to talk about that horrid practice after every thing we just discussed?" "The Inquisition needs her! Cullen interjected and Dorian scowled " never suggest a phylactery again.”

Now thankfully I have already sent out two expert trackers." "Some of Leliana's people?" Dorian waved a manicured hand at the question "Oh void no, people that can sense spirits much better than your Templars or soldiers ever could." "Cullen swallowed heavily "we have to get her back post haste." Dorians eyes glimmered in response "ha, look at you just a moment ago you were screaming bloody murder and now, he has become a knight again, Good show!" His eyes became level in a moment "I need to know that she will be safe, before I even consider letting them TRY to bring her back."

Cullen hung his head and responded "I will not harm her, of that you have my word....I....I just want her to return for the inquisitions sake. Dorian cleared his throat pointedly "....and for mine." "Lets hope Harel and Cole can find her then, I do not wish to live without my sister. Cullen's emotions crowded his mind "and.... I don't want to..." Dorian sighed dramatically "by the black Devine's breeches, you Ferelden men cant take even a little emotion."

[kagetsukai]

Dance Like No One Is Watching - Chapter 5

Cullen Rutherford has never danced in his life, so when a situation arises where it would be required of him, he decides to be proactive and learn. With Alistair’s recommendation, he books a set of private lessons with Ellana Lavellan, hoping it would be enough to make him survive what he considers hell. What he doesn’t expect is to become attracted to his lovely dance instructor. 

Cullavellan || Modern AU || 2,860 words || Read on AO3 || Read from the start

Excerpt:

Ellana wasn't sure how long she stayed in Cullen's embrace, but once her mind cleared enough and her crying subsided, embarrassment took up residence. She usually prided herself on being a strong, self-sufficient woman, so the fact that she let this man see her like this mortified her to no end. She slowly extracted herself from his arms and decided to brave looking up and into his eyes – he still had that soft, worried look about him, which made her heart stumble. She sniffled and did her best to wipe her face dry.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I don't usually cry onto my clients’ shirts.”

Cullen huffed a small laugh and his eyes softened even more.

“I don't mind it; it’s laundry day tomorrow,” he said, clearly trying to lighten the mood with a joke.

[tanaleth]

History

An Angst August gift for @fourletterepithet​!  (Also on AO3.)

With obligatory Florence lyrics.

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I'm gonna leave my body Moving up to higher ground I'm gonna lose my mind History keeps pulling me, pulling me down

—Florence and the Machine

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Cullen stared down into the drawer of his new desk. It held the scraps that had been in his pockets at Haven: a battered copy of the Chant, a singed handkerchief. And his philter. The box lay half-concealed under a stack of papers. He wasn't quite ready to part with it. He should be, but he wasn't.

The drawer was loose on its hinges. Cullen gave it a shove just as the door across from his desk opened to let in a long ray of afternoon sun.

It didn't help the headache that was brewing in his forehead. He'd spent too long talking with Her Worship in the courtyard—he should have known better, but she hadn't seemed to want to let him go. The thought had his cheek muscles twitching as he looked up to see a stocky figure silhouetted in the doorway.

"Hey, Cullen," it said. The voice wasn't that of his runner. It was, however, irritatingly familiar.

"Is that Varric?" Cullen pinched his nose and looked away from the light. They stung his nostrils, these headaches, with a pungent smell of decay that lingered for hours. It followed him no matter how fresh the mountain air or how pleasant the company. And he'd have preferred Velthei's company to Varric's, come to that.

"Don't tell anyone." Varric's silhouette took clearer shape as he shut the door and strolled into the office as if it belonged to him. "I'm lying low to avoid my hordes of admiring fans." He approached the desk and gave it a considering look.

Impudent dwarf.

"This looks familiar," remarked Varric, kicking the base of the desk. Cullen straightened and suppressed a wince as his skull throbbed in response. "Your old one from Kirkwall?"

"A well-intended gesture from our ambassador." Cullen sighed through his nose. "I could have lived without it, myself."

"Just tell me it wasn't Meredith's."

Cullen permitted himself a soft snort as he turned to his still-empty bookcase. "If you'd seen the state of her office after the Rebellion, you wouldn't ask that question."

"I saw enough," said Varric, still examining the inlaid arms on the desk. Cullen had been rather hoping no one would notice the Kirkwall heraldry, but from the dwarf's vantage point, it must be hard to miss. "I was there with Hawke," he added with a quick glance upward. "Just in case you forgot."

Just the reminder Cullen's headache had wanted to spring into full maturity. He leaned back against the bookcase and folded his arms. "What do you need, Varric?"

"A moment of your time, if you've got one to spare."

"I don't."

"Well, that's just too bad." Varric strode across the room to shut the other open door. There was a strong breeze outside, but Cullen winced as the draught disappeared and the room grew quieter. He liked it airy. Better a half-crumbled tower than a confining one.

"You've got some nerve, dwarf."

"Just a big mouth. So." Varric gave an easy grin that didn't quite reach his eyes, and Cullen braced himself for the worst.

"So?"

The dwarf shoved his hands in his voluminous pockets and looked speculatively up at Cullen. Despite his position and his greater height, Cullen felt more than a little intimidated, and more than a little annoyed at his own response to such a simple ploy.

"You and the Inquisitor," said Varric.

Cullen dropped his arms. "I beg your pardon?"

"Don't play dumb." Varric leaned back, a little too casually. "You might fool Leliana with that pretty face, but I know better."

"I don't see what business it is of—" Cullen shut his eyes briefly. His ears were buzzing. "That is, there's nothing to discuss."

Varric lifted a brow. "That was about as convincing as an Orlesian virgin's blush. If you're going to be a great leader, you'll have to play the Game better than that."

"I'll leave the diplomacy to our ambassador," Cullen snapped. But his pulse was jumping with something akin to hope. Varric was close to Velth—to the Inquisitor. Had she said something about—

"I've seen the way you look at her," said Varric flatly. Brutal as a bucket of cold water to the face. "And I'm not the only one. Andraste's ass, man, what's wrong with you? Look, I like the elf. But forget my personal feelings. She's in charge of the whole damn Inquisition. You think it won't mess with her head to get involved with a templar?"

"I'm not a templar."

Varric scoffed. "Sure, pal. You tell yourself that."

Cullen paused, then moved with slow deliberation to the other side of the desk. He didn't even have a bloody chair yet—at least, not one that wasn't covered in rubbish—so he could only stand there with fisted hands, leaning his forearms on the tiled surface of the desk, and glare down at the dwarf.

"What business is it of yours?" he bit out.

"None. Zero. Except that I knew you in Kirkwall, and she didn't."

"None of us were at our best in Kirkwall," Cullen said pointedly.

"Maybe. But not all of us were second in command of the freaking Gallows. I don't know everything that went down there, but I definitely remember the things you said about mages."

Cullen could almost have laughed, except that there was no humor in it. "Are you asking my bloody… intentions towards her?"

"No." Varric met his eyes directly. "I'm telling—" as Cullen's fists clenched, he held up his palms in a pacifying gesture—"all right, all right, I'm strongly advising you to keep it professional."

Cullen's vision was starting to blur. "It's not your place to advise me."

"Well, someone's got to say it. I saw you flirting in the courtyard earlier like a pair of kids. Cut it out, is all I'm saying. For the sake of everyone here. Even if you don't care about her."

"Of course I—" His voice caught. He ran a hand over his face, then dropped it and gave Varric a hard look. The dwarf didn't even look unsympathetic. Just honest.

And he was right, wasn't he?

"Just don't mention this conversation to her," Cullen muttered, defeated. "Varric..."

"I won't." The dwarf nodded and turned to the door. "See ya, Curly."

Cullen found himself still speaking.

"I'm not that man anymore," he said. Pleaded, even.

Varric glanced back over his shoulder, his face uncharacteristically serious. "Aren't you?"

The door clicked quietly shut, as quietly as the low curse Cullen let out before turning back to his papers. There was work to do. A mountain's worth of work to do.

But it was getting harder to ignore the contents of that drawer.

[greypetrel]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you @theluckywizard for the tag! It's been fun to compile :3

1. how many works do you have on ao3? 6

2. what’s your total ao3 word count? 356,534 (from last October. It's higher since I haven't upload a lot of ficlets I wrote here, oops)(But! it's my AO3 birthday, yeeeeh!)

3. what fandoms do you write for? Dragon Age, there's a crossover with LOTR/Silmarillion. I don't know if I'll ever write anything solely on Tolkien lore, I tend to reason per OCs in stories and I feel slightly bad in treating other's characters as my own.

4. what are your top five fics by kudos? - Home Was Never On The Ground (CullenxLavellan, long fic)(also known as Monster Fic) - She of Many Names (CullenxLavellan, a Dragon Age and LOTR - crossover) - The Night Before First Day (Some CullenxLavellan but very on the sidelines. it's Solas acting as Santa. And it rhymes.) - One For the Road (FenrisxLavellan, Angst is over 9000, 2 chapters.) - Death and All of His Friends (HawkexMerrillxIsabela, I'll get on with it but everything is on hold because I want to get Monster fic done before the year ends)

5. do you respond to comments? Oh yes, of course! Jumping on my seat and being very happy about it. I'm wordy, so chances are that comments will be answered with more lore.

6. what’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Death and All of His Friends, right now.

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? The Night Before First Day.

8. do you get hate on fics? Not that I know of. The worst hate I got in the fandom were some assholes who commented on an adoribull fanart here on Tumblr. I didn't want to learn how to say "F*ggot" in Russian, but I did. They didn't expect me to understand and reply in Russian, and they never got back.

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind? … Tried to. I'm self-conscious about my writing, so it never got posted. I don't know if it ever will. It was just to see if I could, but for now I'd rather keep it personal.

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written? Yes! I love making connections between things and fiction and see similarities and who inspired some others. I have She of Many Names, which is a Dragon Age with Lord of the Rings crossover. There's some Silmarillion, but as long as highlighting characters background goes. A person on Instagram commented on one artwork of my Lavellan (miss cinnamon "I cry if you tell me that there are kittens under the rain" roll) asking me if she was Sauron. I laughed so art imagining her as an evil overlady that I HAD TO write it. "It's all a big misunderstanding".

11. have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of.

12. have you ever had a fic translated? Nope.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before? I haven't, but I'd love to!

14. what’s your all-time favorite ship? You'll pry HawkexMerrillxIsabela from my cold, dead hands. HawkexFenris has the best ANGST. FaramirxEowyn. Been there since I was 10, will probably die on that hill. I see the fascination of Solavellan, but Cullavellan is there above, of course. And, MaharielxMorrigan. I am surely forgetting something, but it's one case of "I am asked what's my favourite movie and suddenly my brain thinks we never saw ONE movie in our life".

OH OH OH EnjolrasxGrantaire. I SAID IT.

15. what’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? I have another chapter half blorted down for One For the Road but I'm not feeling it. It's sliding towards a triangle and it's losing all the appeal to me.

16. what are your writing strengths? Oh shit, that's difficult ahahahahahah. As above, I'm self conscious about my prose. I'll try, tho.

Dialogue (been writing my own comics for years, those are just dialogue. I have exercise on that, ahahahah)

… angsty, emotional scenes?

People crying. watches Aisling

17. what are your writing weaknesses? Language and mispellings. English is not my first language, and as every person who speaks more than one, I have a very confused brain. I re-read my own writing again but there's always something missing. I also tend to write prose without a precise plan: I started writing fanfiction after YEARS of not writing prose after some comments that caught me in a moment when I was particularly fragile and convinced me my prose was never going to be ok. In order to ease me back into it, I started writing Monster Fic purposefully without a plan of action or a plotline not to stress myself too much and convince my brain it's just a hobby to relax. It worked, but in long fics I prefer having plans, I read it again and I think it shows that there's little planning ahead. When synthesis ability was being distributed, I was trying to pet a dog.

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? Uh, English not being my first language counts? xD Beside that: I wrote some SIMPLE lines in wannabe-Latin, some words here and there in French. If it's something long, tho, I'm against it. Personal preference, I'd rather have my readers understand what's being said if it's important, rather than showing that I know more than one language. Personal preference, I also tend not to like movies that are all done in dead languages that nobody speaks, with subtitle. Glad the writer can master ancient Latin, here's a cookie, now what.

19. first fandom you wrote for? … Inuyasha in middle school. I drew small comics for my friends over it. And, I drew a parody comic of the Iliad in my first year of high school, which is the first fandom with a COMPLETED fic.

20. favorite fic you’ve ever written? … Still with the difficult questions AHAHAHAHAHAH. These two because I got to use friends' blorbos and I was so nervous but also had the best of times: - Three Cards Trick [ Maria Hawke becomes the official third Science Sibling. They adopt a skeleton. ] - Saving Grace [ Aisling as a companion for Kerry Hawke in DA2. She refuses to pay for elfroot, but will find a way to acquire "some" from the Templars. ]

- Could be Worse. [ Mahariel, Morrigan, and Aisling becomes Ghost Hunters in modern time New York. It should have been a scam. ] I live for quotations and it set my head on fire and it's yet another modern AU I'll get back to sooner or later.

- Death and all of His Friends. [ Raina Hawke, human disaster but mildly successfull trash raccoon, fucks up royally at the end of Act 2.] Originally prompted by salsedine but I'm linking the polished AO3 version. Raina Hawke won the lottery of having issues similar to mine, and writing her has always some form of therapy. But I did it, I like the three parts, and I completed it and posted it anyway.

- Not the Years but the Mileage. [ Booby traps in the Temple of Mythal. Cullen breaks stuff that should be in a museum. ] And this one because again, quotings. Arbor Wilds (that mission is flawed, but the environment? Not.). And that piece of dialogue where Aisling can't talk and Cullen just understands her mumbling.

- Something Fishy. [ Raina and Garrett Hawke, loyal knights at the court of the Red King of Amaranthine, gets sent on a... Fishy mission.] This was probably the funniest to write, and nothing. I thrive in angst or in absurd crack fics, and this by now is my peak crack.

... I wrote for years and I hope it was remotely interesting.

TAGGING BACK: @shivunin @ndostairlyrium @heniareth @oxygenforthewicked @rosella-writes @scribbledquillz @star--nymph @zenstrike and YOU who are reading.

[juniper-tree]

Wind and flame, 11 - In uncertainty

Rating: chapter is Mature, full work is Explicit.  

Dragon Age: Inquisition - Cullen x Female Lavellan

Link to AO3 - thank you for reading

Summary: The past has a name.

When she was away, the little things he noticed about Ellana stayed with him.

How she sniffed at the food she ate, at a book or letter she held, and he did not know why, but it amused him.  How when she wiped her hands across her thighs and sighed, it meant I don't want to discuss this anymore.  How there was always a new knot in her hair each time he ran his hands through it.

The little things crept into Cullen's mind.  The way she listened so intently to Leliana's reports across the war table, or heard the practiced pleas of a supplicant in the main hall, that her focus seemed to drift.  She stared ahead, eyes hazy and dark, and she bit at the fullness of her lip.

He might lose himself then, and he was not in the war room or that crowded hall, but in his drafty quarters, or her room with its painted glass.  Morning sun bathed the windows and the colors fell against her red hair, the blue purpling, the gold bronzing.  She bit her lip as she rolled beneath him, and he panted and ached above her, his skin and his breath were hers and there was nothing else in the world—

Then he would force his mind back to the task at hand, before anyone but the Maker could see what was in his thoughts.

He was lost in one of the little things when a name pierced the fog: Hawke.

Josephine was performing one of her near-endless recitations of the current visiting nobles, and their near-endless requests.  Leliana gave her input, although it seemed to him that their sharing of useful secrets was hardly a step above idle gossip.  But it was easy to drift when all that was required of him was to say yes.  There was no point in saying otherwise.  So he nodded and acquiesced, while his mind strayed.

Then he heard the name, and everything sharpened.

"What did you say?"  He gripped his sword hilt tighter.

Josephine tilted her head gracefully.  Her sleeve's gold ruffle brushed the wet ink on her parchment, and the silk edge bloomed black.  "Messere Hawke," she said, "has come to Skyhold.  He has knowledge of Corypheus that may be helpful to us.  Varric has offered up his room to the Champion, but I believe we can manage more appropriate accommodations."  

Hawke.  Here.

These were things which should not coexist.  Not any longer.  That did not belong now.

Full chapter on AO3

Chapter 12: In the hanging garden ➳

[ellenembee]

The Revelation of All Things - 53. In which terrible thoughts trick tongues into wagging

Read the full fic on AO3.

Read on Tumblr (desktop)

Cole shimmered at the edge of the courtyard as he watched Solas walk through the gates. He'd felt the elf returning for some time now, carrying with him that well of hurt, deep and cold and lifeless. Cole had tried to draw hurt from that well, but no matter how much spilled out, more oozed up from the hole of darkness, sharp memory twisting, knifing, gutting fledging joy like a sacrificial ram.

For a brief moment, Solas' pain flared brilliantly as Evana pulled her hand away from him. In turn, Evana's confusion blazed brightly above the glare of the anchor, solidifying Cole's fluttering thoughts into strict attention.

Thread-like wisps made of thoughts and memories radiated from Evana and glimmered in and out of sight, some turning over and back on themselves. Most tied loosely to her close companions, Varric and Dorian and Josie and Bull and a couple of ever-strengthening wisps materializing for Leliana and Cassandra. He'd even wafted along on the currents of thought with a few that wound up and away to the northeast - to a mother, another one like a mother, a surrogate father, a real father - but other than the mighty cords binding her to the Commander, the strongest of these wisps stretched delicately between the two elves.

Solas departed for the main hall, and Evana stood unmoving in the courtyard for a few moments. She burned with the swirling brightness of the anchor, but today, her intense distress etched a picture into the sharp air, fresh and bright, shining faintly over the mark.

Shining for him to see. To help.

Not now. Please, Creators, why now? He's wrong, hiding himself. Why does that draw me? I don't want that. I already have what I want...

Faint sparks of doubt, confusion and pain flashed all around her. Cole could whisper that doubt to Solas, place that nugget of comfort in the elf's mind. Solas wanted her compassion to mean more than friendly talks about magic and genial arguments about elven lore. Cole could show Solas where to look, how to uncover that tiny spark ignited by long talks in the Fade and stoked by fleeting, heart-pounding touches, how to tend, coax, stroke, make it grow into a flame of want to match his own.

Cole uttered a small mewling sound of distress. Helping Solas meant hurting. Solas wanted to claim her, touch her, taste her in ways Cole didn't understand. But she was already helping the Commander with his hurt.

Every day the Commander loved, every day binding cords twisted tighter, fractions of hurt that had fractured his soul drifted away. He pushed lurking pain out of darkened corners to make room for more love for her. She stays. Why does she stay? Maker, I love her so much. Feels like she might break me open. Perhaps that's not a bad thing. If only I could tell her. Andraste preserve me, why can't I just tell her? As black self-loathing melted into to acceptance, hopeful thoughts of worthiness stitched up old wounds.

The thin wisp that tied Evana to her elven companion was nothing in comparison to those cords, massive vines twisting around one another, strengthening, pulsing with each passing day and drawing the Inquisitor and Commander closer to one flesh. They made each other better, stronger, ripping out the weeds of hurt and pain and tending to twisting trunks that wound tightly in a dance of living, breathing love.

That truth shone brighter than anything. Cole understood. On his perch between the upper and lower courtyards, the spirit boy writhed slightly at the solid thought, the realization, that he could not draw this poison from the well.

When Evana returned to the courtyard from wherever she'd gone, Cole followed her to the tavern. If he couldn't help Solas, perhaps he could help her. She had picked up Dorian, Varric and Hawke on the way. Grabbing a couple of ales at the bar for herself and Varric - one she apparently "owed" him - she walked to the corner and plunked down beside the Iron Bull.

Need to forget. Forget him. Forget these strange and unwelcome thoughts. "Ready to celebrate some dragon slaying, Bull?"

"Absolutely, boss. I thought you'd ditched us."

She gave him a look of disbelief. "And miss out on raising a glass with the finest mercenary group in Thedas? Never!"

The Chargers raised their own mugs with a cheer. Krem came to sit on her other side, his chest puffed up broad and proud.

"It's about time!" Krem shouted as he slapped her on the back. He raised his glass again. "Let's drink to the Chief and the Inquisitor on a job well done of hacking that dragon to tiny bits!"

Another cheer went up and then a moment of silence descended as the Chargers all took a large swig of whatever they were currently drinking. Cole drifted in and out of Maryden's songs, taking up a space near those ethereal notes of calmness while Evana spent her first two mugs of ale talking with the Chargers and learning more about each of them in turn.

The Chargers were more than happy to while away the afternoon hours telling her stories of their time together. Cole loved to hear the stories if they had a nice ending, but too many of them did not. He felt himself becoming agitated and listened to Maryden's song for a bit instead. When he felt calmed, he returned his attention to the Inquisitor.

Bull had pulled out a bottle and placed a small glass on the table in front of the Inquisitor. Something is wrong... I'll get her rip-roaring drunk. She'll spill, and then we'll fix it. Cole appreciated the Qunari's sentiment, though he wasn't sure about the method.

The Inquisitor groaned and let her forehead fall to the table with a dull thud. The stories had distracted her, hurt dimmed to the point Cole could no longer see it over her mark's brightness. He could still sense it, though, like mist condensing from nothingness into a dewy blanket, ephemeral but tangible.

"Bull!" she grumbled toward the floor, "I already have a drink."

"It's almost gone." Something is definitely wrong. "And I thought you weren't going to wimp out on me, boss."

She raised her head and looked at Dorian, who was working his way through a bottle of wine. Cole's eyes were immediately drawn to Dorian's bright hurts - Am I lovable? Is that lummox even capable of love? Should I even try? - but Cole refused to let the other, older hurts plucking at the edges of his mind distract him. He needed to help Evana. Perhaps he could make her forget her feelings for Solas? She'd wished for forgetting. He could do that. Make her forget the wisp until it withered and faded into nothingness.

"Don't look at me like that, darling," Dorian admonished Evana. "I'm here at your request to help you get drunk, though you still haven't told me why." Something wrong in paradise? But no, they are too involved. He spent the night in her quarters last night if rumors are to be believed. Something else, then? Her clan...? "Bull's foul concoctions never fail to get the job done, so if I were you, I'd just sit back and meekly take my medicine. You'll be too drunk to care in a few minutes."

Looking down at the empty glass, she admitted her defeat. Might as well get this going. "Alright, Bull. Fill 'er up. But let's drink a little bit more slowly this time, eh? And maybe I'll get some water... and food."

She went to the bar and came back with both. After raising her glass "to dragons" and choking down a shot with Bull, she took a long gulp of the water and stuffed a hunk of cheese in her mouth. So many friends, but who could I tell? Who would understand? They'll think I'm awful. I think I'm awful. Cullen is the one I tell...

Bull filled her glass again and laughed as she quickly took the glass and downed the contents. She took another swig of water and started in on a giant hunk of bread.

Dorian put down his wineglass and turned to Bull. "Oh, we forgot to mention. Solas is back. We saw him on our way through the rotunda. Tried to get him to come along, but he's all about reading up on the books Josephine acquired for him in his absence."

Bull growled. Fucking deserter. "Good. Now I can tell him exactly what I think of him."

Dorian waggled a finger. "Now now, the man was merely distraught, you can't expect a grieving person to think logically or clearly. That would be like expecting Orlesians to actually say what they mean."

"Of course I can. Nothing comes before duty. Nothing is more important than the mission. Solas let his personal feelings endanger the life of the Inquisitor - the one person who can fix this shit."

Dorian shook his head. "You only think that way because you're Qunari. The rest of us have a bit of a different view on life and what's actually important."

Evana's pain turned even brighter. It's not his fault. He was hurting. Why is everyone blaming? Why does everyone think I can't take care of myself? Perhaps because I've been bad at it up to now.

"Bull, that's enough," she finally said, a warble of warning in her voice.

Bull turned to her, about to say something, but she raised a hand, a glint of steeliness in her gaze. That's a damn scary look. She's getting really good at this Inquisitor business. We need a distraction.

Suddenly, the Qunari looked over to where Cole sat on the stairs. "Hey! Weird spirit kid! You were there, too. Come have a drink to celebrate the killing of dragons!"

"I like watching you celebrate, but Dorian and the Inquisitor don't want me to join. They don't want me to say the wrong words."

Both Dorian and the Inquisitor blushed, then looked at each other and clinked their glasses together. Cole heard them think in unison, at least I'm not alone in having secrets.

Varric and Hawke, who had spent the last couple of hours in a game of wicked grace with some of the officers, finally joined the party. Varric looked around the table and shook his head. Sad lot. They need a story. Varric turned to Cole.

"Come on over, kid. Who better to share your troubles with than your friends?"

Cole came over like Varric had taught him. It took longer, but people didn't look at him funny when he walked instead of whispered. He sat down at the table in a free chair beside the dwarf. Varric weaved pain tightly around his heart, words warring with reason and reality, but he also knew how to unravel it. He treated Cole like a real person and not like some writhing monster to be feared and watched. The Chargers, however, looked at him askance.

"I won't say anything about that... or that... or that."

Cole looked at each of them in turned as he spoke. They all turned away with grumbled thanks, and Cole wondered why everyone had suddenly gone quiet. Hawke stared at him, mesmerized. Her thoughts tumbled over each other in quick succession, almost too quickly for Cole to absorb, like drops of rain from the sky sliding down into the dark crevices of the earth. He could see the same woven bonds imprisoning those same feelings inside her heart. Perhaps someday he could unravel their woven armor and weave them together.

"You can really read minds, Cole?" she asked in awe.

Cole shook his head. "Not read minds. But I hear the hurt - like a song you sing to yourself - and things that might help heal the hurt. If it doesn't hurt, it doesn't matter... Will he forgive me for leaving him behind? I guess if I die, it won't matter."

Varric raised his eyebrows, his eyes glued on Hawke. Hawke choked a little on her ale and held up her hand as a sign of surrender.

"Ah, I see now... ok... uh, can I get in on the 'won't talk about that' deal you've got going with the others?"

Cole nodded. "Yes. But sometimes I forget. You'll have to remind me." Then he turned to Varric. "Someone should tell a nice story with a nice ending. Varric, you have nice stories with nice endings, don't you?"

Varric gave him a sardonic grin. "It's like you read my mind. I sure do, kid. Let me tell you one... you'll like it. It has little kids and puppy dogs."

Cole listened intently to Varric's story. He didn't understand some of it - the parts about people meeting in the dark to "get to know each other better" were strange. Why wouldn't they simply meet in the daytime? But the parts at the end about little children playing with puppies were very nice.

It hadn't worked, though. Evana wasn't paying attention. Awful. A terrible thought. Why am I still thinking about this? So, so awful... awful... Creators, I feel awful.

Her fingers played with something hidden inside her tunic. Yes. That might help.

"It means everything to him that you took it."

Evana's eyes snapped up to Cole's. "Uh... what?"

"Maker, please, always bring her back. Let her always come back to me. The luck means he can pretend he won't lose you."

Evana stared at him for a moment then said in a quiet tone, "Cole, remember what we talked about? Not in public."

"I take it this is about Curly's gift?" Varric cut in with a little chuckle.

Evana's face turned red as Cole nodded. The Iron Bull looked at her, confused. What the hell are they talking about?

"What the hell are you guys talking about?"

She slowly pulled the amulet out of her shirt and held it up for everyone to see. Hawke reached over the table to examine it more closely. Damn. First an adorable letter. Then this. He's more of a catch than I realized.

"The quiet ones always surprise you, don't they? That's really beautiful."

Evana smiled. An avalanche of tender feelings buried the hurt that had spiked during Varric's story.

"I know," she agreed softly. "It's... more than I..."

What am I doing? Strong, generous, understanding. He cares for me. I love him. Her eyes blew out wide at this string of thought, sudden thunder raging under her skin and through her ribs. Creators. I LOVE him.

"He can be quite thoughtful sometimes," she murmured distantly, a cyclone of hope and doubt ravaging her tenuous hold on calm.

But... what if we never agree? So different. Mages can't go back to a Circle... after all this? I would never let it happen. But what if...?

Cole interrupted her thought. "Safe and solid. Protecting and proud. He feels like quiet. Stronger when you hold him. You should talk to him about that. And about Solas. He'll understand."

Evana looked up at Cole, eyes wide. "He will? How can he when I don't even understand! That is... I... um..."

She turned to look at her companions, panic written all over her face. They shot confused looks between her and Cole.

"Y-yes, you're right. Of course, you're right. I need to... to talk to him. About that. About those things." She looked back at Cole. "You're sure he'll... understand? Won't it... won't it hurt him?"

"Thoughts of magic muddy and muddled. Fear folds him inside himself. But he can see through your eyes. Fiona can help. She's got ideas. And the other... it will hurt... but holding in hurts more."

Suddenly, Evana stood, walked around the table and, lifting his floppy hat from his head for a moment, kissed Cole firmly on the forehead. Oh, Creators... Maker... sweet Andraste... Somebody... How am I going to do this? But, Cole is right. It must be done. I must speak.

"Ma serannas, Cole."

Cole beamed. He'd helped! Her hurt dimmed until only the mark remained. And if it came back, he could always offer to make her forget. Cole beamed at everyone else at the table.

The Iron Bull watched Evana stumble a little bit on her way out. Well, that was anticlimactic.

"You better come back here when you're done, boss!" he yelled after her. "We've got more drinking to do."

She waved at him from the door and disappeared out of sight. Cole sat next to Varric, still smiling, but his expression faded as he realized everyone was looking at him. Dorian spoke first.

"Care to share what that was all about, Cole my boy? What's this about Solas? And what is she going to say that will 'hurt' our Commander? Surely not..."

Varric shook his head. "No, definitely not. Can't be. I'm sure of it. I'd take bets."

"Depraved as I am, even I don't have the stomach to bet against our poor Commander like that," Dorian murmured into his wine.

Bull remained quiet. Damn elf. If he steals her away after all this...

Agitated by new hurt blooming around the table, Cole shook his head vehemently. "No! He won't do that. It's mostly him, not her. But she knows now... because of how he looked at her. She's confused, but the Commander will make it right."

Everyone at the table stared, confused and uncomfortable and uncomprehending, so Cole did what he thought best. He faded away from the table, and after a few moments, no one even remembered that he'd been there. They also didn't remember anything about how their Inquisitor had left the table - only that she'd gone to find her Commander. They all smiled knowingly and toasted to a long life of happiness for their besotted Herald and her equally besotted military advisor.

[a-shakespearean-in-paris]

I have NO IDEA if you’re still accepting these I haven’t been online all day. BUT JUST IN CASE. I saw your ‘inquisitor washes cullen’s hair’ and raise you ‘cullen washes inquisitor’s hair’? Maybe for cullavellan? If this is closed that is 100% okay have a nice day 💕

One Day

Eeessssshhhhh this turned angsty please be okay with that :p 

The dark coils are smooth against his fingers. Luxurious. Cullen, she says, moaning as he kneads her scalp. And then that’s when it happens, as it often has. It is when he feels the pang. It is when he wonders if he’s enough.

There is a part of him, a more rational part, that knows he shouldn’t feel this way. He shouldn’t have to ask himself every night if he is enough for her. He shouldn’t wonder if she invites him to his bed, and makes love to him, to fill that empty void that he must have left behind when he departed. 

He does. 

She wasn’t drunk when she came to him that first time, and when Cullen tasted her kiss he tasted no wine or mead. He only tasted something that was distinctly her. Intoxicating. Better than the hum and call of lyrium. But he pulled her away, at first.

I’m lonely, she whispered, her willowy body pressed into him, stroking his hair like a lover who had been with him for centuries would had. He was in a haze, standing on a divide between wanting to take her in his arms and at last acting on the lust and longing he had felt for her since the moment he carried her in his arms from the snow to safety, to wanting to pull away, because it was too soon. The pain of losing Solas, and the void that it left making her come to him, rather than the want for him, and who he was.

Yet they began anyway. Because he wanted. At the time it didn’t matter why she wanted either. She did. And it was paradise, to have her. To taste her at last. At first.

Yet still, they laugh in her quarters, over their private dinners. He spends night after night carving his lust, and perhaps his love for her onto her body. Traces her cheeks and her forehead with his finger, the invisible lines where her vallaslin used to be. They fuck, low and base as that word is. They bathe together sometimes, when she returns from being away. He washes her hair, and sometimes he finds it more intimate than the act of making love.

Perhaps it’s because this is something, she had said, something that Solas never did for her.

He continues to wash her hair. Rinse through it with fresh water. Strong hands, she says. I love your hands.

It should make him smile, not make him wonder if she loves his hands more than she loved the hands that belonged to her lover past. It does anyway. 

Yet he stays. He stays, because he wants to believe that one day she’ll look at him, and see Cullen, and not who isn’t there.

One day. One day. One.

[lavellanvibes]

Sick Cullen Drabble

A little drabble about sick Cullen being cared for by Sadira. I would call it “Keeping you Warm”

Cullen sneezed for what seemed to be the hundredth time that evening. 

     Cullen had progressively gotten sicker throughout the day. It started with an excessive clearing of his throat during his morning drills, and ended with him nearly fainting at the war table. Stubborn Cullen had only retired to Sadira’s quarters when she and Leliana basically dragged him there. 

     Sadira had spent the better part of the afternoon trying to coax Cullen into napping, but his shivering and sneezing thwarted her every attempt.

      Despite several reluctantly consumed potions and cups of herbal tea, Cullen’s fever persisted. He sweat profusely, yet could not stay warm. Sadira wiped his damp forehead occasionally and tried to keep him comfortable. With each potion he became more cranky and restless. 

      A healer had stopped by to assess the commander’s state. He was not grievously ill, she determined, but would only improve with a few day’s rest. This was news he bemoaned excessively, trying to bargain his way out of it. The man insisted on trying to look over reports as he lay in bed. Sadira had to snatch the papers out of his hand, to his dismay.

         “Makers breath, are you certain every window is shut? There must be a draft...” Cullen said, his voice thick and nasally from his congested nose. It seemed as though Cullen might as well be outside on the balcony with the way he shivered. 

       “Yes, Vhenan, but I may have something that could help.” Sadira kissed the Commander’s clammy cheek before extracting herself from the nest of sheets she had bundled them into. 

        Sadira strode over to a trunk at the foot of their bed, lifting the creaking lid. After rummaging around, she pulled out a large quilt. The heavy, midnight blue fabric unfolded as she lifted it out. Jumping Halla amongst glittering stars were embroidered carefully throughout the textile. It must have taken weeks to create every detail with care. Cullen’s eyebrows lifted as he admired the blanket with his itchy eyes. 

       “I’ve never seen that before. Is it… from your clan?” He asked, unsure of the Dalish crafting traditions but curious to learn. She smiled and hugged the blanket to her chest before bringing it over to her freezing beloved. 

       “My mummy made it. Maybe her magic will warm you and make you better!” Sadira said as she climbed into the bed beside Cullen. 

       “Almithara is a mage?” Cullen’s eyebrows knit in confusion. Sadira had never mentioned her mother being a mage, and he did not see her use magic when they met. 

       Sadira chuckled. “No, she’s just a good mum. That’s magic in itself, no?” 

      “Oh. Yes, I believe so.”

       She arranged him to lay in front of her, hugging him from behind and draping the heavy quilt across them. Cullen’s damp curls tickled her chin as he rested his head on her chest. He relaxed into her embrace, sighing. She could feel his weary body slowly cease shivering. Sadira knew she would be stuck underneath this massive man for a while, but she couldn’t have been more content. 

       Sadira gently traced patterns on Cullen’s chest as they lay together. Muted, fuzzy twilight leaked through the stained glass windows. He was falling asleep, finally, his breathing slowing. 

       “Would you like to hear the story of the blanket’s design?” Sadira asked, whispering gently to him. 

“Mmhmm…” he mumbled, already on the edge of being claimed by sleep. 

Sadira began the legend of the Halla in the stars, but before she could finish the first sentence, Cullen was already snoring in her arms.