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magnimoon · 7 months ago

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Chapter 20: The Rise of the Inquisitor (Part 1) - A Cullevelyan fic

You can read it on AO3 as well as the rest of the episodes!

Summary:

The attack against Haven finally happens!

The rest of the episode under the cut

Everything was going perfect. With the Breach sealed, the mage/templar war getting to a conclusion… in theory the Inquisition solved many problems in record time. Then why? Why suddenly chaos and demise overturned the scales?

Then there was the Herald, with a sour gaze looking at the cliffs. She was talking a few moments ago with Cassandra, speaking precisely about the situation. While Bryony diminished her own actions, an uneasy sensation lingered within her thoughts. It is too good to be true, too soon for this to end. Her mind was clouded with paranoia and doubts, yet she didn’t share these feelings with Cassandra, maybe they needed a closer bond for it.

Then her fear became real when the alarm sounded and soldiers readied their weapons while Cullen approached the scene, reporting the status. Cassandra was already at Bryony’s side, glaring at her with full determination. She would be in the team for this one. Varric approached her without receiving orders, something compelled him to be there. A bad feeling, some would say.

“Dorian!” Bryony called at the Tevinter mage who was about to help the residents. However, due to the Herald’s call, he knew he would be in the team once more.

The rest of them, Vivienne, The Iron Bull, Solas, Sera and Blackwall, received orders to evacuate the houses, help the mages and templars and guide every peasant towards the Chantry. The Herald, in a few seconds, was right beside Cullen, ready to open the front doors. Whomever they would fight, would have to deal against the Inquisition armed forces.

Or at least that’s what they thought.

“I can’t come in unless you open.” A young voice was heard, non-aggressive and calmed tone echoed on the opposite side.

Once the main doors were opened, they revealed a late teen/young adult finishing some of the enemies with ease. This boy presented himself as Cole. Judging by his weapons, he is a rogue. He came to warm about this unknown threat. Someone who was angry at the Inquisition for “stealing” his mages. With the teen signaling towards the elevated grounds, everyone’s eyes followed his direction.

Soldiers, peasants, not even their famous Spymaster could’ve foreseen the arrival of The Elder One. Varric stood in silence, shocked by the presence of him who should be dead. Annihilated and rotting in a Grey Warden prison, far away from their current position. Varric’s mind lingered, wondering if Hawke was safe.

“I know this man, but this Elder One…” Cullen whispered near Bryony, enough for her to hear the grief in his voice. That’s when the Herald realized he was referring to the armored human beside the tall, corrupted and deformed figure.

“He’s very angry that you took his mages.” Cole reassumed.

“Took his mages? What a complete arse.” Bryony was the first one to speak loudly, angry at the deformed monster. This took the attention of both the rogue and the Commander. “Cullen, give me a plan! Anything!”

The tone in her voice was desperate, she couldn’t think clearly. Her hands were shaking so badly that keeping the staff on her hands was an impossible task. Yet, she looked determined at her Commander, she was from a lower rank, so she needed to do anything that could help. But Cullen knew better, in the few months she has been in the Inquisition, Bryony usually came up with brilliant plans that could help the organization on a bigger scale. Hell, even missions regarding the advisors were managed by her, strategy and priority decisions became a second nature to her.

So, when she asked Cullen for help, he knew she needed support in many ways possible. Both in strategy and a way to calm her down. “Haven is no fortress…” he started, “if we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle.” And, as the Commander he is, he complied to her request. Once Cullen gave instructions to every soldier, mage and allied forces present, the battle began.

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It was a monstrous battle. Around every corner, templars emerged from everywhere, like humidity on a rainy day.

“Dorian?” Bryony asked to the Tevinter mage once their backs touched, covering each other’s blind spots. Just as they learned on the faraway future.

“I know. This is the same red lyrium we saw on that cursed place.” He answered, casting an ice spell over those puppets.

“Yeah! But this one is ten times worse! I didn’t see those blasted crystal blooming from their bodies!” Bryony screamed since she was handling two templars at the same time. One was getting zapped while the other received a kick on the face. Even with the helmet on, he received an electrified impact, killing him on the spot. Good thing Bryony added an armor to her boots a few days ago.

“Looks like this Elder One got really desperate. You must have ticked him off.” Dorian added, teasing his friend while finishing the last templar on the spot.

“Well, is good to know I have my own fan.” She combed her bangs out of her fangs, posing like a diva when Dorian is present. “Is everything ready?!” Then she screamed as loud as possible to the soldiers loading the trebuchets.

“We are ready to fire!” A soldier replied in the same fashion since the explosions and chaos drowned the noise.

Seconds later, and the team heard a loud crash coming from the enemy’s side. The trebuchet landed a spectacular hit. Now it was time for the next one. Varric signaled the approach of enemies and Cassandra lead the offensive strike alongside Bryony. Usually a mage would’ve stayed behind, attacking from a safe spot, like Dorian. Yet, the Herald wasted no time, getting rid of these monsters was a priority.

First, she would cage enemies with lightning, then Varric would provide assist from behind. Cassandra would land the final blows while Bryony headed onto those non shocked enemies, in order to zap their bones if necessary. She was twinkling in purple sparks at all time, without any time to recharge or rest.

“Hold on, Twinkles, have a time to breathe,” Varric stopped her once there was no sight of enemies nearby, “we need to load the trebuchet.” He took out his big brother tone, calming her down.

He could see the wear and tear on her eyes and body. Nobody told her to take the role of the Herald this seriously. Her hands shook violently and her wheezing breathes became coughs. Hadn’t been for Cassandra, everyone thought Bryony would’ve volunteered herself to ready the trebuchet. There’s a limit for every human being, and Bryony wasn’t listening to her own body and its warnings.

Varric thought that cheering her would help once they saw the avalanche hit the enemy, causing many enemy losses in the process.

Then the dragon appeared.

Within seconds, only one attack was enough to destroy the trebuchet, scattering everyone among the snow and dirt. As well as undoing all their efforts until now.

“Today… is now well beyond making sense.” Tiredness invaded Dorian’s sass. It is unclear on whether the wear came from physical exhaustion, or he was done with everyone’s shit. Probably the second one, however, he felt his muscles tensing in pain as well.

“He has a dragon?! Why does he have a dragon?! Why don’t I have a dragon?!” Bryony exasperated in frustration while jumping off the snow pile she fell into. She still had a snow cap over her head, which fell once she shook her head. “Everyone to the gates!” She ordered at the end, looking more frustrated than tired due to the Elder One’s pet.

Bryony could’ve just run towards the Chantry, leave everyone and saved herself. She was already tired, after all. She fought already her part and no one would blame her for the losses seen on the battle. Yet, there she was, blasting doors while entering into burning houses, rescuing people from the tavern, the medics, Seggrit, Adam (even a hammer and materials for the smith) and fighting alongside Threnn to protect her.

Threnn knew the Herald didn’t like her due to the differences in their postures regarding Loghain and Alistair. That wasn’t enough for Bryony to just let someone die. The Herald gained the respect of Varric during that fight. Once everyone was safe, it was time to head towards the Chantry.

A soldier opened for them since the doors were locked. A few more soldiers entered before Bryony’s team. Roderick was bleeding, a wound that wouldn’t stop him from helping the rest. Once everyone got there safely, Cole grabbed the Chancellor just in time before he lost the strength is his legs. “He tried to stop a templar. The blade went deep. He’s going to die.” Spoke Cole, coldly about the grim news.

While Roderick answered sarcastically towards Cole’s comment, his gaze looked at the end of the Chantry, sorrowful and aware of his physical condition. He knew the boy meant well, and that he had minutes left, whether luck favored him or not.

Bryony looked at her surroundings, seeing how could she provide any help at all. That’s when Cullen appeared from one of the side rooms. Once his eyes immediately saw the Herald, he dashed towards her.

“Herald, our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.” He told Bryony. She clicked her tongue in disgust.

Cullen, almost by instinct, grabbed her forearm. He saw the Herald’s expression, averting her gaze to anywhere else as a result of such dire news. He tried to console her somehow. His first instinct was to grab her hand directly, but this wasn’t the time for it, by all means.

“I’ve seen an Archdemon. I was in the fade, but it looked like that.” The young rogue interrupted the conversation. Both soldiers turned their heads towards Cole. Cullen’s hand was still gently grabbing her arm.

“I don’t care what it looks like. It has cut a path for that army. They’ll kill everyone in Haven.” Cullen finally released the Herald, angry at the possibility of another Archdemon tormenting Ferelden. The least we need know is another Blight, he thought.

“The Elder One doesn’t care about the village. He only wants the Herald.” Cole added, he didn’t sound sarcastic, or wasn’t making fun of Cullen. He naively answered at the situation, as if the information itself was obvious.

“I don’t care what he wants. How do I stop him?” For a split second, Bryony answered very similar to Cullen, surprising the Commander since usually he is the harsh one and she is more approachable or sympathetic.

“It won’t be easy. He has a dragon.” Cole kept vaguely answered. Almost like asking something important to a kid.

Both Bryony and Cullen were tired, exhausted and the boy wasn’t helping. The Herald only furrowed her eyebrows and looked at the ground, frustrated that everything was happening due to her. The Commander broke the silence.

“We know what he…” and he sighed, that was the obvious part, but he realized Cole wasn’t making fun of him. Is just that, just like them, the young rogue had no plan nor idea on how to proceed. So, Cullen could only hold onto his frustration. Venting on the kid wouldn’t help the situation. “Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable.” His voice got soft, firm but soft when speaking to her. “The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets. Cause one last slide.”

“We’re overrun. To hit the enemy, we’d bury Haven.” Bryony ran the scenario through her head and reached said conclusion. When she saw the Commander’s eyes to her comment, she knew he already had foreseen the same conclusion.

His mind ran through many possible outcomes, any possible advantage they could have. There was none, only dying for the cause. Everyone in Haven would die with a single avalanche, but so does this Elder One. Any other plan resulted fruitless in his mind. But nobody else gave any options.

“We’re dying. But we can decide how. Many don’t get that choice.” Cullen’s voice faltered once he was finishing speaking. His furrowed eyebrows undo by themselves, without he realizing it. The pain of the memories came back without warning.

He almost went back again to Kinloch Tower, a great example on how could someone die, without even get to choose how. He was losing himself in the worst timing possible. Bryony saw through him. Something wasn’t right with him. Almost by instinct, just like when Cullen grabbed her arm, she grabbed him.

Only this time, she gently placed her gloved hand over his cheek. The cold leather brought him back, realizing what was going on. Bryony flinched by her own action, not even knowing why she did it in the first place. She was about to remove her hand when he pressed his glove against hers. Both remained a few seconds like this, thinking this might be the last minutes together since everything could be ending with an avalanche.

“Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies.” Cole, once more, interrupted the pair. With that, Bryony managed to lower her hand, clearing her throat.

Both heard what Roderick had to say. Apparently, Haven had a passage that could be used to evacuate everyone through an underground tunnel. With this, there was hope, at least to put everyone at a safe place.

“And he wants me. I could distract him while everybody else escapes. What about it, Cullen? Will it work?” The Herald asked looking towards the Commander.

“Possibly. If he shows us the path. But what of your escape?” Cullen softly answered. The sounded perfect, except that Bryony didn’t mention how she would return.

Bryony, looking towards the huge door, mustered a few words, “Then it’s settled. He wants me, then I’ll give him what he wants. Prepare everyone.” Determination filled her voice and gaze. She readied her staff and drank one healing potion for the ride.

Cullen remained speechless. He knew she readied herself for the worst scenario. “Perhaps you will surprise it. Find a way…” He could only motivate her.

The Commander moved the rests of the soldiers. Gave orders to anyone capable of moving to help those who couldn’t. Meanwhile, Cole grabbed the Chancellor in order to support him through his last moments. Roderick thanked the boy for allowing him to be of help, even if it was one last time.

“You are not thinking of going alone. Are you?” Dorian approached the Herald. He placed his hand over her shoulder so that she would look at him.

“Is there any other way?” Her face was on the verge of fainting, but she somehow wasn’t going to give up that easily.

“Yes,” Cassandra stepped in, “we will aid you.”

“Well, we really don’t want to die, but we are not going to leave you alone, Twinkles.” Varric took Bianca off his back, getting her ready for a possible last battle.

“Heh,” Bryony mustered a small laugh, “thanks, guys. However, once I give you the signal, you will head towards the Chantry.” Dorian and Cassandra were about to speak, argue about this decision. “There is no room for negotiation. I’m the one he wants. I’ll find a way. Don’t worry about it.”

The team remained silent. They headed towards the main door, waiting for their next orders.

“Herald…” Roderick spoke before Bryony departed. “If you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you.” He was covering with his hand the wound zone, very badly since the blood wasn’t stopping. Yet he waited for her, only to deliver that last message.

She politely bowed, acknowledging his acceptance. He isn’t that bad, after all, she thought.

Bryony heard soldiers running past behind her. This prompted her to look back, where Cullen was standing. “They’ll load the trebuchets. Keep the Elder One’s attention until we’re above the tree line.” He spoke.

Bryony nodded, reassuring she got her orders clear. She was about to head out when Cullen momentarily grabbed her right hand, stopping her. “Once we’ve arrived at the location, I’ll fire a signal towards the sky. Stay sharp.”

“Alright, and Cullen,” she gently pressed back his hand before releasing him, she gazed towards his brown eyes, “thank you.” She was smiling.

“If we are to have chance… if you are to have a chance… let that thing hear you.” He looked at her back before returning to his men, helping two that were limping.

“Oh, don’t worry. He’ll do more than hear me.” She finally readied her staff, heading towards her team who opened the door.

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She coughed some blood.

After barely regaining some consciousness, her body only agonized in pain while the faint warmness of her body faded away… very, very slowly. Bryony managed somehow to stand up in middle of an unknown cave, Temperature was falling faster that she could warm herself up. At first, she tried to cast a small fire spell, enough to burn the broken piece of wood that fell with her. Nothing, there was no magic left inside her body for the time being. How could there be any left? She didn’t listen to her wounded fleshy carcass who screamed for some little rest. Bryony had to hug herself, rubbing her arms in other to calm down the shakings over her body.

Luckily, the cave had a straightforward road, a man-made tunnel since there were some stairs alongside a built entrance to the next room. It took a while for her to realize this since her vision was barely focusing on her environment. How long was I out? Maybe there is an exit nearby? She thought just as she was about to run. What only resulted from that were some wheezing sounds of agony. She could feel the broken parts in her body, maybe some ribs broken and an injured foot. Bryony squeezed her eyes and her nose crunched, trying hard to remember…

“What the hell happened?” She spoke onto the air, an obvious question since the memories still permeated her head. The real motive of question was the inconceivable previous events to her fall. What was more unreal? Her surviving such lethal situation, or encountering a being who claims to be one of the Magisters who brought the Blight?

“Argh!!!” Bryony exclaimed, pained by the sudden headache brought with the cold and the fuzzy short-term memories.

Thankfully, she wasn’t suffering amnesia, she already suffered one, two would be maddening. But, recalling the events proved to be quite the challenge. Could it be the emotional trauma of almost encountering death? Or that death lingered slightly behind her, quietly waiting for her in this freezing tomb?

She had to move, she refused to perish in such pathetic way. “Think, Bryony, what the hell happened back there?” She spoke out loud while making her first steps towards the exit.

“Shit, I don’t want to die.” She exhaled, trembling by either fear or the freezing sensation. The blood from a wound near her lips had already frozen up, creating a burning sensation that tickled like hell.

Bryony began to remember, as a way to keeping her awaken in order to press forward.

First, she was with her team, Dorian was backing her up while Cassandra defended Varric. It was a solid strategy. They cleared a path cleanly. The last standing trebuchet wasn’t far away; but they wouldn’t risk any possible corrupted templar sneaking into the Chantry. Luckily, it was too easy to recognize enemies from foes, their own men didn’t glow with an ominous red energy.

“There’s our glorious end. All it needs is aiming!” Dorian shouted, already foreshadowing their impending perish.

“Our ending? I believe I was clear with my orders, Dorian!” Bryony spat, electrifying enemies in the process.

“Well, you know, your plan doesn’t guarantee we may escape in time. I’m just getting used for the worst possible scenario.” He sassily answered her friend, frost stepping to her side only to argue back. At least he pierced through four templars with this move.

“We can bicker later! Cover me while I aim the trebuchet!” Both ended rebuked by Cassandra. She was the one spinning the wheel in order to hit properly the mountain.

“You know! I hate to agree with her! I blame you for this!” Varric fired one arrow in between the eyes of an enemy, killing it instantly. He sounded sour, unhappy that, for a split second, he had to be the responsible one alongside the Seeker.

The battle continued non-stop, tiring the team.

“What the hell is that?!” Bryony yelled, gaining the attention of her team, which was redirected to the giant red golem in front of them.

No, it wasn’t a golem, it was another templar. Only this time, little could be seen of his human form. She didn’t sound frightened, just alarmed. She wasn’t sure on how to eliminate a target that monstrous, but she was willing to find out.

Everyone focused on the small minions, they encircled them on a faraway spot. Then Bryony casted once more a lighting cage. This spell became one of her favorites, which became the strongest attack. None of the enemies were strong enough to escape the zapping chains that drew inside. This gave enough time for the team to deal damage to the golem. Every once in a while, Bryony would’ve reinforced the cage.

Once weakened the enemy, and his shields down, Bryony asked Cassandra to catapult her towards the enemy. There was no time to fight back at such ridiculous order, since Bryony was dashing towards the Seeker. It wasn’t an order; it was a warning. In one move, Cassandra readied her shield, covered her face and felt the weight of the Herald. Then, as by instinct, the Seeker countered this movement, sending Bryony flying towards the enemy.

Bryony has seconds to spare, which she used by locking her legs unto the enemy’s spikes and neck. She risked her life by piercing the enemy’s mouth with her own staff. It is unknown how much force she applied to her weapon in order to manage such feat, after all, she did hear the enemy’s mandible snapping. That mattered little once Bryony fully charged the staff with electric magic, sending the enemy, and his head, flying in pieces all over the battlefield. Whomever that person was, was long gone, doomed to be forgotten.

One thing was sure, that amazing stunt costed Bryony’s only weapon. Now, she had to rely on her fists once more.

They lost track of time eventually, the count of how many reinforcements they fought mattered little once the trebuchet was loaded and properly aimed at their target. The battlefield seemed empty enough, so Bryony volunteered to spin the wheel since she was weaponless.

“Everyone, go.” The Herald spoke, the seriousness in her tone opened everyone’s eyes widely. She was meaning it. Dorian already opened his mouth, ready to argue. “It’s an order!” But the Herald wasn’t going to allow anyone to disobey her.

Cassandra griped her sword in frustration before sheathing it. Then she proceeded to grab Dorian’s arm, already thinking of dragging him back to the Chantry. At least, the Tevinter mage knew when to throw the towel.

That’s when Bryony let go of the wheel, looking at the sky. When the guttural roars and the slow flapping of its wings were heard, that’s when the team realized why she was commanding everyone to retreat. The dragon approached them once more.

“Move. Now.” This time, she wasn’t joking around. She could barely process those words before running away from the blasting attack that separated her from the team.

“Are… they s-s-safe?” She was hardly speaking, feeling her lungs freezing while remembering those events. She feared for her team, even while she was near death.

Then, an atrocious, death suffocating sensation crept through her back has she continued focusing. That’s true, I tried to look for them when I recovered from the impact, then…

Then the Elder One appeared in midst the fire, either not caring about the burning pain or not receiving any at all. The imposing figure had only one target in his mind, Bryony. That’s all that mattered. Within seconds, the Herald found herself between this lyrium deformed creature and the dragon which he apparently controlled.

Insults began to evoke from this apparent egomaniac man, or rather mage with a god complex. Calling her “Pretender”. Of course, Bryony was less from afraid once the taunt began. Her heartbeat probably was proving the opposite, yet, she wouldn’t accept some weak ass calumny.

This Elder One, whom presented himself as Corypheus, began to threaten her by imposing his will. “You will resist. You will always resist. It matters not.” Those words still lingered through her mind while resting herself against the wall of the corridor. Her hand was burning, like an acidic burn she couldn’t wash away. She continued walking.

He referred to this as the Anchor. She thought while thinking of his words while she was at mercy of his grasp. He somehow was controlling the magic energy flowing through her left hand. He accused of her of interrupting a ritual, was that what happened at the Conclave? He planned to assault the Heavens. “What is this thing meant to do?!” She yelled, trying to hold in the pain consuming her. For a moment, she thought of her arm melting right in front of her, pain made her hallucinate.

“It is meant to bring certainty where there is none. For you, the certainty that I would always come for it.” He replied, assuring that, even if she escaped today somehow, he will pursue her sole existence.

As if she was a mere toy, a puppet, he lifted her like nothing. Then he pronounced those words, those phrases that revealed to her whom Corypheus truly was. Whom would be her enemy as long as she lived. …Breached the fade… The Old Gods of the Empire… Then it clicked her.

“T-then, he truly is one of the original Magisters. The ones who started the Blight.” She barely spoke out loud, the cold made her lips break each time they were moved. “Who’s there?” Bryony lifted her head once the silhouettes of some regular wraith demons began to approach her.

The Herald wouldn’t humor them, battle them. She wanted them gone immediately, her left pulsing hand dropped green mana at a worrying rate. So, she only lifted it, thinking of those demons be no more. And, with her desire becoming a reality, a mark was placed in between them, which became a small rift. Similar to those she encountered and sealed before, this tinier version sucked the enemies away from her. Instead of being a burdensome inconvenience, it became a useful weapon in her aid. A new technique for future fights. That is, if she survives first.

Bryony looked to the front; she could see the end of the tunnel. It didn’t matter how many breaths of her revealed her exhaustion. Only one last push was needed. Just like it happened with Corypheus.

He mentioned he saw the throne of the gods, and it was empty. That is… Argh, I can’t think straight. He is only one tall idiot who wishes to be the new god. He couldn’t even finish me off when he had the chance.

Yes, Corypheus, full of himself, threw Bryony towards the loaded trebuchet. She received a strong hit, hurting a small part of her spine, nothing she hasn’t received before. If she only had a healing potion at hand. At first, the Herald distracted him by grabbing a sword and pointing it towards him. That made no sense since it has been years since she took one as a weapon, when the possibility of becoming a templar circled around her head. Her eyesight was a bit clouded, still recovering from the impact against the wood. Luckily for her, the enemy at hand suffered from an arrogance impulse that compelled him to monologue his plan. This gave her enough time to watch the fiery arrow being launched towards the sky.

Everyone is finally safe, she thought. Finally, one last cocky smile was given.

“You expect me to fight, but that’s not why I kept you talking.” Not that she somehow made a huge effort into make him talk. But she would savor this moment. “Enjoy your victory. Here’s your price!” The cockiness in her tone was long gone, she screamed using almost every last of energy remaining to kick and release the projectile towards the mountain.

Her back ached just by remembering the second hit she received on the right side of her body. Bryony gently placed her hand over the spot. It hurt like hell and she could notice some alarming red blotches. At least the cold kept the wound under control. She needed to press forward and fast.

But where? Once she finally exited the cave, she was presented with a white Fade’s acre. Her possible burial place amidst the snow. The buildings were long gone, buried by the blizzard snow, if she didn’t move quickly, she would join them soon. Any trace of footprints disappeared prior to her arrival. Her guide were faint constructions that survived the impact. Some carried faint lights that she used to regain heat before they faded away.

This one is recently made, everyone passed through here. I must… keep going. She thought to herself since her mouth could only produce shivering sounds. Any attempt of speaking felt like her throat breaking into several crystal pieces.

Walking became almost impossible. She thought of stopping for a second, just take a short breathing and rest. But fear made her believe that, by doing so, that would become her eternal resting place.

Shit, it can’t like this. Everything I did… All of it, was it for this fucking moment?

She started to remember. It is unknown on whether she was contemplating her life passing through her eyes as death was keeping her a close company, or as a result of her own sheer will in order to keep going.

The memories, those that were keeping her moving on. The most important ones, and the ones that marked forever her life.

The scared templar apprentices looking at her, as if looking at a demon while her fist glimmered with purple sparks. Hector looked at her, his eyes were of a man who witnessed the loss of someone important to him. Just because she used magic.

A few days later, her family wouldn’t even talk to her. With her chamber doors chained on the outside while the Templars arrived for her retrieval. She hugged tightly her knees while Hector tried to comfort her.

The Knight Commander Mortimer, torturing those poor mages who attempted to steal any food that wasn’t molded bread. Jeralt, future to-be Knight-Commander, lied to his superior while a little Bryony hid in the kitchen, holding her breath so that no one would hear her. That same night, she broke the rules and stole a small grape, one that tasted like heavens to the point of making her tear in happiness. For the first time, she experienced sweetness after suffering one year of torment.

Then there was the “silent uprising”. The day Mortimer died by poisoning. Everyone pointed towards the mages for this act. However, none were close to the Templar that day, since he kept them locked and security was tight. Bryony stood closely to Jeralt and her mentor, Lydia, while chaos filled the hallways. Yet this Templar looked strangely calm, even when receiving the news.

Then there was the Knight-Commander office. The first time she entered once Jeralt became the successor to this title. He spoke to her about this “agreement”, one only created for her. That’s when Abrecan came into her life. The Templar that would always watch over her. The one who always patted her head after a successful mission after returning to the Tower.

The kitchen, where she would spend all her nights, dedicating herself only to training. Which caused her to fall asleep during many morning classes.

Her team, the old one.

Finally, the Conclave and the consequences of it.

The Inquisition, the place that initially seemed like her doom. Now, her salvation. While, she doesn’t trust many of them, it has begun to grow on her. Not only the organization as a whole, dedicated to the common well-being, but its people. That’s when a particular face came into her mind.

It can’t end like this… I have so many things to do. So many things to solve. So many people to see again. No. I didn’t even tell Cullen that…

“There! It’s her!” The Commander’s voice reached her ears.

“Thank the Maker!” He wasn’t alone, Cassandra always ran towards her.

Bryony didn’t even realize how long had she been walking through the snow, not even that the blizzard faded out ages ago.

“Cu…llen?” But the Herald was at her limit. Her legs gave out. Her body slowly succumbed into the snow. Her eyes could barely distinguish the figures in front of her. Hadn’t been for the faint light casted by torches in the horizon, she would only see darkness.

Amidst the people, she could only recognize one face, running at her at full speed as if his life depended on it. He looked desperate while trying to catch her. Then her gaze completely blacked out.

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#dragon age #cullen romance #cullen rutherford #cullen x oc #commander cullen #cullen x inquisitor #cullevelyan #inquisitor trevelyan

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nowandthane · 1 year ago

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inevitable.

murmur of words like the whispers of wind the soft sighs of enchanted lovers so quiet as to be meaningless when our lips touch and desire blazes hotter than hate let it burn away the past i’ll forget it all leave the bodies behind broken bloody brutality in your arms i am not a murderer in my arms you are not the jailer of innocents but innocent do you taste the lies on our lips? the salty tears of facades dripping into open wounds acid boring holes down to our bones and they will snap just as we did lies as heavy as the corpses we carry dragging us under our forgotten victims burying us both alive

This poem is about Cullen and Arianwen. Their story, Command Me to Love, can be found here. Aria is a blood mage hunter-of-templars which is why this poem is so angsty lmao

#that said i promise their story ends on a happy note #anyways yeah instead of writing anything new im just posting my old stuff xD #dragon age #cullen rutherford #cullen x inquisitor #cullen x trevelyan #cullevelyan #trevelyan #arianwen trevelyan #arianwen x cullen #my poems #dragon age poems

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inquisimer · 2 years ago

Note

MERRRRR happy friday!!! Today I bet for either Cullen x Neria or Cullen x Acacia (whichever you think would fit better) for "scolding your lover for almost getting themselves killed, and your lover asks you why you care so much" from the slow burn prompts! ❤️

HAPPY FRIDAY NIRI UHHHH THIS GOT OUT OF HAND

a sequel ig to this fill from a few weeks back, which was ALSO YOURS lmfao, thank you for supporting my random Cullen/Trev on the side ily

ANYWAY here’s a whole mess of Cullen/Acacia feels, with some sibling vibes on the side for flavor uwu

wc: 3161

for @dadrunkwriting

~~~

A runner knocked on Acacia’s door before the signaling horn even announced the Inquisitor’s return.

He was a young wisp of a thing, with floppy straw-blond hair and gray eyes. His face was cherry red with the cold and his chest heaved with the exertion of having flat out sprinted from the front gates to her room.

“The watches have spotted the Inquisitor’s party, Lady Trevelyan—“

Acacia sprang from her window seat and the calculations she’d been reviewing for Josephine scattered across the floor. Her heart leaped into her throat and she was halfway down the battlements before it dropped back down, flipping the messenger a silver as she passed.

He’d have gotten a septim if he remembered to drop the title.

“Lady Trevelyan—wait—“

She ignored him and his protestations died quickly in the wind as she flew toward the front gates. The signaling horn finally sounded and suddenly she had to dart between and under all the others who were massing to watch the Inquisitor ride back into Skyhold, victorious. Her cloak lay forgotten on the floor with all her papers; the sleeves of her tunic billowed with her speed and the icy air bit through her leggings, but she felt no cold, only the pounding of her heart and the incoherent racing of her mind.

She reached the main courtyard just as the drawbridge dropped. The people gathered here recognized her and gave way with no complaints, carving her a path past the makeshift desks and the Surgeon’s tents. She saw the specks of the Drew and his companions first—and then she heard the cursing.

It got louder as they drew closer and the bottom of her stomach fell away like a trapdoor. Cullen’s voice echoed off the stone walls and mountainsides, calling on the Maker and Andraste’s every body part and Acacia squinted, just barely able to make out how Drew crouched over his Commander, tensed as he always got when holding a particularly delicate spell in place.

Her feet slapped against stone before she’d even registered leaving the matted grass and dirt in the courtyard. Sunlight glared off the snowcaps and left spots on her vision but she didn’t see them. Her vision tunneled on the makeshift cot between Varric and Dorian and the figure lying prone across it.

“Oof!” What little air was left in her lungs escaped as she collided with a solid bar—or rather, Cassandra threw out her arms to stop Acacia’s forward progress, holding her a few feet from the procession.

“It is a delicate process, my l—Acacia,” she quickly corrected, seeing the scowl on Acacia’s face darken even further. “There have been several close calls between here and the Emprise—“

Acacia choked. “He’s been like all the way from the Emprise—“

“He insisted,” said Cassandra darkly. “He wanted us to leave him, but the Inquisitor” —she scowled— “refused to relinquish his care to any healers but our own. Not that I question his leadership—“

“Probably should.”

“—but it has made our return…perilous.” The Seeker slackened her grip ever so slightly, though Acacia could still feel the muscles in her arms, ready to tighten at the slightest aggression. “I would appreciate if you waited to assault either of them until a healer has taken over for the Inquisitor.”

Acacia didn’t answer but nor did she move; her gaze had finally fallen on the wound that left Cullen prone. His armor was mostly intact, except around his torso, where a large section and surrounding patches were missing, as though melted by some sort of acid. The largest gap had burned through his tunic as well as his skin—this was where Drew had concentrated his magic, creating a fine web of mana that served as a temporary epidermis until a proper healer could get their spells on it.

Drew never was much for spirit magic, from what he’d said, so that explained the circles under his eyes and the tremor in his hands most of them hadn’t noticed.

Most of them.

“It’s been doing that since we started up the mountains,” Cassandra said, following Acacia’s gaze to her brother’s hands. They crossed the threshold into Skyhold proper and Surgeon and their assistants swarmed the party.

“I’m going to need fresh water and any mages who haven’t worked today,” they barked at one runner. The freckle-faced girl took off toward the mages’ tower like a bolt from a staff.

“You, get me some brandy from the kitchens and clear the operating tent! And you, up to the main hall and tell that elf we’ll need him and as much lyrium as he can carry!”

“No—“ Cullen groaned and strained to rise, only for Varric to push him firmly back down.

“No lyrium,” he managed, gasping around the words as if just trying to speak was an effort. Acacia saw Drew’s jaw tighten and the veins in his hand pop as the mana webbing flexed under what she assumed was a fresh spurt of blood from Cullen’s open wound. Something in her shattered and she pushed past the mingled terror and paralysis, bypassing Cassandra’s binds and striding to the Surgeon with purpose and a jaw clenched against her terror.

“No lyrium for him,” she said firmly. She didn’t look at either of them, or her momentary steel might crack. “I assume it’s for the mages?”

“Yes lass,” they said. “The brandy is for him—“

“He won’t take it. Better off asking for earplugs—he’ll scream to the Maker’s side before he accepts painkillers. And if you can spare a lyrium potion I’ll dilute it for the Inquisitor, he’ll need something to keep him upright after he lets that spell down.”

“Aye, just grab one from Lessie when she comes back with the elf.”

“Get Solas,” Drew said, “He needs Solas—a weird rift—some Fade weapon—“

His voice was so thin and reedy, the sound nearly broke Acacia’s fragile composure. She bit her tongue, hard, and used the pain to focus herself.

“They’ve already called for Solas,” she told the canvas exterior of the operating tent. She still wouldn’t—couldn’t—look at Drew. Not until he was away from Cullen, and preferably sitting down. “He’s bringing the lyrium.”

“Acacia?”

She almost lost it right there. Cullen’s eyes had glazed over and his skin taken on an ashen sheen. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead and neck and it was loose from its carefully straightened style in a way she knew he’d be embarrassed about later. If he had his way, only she—and the thousands of residents in Kirkwall—would know of his curls. Maybe she could bribe everyone in the courtyard to shut up about it. Or threaten. That would be more cost effective.

Regardless, he had clearly slipped into that place between the waking world and the Fade, not quite unconscious but not fully with them either, and her heart twisted to know that he wasn’t seeing or hearing her, but called out for her regardless.

Her heart???

Fuck.

Filing that under shit to worry about once everyone was stable, Acacia held the tent flap aside so they could carry Cullen in and lay him across the freshly wiped operating table. Solas appeared out of nowhere, the straw-haired messenger at his side carrying a crate clinking with lyrium potions. They ducked into the tent, but not before Acacia snagged one of the bottles and dumped the contents into her canteen, swirling the mixture before returning half of it to the bottle. It still glowed, albeit lighter blue now, like the sky rather than the ocean. They’d learned it was safer for a completely exhausted mage to sip something like this after full depletion, if they refused or couldn’t afford to sleep.

And she fully expected Drew would resist anything like a nap at this point.

Sure enough, when he emerged from the tent, shoulders falling lower with every step, he still moved first toward Cassandra and the weary determination in his eyes told Acacia he wasn’t looking for anything other than orders. She grabbed his elbow and pulled him off course, pressing the vial into his weak grip.

“Drink,” she told him firmly. “And if you insist on working, we’re going to the War Room and I’m having Josephine cart in one of her nice chairs for you.”

He took a tentative sip of the diluted potion and the fist around Acacia’s heart eased when a half-hearted smile quirked his lips.

“Well,” he said, voice hoarse and ragged. “I didn’t do anything stupid. You’ll have to take that promise up with the Commander later, I suppose.”

“Oh, I will,” she muttered darkly.

Her mind was still reeling when she left the War Room hours later. The Emprise was stable—ish, at least, though there was still the question of Mistress Poulin and who they would move in to occupy the Keep, but the citizens weren’t in any immediate danger and the supply lines had opened again. But Samson—

Acacia saw red; her teeth audibly clicked together and her hands seized in fists at her sides. The guards she walked past exchanged a glance and she only narrowly held back from snarling at them to mind their fucking business.

That fucking excuse for a human, more like a sack of dung in an expensive set of armor—it was his fault they were in this mess—

Well, partially his fault anyway.

Acacia shivered; she really wished she’d grabbed her cloak. If she’d known—but she hadn’t, and she’d rather thought she’d have body heat to keep her warm after the homecoming settled down. At least her moccasins were comfortable, if a bit sweaty from pacing the War Room floor. They padded against the steps down from the main courtyard to the lantern-lit corral of tents that made up the Surgeon’s domain.

The freckle-faced runner and her straw-haired companion stood over a basin, dunking blood-soaked rags in freshly boiled water and wringing as much of the staining from the fabric as they could before dropping them in a separate bin of disinfectant. Both perked up at her approach and the girl offered her a tentative smile.

“He’s awake, serrah, much to the Surgeon’s displeasure,” she said, twisting a bandage between lithe fingers. “We’d all be much obliged if you could get him to rest. They’ll be a nightmare if they wake up and he hasn’t let the Fade work on his wounds.”

Ire and fear danced together in her throat. All she could manage was a curt nod before she tugged loose the ties of the tent flap and ducked inside.

“I won’t rest, there is work to do, I demand to speak with—“

“You’ll shut up, if you value your vocal chords.”

Cullen’s prepared tirade died at her declaration and he jerked his head up off the pillow to see with his own eye that she was there. His lips parted and his eyes darkened—with regret, with shame, with apology, it was hard to be certain. Acacia didn’t care, though. She folded her arms and shook her head.

Half of her wanted to lash out at him—how dare he do this, lure her into such a place of security and then go and almost die. And the other half wanted to set down at his side and cradle his head in her lap until every scar faded to white.

“Drew says the Emprise is secure,” she finally said. Work was a safe topic—they could talk about the Inquisition’s progress and commiserate about her brother’s stupidity until the world burned and she’d never feel the urge to undo all the Surgeon’s hard work. “He brought Solas more of those shards and a healthy stash of arms and armor for Dagna to fuss around with.”

“Does it matter?” There was bitterness in Cullen’s voice she wasn’t used to and he let his head fall back against the pillow, turning it away from her. “Samson got away. And Maddox—“

“Maddox chose his path,” she said harshly, immediately abandoning all pretense of civility. If he wanted to jump straight into the fire, so be it. “And from what Drew tells me, so did you.”

“What would you have had me do?” Cullen pushed himself up onto one forearm, wincing slightly. Acacia was fairly certain he wasn’t meant to do that, but there were bigger battles in this conversation. “Hold back and cower while our enemy retreated?”

“Yes,” she hissed, toes flexing in her shoes as she held herself from lunging at him. She longed to grab his shoulders and shake sense into that honor-addled mind. “Exactly as you promised you would.”

“Tell me how chasing after our adversary qualifies as stupid, please.” He glared at her, vitriol swirling in his amber eyes as she’d never seen before. Her own hackles raised and she spit venom with every word.

“Running from the rest of your party, perhaps? Knowing that you’ve used your entire supply of healing potions, between wounds and the townsfolk? Knowing you don’t have the tools to break his defenses and that he can cut through yours with one swipe?”

She closed the distance between them and bared her teeth in his face. “Sounds pretty fucking stupid to me, Cullen.”

All of his defenses sagged, perhaps because he knew it was stupid and his bravado only stretched until the she spoke the reality into being. She let him stew in the renewed shame, her hands and eyes flitting across the bandage wrapped around his midsection. Her menial medical training wouldn’t serve any good here; it was simply a distraction from the conversation that loomed.

“You promised,” she finally said, when she could stand the wavering silence no longer. “My safety net—you promised—“

“It was Samson, ‘cacia—you know what he’s done, what he is—“

“I knew that before you left!” she snapped. “And I asked you anyway—and you promised anyway! And now” —she gestured down the length of his body— “now this!”

“I’m going to be fine,” he soothed, reaching for her arm with one hand. She pulled away and glowered in the face of his wounded expression. “I’ll be back up tomorrow.”

“The aides outside speculate a week’s rest, at least.”

“Maker’s breath, they’re exaggerating, I’m sure—“

“I’m sure they’re not. It’s only consistent with the fact that you don’t give half a thought to your physical well-being on a day when you haven’t been stabbed by some Fade-touched red lyrium blade—“

He sagged back against the cot, defeat coiled in every muscle and she faltered. Berating him surely wouldn’t speed his recovery, she scolded herself. She brushed her knuckles over his in a soft apology.

“That’s not why I came,” she sighed, twining their fingers together when he opened his palm to her.

“Why did you come?”

“I—you—you almost died, Cullen. You were gone for weeks and you came back on a stretcher.” She stumbled over her words and the emotions they were borne of, searching for the ones that fit the box this relationship lived in. “If it wasn’t me it would be Drew, and Drew desperately needed a few hours in the Fade.”

“So you’re here on the Inquistor’s behalf?”

“I—no—I didn’t say that.”

“But I’m asking: are you here because Drew asked you to be?” Some of his energy returned and he quirked an eyebrow at her. Acacia cringed under the sudden scrutiny and scrambled for an answer that didn’t invite the intense conversation he seemed keen to have, despite her disheveled, sat-on-the-War-Room-floor-for-hours look and his own, grungy and faintly necrotic, smelling of medicinal herbs and sharp cotton.

“No,” she finally said. The truth fell heavy between them, like one of Harritt’s interns fumbling a lump of iron. It weighed down the silence with every beat, every breath until Acacia couldn’t bear the cloak of tension. She reached for the tent flap, feet halfway to the frost outside when fingers wrapped around her wrist.

His grip had surprising strength, the ordeal of the past hours considered. “No?”

“No,” she affirmed. But anything further lodged in her throat; she couldn’t even move to face him again, couldn’t do anything but close her eyes and retreat inside the bars around her heart, tame the urge to flee: the tent, the fortress, across the Waking Sea.

The Guild had all their difficult conversations with knives. She missed that.

“Well?” His voice was impossibly soft, and not as a result of his wounds or exhaustion. It felt like a soft blanket, warmed from the fire and draped around her shoulders. Not a gift—a trade, because he wanted something in return. “Why do you care, then?”

“Cullen—“

“Please, Acacia,” he pleaded. “Please, don’t run. You need a safety net? I’m still here, right here. Fall on me. Trust me to catch you, please.”

Her free hand tangled in her hair as a thousand agonies tore through her at once. He knew of course he knew, that’s why he was begging her to just tell him the truth. She knew too, had known for longer than she’d admitted even to Drew, but denial—denial was her safe space.

And yet—

If she walked away from this place, this life, these people, would she survive as she had when she left the Marches?

She didn’t think so.

That realization rocked her to her core and she found her paralysis broken. Her legs spun the rest of her around and she fell to her knees beside Cullen’s cot and crushed their lips together. Teeth clicked against each other in her haste; she could taste the elfroot and a strange, sickly sweet syrup on his tongue. No doubt he could taste the day’s sludge on hers. He didn’t seem to mind, though, because he responded in kind, pressing his chapped lips back against hers and bringing his free hand up to cup her jaw with feather-light touch.

They broke apart with a shared gasp and Acacia pressed her forehead against his, clammy from the healing.

“Because I’m in love with you, you fool,” she whispered, laying her heart on a silver platter, prepped and ready for him to shatter. “That’s why I came—that’s why I care.”

His answering smile beamed around the entire tent, magnifying the light of the one dim candle as though it were thousands. He dropped his grip to her waist and held her firmly in the half circle of his arm, drawing her the few inches back toward his face so he could whisper his reply right against her lips.

“And I, you.” His breath ghosted across her skin and the endless fall she’d been on since Starkhaven came to a crashing halt with goosebumps on her arms and the flex of a safety net snug around her heart.

“I love all of you, Acacia Trevelyan.”

#my writing #dadwc #oc: acacia trevelyan #cullen x acacia #cullen x trevelyan #cullevelyan #dragon age fic #dragon age inquisition #someday I'll have a coherent arc for them but for now it's just #random love confessions and them running after each other ig #*tosses hands up*#dragon age

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whimsyswastry · 2 years ago

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Reading Unharrowed for the first time in four years and I am really enjoying it! The mage rebellion subplot is a little messy, but it’s not the dumpster fire I remember abandoning.

I think it’s time to update My Beloathed™️

Here’s a quick bit from the Dreamer Lily’s chapter when she visits the Fade looking for answers to help Ellaria:

“Funny thing about spirits,” a lilting voice called from one of the archways, “you never know what you’ll find when they pop up out of the blue announcing ‘Someone is here to see you Miss Aria’.” The beautiful elven woman laughed, her dark hair bouncing around her shoulders. “Well?”

Silence.

“Oh, come now. I’m not that scary,” she laughed again. “Speak!”

A small zap of electricity nipped at Lily’s backside.

“Ow!”

“Oh, so she is capable of speech.” The elven woman’s smile was disarming, but Lily remained silent as Aria’hari relaxed into one of the chaises and reached for a pear. She bit into it and didn’t seem to mind the extraneous juice running out the corner of her mouth. She wiped at her mouth lazily and threw the rest of the pear into the pool where the strange creatures devoured the remaining fruit, pit and all.

“Oh, come now, don’t make me torture you to get it out.” Another zap of electricity, this time to the sensitive fold where her thigh met her hip.

“Stop!” Lily screeched and proceeded to pout. “I’ll tell you why I came, just…no more electricity.”

Aria’hari’s face fell into her own pout and Lily finally saw the resemblance.

#whimsy writes #unharrowed #my beloathed #(affectionate)#dragon age #da fanfic #cullevelyan #cullen x inquisitor #past cullen x amell #DAI prequel

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swordbisexual · 2 months ago

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My top posts currently being DA2-based when I’m back on my Inquisition and Cullenmance bullshit… listen I’m so sorry but if you can’t handle me at my Cullevelyan you don’t deserve me at my Handers. Or something.

#sorry for the bait and switch I guess #only the strong survive

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demawrites · 2 years ago

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Hi! I’m Dema

This is the side-blog for @demarogue that is specifically for writing – mostly fanfic, some original work. I’ll also participate in @dadrunkwriting here (and here’s my prompt list for that!), and post work for challenges and exchanges. And, of course, hype my moots.

If you’re looking for my batshit shenanigans, that’s at my main blog. Art is at @demadraws, and @demaesthetic is where I keep a bunch of visual inspiration with no text. Pick your poison.

I dabble in a lot of fandoms but these are the ones I am currently only creating for:

Dragon Age

Currently writing Cullen and Cassandra ship fics, but I’m a Solasmancer in my heart and am kicking around a few things for future.

Letters to the Dead – [M, multi-chapter] In the wake of their sudden breakup and Solas' disappearance, Niva Lavellan copes by writing letters she know she cannot send, and by taking the path untraveled. Is it still a rebound, if he's the one? (Cullavellan)

You’re Bad but You’re Mine – [M, multi-chapter] The Inquisitor is not a good man. Cassandra knows the Inquisitor is not a good man. He is dangerous, and deceitful, and self-interested. He is cunning, and promiscuous, and if he has a moral compass at all, Maker only knows which direction it points. He is worse than terrible at his job; he is a liability. He was an assassin. Is. He is an assassin. But for all that, Cassandra cannot help herself. She's as drawn to him as a moth to flame.

Lethologica – (currently on Hiatus) [M, longfic] Before the Mage Rebellion and the Inquisition, Alethea Trevelyan knew nothing of war...or much of anything, in the world beyond her circle. Young, noble-born and pampered, she faces a reckoning after a protracted stay in the worst-case scenario future, realizing she must transform into something else – and find ways to connect with those who she instinctively trusts the least – if any of them are to survive. (Cullevelyan)

I tag stuff here with #dragon age and #da:i

I am taking asks and prompts! You can search the prompts I’ve compiled at #writing prompts (I think this link only works in browser. You can also find it on my sidebar).

#about me #pinned post

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theluckywizard · 11 months ago

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Long Fic Art Roundup!

I thought I'd share a smattering of artwork I've created for my longfic this morning! I got my iPad a few months into writing the fic so the art doesn't really heat up until In Your Heart Shall Burn. I'll have to go back and illustrate earlier stuff at some point!

In the Shattering of Things

WC: 325,000+, WIP New chapters every Sunday or Monday Ships: Cullen x f!Trevelyan, m!Hawke x f!Trevelyan Vibes: Slow burn, mutual pining, fluff and angst, multiple relationships, eventual smut, flawed characters, multiple ships, fast burn, hurt/comfort, flawed relationships, canon divergence

Summary: Lady Rose Trevelyan's idle, aristocratic life blinks out in a haze of irrelevance when the breach destroys the Conclave. She may be soft and coddled when she joins the Inquisition, but there's a fierceness inside her she's yet to fully recognize. Armed with only a few relevant skills and the mark that makes her a legend, she is thrust onto a path delivering hope where it’s long been scorched away and finds comfort in the grumpy, handsome stick in the mud charged with her protection and training. As she stumbles her way across southern Thedas, she begins to realize she's tangled at the center of machinations she barely understands, and she's not alone in that. Enter Hawke.

Lots more art below the cut! 👇

There are a lot more illustrations in the fic, but these are some of my favorites!

#Dragon Age Fan Art #Cullevelyan #Cullen x Trevelyan #Cullen x Inquisitor #Hawke x Trevelyan #Hawke x Inquisitor #Bit of a Love Triangle I Admit #But Grown Up Edition!#Warrior!Hawke #Blue-Purple Hawke #Dragon Age Inquisition #My Art #Luckywizardart #Rose Trevelyan #Garrett Hawke #Cullen Rutherford #Rogue Inquisitor

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plisuu · 2 months ago

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Happy Friday! For DADWC: "I hate it when you leave" for Cullen/Connor? ;-;

Trying my hand at a 100 word fill this fine Friday!

wc: 100 @dadrunkwriting

Connor groped blindly across the sheets, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Cullen’s breeches, trying to tug him back under the covers.

“Must you?” he asked, voice still thick with sleep as he dragged himself to the edge of the bed and curled himself around where Cullen sat to lace his boots.

“Duty calls,” Cullen sighed in response as he ran a hand through Connor’s sleep-mussed hair, still soft despite how it stuck in different directions. He hunched awkwardly to place a kiss on on his partner’s shoulder, and Connor grumbled something incoherent, drawing himself tighter around Cullen’s waist.

#dragon age #cullen rutherford #cullen x trevelyan #bi cullen #cullen x male trevelyan #cullevelyan #connor trevelyan #my writing #dadwc

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enderevynne · 2 years ago

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DRAGON AGE: INQUISITION ➤ SHIP GIFS: Evyllen

EVYNNE TREVELYAN x CULLEN RUTHERFORD

starting to get a somewhat better hang of this coloring thing but definitely will redo this gifset later lol

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noobsydraws · 2 years ago

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Melissa and Cullen with their firstborn.

😭💕

Drawing babies is not easy though! 😂

#dragon age inquisition #dragon age #fanart #noobsydafanart #art #Melissa Trevelyan #commander cullen #cullen rutherford #cullen x trevelyan #cullevelyan #Trevelyan #Da3

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magnimoon · 1 year ago

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Chapter 18: The avoidable future - A Cullevelyan fic

You can read it on AO3 as well as the rest of the episodes!

Summary:

This is the mission "In Hushed Whispers". This is the start of the friendship Bryony has with Dorian.

The rest of the episode under the cut

“You know, for someone who traveled into a grim future like this… you seem pretty calm and excited about it.” Said Bryony to Dorian.

Dorian was analyzing the infrastructure of the chamber they fell into. There was a clear spark in his eyes while gazing at the cracks, the red lyrium overflowing from the walls and the pessimistic aura from the place. He immediately deduced that they traveled into the future and not the past. He helped with the formula for the spell, after all. Plus no one has ever mentioned red lyrium on Redcliffe. Not yet. There was a bit of pride in his smirk, amazed by what he and Alexius managed to fulfill.

“And you look at the verge of having a panic attack. Someone has to take us alive from this mess. Alas, the poor Tevinter mage needs to save the day. That is not the typical thing to do for my people, mind you. When do I get to try conquer the world?” Dorian answered to Bryony while inspecting her face.

Bryony was trying so hard to stay calm. But there was a wild shakiness on her hands holding her staff, her back was a bit stiff as well. Dorian has seen her in combat, she is way flexible and confident when doing so. Clearly this event shook her in many ways. Part of the blame goes to the fact that she rarely stepped outside from her Circle in Ostwick. So, suddenly being transported into the ruined and catastrophic Redcliffe, it had such a negative impact on the mage.

“Maybe once this is over, steal the pendant from Alexius and… I don’t know, go to the Golden City or something like that.” Bryony tried to avoid the situation with a bit of humor while exploring and looting as much as they could.

“And have no creativity? If I’m going to conquer the world, it must have some novelty, maybe in a flashier way.” Dorian looked goofily offended, clearly not meaning he was feeling that way.

“Invite me, I want to see how you’ll force your terrible fashion style into others.” Bryony finished looting the last guy, finding successfully a bunch of items she could sell once she returns to the past. If she returns that is.

“Ah, getting sassy. I like that.” Dorian opened the door for her as a nice gesture. He did promise to protect her, not that she needs it.

For a time, the couple of mages were exploring their whereabouts, trying to figure out in which part of the castle they were sent to. While fighting some Venatori, blood mages and demons here and there, Bryony knew she could trust Dorian. Dorian, on the other hand, knew that she was trusting her back to him.

Eventually, they reached a pair of cells filled with people way far gone. Their minds were already consumed by the whispers and songs of the lyrium. Among one of them, was Bryony’s future favorite dwarf, at least not in this timeline.

Following his humming, they found Varric in a tiny cell, surrounded by lyrium and, by the looks of it, covered in lyrium. There was an unpleasant red aura radiating from his body. But even if his eyes were glowing unnaturally, Varric kept his usual charming personality. Maybe lyrium hadn’t affected him yet, at least not his mind.

As distorted his voice was, he filled in some details about what was about to happen. Demon armies, the death of the Empress Celine and invasions caused by this “Elder One”, the usual stuff for Ferelden. Bryony joked about being lucky of missing all of those events, in her mind however, she was now getting an idea of what possibly she will be facing once she returns.

“Hey, don’t get nervous, we’ll figure it out once we are back.” Reassured Dorian after he saw her frowning while heading back to the corridor. He could pat her shoulder, but he was too prideful to do so.

“Well, it sounds like the Inquisition won’t be resting for a while.” Bryony sighed. She felt a bit better thanks to him.

“I know, looks like you guys will get all the fun.” He snorted.

“Feel free to join us, the Inquisition is always looking for crazy guys who know how to fight.”

“I can confirm.” Varric groaned while answering.

If Varric was found in a cell, Bryony thought that maybe the same scenario happened to Cassandra, so she didn’t exit before searching thoroughly. Fortunately, they did find her in another chamber, praying one of the Andrastian chants. Maybe her faith helped keep her mind from the songs of the red poison. But she was destroyed by her guilt, according to her she couldn’t protect Bryony, which caused all this demise and doom.

“While we are here, is there anything else we should know about the future? Anything about our team?” Bryony asked Varric and Cassandra while they were heading towards the throne room, since that’s where Alexius was hiding. She did this to distract the Seeker from her thoughts.

“We know nothing about Solas, he just disappeared. Vivienne returned to her palace to defend herself, but was obliterated in a few days.” Cassandra answered.

“Tiny returned to the qun and Hero succumbed to the lyrium, maybe it had to do with his Warden things. As for Buttercup… she ran out of arrows in middle of the fight.” Varric added, sounding a bit grim. There was more information regarding some of his friends from Kirkwall. But since only he knew them, that information was meant for him alone.

“Shit, well then, let’s make this worth it.” Bryony’s steps became faster and everyone followed.

Dorian knew none of them, but judging by her demeanor, they were close to her enough to care.

Surprisingly, the gang found Fiona in an almost devasted state, one quarter elf, three quarters of red lyrium already. The information given was almost superficial, such as being exactly one year in the future. But from the situation, Bryony only knew one thing: if they don’t help the mages right now, they might end just like Fiona. That is a fate meant for no one.

They also learned that Leliana was incarcerated somewhere in the castle, so their priority headed towards finding her. They needed to return to their present, but getting to know more about the future, plus having someone who might know where the throne room is, could put the odds in their favor.

Once they found her… it was not was they expected. These year has been harsh for everyone, but Leliana really suffered heavy tortures and betrayal. Enough to make her the perfect spymaster who believes in no one, not even the Warden whom she befriended years ago. That Leliana was gone, her face reflected the blight she had been injected or forced to consume, wrinkles of decay filling her once sleek and smooth forehead and cheeks. But the heaviest blow for Bryony was received when hearing upon Leliana’s now hate or at least fear for mages.

Given what has happened with her, with Redcliffe and possibly the rest of Ferelden, or even Thedas, no one can blame Leliana.

Dorian wanted more information about the future, but Leliana didn’t cooperate. Nothing could sway her from revealing more information since it was irrelevant, all that mattered was Alexius. Bryony wanted so badly to ask about Cullen, what could’ve happened to him in this cursed future. But given the situation, it would be pointless to ask. Leliana and she crossed eyes for a moment, and the Spymaster could guess what the Herald was thinking. So, the Spymaster only shook her head, indifferently shoving away any unnecessary curiosity.

After one of their many fights, Dorian approaches the Herald. “Are you alright?” he asks to Bryony since she seemed very tense after getting rid of some shades.

“Those ones were humas, did you hear them?” She answered, flinching at his voice.

The others were making sure there were no more mages on sight, Leliana was lockpicking the next door.

“Yes, I did, what about them?” Dorian got closer to her as if to make sure the others weren’t listening.

“One was called Linnea, we used to live in the same tower. Back in Ostwick.”

“Were you close?” Dorian looked at what was left from their corpses, thinking he was the one who burned them at the end. Kaffas, did I obliterate a dear friend of her?

“Quite the opposite, she always hated me for ‘being better than her’. But she only blamed everyone for her own faults.” She faintly grimed, recovering a bit of her poise.

“Ah. You also got one of those. Welcome, my friend.” He blurted without thinking at the mage. He was smiling in a bitter way. Bryony noticed that.

“What about you? Are you alright?” She asked. Dorian sighed; he was frustrated.

“This is madness.” He looked at the dock of the room they now were, there was a single boat. “Alexius can’t have wanted this.”

Bryony heard the door opening, Leliana was standing up, waiting for the others to rejoin the group.

“There is only one way to know. Come on, the sooner we get there, the sooner we’ll get our answers.” Bryony patted his shoulder as to comfort him. “Oh, I forgot to ask. To the mage that hated you… you also kicked his or her face when they challenged you?” She tried to distract his mind.

“Let’s say I made sure he wouldn’t pester me again.” The Tevinter mage sounded cocky, he remembered getting locked in a tower for his misbehavior afterwards.

“Then, let’s make sure this doesn’t happen once we get back.” Bryony regained a bit of her spirit.

She was going to exit this nightmare, one way or another

........

It feels like Bryony hasn’t breathe fresh and clean air like this for years, yet it was only a few hours the time she spent in that cursed future. For everyone else, it was probably between a second or minute the time she was away. Guess I’m hours older than before. She dryly chuckled while gripping the balustrade’s edge on Redcliffe castle.

She was looking down onto everyone, gazing at the scenery. The soldiers sent by the Inquisition were restraining Alexius and sending him to their headquarters. Probably someone would give him a trial eventually. Per Bryony’s petition, Felix wasn’t captured. She allowed him to return to Tevinter, so that he could spend his last moments in peace before the Blight consumed him. She watched him leave peacefully, free of guilt. Dorian wasn’t with him, guess that both already said their goodbyes. I wonder if those two were together at some point.

There was also Fiona near the main gate, gathering the mages. They would soon depart from Redcliffe towards Haven alongside Bryony. The Herald was supposed to get ready as well, but how could she get ready? She brought nothing and there was nothing to settle. Plus, she could return to the Hinterlands anytime she wanted.

Queen Anora did ask her to leave immediately since she had to bring back Teagan and restore the order disturbed by the mages. Probably for quite some time, the mages would have a terrible reputation in Redcliffe, once more. And it didn’t help that Bryony decided to treat them as allies instead of prisoners, opposing to the popular idea. However, Anora wasn’t a complete devil and gave the troops some rations, water and even some time for Bryony for just… rest. Which is what she is doing. In a few more minutes, she would depart.

“Ah, there you are. We are all ready to leave.” Dorian approached her so casually, he didn’t lean his body against the balustrade, he just stood at her side.

“Hey, Dorian. I’ll be there in a while. I’m just… thinking.” Bryony gazed at him momentarily before reassuming her thoughts.

Dorian knew she wasn’t feeling completely well, as to why it was, he had to ask.

“Do you regret your actions?” He referred to allying with the mages. He was a bit worried it might the case, since he has been fully supportive of them, even if they did wrong.

“What? No, no! I’m happy we could make the mages our allies. Is just… everything that happened beforehand.” Her hands were shaking a bit.

“Ah, the ugly future.” He wanted to say more but he refrained from doing so.

Now he knew she wasn’t referring to the whole trip to messed-up-land. It was heavily implied that her trauma was due to that last hour before returning. Seeing her comrades die couldn’t have been easy, she almost ran towards them when the demons dragged Varric’s corpse into the hall. Dorian doesn’t know how much she knew them, but it was enough to scar her mind.

“But now, we are back. What happened there is not real anymore.” He didn’t know what to say exactly.

“Yeah, thanks. There’s nothing else to do here, for now. I better return to the Inquisition. I can already hear the Commander’s rambling about this.” She sighed while massaging her temples, just like Cullen would do.

As much as she likes him, the Commander can be a pain in the ass with the issue regarding the templars and mages. Why he had to be a templar? Why? This is what I get for finding them attractive. She thought.

“Not very supportive of mages, I assume.” He joked about it.

“More like not letting the templars down, you were there.”

“True.” Dorian laughed now that he remembered the golden hair of the Commander, then he looked at the Herald without her knowing. He had a troublesome smile.

While the couple of mages were exiting the building, Bryony was thinking about Leliana. After all, she was the one killed in front of her eyes. But most important, what she asked before the chaos started was still lingering in her mind.

After Varric and Cassandra left the hall to protect them, Bryony approached the Spymaster. She still had a few seconds before Dorian started the ritual. “Leliana, I know that this future will be avoided and it won’t matter anymore but…” she trembled for a few seconds, “what happened to Cullen?”

Leliana, cold blooded, knowing this will be the last time they would meet, finally comply. She groaned while loading her arrow. “It is better if you don’t know.” She silenced herself for a few seconds before dead looking at Bryony. “But, whatever happens, don’t let the Commander near lyrium, nor a man named Samson.”

At that was the last thing she knew before starting the ritual. Whatever that meant, it kept Bryony worried about the Commander. There is still a long ahead before she could admit to herself what she actually felt for Cullen, but this is a start.

What she didn’t know is that Dorian heard that conversation, while he was preparing the ritual. And now he wonders how close the Herald and the Commander are.

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