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jawsandbones · 6 years

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I’ll Go First - Part Five of Ten

Rating: E

Summary: An unexpected leader, unlikely allies. Bound by the Breach, Alexi Trevelyan is trying to hold it all together. Thankfully, he doesn’t stand alone.

Pairing: Cullen x Male Trevelyan

AO3 Link: Click Here

Chapter Five: Feeble Dreams

“So this is the worst. Why do Wardens always build their fortresses out in the middle of nowhere?” Hawke says, a hand over her brow, trying to find some relief from the relentless sun.

“Mystique,” Carver tells her. She instantly snorts amusement.

“Their little mess of secrecy is what got us into this,” Varric says, “shouldn’t everyone know about the Calling?” Carver, with his arms crossed, raises an eyebrow. Shifting slightly to look at him, and he shakes his head.

“We barely get any recruits as it is. How many people do you think would join if they knew there was a time limit to it? You saw Larius. He was steps away from becoming a ghoul. Who would give up a normal life for that?” he says.

“Good point,” Varric says. Hawke is staring at Carver, almost a mirror image. Both of them stand tall with their arms crossed, black hair and bright blue eyes.

“What?” Carver asks.

“I’m trying to imagine you bald,” she says. “Ghoulish.” Carver groans, gives her shoulder a playful shove. She grins as she rights herself, and for a moment, after Carver looks away, some different expression crosses her face. A brief flash of a pained thing, lips turned downward, brows twisted together. Varric sees it. He takes her hand in his, raises it to his lips. She smiles at the kiss, and that strained red eases. Alexi goes to stand beside Carver, at the same surprising height. It had baffled Hawke at first. Two baby giraffes, she said.

A patchwork of tents surround the keep. Dotted dark spots against the sand of the Approach. The sappers are gathered together, and the Inquisition makes ready to march on Adamant. A strange feeling to cast his echo, find a mixture of everything. He knows they wear armor of the Inquisition. Gathered, under his order. “This almost feels – wrong,” Alexi says. “The Wardens are heroes.” Stories were all they had in the Circle. Stories of those travelling across Thedas, trying to save it. The Wardens were always a favorite.

“Heroes who are just people, and people make mistakes,” Carver says.

“And Clarel is making quite the mistake,” Hawke says.

“A distinctly un-hero like mistake,” Varric says, “One the real heroes will fix.” Hawke reaches upwards, chimes one of the bells on Alexi’s staff. Holding one of the crystals in her fist carefully, and Alexi smiles as he feels it suddenly ring with power, a mark that is distinctly Hawke’s own.

“What about after this?” she says, “what’s next for the Inquisitor?”

“Orlais, Josephine tells me. To the Winter Palace, to attend peace talks for the civil war. We think that’s the most likely time for Corypheus to strike against the Empress. After that – I’m not sure. He’s gone after something from ancient elvhen before, so he might try to do that again,” Alexi says.

“Ancient and elven? I think I know something that might fit the bill, and someone who knows a lot more about it than I do. I’ll write a letter, and see if she can chime in with anything helpful,” she says. “Maybe we’ll figure it out before Corypheus can get his hands on anything. Get the jump on him.”

“I’d appreciate any help. Thank you Hawke,” he says. She ruffles his hair fondly, as one might do for a younger sibling.

“Inquisitor. We’ll be ready by nightfall,” Cassandra says as she walks up to the group.

“Is there anything I can do until then?” Alexi asks.

“Don’t run off,” is all she can offer. Hawke laughs, and moves even closer to Cassandra. She’s already shying away, but Hawke slings an arm over her shoulders, and keeps her in her grasp.

“Now that we’ve finally and formally met, Seeker, I’d love to know what Varric told you about me,” she says. Cassandra’s shoulders are hunched together, her grip tight over the hilt of her sword. Somehow, Hawke has managed to shrink her, make the mighty Cassandra small. Her face is flushed red, the shell of her ears a bright scarlet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she mumbles.

“And then I’ll tell you what Varric told me about you,” she says.

“Either way, I can feel this turning bad for me,” Varric says, “I’m going back to the Keep, and I’m going to enjoy some shade. While I’m still alive.”

“If I don’t get out of this sun, I will die,” Carver says, turning to walk beside Varric. Alexi stands for a moment longer, before heading for the keep as well. His boots sink slightly into the sand, every grain shifting underneath his weight. It’s a feeling he’s gotten used to, after the weeks spent in the Approach with Hawke and the rest. Adamant, and then Skyhold. The idea of it relieves him. He’s come to think of Skyhold as home. He never thought he’d find another, not after the Circle.

Leliana finds him the instant he steps into the Keep. “Josephine is at Skyhold, continuing negotiations with Orlais. We’ve had many offers by nobles who wish to be the one to bring you to the Winter Palace. Josie will ensure we choose the right one,” she says. “Cullen is with Rylen, discussing battle plans. Here for only minutes and already giving Rylen a headache. You should go and say hello.” He doesn’t know the smile that spreads across her face, the sly look she’s giving him, with her hands clasped behind her back.

“Thank you Leliana,” he says. Her purple has been calmer these days, far from the more broiling restlessness it had been when they first met. As he traverses the keep, he keeps an appreciation for the consideration the workers have given him. A path clear of lumber and stone, all the tools they need to repair the crumbling walls. Up the stairs of the keep, and he can hear the banners flying overhead. Sera’s told him that she thinks they’re ugly. Large swathes of cloth – shade so desperately needed. They shift in the slight breeze, just as the sand moves over stone.

Voices, all around him. Some he’s heard before, some strange to his ears. Some far more familiar. “If we can knock down this wall, we can cut off reinforcements from that opening. We could narrow it down to this choke, and limit those trying to get past us.” As Alexi walks forward, Cullen’s voice grows ever louder. “We’d need to direct the sappers here, and then we could send the ladders here.” He’s bent over a small table, pointing at certain places to what Alexi is sure is a map. A breeze, the cloth moving overhead, and the bells on his staff chime. Cullen immediately turns around to see him.

“Inquisitor! It’s – it’s good to see you,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re tan – well, tanner, I – you know what I mean, maker’s breath.” Vivienne’s gaze narrows, shifting between the two of them, before she rolls her eyes. Rylen hides his smile with a well-placed hand, and a low cough.

“Welcome to the Approach, Commander,” Alexi says as he goes to stand between Cullen and Rylen. “Are you going over the plan for tonight? Was Cole’s information helpful?”

“Yes it was. The plans of Adamant that Josephine found were a little outdated,” Cullen says.

“It’s more to the fact that Adamant is already falling to pieces,” Vivienne says. “Surely this siege will be the last thing it needs to finally knock that foul structure into the dirt. It’s been too long since that keep has been used for anything remotely positive.”

“Maybe that’s what we should do after we clear out the Wardens. The Chargers can make sure nothing remains of it,” Bull says.

“Let’s win the battle first. Have you thought on who you’d like to take into Adamant with you?” Cullen asks.

“Hawke, Carver and Varric,” Alexi says, counting them off with his fingers, “I’m hoping that Blackwall being with us will earn us some trust with the Wardens not fully convinced by Clarel. I was thinking Cassandra as well.”

“You could use the support of another, properly trained, mage,” Vivienne tells him. Alexi chuckles under his breath and shakes his head.

“I have Hawke. She’s more than capable.” She gives a displeased huff, making her disagreement in that statement more than obvious. Alexi only smiles even wider. She often reminds him of his friends at the Circle. Protective.

At the mention of Hawke, Cullen looks around, as though he fears she might be right behind him. Unconsciously, he rubs his jaw. “Right, I’ll work with Leliana and place other members of your inner circle with groups of our men,” he says. “If that’s all? Then dismissed.” He sighs as everyone else slowly departs, until it’s only Alexi standing beside him.

“Alexi.” It’s still momentarily strange, to hear his name properly. Trevelyan. Herald. Inquisitor. Alexi now, when they’re alone. “You should try and get some sleep before tonight,” Cullen tells him. “The last thing we need is anyone asleep on their feet during the battle.”

“I’ve never fought in anything like this before. I’ve heard stories but those are just… stories. I don’t know if I can sleep. I don’t know how to do this,” he says.

“It will be loud, chaotic. It will also smell awful, I’m warning you right now. Just – stay with Cassandra and the others, and don’t get separated. You’ll have the whole of the Inquisition with you. It’ll be alright,” he says.

“I’m asking people to march into battle where they – I know it’s foolish to hope that Clarel would listen to us, and stop this before it began,” he says.

“Desperate people resort to desperate things,” Cullen says softly. “She’s scared for herself and for her people, and making foolish decisions based on that fear.”

“You talk as though you speak from experience,” Alexi says.

“Perhaps.” He wants to ask if that’s why Hawke dislikes him. Every attempt at asking Hawke was met with barking laughter, murmuring as she simply walked away. Carver always said he didn’t want to get into it. Varric would only give half answers. She is a mage. He was a Templar. He can hear the reluctance in Cullen’s voice, the hesitation, and so he doesn’t press.

“Will you be part of the battle?” Alexi asks instead.

“Yes, of course. I’ll be directing your troops where needed,” he says.

“Then maybe more than one of us should get some sleep,” he says. Holding his staff loosely, fingers that tap against the gnarled wood. Shifting from arm to arm, bells ringing, crystals and stones knocking against one another. The one that Hawke filled with her mana sounds different now, sparking little bits of static as it rubs against the others.

“You’re probably right,” Cullen chuckles as he rubs the back of his neck absentmindedly. “I’m going to look over the plans with Leliana one last time.” Alexi can hear him gathering books, papers, and a deep sigh as he rolls up the plans of Adamant.

Alexi curls up on one of the cots in the lower levels of the keep. He doesn’t toss, he doesn’t turn, but still sleep doesn’t take him. He sits up when he feels a weight at the bottom of the cot. He needs only the barest breath of his echo to know that it’s Hawke. She burns so brightly, that conflicted red. “I don’t think I’ve told you before how brilliant I think that is. A bit of force magic to find the edges, and the healing to root deep inside. Your magic feels a bit like how Anders’ used to,” she says.

“What was he like?” Alexi asks. The pointed edges of her gauntlets pull at a loose thread of her trousers.

“Everyone’s already made up their minds about him. It doesn’t matter what I say or do, nothing will change their opinion of him, or what he did. I learned that the hard way, in the weeks after.” As she speaks, her red pulses deeper. He wonders what color she used to be, before hiding from the Chantry, before the explosion, before being the Champion of Kirkwall. It’s one of the reasons he’s afraid to look at his own. Will his colors betray his becoming someone he no longer recognizes? “But he was my friend. I should have fought harder for him,” she says.

Alexi move to sit closer to her, shoulder against shoulder, feet planted on the ground. “I wanted to thank you. For believing Carver and I about how serious this is with the Wardens. I think you’re the first person I’ve met who didn’t immediately go to mark their door to ward off evil. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m usually thought of as bad luck,” she says, amusement on the edges of her words.

“I don’t see how us sitting in the middle of a desert about to fight an army of possessed Wardens and demons could be thought of as bad luck,” Alexi says. He’s learned that her sense of humor is fatalistic, grim, but her laughter is the most whole thing he’s ever heard. It encompasses all of her, shakes her shoulders, moves her feet.

“Hey, have you been told to get some sleep? I think five different people have told me that I should sleep before the battle. The only people who can sleep before a battle are psychopaths,” she says as she shakes her head. “Which is why I came to ask you if you wanted to join Varric, Carver and I for a little game of diamondback. Don’t worry, I’ll help you with the cards.”

“Yes, please,” Alexi says, reaching for his staff.

Hawke stands beside him. Her hair whirls in the wind of the trebuchet, a beacon of flame that streaks across the night sky. It finds its target in the west wall. Alexi takes comfort in her ease, her hunger for battle. She is a force that moves ever forward, and he is happy to follow in her wake. They move forward with the troops. Hawke and Alexi find their place on either side of the battering ram. The barrier goes up, surrounds them as they march forward. Lit arrows bounce away from it, rocks slide against it. The Wardens seek to stop their approach, but nothing can stop them now.

An arrow finds purchase in the throat of an Inquisition soldier, and he falls from the ladder that was being raised. Alexi bites his lip, pretends he doesn’t hear the heavy sound of a body breaking against the ground. The screams, the shouting, and his echo finds so many colors fighting against one another. The possessed Wardens are easy to find, that pitch in the heart of them, but the majority are simply fighting because their commander ordered them to. In death, sacrifice.

Wood splinters as the battering ram bursts through. Soldiers flood inside, while the rest march in behind. Cassandra, Carver and Blackwall weave around Hawke and Alexi, join the soldiers in clearing the area. The sound of Bianca is steady, one bolt after the other. Alexi weaves renewed energy into their muscles, protects them with a barrier well placed. Hawke is on display, and with a push of her hand, sends the Wardens in their way flying. She makes them targets for the rest to finish. Her aggression comes easy to her, just as Alexi’s defense is second nature to him.

“Pull!” she calls as she lifts enemies into the air. A well-placed bolt from Bianca finds their mark in each of them. They make a natural team, the two of them, and even when they aren’t touching, their colors still seek each other. Swirling as they talk to each other, as they fight together.

“Another one for me! How many have you got, Birdie?”

“Oh, don’t even try and tell me those don’t count for me too!” Hawke tells him. They’re all breathless as the last demon is felled, as the last Warden standing in their way is cut down. Cullen puts a hand on Alexi’s shoulders.

“All right, Inquisitor. You have your way in. Best make sue of it while it’s still there. We’ll keep the main host of demons occupied for as long as we can,” he says.

“We’ll be fine. Don’t risk the troops for my sake,” Alexi says.

“We’ll do what we have to, Inquisitor.” It’s spoken gruffly, with such determination. “Just – be safe, Alexi,” Cullen says, his voice much softer.

“See you soon,” he says, as he turns, anchors himself to the colors of those closest to him. Cassandra and Carver are a sure green in the chaos, determined and focused. Blackwall is more conflicted, but easily found. He keeps track of the warriors as they stray, clear their path forward. The keep is a mixture of sand dunes and broken stone, with twisting corridors. Walls were falling even before now, held in place by a mixture of mortar and prayer.

“I am a Warden, like you!” Carver barks out at a warrior caught behind his blade. “Clarel is being tricked. You all are! The Inquisition doesn’t want to kill you, they want to help you.” Blackwall is doing the same at every turn as well, and slowly, those they manage to convince crowd around them. It makes their moving through Adamant easier, as the only ones in their way become the demons, and the mage Wardens who are already lost.

“Perhaps Clarel will be able to be reasoned with,” Alexi says hopefully, as they race along the battlements. His arm is shaking. His mark hungers. It senses the Rift being opened nearby. Mages are tearing at the fabric of the veil, bleating at the song, ripping it asunder to pull Maker knows what through. No doubt Erimond is behind that as well. All these things they’re making the Wardens do… It only moves him forward faster.

Cullen beats back the shade with his shield. Cole flits around the edge of his vision, reappearing at the shade’s back, burying his daggers deep. It collapses in shadows, and they move onto the next. Vivienne turns the fire of the rage demon into mist, while Solas raises spikes of ice into it. Dorian and Bull are on the battlements, keeping the way clear for reinforcements. Sera’s laughter can be heard here and there, as she bounces her way around, helping who she needs. Even Leliana stands with them, quiver at her back and bow in her hands.

They’re holding. They will hold. Cullen moves methodically, lost in the fight. Block, parry. Strike forward. Next. Sweat down his temples, his back, and the headache beating at the back of his skull. Not now. He can’t afford this now. Solas whirls his staff, strikes down a possessed mage that screams her way towards them. Cullen silences her with his blade. All of them come to a standstill when they hear it. It breaks over metal, over the cacophony of battle.

The dragon roars, and Adamant is silenced.

Stone crumbles underneath its claws. Spewing hot crystalized fire over the structure, high up in the tower of the keep. Where they assumed Clarel would be. Where Alexi is. Cullen immediately takes off running, keeping the dragon in sight. He’s surprised to find Cole next to him, the others following in tow. They watch as the dragon spreads its wings, towards the others trapped on the decaying bridge. Such small figures, so far away. Adamant was once the fortress which guarded the Abyssal Rift. The deep chasm that run as far down as the Deep Roads.

The dragon roars, the dragon walks, the remaining bridge crumbles. They watch as the Inquisitor, Hawke and all the rest crumble with it. A flash of green, and they are gone. Some strangled noise traps itself in Cullen’s throat. “He opened a Rift with the anchor,” Solas says, sounding somewhat in awe as they all look upwards where only stone falls now. “They’re in the Fade now.”

“There’s nothing,” Alexi says, casting out his echo once again. Only darkness, save for the figures which stand around him. The Rift had been little more than instinct, a desperate plea. His breath had been stolen, his heart dropping, as the ground suddenly gave way beneath them. He’s only grateful he had managed to catch all of them.

“Right,” Hawke says, taking her hand in hers and placing it on her shoulder. “Hold tight then. The Rift we saw in the courtyard should be nearby. We can get out that way.”

“And what about that huge demon we saw on the other side of that Rift? The sight of that thing doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence,” Varric tells her.

“We don’t have a choice,” Carver says.

“Then there is no point debating. We cannot stay here,” Cassandra says. Hawke moves forward slowly, looks back to make sure Alexi is close to her. He keeps his hand tight on her shoulder, and she keeps an easy pace.

“When I dream, the Fade looks much different. It must be because we’re here physically,” she says. “What about you?”

“Well, considering I can actually see things when I dream…” Alexi chuckles.

“Right, right. Well, you’re not missing out on much right now. Everything’s very green. The water’s green, the rocks are green, the sky is green. There are a lot of what looks like old Tevinter statues, and there are some rocks that float. It’s like the Fade has taken all the discarded bits of our world and placed them wherever it felt. Otherwise, it’s very barren,” she says. He appreciates her running commentary, her description.

“It reminds me of the Bone Pit,” Carver murmurs.

“Shit, the Bone Pit is at least a little creepier than this place,” Varric says. Hawke laughs in agreement, wholehearted as always, a hand pressed against her belly as if trying to contain it.

“That’s what we should do when we get back to Kirkwall. The Bone Pit: come experience what it’s like to walk in the physical Fade, on Thedas! We’ll be rolling in gold,” she says.

“There’s something up ahead,” Alexi says suddenly, cutting into the conversation, “I think it’s a spirit.”

“That cannot be.” Cassandra is marching forward, ahead of the rest, “Divine Justinia?”

“Cassandra.” The voice is lilting and light, the accent of Orlais fliting around the edges. All Alexi knows is that this is some shining thing. Far brighter than Cole, who has found himself tied to the dull edges of the waking world. This is a spirit, through and through, taking on the appearance of the Divine. “I greet you Warden, and you Champion. Inquisitor.”

“It is said that the souls of the dead pass through the Fade and sometimes linger, Inquisitor – could it be?” Cassandra sounds so confused and yet so hopeful.

“In truth, this debate will cost us time we do not have,” the Divine says. “You cannot stay in the Fade. I am here to help you. You do not remember what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Inquisitor. The demon here which serves Corypheus has stolen those memories from you. It is the nightmare you forget upon waking. It feeds off memories of fear and darkness, growing fat upon the terror.”

“Memories make us what we are,” Varric says, “stealing those and eating them? That’s low, even for a demon.”

The Divine draws near to Carver, “the false Calling that terrified the Wardens into making such grave mistakes? Its work.” He has one hand behind him, wrapped around the hilt of his sword. The frown resting on his brows only grows at her words, and he squeezes his sword tighter. It’s as though he’s measuring her, deciding whether or not to cut her down.

“We should let her help us,” is all Alexi can offer to his decision. It’s enough. He slowly lets go of his sword, lets his hand fall back to his side.

“If what it says is true, then we should kill this demon and free the Wardens from the Calling. Might put some sense back into them,” Carver says.

“You will have your chance, brave Warden. This place of darkness is its lair,” she says. “The nightmare serves Corypheus willingly, for Corypheus has brought much terror to this world. And will bring more.”

“Can you help us get out of the Fade?” Alexi asks. He wonders how many had watched them fall. It would take only one to send word through the ranks of the Inquisition. The battle was already a precarious thing. They can’t be gone for much longer.

“That is why I found you. However, you must first take back what the Nightmare has stolen from you,” the Divine says. This formless light gestures forth, and Alexi sees a small flame floating in the dark. He steps forward, and Hawke steps forward with him, helping guide him towards it. He moves his staff from one hand to the other, bells chiming strangely in the empty Fade. With his other hand, he reaches out. It’s the first touch of skin against it which does it. Burning him from the inside out, Alexi whimpers, doubles over, holds it tighter.

An echo, of what once was. A figure, the same shape as the spirit, held in place by dark tendrils of magic. Across from it, a color he cannot forget. That towering inferno of burning red, malicious dark. Corypheus. In his hand, the orb. Surrounding them… shapes and colors he does not know. It’s the Divine who solves this mystery. It’s as though she speaks from far away, a distant past. “Wardens? Why are you doing this? You have all people?” She sounds saddened. Disappointed.

“Keep the sacrifice still.” Corypheus’s voice is twisted, deep, and recognizable. He holds the orb out, this glowing ball of power. Parts of all that the Divine is begin to weep from her, twist knotted strings towards the orb.

“Someone help me!” At her words, the sound of a door opening.

“What’s going on here?” That is a voice he does recognize. Colors. Shapes. All of them, all they are. They had been with him since his first day at the Circle. His friends. Himself, at the center, with them. They were all there. At the sight of the group, the Wardens attack. Alexi watches himself place a barrier, as Adam strikes out with a bolt of lightning. Flames, courtesy of Ben. Zoe is casting bolts from her staff, coated in her magic. His friends. His family. All of them, fighting together. He knows this isn’t what they want.

Adam had always loved animals. Many in Ostwick would call for his services when their herd fell ill. He would come home, excitedly talking about the baby lamb he had helped deliver. The cow, with the wounded foot, now running free in the fields. Ben would mix poultice and potion, a cure for any ailment. His stock was always popular in the shops, for his not just helped, but he would bind them with flowers, a scent that did not smell of death like others. Zoe was never confident in her magic. Instead she took to books, spending hours reading in the library. Often buried in a stack, but whispering secret knowledge so many others had forgotten.

Distracted, Corypheus looks away from the Divine. In that moment, she strikes out, knocks the orb from his hands. “Alexi! Grab it!” Adam’s voice. Alexi watches his own shape, his colors, dive forward. His teal mixes with anxiety. When he picks up the orb, it mixes with something else. A green he knows, the mark of the anchor. Whatever Corypheus had set in motion, it completes here and now, in the palm of Alexi. The orb explodes into a well of light, and burns away everyone who had stood beside him. The vision fades as quickly has it had come, the flame disintegrating into nothing.

Alexi reels backwards, into Blackwall, who steadies him with hands against his arms. “If I hadn’t touched it, if I hadn’t picked it up, my friends might still be alive. It was me – that activated the orb. I –” He’s shaking his head, holding his staff with both hands. Underneath his gloves, his knuckles are white. Breathing coming quicker now, as though he cannot hold air in his lungs, a sharp stab underneath his ribs.

“Alexi.” Hawke takes his face in her hands. “This is not your fault. You are not to blame here. If you hadn’t picked it up, then Corypheus would have. He would have the anchor, and he would be unstoppable. You didn’t know what would happen. Your friends wouldn’t want you blaming yourself for this. You did everything you could,” she says. It’s spoken firmly, with an echo of experience. A lesson she’s hard learned, trying to pass it on to him.

“The Divine knocked it out of Corypheus’s hands, towards you. I agree with Hawke. This is not your fault. You saved us from a far worse fate,” Cassandra says.

“Corypheus intended to rip open the Veil, use the anchor to enter the Fade, and throw open the doors of the Black City. Not for the Old Gods, but for himself. We are lucky that the orb bestowed the anchor upon you instead,” the Divine says.

“This will haunt you,” Blackwall says quietly, meant for Alexi, and Alexi alone. “But you’ll make peace with it. Everyone here knows you. Knows you wouldn’t have hurt your friends. Blame Corypheus, not yourself.”

“There are more memories held ahead,” the Divine says. In an instant, the spirit disappears, meaning to make them follow. Hawke pulls at Alexi’s hand, puts it on her shoulder once again.

“I wonder how long the Wardens were being held under Corypheus. Even before the Conclave – Maker. I’m glad we got you out of there when we did,” Hawke says to Carver as they walk.

“Right. Although I don’t think Aveline’s been too pleased with me taking up her spare bedroom,” he tells her.

“And cleaning out her kitchen,” she says.

“A Warden’s hunger is infamous,” he says, “Besides, I always gave her coin to replace it.”

“Well, let’s kill this Nightmare and then you can go back to eating the Wardens out of house and home,” Hawke says.

“I think we’re still recovering from the last time Carver stayed with us,” Varric says, “some of that stuff was being aged on purpose, you know.”

“And it was delicious,” Carver says.

At his side, Cassandra puts a hand on Alexi’s arm. A small pat, whatever reassurance she can offer. The discussion of the others is being drowned out by the argument in his head. Their colors had burned away. Why him? Why was he left standing when the others died? The crater at the center of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The valley that had been wiped away. All those people.

“Ah, we have a visitor. Some foolish little boy comes to steal the fear I kindly lifted from his shoulders.” This is so very like Envy. That voice, rattling around in his skull. But Cassandra grabs the hilt of her sword, Blackwall and Carver following suit, and Alexi knows he’s not the only one hearing it. “You should have thanked me and left your fear where it lay, forgotten. You think that pain will make you stronger? What fool filled your mind with such drivel? The only one who grows stronger from your fears is me.” In this moment, he doesn’t feel strong.

“But you are a guest here in my home,” the Nightmare speaks so easily, gracefully, “so by all means, let me return what you have forgotten.” A flickering flame presents itself, shining before them, just like the last. Reluctantly, Alexi reaches out towards it.

A Rift Alexi recognizes floats in this memory, dream-like vision. “This is the Breach back in Haven. That’s how we… how I escaped.” His voice sounds far away, removed from the memory, as he speaks it. The Divine in this memory reaches towards him, takes his hand. Pulling him up and over a cliff, pushing him towards the Breach.

“Go!” She yells as the demons descend upon them. Alexi moves towards her, but she pushes him back… and is gone, same as the vision.

“It was you.” The spirit’s light shines from behind him, and he turns to face it. “You sacrificed yourself, for me. They thought it was Andraste sending me from the Fade, but it was the Divine behind me. And then you… she died.”

“Yes,” the spirit says. Alexi does not see a change, but from Cassandra’s gasp, he can guess that the spirit is burning away its shape. Shedding the guise of the Divine, standing as a spirit for all to see. “Now, come. The Rift is ahead.” This time, the spirit doesn’t disappear, simply guides them forward.

“Perhaps I should be afraid, facing the most powerful members of the Inquisition.” The Nightmare’s laughter trails them as a shadow, a dark presence at their backs. “Like Blackwall. Ah, there’s nothing like a Grey Warden. And you are nothing like a Grey Warden.”

“I’ll show you a Warden’s strength, beast,” Blackwall says, low and angry.

“Your Inquisitor is a fraud, Cassandra. Yet more evidence there is no Maker. That all your ‘faith’ has been for naught.” Yes, a fraud. A thing brought about by chance and circumstance. The anchor feels hot, aflame, from the moment they entered the Fade. An overwhelming sensation, pins and needles in his fingertips. He keeps his hand wrapped around his staff, finds some comfort in the familiar feeling of it.

“Die in the Void, demon,” Cassandra says, unwilling to listen to any of it.

“Once again, Hawke is in danger because of you, Varric. You found the Red Lyrium, you brought Hawke here… you’re going to get her wings clipped.” Hawke’s steps stutter only once, as she looks around to find Varric. He’s holding tightly to Bianca, wearing a furious frown. She puts her hand on his shoulder, and smiles at him.

“Did you think you mattered, Hawke? Did you think anything you ever did mattered? You couldn’t even save your city. How could you expect to strike down a god? Varric and Carver are going to die, just like the rest of your family, and everyone you ever cared about. You’re a failure, and your family died knowing it.”

“I’ve heard worse from Carver,” she says.

“Hawke being chased out of Kirkwall, being wanted and hunted, meant that now you could be the Hawke. Did you cheer when you found out? Finally able to step out of her shadow, and make a name for yourself. Look at what you have done with this opportunity. Nothing. You will always be nothing.”

“Can you imagine if both of us went by Hawke? Imagine the confusion,” Carver says, through a clenched jaw. The Nightmare laughs.

“Alexi, Alexi, Alexi. Did you really think you could lead the Inquisition? A blind man? You’ve already killed your Circle, think now what will happen to those around you. And those who wait for you at Adamant. My demons descend upon them, overwhelm them! All of them are bound through me, every fear come to life!”

“Ah,” the spirit says, “so if we banish you, we banish the demons? Thank you, every fear come to life.” The shadow at their backs grows with displeasure, before seeking refuge elsewhere. “The Rift is ahead. Go through it, Inquisitor, and then slam it closed with all your strength. That will banish the army of demons… and exile this cursed Nightmare to the farthest reaches of the Fade.”

“The Rift! We’re almost there,” Hawke says, hurrying her steps, putting a hand over Alexi’s.

“Great, Hawke,” Varric says. “Why not just dare the Old Gods to try and stop you?”

“Who would we be without something standing in our way every single time?” she says. What stands in their way, this time, is the Nightmare itself. With it, a demon of impossible size and strength. For Alexi, they are swirling smoke in the darkness of his echo.

“What do we do against that?” Carver asks.

“We fight,” Hawke says.

“If you would, please tell Leliana, ‘I am sorry. I failed you, too.’” The Divine whispers it to Alexi, as she gentle pushes him forward, and disappears into nothingness. The Rift stands behind the demons, where they wait to challenge them. Alexi feels it building in Hawke, magic rising to the very surface. She lets it loose with a jagged cry, jagged lightning to match. Cassandra, Blackwall and Carver move to stand before them, by shield and sword, to let the mages and Varric do their work uninterrupted.

Cassandra dives forward, unafraid, as Alexi’s barrier weaves itself around her, an almost impenetrable thing. The Nightmare almost takes it down with one simple swipe of its claws. Alexi is building it up once again, blanketing the rest of them, guarding Carver as he goes to chop at the legs of the larger demon. Varric keeps a rhythm of bolts, aiming for every eye that he can see. It blinks away his assault, moves forward. It clears a path of stone and rubble with one kick, sends Carver flying back.

The Nightmare is stuttering around the edges, flickering in and out of sight, screaming towards Varric. Hawke bites it back with flame, and Blackwall rams into it with his shield. Alexi knows it, same as the rest of them. This isn’t a fight they can win. Here, in the Fade, they are still mortal while the demons are not. “Carver!” Hawke calls it out in a yell, as bolts of lightning draw attention to her. “Grab Varric and Alexi!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Promise me you’ll get them out of here,” she roars, pushing Alexi forward, sending him crashing towards Carver. His hand is rough around Alexi’s arm.

“Hawke – what are you doing?” Alexi shouts, just as Carver pulls him back, out of the way of another attacking leg.

“Birdie –” Hawke silences Varric with a rough kiss.

“I love you. I’m sorry,” she tells him. Gathering up every ounce of magic left in her, she pulls them all together. Hawke has always loved being a force mage. With a wave of a hand, she sends them all flying past the demons, towards the Rift. With her other hand, she strikes lightning upwards, keeps their attention on her. With his other hand, Carver reaches out and grabs hold of Varric.

“Let go of me Junior, we can’t leave her behind – Carver! Hawke! Marian! Marian, please!” A sob catches in his throat. Carver charges forward, and does not look behind him. His grip rough and bruising, he pulls them into the Rift with him.

Cassandra and Blackwall are gasping on the ground. Alexi turns to face the Rift. “Do it,” Carver says in a low voice. Letting go of both of them, walking off into the crowd. The anchor hungers. It devours the edges of the Rift, eats towards the middle. It gorges, until the Rift is no more. The demons scream, turn to dust in the wind. Varric is sitting on the steps of the courtyard, his face in his hands. Blackwall and Cassandra push themselves up to their feet, as Wardens and Inquisition soldiers alike gather around them.

“Corypheus has lost control of the Wardens and his demon army now,” Blackwall says.

“Inquisitor,” a scout is pushing through the crowd, running towards him, “the Archdemon flew off as soon as you disappeared. The Venatori Magister is unconscious but alive. Cullen thought you might wish to deal with him yourself.” Cullen himself is standing at the entrance to the courtyard, speaking orders to the soldiers around him.

Cole puts a hand on Cullen’s shoulders. “Hurting and wounded, pain where no one can see, placed he can’t heal. He needs you,” he says. Cullen immediately whirls, turns to see Alexi addressing the Wardens.

“We stand ready to help make up for Clarel’s… tragic mistake,” one is saying.

“We have barely any surviving senior Grey Wardens,” another says.

“What do we do now?” The murmur is making its way around, through all gathered.

“I grew up hearing tales of the Grey Wardens. About their bravery, and perseverance even in the face of overwhelming odds. Wardens have always tried to do what’s right, and save the world they live in. Your world is threatened now, by Corypheus. Let the Inquisition help you rebuild, and fight back against Corypheus – the one who would have made you an enemy of Thedas. I believe the Wardens are worth saving, but they can’t be saved unless you believe it to,” Alexi says. His voice is quiet, and small, and yet the whole of the courtyard is silent, listening to him speak.

“We should send a report to Weisshaupt, so that other Wardens won’t be caught off guard by Corypheus,” one says. Alexi nods, and slowly walks down the steps of the Courtyard.

“Thank you.” The Wardens are murmuring as he passes. Thanks, from almost every one of them. “We will not fail you.” Pressing a fist against the sigil that marks their armor. “Maker watch over you.” It’s a relief, to get through them all.

“Cullen,” Alexi says, standing in front of him. Cullen reaches for his hand, pulls him into an abandoned room.

“Alexi,” he says, “are you alright?” Alexi’s hand is trembling, slips from Cullen’s grasp. He folds against Cullen, wrapping his arms around him, burying his face into the fur of his cloak. A fist winds itself into his cloak, and Cullen can feel it shake against his back. He can feel all of him shaking. Cullen holds him tightly in his arms, and allows him to sob out his grief against him.

He sits up in bed, waking from the dream. He knows it’s still late, as he hasn’t been able to sleep through the night in the days returning to Skyhold. The bed feels suddenly too soft, the blankets far too restrictive, the air of his bedroom somehow different. Boots watches him stand up, reach for his staff. Before, he had felt he had never needed it in Skyhold. Now he takes it everywhere with him. Reaching for the robe draped over the end of the bed, slipping on the shoes by the stairs.

Every other place risks running into guards, and he has no interest in seeing anyone else. Instead, Alexi makes his way towards the war room, closes the door behind him. He finds the edge of the table, the wood sanded down smoothly underneath his fingertips. He lets his staff rest over the table, between the marked sections of the map. All these places he is meant to go. Varric is still quiet. Carver made his way back to Skyhold a few days later.

Varric used to be so yellow. Steady and optimistic. Now is orange, still colored from Hawke’s last touch, last kiss, last words. There’s a crystal missing from Alexi’s staff. The one she had filled with her magic he had taken, given to Varric.

Alexi sighs, half sits in the crook of the table, his hands clasped in his lap, and one foot flat against the floor. Head tipped downwards, and at least now his thoughts are quiet. He only looks up when he hears the door open. “Oh! I didn’t expect – I can leave, if you want to be alone.”

“No, please, don’t mind me, I’m probably in your way…” Alexi says, fidgeting with his robe.

“No,” Cullen says, putting down his stack of papers at the end of the table, “you’re not.” He moves closer to him, his hand tracing around the edge of the table. “Still having trouble sleeping?” Alexi nods. Cullen has left behind his cloak, and stands in nothing but simple trousers and a tunic, evidence of his own struggle with sleep.

“What were you planning out this time?” Alexi asks, wanting to change the subject.

“Well, the Duke and the Empresses armies are still fighting on the Exalted Plains. There might be time for some Inquisition forces to intervene and offer aid to the soldiers there, before the Winter Palace. The fighting should be calming down as negotiations grow closer, but we don’t know if they even know negotiations are going to be happening,” Cullen says.

“Are you going to send me away from Skyhold again?” Alexi asks with a smile. Cullen chuckles, rubs the back of his neck.

“Not if I can help it,” he says. He lets the statement stand for only a moment, before he clears his throat. His fingertips tap at the table. “Forgive me if I offend you, but I was curious to know – how do you see?” Alexi gives a casual wave of his hand, brushing away the idea of any offence given.

“I call it an echo. I cast it out like a net, and it blankets things. It’s as though I’m in a dark room, and I can see the outline of things. People, however, appear as color,” he says.

“Color,” he repeats, “how so?” Alexi gives a thoughtful bite of his lip.

“Well, Sera’s all yellows. Vivienne is a very deep, royal shade of purple where Leliana is like lavender. Varric’s more orange now,” he says.

“What color am I?” Cullen asks.

“You… change,” Alexi says.

“I change?”

“Yes, when I do this,” he says as he reaches out slowly, gently resting his hand over Cullen’s. He watches as strained blue shifts, the red cracks at the edges smoothing, becoming some calm lake of deep water. Cullen blushes, Alexi smiles.

“Alexi –” He struggles for a moment to find the words. He finds there are no words to say at all. He hesitates for only a moment. Then, with his other hand he reaches upwards, over his shoulders, settling at the nape of Alexi’s neck. A nervous inhale. Pulling him down gently, eyes closing as lip touches against lip. A soft press, at first. There’s surprise in it, the briefest of seconds, before Alexi leans into it, returns it in full. One hand still over Cullen’s, the other moving to wind in the sleeve of his shirt.

They break, on the exhale. A moment of uncertainty, his eyes opening, looking at the way Alexi’s lips are still parted. “Sorry,” Cullen says, a little hoarsely, “should I not have?” Alexi is still smiling, shakes his head, and pulls Cullen back to him, kisses him once again. This one is more confident than the first, far more eager, delight in every breath.

“I didn’t think to – I mean, I didn’t dare hope… you said before you weren’t interested in men, and I –” Alexi speaks it breathlessly, nervously, his cheeks suddenly flushed. Cullen turns his hand over, and holds Alexi’s hand completely in his, thumbs moving over his knuckles.

“Alexi,” he says, “I’m interested in you.”

#cullen #cullen x inquisitor #cullen x m!inquisitor #cullevelyan #dragon age #cullen x m!trevelyan #inquisitor #m!trevelyan #m!inquisitor #dragon age inquisition #dai #writing #mine #I'll Go First #Cullexi #Alexi Trevelyan

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whereismywarden · 5 years

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OC Masterlist

@kiraia pointed out (rightfully so) that I made quite a few vague posts about my OCs, but that I’ve never properly introduced them. It’s true, mostly because I tend to wait until they are well developed to properly do anything with them, which doesn’t happen all that often. So consider this a formal introduction to my current OCs :)

(Under a cut because there are quite a bunch of them. I hope it works on mobile, because otherwise yikes! I’m very sorry.)

Sad Mages Worldstate

It’s probably the one I talk about the most. It’s the most developed worldstate, with the most developed OCs and I’ve written a lot of fics about them.

The Warden: Ana Surana [Tag | Complete bio | Fanfictions]

pairings: Ana x Daylen Amell (friends with benefits), Ana x Alistair (DAO romance), Ana x Carver (current pairing, now married) + I occasionally throw Isabela into the mix because reasons.

Born in the Gallows and taken to an orphanage in Highever until her magic manifested.

Grew up close to Anders, Jowan, Amell and (to a lesser extent) Finn.

Had a baby that she was forced to give to the Chantry.

Main DAO choices include: romancing Alistair, getting her heart broken after making him king, stupidly refusing to do Morrigan’s ritual and watching him sacrifice his life for her.

Later she starts dating Carver (whom she actually met at Ostagar where they had a brief fling before the Battle).

Takes part in the Mage Underground and helps Anders build his bomb.

Starts hearing the Calling shortly before DAI.

Is Hawke’s contact during HLtA.

The Champion: Alwyn Hawke [Tag | Complete bio | Fanfictions]

pairings: Alwyn x Anders (DA2 romance, on and off), Alwyn x Cullen (one time), Alwyn x Rylen (post DAI, considering making them endgame, not sure yet).

Purple Hawke.

Carver becomes a warden.

Supports the mages.

Develops a close friendship with Ana.

Breaks up with Anders after the Chantry explosion, wishing he’d trusted him enough to share his plan with him. They do get back together later on.

Is the first one to learn about Ana hearing the Calling.

Stays behind in the Fade during HLtA, but eventually finds a way out.

He was found by Inquisition scouts in the Western Approach, suffering from amnesia.

Later falls in love with Rylen.

(Note that I still need to update that last part into his bio.)

The Inquisitor: Violette Surana [Tag | Complete bio | Fanfictions]

pairings: Violette x Orsino (once twice), Violette x Samson (current partner).

Ana’s mum.

Orlesian who grew up in Ferelden during the occupation.

Was taken to the Gallows at age 13.

Was a close friend of Malcolm Hawke.

Had her baby (Ana) taken by the Chantry. Later escaped.

Hates the Chantry.

Attends the Conclave in the hopes that Ana might be there.

Starts sleeping with Samson after his capture because he basically said fuck the Chantry to her face and it turned her on.

Hardened Leliana becomes Divine.

Other OC: Neriah Amell-Hawke

Is Ana’s daughter. She got her out of the orphanage after the Blight (thanks, Leliana).

Her father is Daylen Amell. Carver adopted her when he married her mama.

Is 18 as of Trespasser.

Second Chances Worldstate

This one started off as an AU for a fic starring Ana and Alistair which is why these two worldstates are so similar. The point of divergence is that Jowan went to Amell for help instead of Ana for some reason.

The Warden: Daylen Amell [Tag | Fanfictions]

pairings: Day x Ana (friends with benefits), Day x Morrigan (DAO romance and while I did consider for a while not having him follow her through the eluvian, I changed my mind. There’s too much growth potential.)

His father was Maurevar Carver, because I say so.

Main DAO choices include: Sparing Loghain, Alistair becoming a drunk, not doing Morrigan’s ritual because he can just throw Loghain at the Archdemon (which he did).

Helps Ana get their daughter out of the Kirkwall orphanage. Bails on them right afterwards.

Does follow Morrigan through the eluvian and actually ends up being a decent dad to Kieran.

Does not become Ferelden’s Warden-Commander.

The Champion: Alwyn Hawke (yes, again)

Like I said, this was originally an AU, so it made sense to keep the same Hawke. There are quite a few differences, however.

pairings: none.

Does not bring Anders to the Deep Roads. Carver dies.

Suffers from severe depression afterwards.

Goes from purple to full blue after Leandra’s death.

Stays behind in the Fade. Probably won’t make it out in this worldstate.

The Inquisitor: Asaara Adaar [Tag | Fanfictions]

pairings: Asaara x Cullen (starts before DAI, now married).

Meets Cullen shortly before the Chantry explosion. They fall in love.

Not going into too much details because it will be part of Second Chances’ main story.

Other OCs: Ana Surana and Neriah [Main fic | Other fics]

Again, can’t go into too much detail because spoilers.

pairings: Ana x Carver (before the Deep Roads expedition anyway), Ana x Alistair.

Day brings Ana to Kirkwall shortly after the Blight to meet their daughter. She ends up staying after they get Neriah out of the orphanage.

Single mom. Works as a waitress.

They find drunk Alistair in their garbage. Ana wants to help him get better.

Other OC: Issala Adaar [Tag]

pairings: Issala x Varric (post-DAI).

Is Asaara’s overexcited little sister.

Likes to tinker with explosives.

Built a handheld cannon. It’s clunky, not very accurate and is prone to misfire. In other words, it still needs a lot of work.

Varric thinks she’s adorable so he made her his personal bodyguard.

Angry Dalish Worldstate

The Warden: Shaelyn Mahariel [Tag | Fanfictions]

pairings: Lyn x Tamlen (Origin), Lyn x Bethany, (considering Lyn x Alistair between DA2 and DAI but even that might be too cruel.)

Doesn’t want to be a warden.

DAO choices include: Alistair remaining with the wardens because he doesn’t want to be king.

No in-game romance, she was too heartbroken after losing Tamlen.

Eventually starts dating Bethany.

Travels to the Free Marches after the death of her clan to kill the man responsible.

Almost dies in the resulting fight against Hawke (thank the Creators Anders was there).

Goes home and confesses to Bethany that she almost killed her brother and that she would have done it had he not been so badass. They break up.

The two of them reconcile post-DAI, after Hawke and Merrill’s wedding.

The Champion: Kris Hawke [Tag]

pairings: Kris x Merrill (now married).

Blue Hawke.

Sadly couldn’t save Merrill’s clan.

Didn’t want to hurt Lyn that badly during their fight, he was just defending himself. Deeply regrets it afterwards.

The Inquisitor: no one specific yet, but likely a Lavellan romancing Solas.

Alistair stays behind in the Fade.

Elves in Luuuuv Worldstate

The Warden: Kallian Tabris [Tag | Fanfictions]

pairings: Tabs x Alistair (DAO romance)

Probably the most canon-compliant OC.

Main DAO choices include: making Alistair king with Anora as queen and becoming his mistress.

Madly in love.

Will have a happy ending.

No Hawke or Inquisitor yet.

Homecoming Worldstate

The Warden: Elaine Cousland [Tag]

pairings: Elle x Nathaniel (pre-DAO, now ex-husband), Elle x Leliana (DAO romance), Elle x Sebastian (current).

Was BFF with Anora during their childhood.

Actually met Sebastian before he was sent to the Chantry. The two of them had similar lifestyles back then, so when Elle visited Starkhaven with her father, the two of them developed a rivalry of sorts in their romantic pursuits (think Merteuil and Valmont, but a lot more light-hearted). They do spend one night together after learning that he is going to be sent to the Chantry.

Eventually fell in love and married Nate. They kept their relationship a secret, however. They divorced after the Blight.

Main DAO choices include: romancing Leliana, making Alistair king with Anora as queen, sparing Loghain and performing the ritual.

Her relationship with Leliana didn’t survive the distance.

Leaves the Wardens after the Chantry explosion and basically goes on the run from everyone because she feels responsible for what happened.

Helps Sebastian reclaim his throne. They fall in love. (I’m currently writing a fic about this, actually)

Still unsure about her DAI fate. Either she replaces Hawke in HLtA and stays behind in the Fade, or she becomes Inquisitor.

The Champion: Violetta Hawke [Tag | Fanfictions]

pairings: Letta x Isabela (DA2 romance).

Yes, she was totally named after Violette.

Is Kris’ sister.

Carver becomes a Templar.

Spared Anders.

Sails into the sunset with Isabela.

DAI fate will depend on what I decide to do with Elle.

The Inquisitor: no one yet.

Loghain survives HLtA.

I am considering having Neriah (yes, again) be the Herald with someone else as Inquisitor since she’s only a kid. In this worldstate, she grew up in Kirkwall’s orphanage before being taken to the Gallows. She escapes the massacre and Carver eventually takes her under his wing.

I'm planning to have two additional worldstates (I want one per warden origin). One called "Happy Dwarves" with a male Brosca romancing Zevran and one called "Dead Heroes" with a male Aeducan romancing Leliana (and probably Alwyn again, idk). I also have a couple of Cadashes that I want to put somewhere, a woman romancing Josie and a man romancing Divine Cassandra. Idk yet if they'll be Inquisitors or if I'll just add them to one of the existing worldstates. Odds are one will be Inquisitor while the other just tags along.

I probably missed a few things here and there, but that’s basically the gist of it. Thanks to anyone who actually stuck to the end, lmao.

#dragon age #oc masterpost #ana surana #alwyn hawke #violette surana #neriah amell-hawke #daylen amell #asaara adaar #issala adaar #shaelyn mahariel #kris hawke #kallian tabris #elaine cousland #violetta hawke #long post

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