#cullen & samson hours | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mneiaifics · 1 year ago

Text

Dragon Age Fic: Mercy, Chapter 2

Earlier Part Here.

AO3 Link

XxX

Before – Kirkwall

The air was too heavy, the walls too close. He took every chance he could to get out, even taking on extra shifts of standing guard and patrolling the courtyard or city streets from others. That gained him goodwill, enough they overlooked the quickly stifled screams whenever he woke himself up at night.

His roommate, Samson, was a good person, he kept trying to help, but he couldn’t really understand. None of them really understood. Kirkwall was dangerous, but they had a Knight-Commander who would do anything to keep them safe.

Meredith was a force of nature, she reminded him of—no, it was best not to think of that, of anything from there. He’d left. It was behind him.

She liked Cullen, for some reason. He was called into her office at least once a week, asked his opinion about the workings of the Gallows and the Order in ways that made him really think. The praise he gained for some of his thoughts on containing the mages and hunting the apostates had him trying to come up with more, spending the long hours of guard duty thinking of other ways to impress her.

His world revolved around the Gallows for his first year in Kirkwall, he learned the streets and alleyways of Kirkwall, but it felt like only an extension of the Gallows.

The first letter arrived after he'd been unexpectedly promoted. A new Knight-Captain was an important enough decision for a missive directly to the Office of the Divine and he supposed any Templar skipping over an entire rank might draw attention.

Leliana was a cloudy memory, a soft voice and small, surprisingly strong hands. The waterskin pressed to his lips after days without, having been sustained only by the lyrium his good behavior could buy him. A song, light and airy as he was helped down the many stairs.

She was part of that past he wanted to forget, ignore, but she was also part of the present—she worked for the Divine, now, more closely than he ever would. He wondered if she thought of it as penance.

Writing back was excruciating, he had not written a letter since...and he did not know what to say to a stranger who had seen him at his lowest point. Leliana did not seem to mind, did not push for more information, and he spent a full year imagining she saw him as just an asset.

Still, he wrote. About patrol, about Kirkwall, nothing too informative, nothing directly about Meredith or their work. He eventually wrote about Hawke, at first a throwaway line or two, and then more as his fellow Fereldan continued to somehow be involved in every major event, any many minor ones, in the city.

With Hawke he had another person to speak to, another to share his thoughts and doubts, and it was only when he realized that they might have some sort of friendship (if he strained that word to the very limits) that he also realized that was what he already had with Leliana.

His letters became more personal after that. Mail into and out of the Gallows was generally censored, but being Knight-Captain meant he had the privilege of privacy that no one else but Meredith could expect. No one dared look through his mail, he could put in ink his worries and doubts that he could never put into speech.

After the Qunari finally attacked, after the Viscount was dead and he suddenly had even more pressure bearing down on him because Meredith ruled the city in all but name, he wrote a long, babbling letter he wished to take back as soon as he handed it over to be sent to Leliana. Everything he knew, everything he’d heard, all his fears and doubts.

The reply was surprisingly short, when it finally came (Leliana’s lifestyle was not one that lent to regular personal correspondence). She told him that the eyes of Thedas were on them and that he had to prepare for change.

Even years after their horrible first meeting, the idea of change still terrified him.

9:36 Dragon – Minrathous

Thinking of a man, any man, as close to divinity was difficult for Cullen. He could put up a show where appropriate, but to him the Imperial Divine was simply a man. A powerful man, a knowledgeable man, but a man.

Perhaps a kind man for a Tevinter mage, all things considered, though he was doing his best to put aside the Chantry (the Southern Chantry, he reminded himself) teachings on Tevinter. After all, for every evil, slave-owning, malifcar there were those innocent slaves and a variety of others. What the Chantry had said about the Imperial Divine didn’t need to be the truth, they had every reason to cast him in a poor light.

Cullen did not sense the miasma of blood magic around him, at least. He’d felt it as he rode through the streets of Minrathous and even as he was led through parts of the Argent Spire, but he did not feel it now. Even if the Divine was perhaps a practitioner, he wasn’t doing it regularly. That mattered, it had to matter.

Not all mages were monsters, just as some Templars (so very many Templars) could be.

“I am pleased that you have accepted our offer, Ser Cullen.” The Divine smiled and it was surprisingly beatific for a Tevinter, which set Cullen even more on edge.

“It is a generous offer,” he swallowed, then managed, “Your Holiness.” The Divine’s smile twisted as Cullen used the honorific, becoming the colder, darker thing that Cullen was becoming used to seeing in Tevinter (that he had seen in the Templars of the South, as much as he had denied it). “I thank you for granting me such an honorable position.”

His “offer” was indeed generous, but also no real choice. Cullen would have a difficult time finding regular work that he could stomach in Minrathous and if the Divine was displeased with him for turning him down, he would surely be blacklisted from any legitimate jobs.

The Divine held out a hand and Cullen had to take a moment to realize what the significance was. He took it in one of his own, bowing over it where he knelt, and kissed the signet ring. It was a practiced mage’s hand, with callouses from heavy staff use softened by what was no doubt some expensive salve. The ring had magic twisted around it, but none that tried to reach out for Cullen. He dropped the hand as quickly as was polite and settled back.

“You shall start immediately. A brief training to go over Imperium procedures and laws should be all that is necessary for a Seeker, I am sure. You are such adaptable creatures, if you allow yourselves to be.”

Cullen shifted in place, watching the Divine carefully. “If I may, Your Holiness...I have heard stories of yourself and Seeker Lambert...but I am unsure how much of what we were told is accurate.”

The smile twisted again, almost fell off his face, and Cullen knew these looks were for his benefit. He had no doubt the Divine could have kept the same placid smile with which he had started their meeting for the entirety of it, if he so wished.

“Lambert and I were once friends, it is true. For a time, we had similar goals, but he was too indoctrinated by his Southern Chantry despite what he might have claimed and never truly adjusted to life in Tevinter.” That meant nothing, neither confirmed nor denied what Cullen had heard. “Despite the way we parted, I have retained...an appreciation for the Seekers of Truth. I am gladdened by the chance to have one of my own.”

If Cullen hadn’t already learned more than he ever wanted to about the way slavery in Tevinter worked, he would have been worried about what he had agreed to. “I cannot make others into Seekers. And I fear they will not release me so easily once they know of my location.”

The Divine scoffed, waving his hand in dismissal. “I do not ask for more, the Magisterium may accept one in my ranks, if I keep you as a guard, but they would not abide by my creating more.” A sharp sort of pleasure shifted across his face. “And I welcome any who come to try to take a Templar from our Chantry, they will not find us meek and cooperative.” He stood, setting a hand on top of Cullen’s head. “Do not fear, Ser, as soon as you were accepted into the Templar Order, you became a Tevinter citizen.”

There was something ominous in his insistence, but there was nothing for it. Cullen could only hope that this time he had sold himself to an organization that would not abuse him.

XxX

Notes:

I debated whether I wanted Urian to still be the Imperial Divine in this, as I think it's totally reasonable he'd not last very long considering (and I despise Absolution, but it is technically canon, and so either they retconned who is Divine or they killed off Urian at some point, despite all the fans--including the wiki--seeming to think he's like a forever-Divine now or something lol). I weighed the pros and cons of having like Urian acquiring a new Seeker or having a new Divine + Seeker team and what that would mean. Also, I'm in the camp that believes there should be no way that Leliana didn't utilize a connection to Cullen to get a resource within the Gallows. When it comes to effective spying, there's lots of little details that can be taken from someone who thinks they're not giving anything away (and while Cullen probably was the last "loyal" Templar with experience commanding a large Circle left to them just before DAI, there's enough people around with military experience it felt like they'd need a more personal reason why he was chosen to be Commander).

#fandom: dragon age #character: cullen rutherford #theme: canon divergence #theme: tevinter imperium #series: mercy #character: urian nihalias

1 note · View note

ohsweetflips · 5 years ago

Text

ajsjdfjkj goD i cannot focus on writing more than a couple sentences in an essay draft due soon but i had to restrain myself from going off in the tags of my last rb

tumblr cut off half my tags anyway rip

#like i get that bioware was trying to do a redemption arc w/ c*llen #and like there are parts of his character that i like in inq #but 1) samson was betrayed by the templars and put out on the streets to die a lyrium addict WHY would he join them again #and 2) the canonical progression of cullen from dao --> dai if he ended up as the red templar commander wouldve been fucking choice #like imo a lot of retconning went into cullen for inq #oh fuck i forgot to asterik his name #im not tagging this anyway so it's whatever but like #also tho dragon age now caters to a very pro-templar narrative which does get annoying bc it went from #''the mages are oppressed and some even brutally abused by the templars'' to ''the mages complain abt everything ...#but the templars are so resilient and should be forgiven for their crimes''#and it's even more complicated bc i do like his character in dai (mostly bc of imo the retconning) (but also he still says some bs)#(like bitch at least admit meredith was wrong and disgustingly violent)#(like!!! if youre doing a redemption arc here bioware at least have him own up to his shit and maybe it'll fly better)#but in dao im like ''okay fuck off'' and in da2 he's so vehemenently pro-templar that it offers some interesting friction!!#but also i would not let him near my mage!hawke w/ a 10ft pole #anyway like?? ik it's not that deep but who am i if i am not writing essays abt shit that doesnt matter #just like....... idk i love dai but so much of it felt so geared towards pushing for the templars #but like what are the templars gonna do to the breach??? restrain it to death??????#and it's weird bc i love inquisition so much like not even bullshitting ive played probably 600/700 collective hours of it (most likely more #but sometimes im just like ''wow!! this game is pulling a lot of bullshit!!!!''#like and then w/ c*llen idk how to word it??#like it's just frustrating to have played mages in the previous games and hear the shit that he says abt mages #and then in dai /that part/ has no narrative repercussions #like not even a kirkwall mage who was around him when he was knight captain #like come on bioware give us the layers.........#if ur gonna make it sound like varric fucking hates anders w/ all his heart #there could at least be a scene when hawke gets to skyhold #and varric is like ''if you say anything to here we're gonna have a problem''#like idk i just wish there were more narrative repercussions at the very least #idek if im pro or anti i just know i still would never romance him w/ a mage lmao

8 notes · View notes

lasatfat · 3 years ago

Text

Steps of Faith

also on AO3

Cullen

“True love in this differs from gold and clay,

That to divide is not to take away.”

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Commander Cullen Rutherford can often be found walking along the battlements of Skyhold. He’d made a habit of making the journey at least daily, to look over their surroundings, and deal with any concerns from the guard. He’d found, however, that it made for a decent method of stress relief. It’s not uncommon for him to take the trip three or four times in a day. His record is seven. That was the day the Wardens arrived.

There were two of them. Every Warden in Ferelden and Orlais had vanished, and yet here they had two. And lo and behold, it had to be the two Wardens with whom Cullen had personal history. The Maker has a cruel sense of humour indeed. He only has vague memories of Alistair Theirin, from behind a filmy barrier of magical energy. But his wife…he knows her alright. He’s known her since he was nineteen. Eireann Surana, the Hero of Ferelden.

He’d hated her. Andraste preserve him, he’d hated her for what happened. She’d been able to walk away, from Kinloch Hold, from the abominations and the demons, from the Templars and their Order.

“Come with me,” she’d said. Pleaded. “The Templars won’t help you. You’re more useful to them scared.” But he’d been too proud to listen, too reluctant to admit that the life he’d been building since he was ten was falling apart around him. The woman he loved had tried to save him, and he had turned her away.

And away she went. She united Ferelden, she fought an Archdemon, and she saved the world. More than that, she built her own world. She fell in love. She had a daughter, a scant few months after the Blight ended, and her birth had been quite the cause for celebration. She grew up, and Cullen was stuck.

So he’d grown to hate himself. Oh, he hates himself for falling into Meredith’s web of lies and deceit, and the abhorrent things he’d done as a result. But before that, he had hated himself for what happened at Kinloch. For not saving his friends. For not dying in their place. For not running from the Order when he had the chance.

For hating her.

He had prayed to the Maker that she wouldn’t seek him out. She’d been so kind to him once. What would she think of what he became?

Today, the white sky is heavy with snow threatening to fall. A cruel wind whistles through the narrow windows of the outer battlements, and rattles the glass panes in most of the others. Skyhold is, however, impossibly warm, as it always is. The heat seems to radiate out of the earth itself.

There is a part of Cullen that will always belong to the lyrium, and that part of him can feel the magic in the stones of this place, a barely noticeable prickle deep inside his skull. He doesn’t know how the fortress will stand up to a snowstorm, however. He’d risen a good hour before the Sun, and been sat at his desk making plans for such weather ever since. There is so much work to be done. Fuel and food must be gathered, fires stoked, chimneys inspected, holes in walls repaired. Each soldier, scout or labourer to enter his office leaves with a sizeable to-do list and a newfound resentment for their commander. Let them be angry, he thinks. It’s better than freezing to death.

Kali drops in at a more reasonable hour, bringing with her freshly-baked rolls, a knob of butter, apples, and two cups of hot tea. She always makes time to eat with him; even in Haven, before they began a courtship, she would bring food to the training fields and eat with him and Samson. Her dog, a mabari-wolf hybrid who answers to Fen, was ever her shadow. True to form, he lumbers into Cullen’s office, close to his master’s heels. When he thinks of the young pup that had so alarmed him in Haven, it amazes him just how much Fen has grown.

Kali sets the tray down on a corner of his desk, one that he purposefully tries not to clutter. “I hope it’s alright,” she says, before he can thank her. “I wasn’t sure if you liked butter on your bread, so I just put it on the side there, and…”

He halts her with a feather-light kiss on her cheekbone. The attack on Haven left her with a broken nose, among other injuries, and though the swelling and bruising had since gone down, the gentleness remains a habit. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Kali usually finishes breakfast before him, if only because his attention is split between his food and his work. The meal takes place in comfortable silence. Finally, she kisses his cheek, drawing his focus back to her. She has the most captivating eyes. The colour of honey, they shine slightly in the flickering light of the candles.

“I’m sorry, I can’t stay,” she says. She apologises far too often, and for far too little. “I have some work to do for Lady Montilyet, and I promised Cole I’d help put out food for the cats. I’ll try to be back here with lunch.”

She always seemed determined to befriend everybody in the Inquisition, including the mysterious apostate, the Tevinter mage, and now even a possible demon. Though, as Cullen often reminds himself, many in Skyhold would consider him bad company, too.

“You know where to find me.”

It is midday before Cullen allows himself another moment to breathe. He turns to the window. The furthest mountain peaks are obscured by clouds, the slightest silhouette casting a darker shade of grey upon the mist. He takes in a deep, calming breath, and the anxious knot in his gut loosens just a little.

The door creaks open behind him. “Ah, good timing, soldier,” he says, brusquely. He turns around, but doesn’t look up. Instead, he starts to rummage through the papers on his desk; there’s a report here somewhere that will be useful. “I’m sure you know, several of the forward scouts have reported a storm heading in our direction. We should look into bringing our farmers into the village proper. It will be much easier to ensure their safety here, and we can consult with them on how best to protect their livestock…”

“Right you are, Commander.”

His head snaps up. There stands not a scout, but the Hero herself.

It catches him off-guard, how completely ordinary she is. She is just a woman, in a Warden’s armour, her hair tied up in a scarf of blue and orange. But she’s the stuff of legend. How can she just be here, as if it’s nothing? Cullen’s stomach falls somewhere into the region of his knees. He deserves every angry word, every insult, every blow she throws his way. But there’s a smile on Eireann Surana’s face when she looks at him, one he’s done little, if anything, to deserve.

“Hello, Cullen,” she says. And suddenly he feels very, very small.

“H-hello.” He immediately feels embarrassment clench his gut. She laughs, but not unkindly.

“The more things change,” she chuckles.

“Quite.” He rubs the back of his head. “You look well.”

And she does. Her face is fuller, as is her figure. She has built muscle where once there were only angles and sharp edges. But more than that, she has smiled more often and with more sincerity in the past few days than she ever did in Kinloch Hold. She is so far from the lonely, angry, painfully thin eighteen-year-old he’d known in the Circle. She’s happier, and he is so glad of that.

Maker, she is so beautiful.

Still, when she looks at him, there’s a melancholy in her eyes that he can’t decipher. “Would you think me cruel if I said you didn’t?”

It’s his turn to chuckle. “No. I would think you honest.” His hand rises to rub at the back of his neck, which does little to alleviate his discomfort. “I was about to inspect the battlements,” he says. At this point, it’s his go-to move for stress relief. “Would you care to walk with me?”

Eireann smiles, and gestures towards the door on her right. “Lead the way.”

Outside, the air is crisp and fresh, a welcome change from his office. He pauses to relay some orders to a pair of scouts, both of whom offer a salute to Eireann as well as their commander. She must be aware of the stares she’s attracting from all and sundry, but she takes them all in stride. She even waves at one of the scouts; the man looks as if he’s about to faint. She laughs to herself.

“I have often thought about what I would say to you, if we were to meet again,” he says, haltingly. Though he’d always assumed in his imaginings that she would be furious with him. It’s somewhat jarring to see her looking back at him with little more than polite interest in her expression.

“Oh?” she says.

“I owe you an apology,” he begins. That much is true, but how can any apology be adequate? “The things I said to you, in the Circle Tower…”

“Cullen, I don’t…”

“You don’t hold it against me,” he finishes. “You said as much ten years ago. But the things I said were inexcusable. I apologise, unreservedly.”

Eireann looks like she’d rather like to argue, but must decide better of it, because she nods, and smiles. “Very well. I forgive you, Cullen.” However grudging it is, it’s a relief to hear. A weight has been lifted from his shoulders, one he did not realise was still so heavy.

Presently, they come to the far end of the battlements, in the shadow of the north tower. Renovations are already underway to convert it into a dedicated mage tower. Many in Skyhold have reservations about the project – Cullen himself had been opposed to it, initially – but Inquisitor Lavellan reasoned that magical experimentation needed to take place at Skyhold, and a mage tower would provide a safe environment for such testing. Perhaps it will serve the function he believed the Circle did, in another life. One he wishes he had never lived.

“You were right,” he says, eventually. Quietly. “You were right about everything.”

“I really hoped I wouldn’t be,” she says, mournfully.

“Another apology I owe you,” he admits. “I didn’t listen.”

Eireann shakes her head. “I didn’t think you would leave the Order. Not really. But you were my friend, or something like. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t try. And…after what happened, I suppose I felt responsible.”

“Why?” he blurts. A foolish question. He knows the answer the instant he says it. She turns her head away, staring at a point on the stone wall, though he suspects that she isn’t seeing it at all.

“It used my form.”

It did, and it didn’t. It had the shape of her face, the colour of her skin, the texture of her hair. It learned, after a few attempts, to mimic her freckles and errant cowlicks. But it was always too perfect. It never replicated the acne on her nose, or the slight inward slant of her front teeth, or the chicken pox scars on her jaw – those little things that you notice about a person that make them whole and real. When it appeared to him, it drove the shadows away from him with a wave of its hand. A hand it then held out to him. I’m here now, Cullen, with you. You’ve been so brave, my love. My knight in shining armour. You can let go, now. Let me take care of you. He banished it away. But each time it returned, with each gentle caress or kiss or sweet word whispered, his resolve would weaken. It would take him longer to stop the demon. And each time, the demon would do more.

And then another Eireann had come to his rescue, covered in blood, eyes wet and wild with a terrific fury. She didn’t cast the demon out with a graceful wave of her hand. Her movements were sharp and harsh. She pulled the demon away from him with magic, but when she killed it, it was with blunt physical force. She rained down blow after blow with her staff, until the demon was dead and twitching. She spat on it; he remembers that detail vividly, for some reason. He knew then that she was real, but it wasn’t until he tried and failed to will her away that he really believed it. He’d been saved.

He has no clue how to articulate all this, however, or even if he ought to say anything at all. She had carried it with her all this time. He had hated her for nothing.

“It was not a good likeness,” he says, eventually.

She is silent, for a while, and he starts to think he may have offended her, somehow. But she smiles, a beautiful, kind-hearted smile, and rests her left hand on his arm. A livid scar splits the back. He finds himself wishing that he could find whoever put it there, and reply in kind.

“Perhaps we can start again,” she says. “Be friends, like anybody else.”

We aren’t like anybody else.

“I’d like that,” he says, instead. Though, he realises, Kali will be meeting him soon, if she can find a spare moment for lunch. “But I’m afraid I have an appointment to keep.”

“Oh, is this with Kali?”

Cullen blinks in surprise, but quickly deduces what must have happened. “Leliana told you?”

“That she did,” Eireann replies, with a mischievous smirk. “I’m catching up on all the gossip. I also have it on good authority that the Iron Bull is not, in fact, a bull made of iron.” Cullen chuckles, and she seems pleased with that reaction. “I’d like to meet Kali. I mean, not right this minute, but I’d like to meet her. I think she’s been good for you.”

“I think you’re right,” he says. As much as he hates to burden her – she already takes far too much onto her shoulders – Kali has been a great comfort to him over these past months. She may not be able to take away the cravings for lyrium, or the pain in his joints, or the migraines, but she stood beside him as he fought it all, and never wavered. She has made him stronger.

Eireann nods. “I’ll come back in a few days, once we’re settled in. Then we can have a proper catch-up.” She brings her legs together, pressed tight, and salutes. “Commander Rutherford.”

He chuckles, and bends at the waist. “Warden-Commander Surana.” She grins, and makes for the stairs to the courtyard. When she turns to go down them, facing him again, she waves one last time before she disappears from view.

Cullen, however, does not return to his office. He walks to the outer wall of the ramparts, leaning against the stone as the world reels around him. He thinks about praying, but bringing this before the Maker feels sacrilegious. Insulting, even. Instead, he stares out at the fields and the heavy grey sky, as if reason might fly at him from out of the aether. Of course, it doesn’t. He is alone with a frightening realisation, a truth that could tear down everything he has built.

Cullen Rutherford is still completely, stupidly in love with Eireann Surana.

#text #dragon age #dai #video games #Cullen Rutherford #Warden Surana #OC: Eireann Surana #non Inquisitor Lavellan #OC: Kali Lavellan #Eddie writes #Steps of Faith

18 notes · View notes

siribear · 2 years ago

Text

Amell's heels click across the marble dance floor, where not hours before Florianne overplayed her hand. The bright, golden lights of the ballroom guide her back to the platform where she introduced herself to Empress Celene. Where Florianne now walks astride her brother and Briala to join Celene at her side.

Florianne, she's pleased to note, looks surprised and dismayed to see her. Something even Gaspard picks up on, stepping aside as Amell approaches the Grand Duchess, maskless before the court. All the better for them to see the flecks of blood on her cheek.

Amell throws the woman's own words back at her. It doesn't even take the mountain of evidence they have against her to bring her to her knees. Just the testimony of Gaspard's Fereldan mercenary and one of Briala's people to confirm the Grand Duchess was indeed the one in the royal quarter.

"Take her, Inquisitor. If she conspires with Corypheus against our empire, she is no sister of mine."

With a wave of her hand, two of Cullen's soldiers appear from the wings to take the Grand Duchess away. Leliana, too, peels away to follow Florianne to Skyhold.

"We'll get what information we can from her before turning her back over to you." Samson and Calpernia... the generals that stood with Corypheus at Haven. Maybe they can get something to corroborate Denam's statement. "Your Imperial Majesty."

Celene nods and gestures for Amell to meet her and the others outside. She squeezes Cullen's hand as she passes him on the way out to the balcony.

Amell looks out over the twilit garden, aware of the number of bodies no doubt still littering the grass, the blood still seeping into the dirt. The night air is cool against her skin, cutting through the thin fabric of her dress. She shivers, not from the breeze, but a memory.

Demons pouring from a rift she opened. How is it different from summoning them? The Anchor glows red in her palm, lingering longer than usual before subsiding to green.

Solas, in that red future, warned her of this assassination, and now they've prevented it. She hopes, in some way, it makes those sacrifices worth it.

"A copper for your thoughts?"

"Morrigan." Amell hangs her head before looking to her old friend. "It's nothing, really."

By her hum, she's unconvinced, but doesn't push further. "Celene has named me liaison to the Inquisition. Given our history, she thought you wouldn't mind. But I... thought I would ask."

Morrigan's courtly makeup almost hides her worry lines. It's eerily similar to the night she made her proposition that damned them all. Amell could have warned Elissa against the ritual, against old, forbidden magic.

But she didn't.

They were all so young and afraid to die.

Amell blinks. The ritual - it might just help her again. But Elissa... "You know I won't turn you away, Morri." It brings a small smile to Morrigan's face. She was always prettier when she didn't look like she was going to murder them all. "Just - let Elissa know, okay? I don't want to cause any more strife than necessary."

Morrigan bows and catches herself in it with a laugh. "If I hadn't seen it myself, I wouldn't believe you were the Inquisitor. You've changed."

Amell looks back over the garden. "Hopefully for the better."

"We shall see, won't we?" In her periphery, Morrigan nods at someone else approaching. Heavier footsteps than the soft slippers either of them are wearing. "What strange things fate has in store for all of us. I will speak with Elissa - if she will listen."

Without looking, "I have questions of my own once we return to Skyhold, Morrigan. I'd... appreciate your help with something."

There's a hesitation before she answers, "We'll speak later, then. Enjoy your night, Inquisitor."

Once the soft click of Morrigan's heels recedes, Cullen comes to stand next to her with a comforting hand on the soft of her back. His hand is warm against her skin. "What was that about?"

"Just a conversation between old friends." He doesn't pry further, but his terrible poker face doesn't hide his curiosity. "She fought with us during the Blight, but when she left it was... tense. The rest isn't my story to tell."

He relaxes, resumes the small circles he's been rubbing against her back. "I understand. How are you, though? You disappeared after your speech with Celene."

Amell resists the urge to put her head in her hands. Her makeup wouldn't survive it, and they still have to depart the Palace on good terms. She grips the balcony railing instead. "I - " Tears sting her eyes. Crying won't save her makeup, either. "Cullen - "

He draws her to him, and she buries her face in his shoulder. "It's okay. It's over now," he tells her, amid other comforting whispers.

She almost loses it there, sniffling once. She only grips the back of his uniform tighter, wrinkles and Josie's wrath be damned. With a deep breath, she pulls herself away from the comforting warmth of him and the smell of cologne Josie no doubt picked out for her benefit. She preoccupies herself with one of the buttons on the front while she finds the words.

The Anchor glares at her when she turns her hand.

"We were surrounded by Florianne's archers," she begins after clearing her throat. "And Elissa and the rest are good, but all it would take is one lucky shot - "

There's the image again of Elissa with an arrow in her throat, eyes wide and accusatory.

"Take your time," he says.

She keeps her gaze steady on that button. "The Veil was weak in the gardens. Weak enough to open a rift, and I - I opened it. I brought demons into the Winter Palace to save us. Elissa still got hit by an arrow in the shoulder in the chaos."

His hands move from her hips to detach her hands from their death grip on his uniform. "That explains why Alistair wouldn't leave her side." One holds her Anchor-marked hand and the other tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "But I felt it when the Veil tore, even without - lyrium. I was worried for you."

His fingers are feather light as they trace her jaw. "I did it - "

A kiss to her temple quiets her and the anxiety welling in her chest. "You said. I won't lie, part of me is concerned." She tries to look away, but he gently brings her gaze back up to him. "But you were given the Anchor for a reason, and I trust you in your use of it. Just... please, be safe."

His stubble is rough against her palms as she brings her hands to cup the sides of his face. "You're too good." For me, she thinks just before she kisses him, cutting off the beginning of his disagreement. She deepens the kiss to pull herself flush against him, and he responds immediately with a groan that warms her to her toes.

He only has to take a step sideways to pin her between him and the railing. They part to catch their breath, and Amell watches his eyes rove down the body of her dress once more. "Annwn," he sighs, and holds himself steady with his arms bracketed around her and one leg between hers.

"I know." She kisses him again, and it's with an effort they keep it chaste. "Sorry, I've been watching Elissa and Alistair paw at each other all night."

Cullen chuckles and untangles himself from her. "I don't, uh - I don't mind." He ducks his head. "Obviously. That isn't why I came out here though."

"Oh?"

"I mean - I did want to see if you were all right, but I also - "

Music drifts through the open balcony door. A slow waltz, played beautifully by the band. She looks inside to see others moving away from their clusters around the dance floor to find partners. Amell catches Elissa's eye before Alistair pulls his wife into the dance.

Before her, Cullen bows low at the waist and holds out his hand. "I believe I owe you a dance, my lady."

"You don't have to. I was only mostly kidding," she says, though she still places her hand in his. The pads of his fingers tingle under the scarred skin of her unmarked palm.

He comes out of the bow to place his hand at her waist. He leads them in the dance, surprisingly well. "Did Josie teach you as well? Or do all templars know how to dance?"

"My older sister, actually." His eyes light up at the mention of her. "She insisted all of us know. Though we were all young, and it was... less graceful than this." He smiles, wistful, far and away.

"I didn't know you had a sister."

"Two, actually. One younger, one older. And a younger brother." He quickly shifts his hand to the small of her back when she stumbles. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I just - " She frowns. "I'm realizing I hardly know what your life was like before Kinloch Hold. What your family was like, you know?"

He hums low in consideration. "I don't write them as much as I probably should, but I'd be happy to tell you about them. For now..."

At the end of the song, he leans down and kisses her, and it's full of warmth and possibility and starlight.

Amell stops Elissa before she can enter the carriage she shares with Alistair. Elissa steps back from the door, but Amell keeps one hand on it to keep her from shutting her out.

Now, she can see the lines of exhaustion on Elissa's face, where she hadn't known to look before. From Josie's brief upset, Amell learned what Elissa did to the nobles. The things she said, the punches swung. Maybe she shouldn't have left her and Alistair to navigate it alone, but she did what she had to.

And she knows they can handle themselves. The Inquisition will survive a minor Orlesian noble's hurt pride.

"Did Morrigan go to see you?"

"She did."

Amell winces at the clipped answer. "Please don't be angry with me. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Elissa's grin breaks through the tired lines and the make up. "By the look on your face, you've got something planned." And then it's back, that worry. That dread. "Whatever you decide, you know I'll stand with you." It hurts, knowing Amell once said the same.

"Thank you." Amell drops her hand away from the door. "I know I told you this before, but you look stunning. Moreso than when the night began." With her hair loose over her shoulders, windswept by combat. Make up thinned over the course of the night to almost be natural. "I wish we had more time to actually enjoy this."

"You look beautiful yourself, Annie." Elissa inspects the sleeve of her dress. "We can drag these old things out once Corypheus is dead. How about that?"

They'll let Josie plan the big party she no doubt wants to have. No obnoxious Orlesian nobles invited. "I'm looking forward to it."

With a quick hug Amell leaves Elissa to her waiting husband, and is surprised to see only Cullen waiting for her by their own carriage. "I thought Josie was riding with us?"

He helps her into the cabin. "She, ah, thought we might not want a third wheel. So she's riding with Vivienne and Varric."

She rolls her eyes. It gives them privacy to talk, at least, about all the things they were never allowed to know about each other in the Tower. He tells her of his sisters, Mia and Rosalie, his brother Branson and his nephew. How he wanted to become a templar to be part of an organization that helped people.

Together, they mourn his parents that never made it to South Reach.

By the time they make it back to Skyhold, she's helped him pen a letter to Mia, and they keep it personal - nothing like the letters she used to write Elissa from Soldier's Peak.

The returning Inquisition scatters across the fortress, glad to be home, and so it's easy for her and Cullen to break away to her room. Before Alistair arrived, she slept in one of the rooms above the garden, next to Elissa's but now - now she appreciates the quiet and privacy that comes with her tower.

Outside which Cullen stops nervously, despite them sharing a tent for the days they were on the road. "I - I should - "

"Stay." She draws him through the door with a kiss, and he follows. "Stay." He's smart enough to lock the door behind them.

Back is that intensity from the Winter Palace. They don't even make it up the stairs before she's got him out of his shirt. "Cullen," she breathes, and he looks down at her, amber eyes dark and almost swallowed by black. "I like this wall, but my bed is even better."

He picks her up to carry her the rest of the way, and she presses kiss after biting kiss to the junction of his neck. "Annwn," he grumbles in warning, in the same breath he brings her hips closer to his.

"You wear armor all the time," she says, smiling into the next kiss. "No one will see." No one but her.

They break apart long enough to shed the rest of their clothing, before Cullen deposits both of them onto the bed. She falls into the furs of her blankets and the feather down of her pillows. And Cullen hovers over her, propped up on all fours and just - stops.

His eyes soften in the candlelight. "I dreamt of this." His voice is rough and reverent, and he stares at her like she's a sacred relic atop a holy altar.

"Did you?" Let her be one, then. She flips them, straddling him. His hands reflexively go to her hips. She moves over him, and his neck arches back to expose the long line of his throat and the reddening trail she left behind.

"Yes," he gasps when she moves again. "After - Wicked Grace."

When she left the tavern in search of him and watched him wander Skyhold in only his smallclothes. How she wanted to stay with him in his tower and only tasted the alcohol on his tongue before she left. He dreamt of her -

His fingers dig into her hips hard enough to bruise. "Annwn," he hisses between gritted teeth. "Stop."

She does, without question.

"Cullen," she soothes, from the side of the bed. Their only point of contact is her hand in his, held in a crushing grip. "Breathe, sweetheart. You're safe." She slips her arm into the other sleeve of a robe she had beside her bed. "You're safe."

Cullen's next gasp is explosive, like waking from a nightmare, and perhaps he is. He releases her hand to cover his face. "I'm sorry." It breaks her heart to hear the tears there. "It was - " He takes a deep breath at her urging. "With the demon, it was always you - " Above him, smothering. She knows how desire demons can be. "I wasn't ready for it to feel so real, again."

Oh, Cullen. "Would you like me to go?"

That, at least, brings a watery chuckle out of him. He lowers his hand from his face to tuck his fingers under hers, the indent of them still red on her skin. "This is your room."

She bites her lip. "Well, I won't kick you out. But if you're uncomfortable..."

He sits up and kisses her, soft and sweet. Her breath hitches as he moves from her lips to her pulse point, to ease the sleeve of her robe down to move to her shoulder. He eyes the scar on her arm, just now fading, and the ones on the palm of her hand. "Redcliffe?"

"Yes," she whispers, not entirely a lie.

Cullen kisses those, too, each one, then each knuckle on her hand before placing her palm on his heart. "I want this." His heartbeat flutters under her hand. "I want you. I just... need you to be patient with me."

Patience is the least she can give him. "Of course."

This time, when he removes her robe and bears her back down to the bed, he doesn't stop.

Amell wakes only because Cullen does, and it's far too early. Morning hasn't even broken over the mountains, and the colorful patterns from the stained glass of her windows have only just started to creep across the floor.

She feels his breathing speed up, then even out into deep breaths that tickle the back of her neck. He sighs, presses close, but never quite relaxes. There's a nervous energy that keeps his legs tense even as they lie tangled with hers.

"Rest," she urges in a drowsy whisper. "Just a little bit longer."

The tickle of breath turns to a kiss behind her ear, and she feels as he finally falls back asleep.

They're finally awoken by the sound of the door opening and a giggle at the bottom of the stairs. The servants, not used to knocking. "Inquisitor?"

Cullen quickly pulls the covers over his head. Amell sits up and calls back to affirm she's awake.

"Would you like a bath drawn, Inquisitor?"

She lifts the covers just enough to see Cullen's face, beet red. "Yes, please." With another giggle, they're left alone in the morning light finally spilling radiant color over the bed and walls. "They're gone, for now."

"My shirt - " he grumbles into the pillow. "Bottom of the stairs."

Amell smiles. "Yes, it was." She leans down to kiss him, and he's slow to respond. "I took you for more of a morning person."

"I am," he insists, voice still laden with sleep. "But this is... I think this is the best I've slept since - I can't remember."

"You could stay here every night, you know. The servants, they - well, they're always surprised you aren't."

"I need to be available if the recruits need me." The covers fall back down over his head, hiding everything but his frown.

"I know." He's responsible. And Amell has gotten used to taking advantage of the fact that if no one's awake then no one needs her, then she can sleep in. "But they keep bringing me enough breakfast for two."

"That's why you always bring me food in the morning?" She hums her assent. "So, they were skipping me on purpose..."

She laughs and brushes the covers away again, this time to run her fingers through his hair. The curls smooth out around them, and he leans into it like the lion he wears on his helm. "I suspect Elissa has been setting us up for longer than we realize."

When the servants finally return, she almost has him sleeping once more. But at the sound of the door, up again go the blankets over his head.

She loves him, she thinks, as she dons her robe to help them set up the bath. She loves the man that stands before demons and does not falter, but still hides in embarrassment from servants that have long since been expecting him in her bed.

Cullen joins her in the magic-warmed water and settles over her, and she feels home in this moment. Safe. Like the world outside this room doesn't exist and there aren't responsibilities piling up like the water that puddles at the base of the tub.

Amell loves him, she knows, with every nerve that alights at his touch. Every breath he steals is his to take. And in the cooling water, him draped over her and neither of them any cleaner, she finds peace.

Kieran is... a strange boy. Raven haired like his mother, very well spoken and even mannered. Maybe this is what Morrigan was like when she was younger, with Flemeth for a mother. But the child she hadn't even thought was real stares at and through her, and behind eyes that remind her too much of Alistair, she feels the pull of the Old God's soul.

"You're a mage, too," he says. "But where's your staff?"

"I don't usually carry it around Skyhold. It scares some people," she explains.

Kieran nods, almost sagely. "Mother says people fear things they don't understand. But you aren't so scary." He looks to the cloud covered sky and around the blossoming garden. "The castle likes you. It says you remind it of someone."

"You... can speak to Skyhold?"

He shakes his head. "No. I just listen. Can't you hear it? You're an elf, too."

"Half." Kieran shrugs. "But - no, I don't hear anything. I was led here. Skyhold didn't... call me."

The child frowns, as if there's something she just isn't getting. "Who led you, then?"

"Kieran, are you bothering the Inquisitor?"

"No, mother! We were just talking. She's nice, like you said."

Amell raises an eyebrow at Morrigan. "Of course I told him about you," her friend says defensively, tumbling over the words. "All of you. I - the way I left, you all deserved that much. Kieran," this, softer, motherly, "return to your studies."

Kieran, however, still pouts like a regular child would. "Yes, mother."

"This place is old, he's right. Tarasyl'an Te'las, the place where the sky is kept."

"You've done your homework." She's seen the past here, walked it with Solas, and the owners that came before her. Never back to when it was first built. There were no spirits around to remember that, he said.

"Tis an interesting place. I had to know." Morrigan sighs. "I had my own reasons for wanting to join the Inquisition, just as you have your reasons for wanting me here. Tell me yours, and I will tell you mine."

Amell grins at the mirroring of their very first conversation, and Morrigan does the same. So she brings her to a storage room, abandoned to the spiders that have made their home there. And to the new mirror, devoid of dust or cobwebs, that definitely wasn't there before.

"I'm not surprised you were drawn here." Morrigan gestures to the mirror. "But you first."

Amell closes the door with an echoing click. "The ritual." The one that saved and broke them. "I want to know how you did it."

Morrigan's face goes blank. "Tis not something you need to know."

"Morri, it's not like that. This is just... a way for both of us to make amends, to her." By Morrigan's face, Amell doesn't need to explain to whom.

The ritual isn't possible, not without an arch demon soul. But there may be a way, less guaranteed, if they work backwards from Flemeth's spell. That, combined with the updates Avernus continues to send her from his experiments -

And in exchange, Morrigan introduces her to the eluvian.

These are the things she learns in the following days: Samson and Calpernia are Corypheus's generals, each in charge of the Red Templars and Venatori; Cullen knew Samson but Calpernia is an unknown; Leliana's scouts haven't returned from the Western Approach, whether by Corypheus's doing or otherwise.

And finally, that Elissa has made herself scarce, at least where Amell is concerned. Considering the woman has an almost magical sense in knowing whenever something happens between her and Cullen, Amell half expected to see her friend standing outside her door that very morning. And yet, nothing.

Maker, she's heard back from Loghain before Elissa.

So when she begins her rounds of checking in on each of the inner circle, she's surprised to run into Elissa outside Solas's rotunda. "Fancy meeting you here," she says. She seems chipper, but Alistair, too, is nowhere to be found.

"Uh, is it?" Amell has a set path she walks around Skyhold, known to pretty much everyone. Predictable enough that the others can tell something's amiss just if she visits them too soon or too late.

Of course, not seeing Elissa has thrown them all off for days.

"Sure is. Walk with me?" It's a question, but Elissa hooks their arms together.

Varric watches them both walk by, and tells her he'll let the others know she'll be late today.

Cullen has to admit, Alistair is skilled. The former templar training is there. He feels it each time their blades meet, the downshift and strike that follows. But there's a calculated lack of precision in the counter attacks that keeps Cullen on his feet.

The man has been fighting darkspawn for years, and it shows.

He also lets frustration fuel the power behind his jabs, and it's sloppy. Disorienting. He actually has to brace harder against each block, even if the following parry is easier.

Cullen catches the moment Alistair hesitates, the man's body responding to something he can't see. They lock blades again. "Take a hit," Alistair tells him, grinning, teeth bared.

"Is this how you win your fights?"

"What?" Alistair blinks. "No, just - just take a hit, trust me."

He'd trust the man in any other moment than this. "No. Earn it."

Outside, the crisp mountain air tries to bite at them. White puffs of air follow behind with every breath, but, strangely, the longer she stays in Skyhold the less she seems to feel the cold here.

"Have you been avoiding me?"

Her exit from the tower can only mean she met with one of two people, and Amell has noticed Elissa and Dorian have gotten along more than her friend has with some of the other inner circle. If Elissa wants to confide in him, too, then she can only be happy both of them have found a friend in the other.

But Elissa hasn't spoken to her since Morrigan arrived, and her and Alistair aren't currently joined at the proverbial hip - perhaps that's Amell's fault, too.

Elissa picks at her collar and brushes away invisible dust from her sleeve to confirm it.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay." There's a smile that actually reaches her eyes. "It's something I have to work through with Alistair."

Steel clashes in the training yard below them. Rhythmically, again, again, again. But it's only one pair of swords instead of the usual clanging from the whole group of recruits. Amell looks down to see Cullen and Alistair locked in combat. Her brother strikes harder than necessary for simple training.

"Seems like you're not the only one that has to work through something."

Elissa joins her in watching, a dreamy look crossing her face. And Alistair keeps pushing harder.

"Oh, Annie, look at Cullen," Elissa coos.

Maker, she is, at the ease with which he fights back, his grin as he enjoys the melee. But if Alistair hurts him, she'll be very cross.

"Must be the templar training. Oh, and the discipline." Elissa looks to her with a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows that Amell has somehow come to miss. "He should put that to good use."

Amell folds her arms and grins. "He already has."

Elissa's jaw goes slack for all of a heartbeat before she grabs Amell by the shoulders. "Why is this the first I'm hearing of this? We're sisters, you're supposed to tell me these things!"

It's like being in the Tower all over again. Really, Amell figured one of the servants' gossip would have gotten around to Elissa eventually. But at least she gets to experience this. "Oh. After which time was I supposed to tell you?"

"Annie!"

Laughter floats down to the training yard just as Alistair dances away from his strike. Though Cullen falls into a defensive stance, Alistair doesn't come any closer. Instead, he throws his arms to the ground and removes his shirt.

What in the world has he gotten himself into?

He chances a glance upward, to see Annwn and Elissa. The former laughs while the latter shakes her by the shoulders.

"Do you get it now?"

He looks up again to see them watching, and Annwn tilts her head with a smile. Then to Alistair, goading.

Cullen sets down his sword and shield to pull his shirt over his head. Once more, with his weapons back in hand, "Make it a shallow cut."

Alistair twirls his sword with a flourish. "Hey, I just got married. You think I want to die?"

Amell blinks in confusion. "Why are they shirtless now?"

Elissa laughs at looks down with a knowing smile. "It was probably Alistair's idea."

Cullen moves slower than he did before. "What if they get hurt?"

He doesn't bring his shield up in time, and Amell is running before she even sees the blow connect. She brushes roughly past Alistair who has the nerve to shrug at her with Cullen's blood dripping from the tip of his blade.

"What?"

"What?" Amell repeats, mocking, not even looking at him. She inspects Cullen's arm, who sits there dutifully and allows it. "Alistair, please don't maim my commander. It's bad for morale."

"Uh huh. Your commander. You're welcome, by the way."

She ignores him, finally finding the cut. Shallow, barely enough to break the skin. When she looks at him, Cullen is flush across his torso. His bruises from their night after Halamshiral are still healing, but dark in stark contrast to the red.

Amell frowns. "He put you up to this, didn't he?" Cullen nods, slowly. She sighs and runs a finger lightly along the cut, the skin mending as she traces it. "You're going to be a bad influence on him, Alistair."

Alistair snorts. "You can only hope. Anyway. The Warden Commander and I will be unavailable for the rest of the day, Annie."

She rolls her eyes. "Gross."

"Inquisitor," Cullen says softly, and it's then she realizes she's been absently running her thumb across the muscle of his arm. Thankfully, most of the crowd has dispersed.

He helps her to her feet. "Well, I didn't expect to see you like this so soon." They both knew they wouldn't be able to see each other as often, once their responsibilities increased after Halamshiral. But he's still her final visit at the end of the day, so she can be with him the longest. "Let's get you changed, Commander."

He follows her up to his office. Behind the closed (and locked - they're learning!) door, his hands go to her shirt but she bats them away.

"Alistair and Elissa have a monopoly on the rest of the day," she reminds him.

Fingers undoing the laces to his pants, she places a chaste kiss to his lips and trails her way down. Between each one a pause, a question. He threads his fingers through her hair and moans the very opposite of "no."

Solas asked for a favor, and Amell agreed. As she prepared, so too did Vivienne and Iron Bull. This is how they come to cross the Exalted Plains in search of Solas's friend and a snowy white wyvern.

With every rift they stop to close and every bandit they're forced to fight off, tension coils in Solas's form the longer it takes to find his spirit.

He stalks the roads like a predator waiting to strike.

"Morrigan knows a lot about Skyhold," she says in an attempt to distract him from the empty horizon.

"What she thinks she knows," he bites back, "is inconsequential. It is nothing I have not shown you already."

"I know, but her boy mentioned something about the fortress being... sentient. It spoke to him."

He pulls his shoulder back and at once he looks less like the creature whose jaw bone hangs from his neck. "Skyhold is old, and the magic in its walls ancient. With such a history, places can almost form what we would interpret as a personality."

"He said I remind it of someone."

"I have shown you its past occupants. Unique as you are, no doubt it has seen someone like you over hundreds of years."

"But what do you make of it?"

He sighs, anger and impatience turned to sadness and longing. "That Skyhold was once a place of great importance and regret."

He's saved from her following question by the squelch of blood soaked dirt under her boots. A trail of corpses leads them to a summoning circle and wisdom turned to pride. There's no way to save it, even with the cairns scattered into pebbles around them.

"No senseless death, Solas." She stops him with a hand on his arm. "There's been enough of it here."

He jerks away from her without a word, and the mages that corrupted his friend run free.

Bull cuts into the ribs of each fallen wyvern with gusto. Each one Vivienne declares unusable, he takes as a trophy and reminder that Amell might have promised to take him full grown dragon hunting. He promises to make them all necklaces of teeth.

"What is this for?" Amell asks as they wade through the ankle deep water of Ghilannain's Grove.

"A little late to be asking now, isn't it, my dear? We are already well under way."

Like with Solas, she had readily accepted Vivienne's request without asking too many questions. "I'm only mostly asking so I don't have to focus on how wet my socks are."

Vivienne laughs. "A fair point. It's for a member of the council of heralds. You met them at the Winter Palace."

Amell thinks she remembers them. The lucky ones not caught in Florianne's little game. "But it's for an alchemical potion, isn't it? What would they want it for?"

Vivienne's eyes brighten when she catches sight of a slender white tail. "That's their secret, my dear Inquisitor. I would not tell theirs, just as I would keep yours."

When Vivienne holds the bloody heart in her hands, she turns to Amell with the softest expression she's ever seen on her face. "I... don't know what I expected when I asked you to help me retrieve this. Not when your friend and I don't seem to get along."

Amell shrugs. "I can't control Elissa, as much as Josie wishes I could." She places a hand over Vivienne's. The wyvern heart is cold to the touch. "We may not see eye to eye on everything, but I respect you, Vivienne. I was happy to help."

"Please, come with me, then. It's only right you're with me to see this through."

The Ghislain Estate smells of medicine and death, sweet and sterile, as Vivienne stares down at the body of her dead lover.

Age regression potion, Vivienne's notes said when she asked for help applying the heart. He was already dying, and she looked into an unstable, experimental potion just to save him. Vivienne tells her of when they first met, love at first sight.

It's going to be all right, my love.

"I am so sorry, Vivienne," she whispers, as if it'll be enough. "If there's anything I can do..."

"Thank you, but I must do this on my own. You've been... a good friend, Amell."

There's always so much more to do.

"It's getting worse. I don't... know if I can stand it."

"You can. You will." Cassandra knows he has weathered worse. He will survive this.

Cullen slams his fist on a table. She doesn't flinch. "I lost where I was yesterday! I looked up and I - I barely recognized Skyhold."

"The Inquisitor knows?"

He unclenches his fist, hangs his head. "She - she saw me at my worst, at Kinloch Hold." Cassandra remembers his dossier. "She knows I'm no longer talking lyrium."

She nods, places a would-be comforting hand on his shoulder. "Speak to her, then, before you decide on anything rash."

Amell sends periodic updates just in case they're waylaid by Corypheus's army. Two weeks out from the Storm Coast and then back to Skyhold.

"She's your anchor, Cullen, she'll return to you soon."

His laugh is hollow, ragged in its amusement. "You've been reading too many of Varric's novels, Cassandra."

She kicks the offending book further under the table, out of his sight. There wasn't enough time for her to hide it before he found her in the armory's loft. "You didn't see anything, Commander."

"No, of course not."

They can't hold both positions.

Another wave of Venatori climbs the hill to the Chargers. Against the sheets of rain that blanket the area, Amell can't count just how many but it's too much for the others to handle.

And her own group has dwindled down to almost none.

No more senseless death.

"Fuck the dreadnought, Bull." He stands stock still, frozen in indecision. Caught between his people and his people. "The Chargers are going to die if we don't help them."

"You'd turn your back on the Qun, Hissrad? You'd become Tal-Vashoth!"

A crack of thunder, or a fallen tree. Somewhere, Krem yells, "Horns up!"

"My name - " He unsheathes his axe. " - Is Iron Bull."

The Chargers have no idea how close a thing it was, not with the mountain of Venatori corpses surrounding them. But Krem gets it, when he looks out at the ocean horizon and sees the retreating Qunari dreadnought.

"Thanks, Bull," is all he says, with two full tankards of ale in one hand.

The boss grins. "So, how many'd you kill? Bet I got you beat."

Krem laughs. "Fuck no."

"Sorry about your alliance, boss," Bull says after they're finally dry and walking through the gates of Skyhold. The Chargers march past them, straight to the tavern.

Amell shrugs. She eyes the stable to see that while Solas's horse is still missing, Vivienne has returned. "Wasn't worth the sacrifice."

A servant appears, carrying a box she and Elissa had requested while they were on the road. Gatt agreed to follow them back to Skyhold if only to take it back with him.

He eyes it cautiously. "What's this?"

"For your Arishok. An apology."

"You could always just give him the letter attached to it," Elissa says. "But if he finds out you got rid of his cookies, that's on your head."

Gatt inspects the plain paper, the twine that holds it together. "Cookies," he deadpans.

"It's... probably best you just go with it. Unless you're under orders to kill me."

Gatt shakes his head and leaves, the box under his arm. The cookies will be stale by the time they make it back, but the sentiment is there. Hopefully.

Dorian finds them there, in the middle of a discussion of how the Chargers are planning to celebrate their survival.

"A party, and no one thought to invite me? I'm offended, Inquisitor."

Amell laughs. "You tried to drink yourself into a stupor at the last one we attended. I thought I'd save you a headache."

Dorian takes a gracious bow. "But I did so enjoy myself, regardless. And on the topic of parenting..."

His father wants to meet him in Redcliffe, but he doesn't look happy about it. Even though she wants for a quick bath, they make preparations to leave before nightfall.

At least, until Cassandra interrupts their slow walk to the castle. "Inquisitor, you're back." She looks at the party, and the fact their horses remain saddled. "Are you leaving again?"

"Just a quick jaunt into town," Dorian explains. "Family business."

Cassandra's jaw sets. "Go see Cullen before you leave. He's - "

Amell doesn't hear the rest. She runs.

#siri drabbles #series: homeward bound #otp: the one thing i always wanted #diredwolves #cullen x amell

6 notes · View notes

dasmutquisition · 3 years ago

Text

Nomination Issues Round Up #1

In the first 12 hours there have been 264 nominations approved.

Approved nominations can be found on the spreadsheet (please be patient as we move from the alphabetized list sheet into the categories). All nominations submitted BEFORE 12:00PM US EST have been reviewed. Please check the spreadsheet for approved noms.

If you would like to clarify any of the below nominations so we can add them please let us know!

Rejected Nominations:

Cullen Rutherford/Alistair - approved already as Alistair/Cullen Rutherford

Calpernia & Raleigh Samson - accepted this nom in the shippy form, Calpernia/Raleigh Samson

Isabela/Fenris - approved already as Fenris/Isabela

Alistair/Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford - no background for Inquisitor

Anders/Female Warden - no background for Warden

Blackwall/Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford - no background for Inquisitor

Calpernia/Female Inquisitor - no background for Inquisitor

Carver Hawke/Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford/Rylen - no background for Inquisitor

Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford - no background for Inquisitor

Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford/Rylen - no background for Inquisitor

Sten/Female Warden - no background for warden

Alistair/Flemeth/Male Warden (Dragon Age) - no background for warden

Flemeth/Inquisitor (Dragon Age) - no background for inquisitor

Anders/Hawke - no gender for Hawke

Cousland/Nathaniel Howe - no gender for Cousland

Fenris/Hawke - no gender for Hawke

Hawke/Varric Tethras - no gender for Hawke

Justice/Hawke/Anders - no gender for Hawke

Flemeth/Original Character(s) - this is a bit too vague. Please let us know a gender or what type of characters (soldiers, villagers, mages, etc)

Zevran Arainai/Tabris - no gender for Tabris

Dragon Age Inquisition - only accepting DA: All Media Types as a fandom for tag set/AO3 reasons

Female Lavellan/Dreadwolf - while the mod team is (sincerely) hoping you want the massive wolf with six eyes - we're not sure that's a separate character from Solas or Fen'Harel although we highly encourage you to put this as a prompt in a Solas or Fen'Harel request

Explanations:

We are allowing Fen'Harel as a separate character from Solas - do what you will with it! All Fen'Harel noms have been approved so far

#nomination clarification needed #SO MANY NOMS

9 notes · View notes

nirikeehan · 1 year ago

Note

For Cullen & Samson: nodus tollens n. the realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore. from Obscure Sorrows and

HI LUCKY THANK YOU this got me deep in my Cullen & Samson feels

for @dadrunkwriting

WC: 1517

---

“Did you hear, Knight-Captain? Samson finally got the boot.”

“Mmm— what?” Cullen was hunched over his desk, deep in an intel report about rebel mage movements in Darktown. He looked up from the parchment, blinking blearily.

Knight-Lieutenant Oliver leaned against the threshold of his office doorway, arms crossed. He was a recently promoted youth hailing from Rivain, and a little too smug with his upward mobility. The amused grin spread across his face, incongruous with the words he spoke. “I said, Samson’s out.”

No, that can’t be right. Dread wound its way up Cullen’s spine. “What do you mean, Samson’s out? I just saw him this morning.” From a distance, anyway, making his way across one of the Gallows’ many courtyards. Cullen had thought about catching up with him to say hello, but Samson hadn’t been keen on talking lately — ever since Cullen’s latest promotion.

“Must’ve happened right after. They hauled him right into Meredith’s office and everything. Can you believe it? Over some love letters.” Oliver snickered. “Full expulsion.”

Cullen jumped to his feet, nearly sending a stack of papers flying. “That’s preposterous. On what grounds? Nothing prohibits a Templar from having a relationship, not unless—” Maker, he hoped Samson hadn’t been stupid enough to fall for a mage.

“They weren’t his letters, Knight-Captain. He was smuggling them for a mage, to his woman in Lowtown.”

Well, that was sloppy, but it shouldn’t be — as they say — a hanging offense. Cullen remembered they lived in a place called the Gallows and winced. He stepped out from behind his desk, hurrying toward the door. “I’ve got to speak to him.”

Oliver looked at him as if he’d grown another head. “Shouldn’t you be glad, ser? Everyone knows Samson was filching from the lyrium stores. Has been for years.”

Cullen slowed to a halt. A memory surfaced with a sickening lurch: early in his tenure in Kirkwall, when Samson greeted him with a wry smile, hands in the pockets of his trousers. Passing Cullen casually in the barracks and pressing an extra vial, humming with heat, into his palm. Meeting Cullen in darkened alcoves in the dead of night so they could take the hits together, then wile the restless hours away, discussing the mundane philosophies that preoccupied them in those days. Cullen felt very old, thinking back on it, even though it had only been a few years ago.

“And who knows what else he was up to?” Knight-Lieutenant Oliver was saying. “I’m just shocked Meredith was able to nail him on something so simple. Shame about the mage, though. He’s been slated for Tranquility.”

“That sounds… excessive.” It all sounded so excessive. Anguish twisted in Cullen’s chest, acute and unbidden. What was going on here? Part of him wanted to march down the hall to Meredith’s office and demand answers, but approaching the Knight-Commander with a bludgeon and not a scalpel was unwise. Especially if she had just cut off one of their own so ruthlessly. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Oliver stepped aside. Cullen wandered the corridors toward the barracks in a daze, his mind spinning. He’d known, of course, that it was a Knight-Commander’s prerogative to expel a knight from the Order, but he’d never seen it happen in practice. There were other ways to deal with insubordination — he knew, with a pang of guilt, that reassignment was common. Suspension from duty, demotion, even incarceration — but that was for serious offenses. Samson had taken a few letters as a favor for a lovelorn mage, and now he was to be cast out onto the street? Cullen felt sick.

He climbed the stairs to the templar barracks, hoping he would catch Samson packing up before he was escorted out. Cullen knew where Samson’s quarters were — the same dormitory they’d shared when Cullen first arrived in Kirkwall. The communal rooms were for the lower level knights; Cullen had obtained private accommodations upon his promotion to Knight-Lieutenant. That was, he had to admit, when things started to change between him and Samson. Cullen tried to blame the fact that there were fewer opportunities for them to socialize, but he knew that wasn’t the whole of it. He tried to keep up with Samson, sitting with him at mealtimes and such, but there was a chill in his friend’s demeanor that hadn’t been there before. He found it harder to break through Samson’s silences. And oftentimes he couldn’t find Samson at all — his vanishing act had always been legendary. After awhile, Cullen had to admit, he stopped trying.

But that didn’t mean he had wanted this to happen. There had been a period of time when he considered Samson his best — and only — friend. A time when he couldn’t conceive of a life without the older, rougher knight in it. So Samson had a jaundiced eye and an affinity for bending the rules. That was, when it came down to it, why Cullen liked him. He always seemed so much braver than Cullen, on the whole.

Cullen rounded the corner in the familiar stretch of hallways and stopped dead. A gaggle of knights were standing outside the door to their old dorm room, whispering and smirking to one another. Cullen recognized the lot of them: noble sons and daughters, of an age with Samson, several of whom he knew to have cause to dislike him. Come to gloat, have you? Cullen wanted to ask, but that was unbecoming of the Knight-Captain.

They saw him approaching and snapped to attention, which brought him a bit of satisfaction.

“Step aside,” Cullen said, using the authoritative tone Meredith had taught him. “I would like to have a word with Knight-Templar Samson before—” Former. Former Knight-Templar. He holds that title no longer. Cullen swallowed thickly. “Before he departs.”

The knights exchanged conspiratorial glances. “I’m sorry, Knight-Captain. He’s already gone.”

“Already?” Cullen was aghast. It was barely noon. Not that he knew Samson to have much in the way of worldly possessions, but surely it might have taken him at least an hour or two to—

“Knight-Commander Meredith had his belongings taken to him,” one of the brood told him, as if reading his mind. “He was escorted right to the docks after meeting with her.”

Cullen stared at their faces, familiar ones Samson used to whisper to him about. The noble pricks are the ones to watch out for, kid. They’ll smile to your face and stab ya in the back first chance they get. Now they didn’t dare, because Cullen was second-in-command, but each one struggled to hide a sense of self-satisfaction.

“And why,” Cullen asked, weighing his words carefully, allowing a lethal weight to hang on every one, “does it seem like I’m the last one to know the events of this morning?”

Silence reigned. A few faces reddened; others blanched. None was brave enough to say it: We know he was your friend. We remember when you two were the Black Sheep of Kirkwall. But you abandoned him, Knight-Captain, and now you are reaping the destruction you’ve sown.

Cullen clenched his fists, then his teeth. “Back to your duties. All of you.”

The little crowd dispersed, leaving Cullen alone in the corridor. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He walked to the door to the dorm room, peering inside. There it was, the long, narrow space where he’d spent his first months in Kirkwall. There was Samson’s bed, stripped bare, the foot locker empty. There was the window that looked out over the bay, where they sometimes sat and played Wicked Grace.

Cullen went to the window and leaned heavily against the frame. The sun shone on the water, and the day was hazy, making it difficult to see to the Lowtown docks on the opposite side. If Cullen took the ferry across, would he find Samson sitting there, in the same sort of stupor?

My office is right down the hall, he thought. I didn’t even hear it. That seemed to be by design.

Samson had no family to speak of, no relative to track down and knock on the door. Cullen had asked once, only to receive a dismissive shrug. Never met the old man. Heard his name was Sam. My mum was happy to be rid of me, first chance she could.

No family, no money, no place to go.

And the lyrium.

Cullen had heard of the terrible things that befell Templars cut off from lyrium. Shakes, fevers, madness. The agony of it. It was a brutal masterstroke, if one wanted a man to suffer.

Is that what Meredith wants? For him to suffer?

He didn’t want to believe it. Cullen couldn’t believe it. Meredith could be harsh, but she wasn’t capricious. She had measured, logical reasons for everything she did, for every decision she made.

And I wasn’t told. All this happened without knowledge of the Knight-Captain, someone who much vouch for Samson, urge Meredith to choose mercy.

I have to do something. He had been idle too long. Surely the decision could be appealed. He just had to do his job.

#fics #cullen rutherford #raleigh samson #it's cullen and samson hours again #and it hurts #dragon age drunk writing circle

11 notes · View notes

clowns-of-thedas · 5 years ago

Text

Dragon Age Characters as weird things my friend and I said: Part 3

The Inquisitor: I got my 2 smart minutes of the week.

Sera: I go to church, I see a dick, I turn around, I see a tit.

Vivienne: *With a monotonous voice* What a ride, during the last 3 hours I felt more emotions than in the past 2 years.

Cassandra: You’re going to war, not Berlin fashion week.

Josephine: Once in a lifetime you can commit tax fraud.

Cullen: *Trying to explain unisex bathrooms* You know it was one of those bisexual toilets.

Blackwall: 3 am is usually my existential crisis time.

Solas: Truly shakespearean. Nearly had a stroke spelling this.

Iron Bull: Merc not for the weapons but for the ass.

Cole: Being dead won’t make me less anxious.

Dorian: At exactly 20:00 I overreact.

Harding: To bi or not to bi.

Requisition Officer: Go fetch me some needles.

Krem: Can’t even speak properly, if you remember.

Valta: Imma have to fix my sleep schedule in one day… and I am gonna fail.

Renn: Chilling in the cellar.

Celene: The French in a nutshell: we ain’t doin’ shit, bye.

Gaspard: Germans are not known for minding their own business.

Samson: Guess ya boi ain’t unemployed no more.

Mother Giselle: Blasphemy at it’s finest. It happens my dude.

Frederic of Serault: I know you love weird shit so here you go.

Servis: I am going to hell, but this person as well.

Charter: Make the stitches before they become snitches.

Bram: I once lost my pants playing the kettledrum.

#dragon age meme #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dai #the inquisitor #josephine montilyet #cullen rutherford #cassandra pentaghast #leliana #da as quotes #we complete the set

113 notes · View notes

pcrseverance · 3 years ago

Text

"I don't deserve you, but I want you anyway." Samson was going through withdrawals and had been up half the night. He felt guilty for keeping the Commander up at this hour, but Cullen had insisted on being with him. "The Maker has to have forgiven me to put you in my life..."

@arsenicflavouredtea

"How is it that being ill always turns you to a fool?" Cullen held Samson's clammy form close, resolutely ignoring the sour smell of sweat and the uncomfortable damp of his shirt. He pressed a kiss to the hollow behind Sam's ear, nose wrinkling briefly against the scent of his hair, then dropped another to his shoulder.

"I don't have the power to bring you the things you truly deserve, and I find myself blessed that you'll simply settle for me." He tucked his chin further over Sam's shoulder, arching until he can nip a final kiss to the edge of his lovers jaw. "But I am able to provide some things. And I hope you'll accept my humble offering of a bath, when you've the strength. Perhaps once thr water has cleared your head you'll realise you've got yourself muddled."

#arsenicflavouredtea

2 notes · View notes

lunchador · 4 years ago

Note

so when do we get the long post about your feelings about dragon age inquisition!!! i dunno if u wanna wait until dlc or not! i am i n t e r e s t e d (also its ok if u dont feel up to it im just!!!! again, interested in ur opinions/feelings)

kajsldkjf PLEASE I HAVE SO MANY DA FEELINGS ALL THE TIME and Inquisition was twice as long as the others so might as well do a word vomit now and I can always do another after the dlc (which several people have assured me are worth playing )

Yeah so inquisition is long. I dislike open world games so a lot of the (super repetitive!!) side quests did grate on my nerves and that docks this game a few points but over all the LORE IS SO GOOD, and it tying in so many choices in from 1+2 is the greatest butterfly effect I ever experienced in video games. I thought telltale + Until dawn were fun for that but good LORD bioware has showed up all of those games and I am really stoked to try mass effect when its out later and play more bw games. I only played Anthem before this and that game seemed...idk, gutted against BW’s wishes.

ANYWAY

Yeah, I managed to go into the whole DA series knowing very, very little, despite how many artists I followed did fanart for it. Once I started playing, I added all the words I could think of to my blacklist but a lot of untagged stuff came through (fair, series is 10+ years old and inq is like what 4-5?). I allowed my friends to pressure me into playing an elf mage for the lore and to romance solas cuz they said he was as important to the story as alistair was. A lot of online followers said I should play how I wanted, which I def would recommend to anyone else, but honestly I can see where they came from and while he never would have been my first choice, I think he actually paired REALLY well with my Inq and how I was playing her. I put her as sensitive but trying to put her responsibility above herself, she was definitely the least funny of my 3 characters, but not incredibly serious. A bit reserved? Just more mature. She’s got faith but she didn’t think she was the chosen one but she’ll do her role the best of her ability. She makes hard decisions and then sobs her chest empty over them because how is one to ever feel like its the right one? I really like how the game lets you choose how you wanna approach the responsibility. Like i said, I wasn’t a reluctant chosen one, but she will do what she can. Versus my friend playing at the same time as me said he played as the second coming of jesus essentially lmfao Having so many characters come back for different roles was so GOOD!!! Like everyone told me Varric was in this one but were like ‘teehee you still cant romance him though’ but you how you play drastically changes your relationships with each person. Tons of characters I met I knew would be personal favorites but I ended up interacting way less because others were more fitting to my inquisitor. So i.e while I love Varric and would’ve smooched him a heartbeat with Hawke, I didn’t get that vibe with Clover. They were really good friends, he was a grounded friend with a sense of humor that was a good escape from everyone else and the ~inquisition~. At least, until the Beyond the Abyss quest. That obviously heavily fractured their friendship and hurt them both :( And i felt that for a long time, until the end. He looked tired. Poor guy is gonna be borderline dead in 4 at this point. But so many side characters you talk to coming back like Dagna and Samson??? Speaking of that quest, I got Stroud because, yeah...Alistair was dead for me and APPARENTLY IT COULD ALSO BE LOGHAIN??? If he stays a grey warden?? wish I did that so def would’ve preferred to save Hawke even if I think the wardens are more important as a concept but like.......i wanted to behead him, so....But yes even tiny details like..Varric wrote home to kirkwall to Carver for me because the rest of my family was dead and I never completed a full romance in 2 lkajslkdjf but the fact that changes based on your play through. BUT YEAH THE way this game weaves all your decisions in and how yeah, overall the story is the same but it makes it so personal to YOU and so different from everyone else ;w;

But I could see my Inq genuinely falling for Solas, and I see her best friends as Cassandra and Blackwall/Thom. Really close to Leliana and the Iron Bull as well. I just loved all their interactions. All the characters were so cool to get to know?? Like I thought I would’ve hated Cullen (hes a dick in O) and tbh I just got into the series as the VA was being a complete shit. But I liked him a lot!! I love the work buddies vibes between the Inq and the advisors. I thought I was going to love Sera!! And like, I did, but she hated my Inquisitor and their personalities clashed a lot. Shes the only one i didn’t get a cut scene for in the end :’) I loved coming back from story quests and having to take like 20 minutes to go around skyhold and make sure I talked to /everyone/ for their new dialogue. You genuinely feel connected to all these wonderful npcs ljkasljdf

I wanted to make Cassandra the new divine but I made leliana on accident and kinda dug it so I stuck with it. VARRIC IS THE NEW VISCOUNT??? h i l a r i o u s.

One of the things I loved the most in this game in particular, and while this is something in all of them it just really struck me in this one, was....everyone gave up so so much to devote themselves to the cause, y’know?? Like, it’s almost heartbreaking how much everyone loses and they’re still looking towards you with their belief and willingness to follow you to the end ;-;

The final fight almost felt, Idk, underwhelming? Dude dragons are way tougher than him asdkjhfkhjd. I even went up a difficulty in this game after feeling like I got the hang of the series. But at the same time, we just spend how many hours knocking down each and one of his advantages so fuck him lol.

But yeah there are so many things I wanted to do but I felt so worn out by mindless sidequests and story being level locked in comparison to the previous games. askdjhflkd

One of the things that blows my mind is so so many people were stoked i was playing DA and they couldn’t wait til I got to Inq, and so I find out most people I know only ever played Inquisition? TBH if I didn’t play O+2 I think I would’ve dropped inquisition and never finished it *shrug* all of the build up just means SO MUCH!!! Everyones argument seems to be the older games are ugly and yeah O has rough battle system but its easy to get over imo. Like, you need the chaos of 2 to get the real weight of the mage/templar stuff?? Theres so many characters and story and dialogue that go over your head without Origins?? Like yes inq can stand alone pretty well but, idk, I’m in love with this entire series and the world building and THE!! WAY!!! IT!!! ALL!!! CONNECTS!!!!!!!!!!!

I love how a quest can go differently by whos in your party, I love you can have more dialogue based on lore you’ve managed to pick up around, I love HOW COMPANIONS BICKERRRRRRRRRRRR!!!! The lore of these games are so good. It’s like playing an epic line of novels. It’s so immersive and I don’t think I’ve played too many games to this level.

I didn’t like the skill trees to being a mage in this one, Idk why. It wasn’t nearly as fun for me as 2, but then again I really fucking liked being a force mage haha. I wanted to be a rogue to complete a diff class per game but everyone said mage brings a lot more interesting story/lore stuff so

but yeah I love having the full context now and seeing other peoples Wardens/Hawkes/Inquisitors and asking people how they played and how their options differed from mine and THERES JUST SO MANY POSSIBLE DECISION TREES!!!!! No wonder the fans play over and over.

but yeah ultimately so much fucking happened?? I’m probably missing a lot of key points.

6 notes · View notes

novamm66 · 4 years ago

Text

Red Sky in the Morning - Chapter 24 - Sailor’s Delight.

This is it folks. The conclusion to my (first) story. I am a bit sad. This has been one wonderful journey for me and I have learned so much.

I hope you enjoy.

—

Everything happened at once. Imshael screamed and exploded into its demon form the moment it lost contact with Kiaya’s magic. Dorian retracted the spell, and suddenly Kiaya was flying through the air to crash into Sera’s arms. The moment Kiaya’s knees hit the floor, she vomited, but she pushed Sera’s hands away.

“Go,” she croaked, “Help them.”

Kiaya’s head was spinning, and her eyes wouldn’t focus as she tried desperately to track what was going on. Dorian was casting while Sera was off to the left. Still, Kiaya couldn’t see far enough to know what was going on anywhere else.

Kiaya focused on Dorian’s feet and the snap of Sera’s bowstring, trying to ground herself. She was utterly useless in this fight, which was the point, but she would not abandon her friends and let unconsciousness take her. A call from Sera drew her attention, and Kiaya watched as the rogue raced to Varric’s aid before he was overwhelmed. This left their flank open, and an enemy fighter less than nine paces away. He was held in a trap for the moment but quickly fighting free.

“Dorian,” Kiaya croaked.

“I see him,” Dorian answered. Then the fighter broke free. “Shit! There’s nothing I can do!” Dorian was balancing two spells already, and dropping either one of them was not an option. The fighter charged at the mage, ready to cut him down, but Kiaya lifted herself on hands and knees and lunged directly into his path.

Kiaya took his boots to her ribs before the man fell, trapping her beneath his legs. She tried to roll away, but she was too weak to push him off. She heard Dorian scream her name, but her vision was filled with the sword rising above her.

Before the blade could fall, Cole appeared and opened the man’s throat. The sword clattered to the ground next to Kiaya’s head, and in a blink, Cole was gone. It took all of Kiaya’s energy and focus to struggle free of the dead man. She crawled until she came up against stone, then collapsed. She tried to open her eyes to see what was happening, but she couldn’t move. She could hear the ebb and flow of battle, heard Imshael’s screams fade to silence. She tracked the footsteps of her friends as they approached her.

“Kiaya, can you hear me?” Dorian’s fingers pressed to her throat.

“What happened?” Cassandra was panting, but she sounded unharmed.

“She saved my life and took a hit to the ribs for the trouble. She’s alive.”

“Heal her,” Sera demanded from near Kiaya’s head.

“I can’t, not with mage bane in her system,” Dorian replied. Kiaya could practically hear him roll his eyes. “Help me sit her up.”

Kiaya felt a bottle pushed between her lips and tasted the bitterness of an elfroot potion across her tongue. Kiaya felt her strength return, and she opened her eyes and lurched to her feet.

Hands reached out to stop her, but she shook them off. “I have to know. I have to walk.” Kiaya took a few steps, her hand never leaving the wall. “Ok, that’s enough of that.” Kiaya sagged against the wall before Bull caught her and lowered her down to the floor.

“Easy,” he chuckled.

You’re a bloody fool.” Dorian knelt in front of her. “Attacking an armed opponent like that. How many fingers do you see?”

Kiaya squinted at Dorian’s outstretched hand, “Four, but I’m assuming the two floating around not attached to anything aren’t real.”

Dorian shook his head and started checking to see if anything was broken. Kiaya glanced around, taking comfort in the smiles of her friends.

“Imshael?” Kiaya had to ask.

“Gone,” Cassandra answered. “Banished back to the fade.”

“Thank fuck. Can we go home now?”

—

Kiaya’s happy relief lasted until they entered Skyhold’s lower camp. It was evident by the activity that something had happened. Skyhold itself was just as busy, everyone moving with haste and purpose. Loaded wagons were rolling through the gates. Kiaya asked her friends to stay ready until she figured out what was going on, and she headed for the war room immediately. The advisors were leaning over the map, but they straightened and smiled when Kiaya entered.

“Welcome back, and congratulations,” Cullen said warmly.

“Thanks,” Kiaya reached for and squeezed his hand. “What’s going on?”

“Corypheus has surfaced again,” Leliana answered. “His army is tearing up the Arbor Wilds.”

“Just for fun? Or are they looking for something?” Kiaya frowned.

Cullen shook his head. “It’s definitely a search for something. Whatever it is, it’s unlikely that we want him to have it.”

“Isn’t that the truth.” Kiaya stared at the map, calculating the distance. “I guess there is no reason to unpack then.” She sighed.

Josephine patted Kiaya’s hand with sympathy. “You and your team can rest and ride out tomorrow. You will be able to catch up to the army quickly, which will be leaving within the hour. We have also just received confirmation the Orlesian troops we requested will meet you there.”

Kiaya glanced up in surprise. “Our army isn’t enough?”

“Reports have the red templars outnumbering us. I would guess it is most of his forces.” Leliana’s voice was grim.

The lightness Kiaya had felt from returning home was gone. Corypheus was still out there, and this time they had no idea what he was planning. “Alright, can you let everyone know to be ready to ride out again tomorrow at first light?” Kiaya asked.

“Of course,” Josephine answered and hurried out the door. Leliana followed her, leaving Cullen and Kiaya alone.

“It figures,” Kiaya sighed as she turned and sat on the edge of the table. “I’m getting back, and you are leaving.”

Cullen chuckled as he moved in front of her and placed his hands on her face. “I’m glad you are back in one piece. Are you alright?”

“Yes, although Corypheus has put a damper on our success.”

Cullen expressed his relief by kissing her slowly, deeply. Kiaya sighed her disappointment when he stopped, Cullen smiled down at her. “I wish we had more time, but I have to leave.”

“I was really looking forward to celebrating with you tonight,” Kiaya huffed.

“I know,” Cullen laughed, pulling her to her feet, “but I promise to make it worth the wait.”

—

“Where is she?” Cullen stormed into the tent where Leliana was questioning Samson as quickly as his bandaged leg and walking stick allowed. Cullen had taken an axe to the thigh while protecting Kiaya at the gates of the temple. She had been forced to leave him bleeding in the water as she raced Corypheus to the temple, and that had been the last time they had seen each other. It was easy for Cullen to let his desperation show.

Samson, stripped of his armour and chained, sneered at him. “How would I know? Bitch left me for dead.” His injuries from the battle had been healed, so they weren’t life-threatening, but he still looked battered from his encounter with Kiaya’s team.

Cullen was ready to lunge at the man, but Leliana beat him to it, striking Samson across the face hard enough to bloody his lip. “You are not in the best position for glibness. Next time I will let the Commander pummel you.”

Cullen leaned across the table that separated them. “Where would Corypheus take them?”

“That was always your problem, Rutherford: Always asking the wrong questions.” Samson grinned as Leliana shifted. “Corypheus has no interest in taking anyone anywhere. If he had caught her, all you would have found is the pieces.”

Cullen’s vision went red, and he reached out and slammed Samson’s face into the table. Touching the other man-made Cullen feel ill: he could feel the lyrium in Samson’s veins, and he backed away while Samson laughed through the blood streaming from his broken nose.

Leliana had watched the exchange with a relaxed smile. “Thank you, Commander. Perfectly done.”

Samson continued to snicker as the two moved to leave the tent. “Just look at us now, Rutherford. How far we have come,” he called after them. Cullen paused, but he didn’t rise to the bait, and Sampson’s gurgling laughter followed him out.

“You were right, he did respond better to you,” Leliana said as they walked the short distance to the command tent.

Cullen shook his head in disgust. “He has nothing left to lose and has no reason to tell us anything. I am glad he couldn’t resist taunting me even if we didn’t learn anything more useful.”

“We know it’s likely that Kiaya and the others are alive, given what Samson just said and the fury that Corypheus was in when he left. With three of the most powerful mages in Thedas, they are likely somewhere safer than we are.” Leliana touched Cullen’s arm reassuringly. “The question is, what do we do now?”

Cullen sank into a chair, his freshly healed wound throbbing from the short walk. “I would like to leave two divisions to help the Orlesian army flush out and deal with the remaining red troops. They do not seem to be organized, so it’s likely he has abandoned them, but they still pose a threat. A small compliment will ride back with us, and three divisions will follow quickly to bolster Skyhold’s defences if Corypheus strikes at us there. The remainder of the army will travel back with the wounded.”

Leliana nodded at his plan. “When do we ride out?”

“Tomorrow. I don’t like leaving Skyhold’s weakened as it is, and it’s the first place Kiaya will send word.”

—

To: C.C. & L.N.

We are back in the Sky. We are safe and well.

Are you?

—

To: K.T.

Message received. We are two weeks out from joining you.

I am well. Thank the Maker, you are alright.

—

Cullen’s heart was pounding in time with his horse’s hooves as he rode onto the battlefield. It was Solas who approached as Cullen dismounted, the mage looming in Cullen’s vision. His voice echoed when he spoke.

“Corypheus is defeated, but the Inquisitor is dead.”

Cullen surged forward, his vision narrowing to what lay on the ground beyond.

Cullen bolted upright, his heart pounding wildly as his eyes darted around the room and canopy above until they landed on the sleeping woman beside him. Amazingly, Kiaya had not been disturbed by his outburst, and Cullen focused on her face, trying to slow his breathing to match hers.

It was only a dream. Cullen told himself. Once his heart stopped racing, Cullen shifted out of bed carefully and dressed. He wasn’t going to fall asleep again, and Kiaya had only just returned from a round of missions. She deserved all the sleep she could get.

Cullen had trouble setting into his work. His mind kept bringing back images from his dream. Eventually, he made his way to the Chantry, with the sun still well below the skyline. He knelt in front of Andraste’s statue and prayed until sunlight bathed Her face. When he finished and turned to leave, Kiaya was watching him from the doorway. He quickly crossed the room and pulled her into his arms.

“Are you alright?” Kiaya asked as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“Better now,” Cullen sighed into her shoulder.

“Nightmares?” She asked.

Cullen nodded. “I didn’t want to disturb you.” He held Kiaya tighter. “I can’t bear the thought that you have to face Corypheus again, that I have to send you against him, and there is nothing I can do. Kiaya, I…” Cullen’s words shuttered to a stop, and his breath rushed in and out of his lungs.

“Shhh. I know.” Kiaya sighed and stroked his hair. Her fingers travelled to his jaw, and she looked deeply into his eyes. “Nothing is for sure, but I promise you that while there is life in my body, I will fight with everything I have to make it back to you. Our luck has gotten us this far. I love you, Cullen.”

They stood in the morning light, wrapped in each other’s arms until the breakfast bell sounded.

“Shall we eat before getting to work?” Cullen asked, keeping her hand in his as they moved out into the gardens.

“Unusual for us, but let's try it.” Kiaya laughed.

A few steps short of the doors to the main hall Kiaya froze. “Cull-” but her voice cut out as the mark snapped to life, and Kiaya doubled over and screamed.

“Kiaya!?” Cullen panicked, his eyes darting around the peaceful garden for any sign of a threat, but there was nothing that looked threatening. Doors and windows were banging open, but that was apparently in response to Kiaya’s cries.

The mark stopped as quickly as it had started, leaving Kiaya gasping on the ground. Before Cullen could do or say anything, Kiaya shot to her feet and took off running. She stopped on the top step outside the main hall doors, her eyes focused on the horizon to the south-east.

“What is going on?” Cullen asked, ignoring the confused voices from behind them.

“I don’t know.” Kiaya sounded strained. With a crack, the mark flared again, and if it wasn’t for Cullen catching her, Kiaya would have toppled down the stairs. Kiaya muffled her screams in Cullen’s shoulder. The mark stopped again, Kiaya’s panting breath the only sound Cullen could hear. A green light split the horizon, and moments later, a boom echoed off the mountains.

“Corypheus has reopened the breach,” Kiaya said. Her face was pale, and her eyes wide as she stared at Cullen. He could feel her shaking against him.

Skyhold suddenly exploded with activity. Alarm bells sounded, and the defensive measures they had put in place filled the air with running feet and shouted orders.

Kiaya looked up at him. “I have to go.” They stood together a moment before Kiaya pulled away and took off towards their quarters and her gear. Cullen headed down the steps to oversee the activity at the gate. Leliana appeared at Cullen’s side.

“Can we send soldiers with them?” She asked.

Cullen shook his head. “We don’t have the numbers. Most of our army is still days away; if we send any troops that we have here, Skyhold will be undermanned and at risk. Kiaya won’t agree to leave our people here unprotected.”

Cullen shaded his eyes. He could just see the signal flags up in the village below. Their soldiers would be organizing the civilians to come up to the fortress. It was going to get very crowded, very quickly.

Cullen and Leliana moved towards the stables as Kiaya and her friends appeared, quickly tacking up their horses. Cullen set Kiaya’s saddle and tightened the cinch while she fastened Rollin’s bridle. Cullen lifted Kiaya up onto the bay’s back, but then he couldn’t let go of her hand.

Kiaya’s fingers squeezed his. “With everything I have,” she repeated her promise. Kiaya kicked Rollin into a gallop, and her party thundered through the gates.

—

Night had almost fallen, but no one was showing any sign of leaving the rookery.

Cullen was pacing back and forth the length of the floor while Leliana was at the spyglass. Josie, Evelyn, Danin and Lyra were sitting on the barrels and crates stacked along the inner railing. They were waiting for news. The Breach had disappeared from the horizon just before midday, but no word had arrived yet.

No one spoke as the light slowly disappeared, the tension was palatable, so when Leliana hissed and swung the glass, everyone jumped.

“It is a raven. One of ours.” Leliana confirmed, and there was a collective sigh. But Cullen couldn’t fully release his worry. It seemed to take forever for the bird to arrive and for Leliana to retrieve the message.

Everyone was silent as she turned back to the group, unrolling and scanning the tiny scroll as she turned back to the group.

The relief in her smile told Cullen what he needed to know before she spoke.

“She won, and they are all alive.”

—

Kiaya stared at the bed canopy above her. She was tired, but sleep was out of reach. This was the first quiet night after the victorious return of Kiaya and her party to Skyhold. The celebration had lasted two days, and the party spread from the keep down to the camp below. Kiaya had been in high demand, and it wasn’t until now that her mind had a chance to catch up.

Kiaya sighed and slipped from the bed. She stirred up the fire and curled up on the couch in front of it. She was going to have to get used to being the Inquisitor. When Evelyn told her that she was pregnant again, Kiaya decided that she would step up and allow Evelyn to have the normal life she deserved. Kiaya was excited for Danin and Evelyn, but she wasn’t looking forward to the public role Kiaya would now fill.

Kiaya reached for her neglected sketch pad and pencil, opening it to a blank page and staring for a moment before starting to draw. Corypheus’s death had not eased the burden from Kiaya’s shoulders, and the victory felt hollow for her. She should be grateful for the ease of his defeat, but it had left her angry, and Kiaya wasn’t sure she would ever be able to let it go.

There was so much damage still left to repair, and much that would never be the same. Before Kiaya had reached Skyhold, Scouts had reported that there were still active rifts, and the red lyrium infecting the land hadn’t receded, while the political and religious landscape was drastically changing. The new Divine would be leaving for Val Royeaux in the next few days, and that would be the beginning of the end of Kiaya’s little family.

The lines on the page began to form a face, and Solas was looking over his shoulder at her. Kiaya was worried about him. He had taken the destruction of the orb personally and had disappeared before she had been able to talk to him. Kiaya knew in her heart that this time he wouldn’t be coming back. The rest of her friends were sticking around to help for a while, but eventually, they would need to move on as well, and that thought made Kiaya’s chest ache.

Kiaya knew that she was worried about the inevitable, and there was nothing she could do about it. Everything was going to be different now, and she was still burned by the mark. She hadn’t told anyone, but the mark’s power had changed: it was stronger, wilder, and it scared Kiaya.

She heard Cullen shift in bed. ”Kiaya?” His voice was foggy with sleep.

“I’m fine. Just can’t sleep,” Kiaya answered. She thought that Cullen had fallen asleep again, but after a few minutes, she heard him get up. He settled on the couch next to her.

“Sweetheart, I can feel your worry.” He kissed her shoulder. “You have done great things, can’t you give yourself a little time to enjoy that?”

“Apparently not,” Kiaya answered. “I know that I should give myself a break, but I haven’t figured out how to do that.”

Cullen waited until Kiaya looked at him. “Whatever happens next, we will face it together.” Truth and love glowed gently in his eyes, and Kiaya’s tension eased. She nodded, unable to think of anything to say. He kissed her tenderly. “Come back to bed. Tomorrow we will figure it out.”

Kiaya followed him and curled in close to Cullen’s chest. He gently rubbed her back, and the warmth and tenderness chased Kiaya’s anxiety away and allowed her exhaustion to pull her under.

She pressed her lips against Cullen’s heart and fell asleep.

********

There we have it. Thank so very very much for reading.

Like and reblogs are always appreciated. Asks are very welcome too.

To read from the beginning the Master List is Here or if you prefer it is here on AO3

#Red Sky in the Morning #cullen/trevelyan #dragon age fanfic #cullen rutherford #female inquisitor #Kiaya Trevelyan

21 notes · View notes

bluekaddis · 5 years ago

Note

You almost mentioned Cullen as the best written character, but tbh he is written quite bad, his abuse and hate is never confronted in Inquisition and he is made victim by narrative, while he was the very problem why Chantry sucks. Even his fans admit that. He is mostly liked because of romance.

Ugh.

I was waiting for that moment when admitting I like Cullen’s character and story arc will bite me in the ass.

TL; DR (for those who don’t want to get through my long rant)

Let everyone enjoy any characters/romances/game choices they want. I have my reasons for having Cullen as a fav DA character and liking his story arc and I don’t think there are more problems with writing of his character than the majority of other companions in DA games.

Full answer below

First of all – I don’t want to argue that everyone should like or dislike the same elements of fiction as I do – it would be stupid. We all have different tastes, like different character archetypes and have varying opinions on what makes a good story. I’m trying to keep my blog character positive and unless someone asks me directly to share my opinion on a certain character or plot element I prefer keeping my critique to myself. I also don’t feel entitled to confront fans who, in their own posts, state they find Cullen boring, unredeemable or overrated, even if I personally disagree with all these statements.

If your ask, anon, stated the words “i think” or “in my opinion” I wouldn’t probably bother with such a lengthy answer, HOWEVER, you write your personal opinion like it was an objective statement, like you were in position to tell me how I should view the certain character. What did you expect, that I would suddenly realize “oh crap, NOW I see that a character and plot I had liked for my 200 hours of gameplay is actually bad, I was just too stupid to notice it!”.

Haha, no.

So, let’s go through your comment.

“tbh he is written quite bad”

In. Your. Opinion. There are people who don’t like Cullen’s character development. Some like the general idea but would make some changes if they could. Others (like me) don’t have problem with his story arc and just like to add some headcanons to fill the gaps.

It is understandable that when years pass between games, fans have time to develop their opinions and wishes of what they’d like to see. And because none of them actually writes the story it is very easy to feel disappointed and say “well, I would do it better (= my way)”. But the truth is - your way is not necessary a better way. It may be the case that “your version” would be even more hated by the fandom. Some opinions are just more popular than others and therefore may seem like they are objective but it’s an illusion. A well designed pool, with large sample size and good statistics may be objective. Opinions, on the other hand, are like farts – you always think yours are less stinky than the others’ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But I digress.

Yes, I think Cullen is a well written character and yes, I like his story arc. Cullen’s redemption works for me because I see it not as much about atonement for his actions as for his lack of action.

Let me explain.

Anti-Cullen fans tend to assume that he personally did a lot of atrocities, but when you look not at fandom assumptions but at his actual actions we see in games or WoT, you can see that he caused most evil by not doing shit.

He should have protected the mages.

He didn’t.

He should have questioned Meredith’s actions.

He didn’t.

He should have noticed she’s going mad.

He didn’t .

He should have stopped her before she evoked the Rite.

He didn’t.

He was very passive and basically let either Meredith or Hawke make all the choices for him. If he let Meredith decide – people died. If he listened to Hawke (based on player’s choices) he voted for whatever Hawke had proposed.

Why was he behaving like that? Probably because he had lost faith in his own judgment so he put all the responsibility on authority figures (Templar Order and Chantry teachings). Cullen’s core motivation throughout all games was to protect people and it never changes. What changes is his belief of what methods are moral or necessary to achieve that goal and whether he, as an individual, should be in a position to decide it.

In Inquisition Cullen does the opposite. He is a workaholic. He makes his own decisions (leaves Kirkwall, stops taking lyrium) and takes full responsibility for them. He doesn’t follow his leader blindly but openly states his own opinions and advice (whether they are correct or wrong is another topic). He gets really furious when someone in position of power lie to or sacrifice people under their command (like in case of Samson or Rainier). Finally, he dedicates his life, health, skills, basically everything, for a cause - to stop the war that can be blamed mostly on his former organisation, without complaint or asking for forgiveness.

And I love that aspect of his character.

In Inquisition Cullen is still a work in progress. He tries his best but his templar past comes back sometimes - and it’s good. If he was completely free of his biases, it would be damn unnatural.

I would never say that Cullen is a flawless ray of sunshine. He can be stubborn, biased, narrow-minded, hypocritical, bitter, aggressive and vengeful. But guess what – so can all the other characters. That’s why they are interesting.

“his abuse and hate is never confronted in Inquisition”

It is, at least for the standards of this particular game. DA:I doesn’t have full developed friendship-rivalry mechanics like DA:2 and you can’t even get approval points from advisors. The Inquisitor basically has far less options to condemn the Inner Circle’s actions or change their worldviews than Hawke (you don’t really argue with Dorian about slavery or with Iron Bull about Saarebas or Reeducators either).

But even if the Inquisitor has limited dialogue options to confront Cullen’s actions directly, Cullen himself brings the topic to the player. Cullen’s dialogue and actions in DA:I show that

he is ashamed of the person he became after Uldred’s uprising

he knows he needs to atone for his actions and he wants to work for it

but doesn’t really believe he can fully atone for what he did

supports the reform of the Chantry, Templar Order and Circles rather than agreeing to their traditional methods

That man already hates himself, give him some rest.

And if you still think he needs an extra punishment for his crimes - Cullen is actually one of only 3 companions/advisors in DA:I whose life you can literally ruin through your choices (the other two being Blackwall and Iron Bull). If your Inky thinks that Cullen’s actions are unredeemable and he deserves nothing better than to forever be chained to the templar life he has chosen as a kid - they can order him to take lyrium again. For me it’s a heartless and morally wrong choice, but anyone can play their game however they want.

„he is made victim by narrative”

Ok, that part really bothers me. Are you saying that it is a bad thing that a narrative treats a person who has been physically, mentally and sexually abused for weeks as a victim of that abuse? Or encourages empathy towards a character fed drugs, manipulation and propaganda? Acknowledging Cullen’s PTSD doesn’t automatically result in ignoring or diminishing traumas and abuse that happened to Anders, Carl or any other character. Empathy doesn’t have to be reserved to people you personally agree with, just saying.

„he was the very problem why Chantry sucks.”

I’d say he was an example showing why Chantry sucks. A symptome, not a cause. Chantry benefits only high ranking members of that intitution + some nobles and rich dudes. Mages are abused and denied most of the rights because of the Chantry. Templars are drugged and brainwashed because of the Chantry. Common folk can’t freely benefit from things like healing magic because of the Chantry. Non-humans are treated like heretics and barbarians - because of the Chantry. The Chantry, as we see at the beginning of DA:I is a corrupt, powerful institution that has forsaken almost all ideals it had been built upon and desperately needs a reform. Everyone can see that. I have NEVER met any fan who said „yeah, Circles, Templar Order, the Chantry – they were perfectly alright, no need to change lol”. Same goes to characters labelled by fandom as pro-Chantry (like Cassandra, Cullen or Vivienne). They all see that major changes must be done, they just believe the reformation is better than abolition.

„Even his fans admit that.”

Some, yes. Others don’t have a problem with his arc. Personally I don’t think there are many Cullen fans that would agree with every single point you made.

„He is mostly liked because of romance.”

Um, no. The reason why the game developers even bothered with making Cullen a romance option in DA:I is that he was already quite liked and popular among fans, despite being just a secondary character. I’d agree that the romance plot made Cullen even more popular, especially among players who didn’t play previous games, but it is wrong to assume that the only reason people enjoy his character is because he’s a pretty boy. I played the games in order and Cullen was one of my fav characters in DA2 - I just like paragon anti-villains with redemption potential. Fight me.

To conclude this overly long rant - I’m generally under impression that some DA fans tend to point certain aspects of Cullen’s character and story as “stupid excuses made by Bioware and fans to redeem a son of the bitch” and then use almost exactly the same arguments to defend their own favs. It’s the topic for maybe another discussion, but I think it’s a good thing to confront your own biases sometimes.

P.S. I also recommend watching this video about writing redemption arcs. Just for fun.

I rest my case.

(thanks, Ania, for the high quality picture to sum up my feelings)

#ask #cullen rutherford #cullen positive #fandom critical #my writing #rainhowls rambles #don't be afraid #i am generally open to discussion #just please state your opinions as actual opinions #not facts

359 notes · View notes