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tired-truffle · 1 month ago

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These Sleeping Dogs Won't Lie

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 4.4k

One-shot

Summary: Spoilers for Ash's main fic "Something's Gotta Give"

Ash doesn't want to tell Cullen that she's spirit-possessed. But she will. She has to.

A what-if AU where Ash confesses before everything goes sideways.

A/N: Title from Dirty Little Secret by The All-American Rejects

This work is inspired by @bibutterflies fic of Ash and Cullen "untouched", where Cullen has better reassurances over what he'd do "if" she were possessed. (10/10 fic, I highly recommend you check it out!)

"It is easier to make myself the monster, to snap and bite and run and hide. It is easy to bare my teeth. It is harder to be honest." - Trista Mateer

Masterlist

Guilt pressed against the back of her teeth, shame crowding her chest like it could squeeze the burning confession from her heart. Every minute that passed, Ash came one step closer to giving in.

She loved him, and she lied to him. The spirit of Love that resided within her writhed beneath her skin, separating muscle and fat and flesh and wearing down the restraints she’d built so carefully since childhood. Her many masks had been removed one by one by his gentle smile and soft touch, his patience and affection. Only one remained.

When she removed that final mask, the one that portrayed a mage free of the burdens of possession, would Cullen still gaze at her with those warm golden eyes, or would they harden and fear the abomination he had opened his heart and his bed to? After all the horrors he’d witnessed at the hands of demons and power-hungry mages, how could he ever look at her without seeing a sliver of his torment reflecting back at him? Forever wondering if her spirit would take control and ruin them both.

She loved him, and she couldn’t tell him how she felt either. Not without first informing him of her possession. Dredging up packed soil and clawing through tangled roots to find the tightly sealed box that contained her darkest secret seemed an impossible task. She’d buried it for a reason. Her parents and her secrets, long interred but never forgotten, never too far from the forefront of her mind.

Pushing herself, always pushing, pushing. Never breaking. She couldn’t, it wasn’t allowed. Not when she’d promised their mother she would look after her sister until her dying breath. But Rae had released her from that promise, her purpose torn from beneath her like a rug pulled from under her feet, sending her spiralling downwards. Without the fuel to her burning fire, the distraction she used to focus herself, all her glaring faults came rushing to the surface.

She’d used him once. A distraction from the loneliness that ate at her soul, fleeting tastes of connection that she cut off before they could fully tether themselves inside her. Only to find out he’d made a home in her heart long before she’d even recognized her own true desires.

Rae no longer needed her - wanted her. What use was she to anyone? Her secret begged for release, and she…was losing the strength to keep it hidden.

She lay on her back beside him, the moonlight from the hole in his roof shining across her face. His fingers trailed up and down her arm as he curled around her, breathing even and calm. The crease between his brows remained, as it always did, a permanent reminder of the weight hefted upon him at too young an age, but it had softened in repose. How could she ruin his peace when he already had so little?

Though she was dressed in only her smalls, her vulnerability did not come from her attire - or lack thereof - but rather from the fluttering in her chest. Both Love’s encouragement and her own nerves. Cullen was an observant man, and even in rest, he didn’t miss her hesitation.

“You’re thinking quite loudly for someone who claimed she wanted to sleep.” Amusement coloured his tone, and the grin she knew awaited on his lips beckoned her to bask in its warmth. But she resisted. The shoddy ceiling was much too interesting.

“Hmm.” No impertinent retorts came to mind, and a vague hum would have to suffice.

He shifted, his arm curling around her waist to draw her closer. “I’ve heard that sharing what’s on your mind can help ease the burden.”

The ghost of a smirk crested over her lips. “You have, have you? Sounds like something Cole would say.”

Cullen chuckled, and she turned her face to him, unable to hold herself back any longer. Gold met emerald, suffusing through the cracks in her mask to reach her core. “I may have received a cryptic letter of the sort.”

“He should learn to stop meddling before he gets himself in trouble.” Her lips longed to close the distance between them, but for the same reasons she kept her secrets buried, she couldn’t bring herself to give in. “I’ll have to convince Varric to teach him about boundaries next.”

His hand came up to caress her cheek, his breath mingling with hers. “That is a sound suggestion. Though don’t think you’ve distracted me. I meant what I said, and I’m here should you wish to unburden yourself.”

“And burden you instead?” she shot back. “We all carry our share, Cullen, I won’t ask you to carry mine.”

His head shook and he pursed his lips. “No, that’s not what I…” he sighed. “Your worries are not a burden to me. I want to help, please.”

Raw emotion shuttered her gaze and trembled her lips before she regained control. Cullen didn’t miss it - of course he didn’t, he never did - but he didn’t push. Not yet.

Ash glanced behind him, to the shield bearing the image of a flaming sword, resting on a hook on the far wall. She didn’t need to see his vambraces to know that they were engraved with the same symbol of the Order.

“Why do you keep them?” The question pushed past her confession, her tongue loosened by exhaustion.

Cullen frowned and turned to follow her gaze.

“The shield,” she clarified, eyes flicking back to him, “and your vambraces. You’re adamant that you’re no longer a templar and that you disagree with what the Order has done, but you still bear their crest. Why?”

Did he still believe their cause to be right? Their teachings to be followed? Possession was a sin, so did lying with a possessed mage mean he’d committed sin? She didn’t want to destroy the healing he’d only just begun.

A monster in mortal skin, fire flickering just below the surface. Was she so terrible for being a child wanting to save her sister? Was she a sin?

He rolled back to her, his forehead creased and his lips pressed into a thin line. “If you’re concerned that I keep them because I still align myself with the Order, I can assure you that isn’t the reason. Though I do not fault you for wondering so.” A sliver of tension eased from her shoulders. “They are…a reminder. Of who I was, and who I strive to never be again. Of the harm I caused and the harm I had the power to stop but didn’t. I am doing everything I can to right those wrongs by being a force for good, but I would be doing a disservice to all those I seek to protect if I allowed myself to forget.”

“I have a hard time believing you’d forget.”

His lips curved into a rueful grin. “Perhaps. Though I can tell your worries go deeper than my choice of shield and armour.”

Ever insightful, and another slight push.

“I am rather fond of what you keep safe behind that shield and beneath that armour.” A sultry smile, a practiced deflection, her fingers following the line of his sternum.

His hand covered hers, stopping it over his breastbone. “Ashvalla,” he said in a low tone of warning, affection mitigating the blow, and despite the seriousness of the situation, slick gathered at the apex of her thighs, “you only deflect so thoroughly when it is something that should be discussed.”

She huffed an irritated noise at the back of her throat and scowled, her ears flicking.

His thumb skated over the back of her hand. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I promise there’s nothing you could say that would scare me away.”

Like the shutters closed over fragile windows to weather a raging storm, all good humour fell from her face, leaving behind a blank slate. She pulled her hand back, cradling it against her naked chest. “You don’t know that.”

A flicker of surprise flashed across his face. “I will not break my promise, Ashvalla. I swear to you.”

Guilt cracked her ribs, piercing her heart and bringing tears to clog her throat. She’d led him to believe this with her lies. He trusted her, and she’d reeled him in with a comfort built on falsehoods. He would break his promise, and he would hate her all the more for it.

Unable to tolerate his nearness for a second more, she moved away and shot up into a seated position. Her arms bracketed her legs and curled over her head, her knees tucked into her chest, and she hid her face, unable to bear looking at him.

Her secret inched closer to release.

But…a small voice whispered in the back of her mind, would he break his promise? She’d slipped before in a moment of weakness and presented him with a hypothetical based on reality. What would he do if she were possessed by something benign, like the Avvar mage, the one he’d sent templars with for a cultural exchange?

“I can't imagine anything keeping me from you.” He’d said. “It would take…time, I think. To process. To accept. But that wouldn't stop me from—from wanting to spend every day at your side."

Words meant nothing if they were not backed up by actions. He’d sounded sincere, and perhaps he truly did believe it. But to be faced with her possession was another thing altogether.

He propped himself up on an elbow, the sheets falling to his waist and revealing the top of his smalls. Knowing her as well as he did - damn him - he didn’t touch her or attempt to coax her out with soothing reassurances. He simply gave her space, and that hurt more. If he pushed her past her limit, she could justify her anger, her snapping jaw and harsh insults. She could create distance, feel safe and secure.

Love pulsed, molten hot and spreading through her limbs. She wanted to be known, to be seen and loved despite her faults. As did Love.

Her fingers tightened in her hair. “I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t tell you. I don’t know how. I've kept this buried for so long, I just…I can’t. And I’m afraid that if I told you, you wouldn’t…see me the same way. I won’t blame you. I would hate me, too.”

“Ash.” His hand lay on her arm, drawing her gaze to him, and she withered beneath the gentleness he held solely for her. “I won’t hate you. But I need you to tell me exactly what’s bothering you so I can prove it.”

She straightened her spine, wrapping her arms around her legs to keep them close to her chest as though they could shield her from the dagger she drove into her own heart. The least she could do was face him with some dignity. When he rejected her, advocated for her tranquillity or execution, she could say she kept her head held high, even though she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. Instead, she focused on the far wall and the ivy that crept along the weathered stone.

It was alright if he didn’t want her, Rae didn’t either.

“I’d prefer if you yelled at me.”

He snorted a laugh and sat up. “Why would I do that?”

“It would make this easier.” Since when could she have anything be easy?

“I’m still not certain what this is.”

“A confession that I should have told you of from the beginning.” The words tasted bitter on her tongue. “I have misled you and I—“ Her voice wavered, and she swallowed back a sob. Her eyes closed, and she inhaled tremulously. “And I’m sorry.”

His head tilted, and the crease between his brows deepened.

“You’ve…misled me?” Cullen frowned. “How?”

Half-sob, half-laughter forced its way from her throat, and she ducked her head, pressing her fingers to her eyelids until she saw stars.

“I—“ Another sobbed laugh. “When I—The truth is—fuck. I-I can’t, Cullen, I don’t know how.”

No matter how she started, everything she tried to say caught in her throat, stuck like a stone she couldn’t dislodge. Love was no help, rushing heat through her veins in her excitement. She could barely think.

“Ashvalla.” The gentleness with which he said her name threatened to undo her. Unravel bone from muscle and sinew until there was nothing left but the malformed soul that throbbed beneath her frame. “You don’t have to tell me right this second. Whatever time you need to gather your thoughts, I am more than willing to wait. I trust you.”

And wasn’t that the worst part? His eyes remained tender, and she knew for a fact that he would wait however long she needed. Possibly forever. A final stitch snipped by his earnestness. Her secret ate her alive, and there was nothing left of her to hold it back.

“I’m possessed.” The words felt foreign on her tongue. Had she ever said them aloud? She couldn’t recall.

He recoiled, and she flinched, her ears tilted down and pinned to the sides of her skull. His eyes widened, his lips parting as he searched her for…she didn’t know what exactly, but with the intensity of his gaze, she deemed it vital.

“By a spirit.” Ash found her voice, choking down the tears that crowded her throat. “Benign. Like the Avvar girl.”

“You’re…” Cullen trailed off, his expression hardening. Not with hatred as she’d expected, but confusion, concern and beneath that: fear. “How.” A demand, not a question.

The scent of charred flesh, ashen bones and echoes of the horrified screams of the dying. The scars around her lips tingled. Maybe her sister was right; they should have kept her mouth sewn shut. All the affection she’d come to rely on from Cullen had been firmly shut down beneath his apprehension.

Like the ghost of herself had possessed her body, the explanation unfurled from between trembling lips. “The night Rae and I were kidnapped. When they separated us, I called for help. I was desperate and afraid and I’d just watch my mother—“ A breath in, and a breath out. She averted her gaze. “A spirit came to me and offered help in exchange for possession of my body, with a promise to only observe, and I barely hesitated. I didn’t have any other options. By the time our clan got there, Rae would have been long gone.”

Silence reigned between them, a chasm she couldn’t cross. “I see,” he said after a few moments. When he didn’t continue, Ash filled the empty space.

“I should have told you earlier, especially after you shared what happened to you at Kinloch and how it affected you. In the beginning, I tried to tell myself that I shouldn’t even flirt with you, let alone be with you romantically. But I…” Ash bit back a sob.

“Ash—“ Cullen tried to interject, but she’d started, and she couldn’t find a way to stop.

“I am weak for you and I always have been. You were a templar and you may not be anymore but to care for a possessed mage is an unreasonable request for me to make of you. And instead of asking, I just decided for you.”

“Ash—“ he tried for a second time when she paused for breath, but once again, she spoke over him.

“It was selfish of me, and if you never want to see me again, I understand, but I couldn’t—“ Her rambling faltered as his fingers took her chin in hand and turned her face towards him, their eyes locking. He held no anger, though wariness swam near the surface. No, he held that gentle affection he always had, the hard mask that came from her initial confession softened.

“Stop.” Her mouth clacked shut at his command. “Allow me a moment to collect my thoughts.”

Ash nodded minutely, and he removed his hand, wiping it down his tired face. He’d been so peaceful before she’d disturbed him. Distress slithered up her throat at the thought of never seeing him so peaceful ever again.

The seconds ticked by, the metronome of time getting louder and louder. Every tick without a reply grated at her bones, sent centipedes crawling down her spine. She wanted to crawl out of her skin and flee into the night.

Yet she remained. She wasn’t entirely certain why.

“Does this spirit…harm you?” Cullen asked at last, breaking the thick silence.

Ash shook her head. “No, never. Nor has she harmed anyone else. Well, that I haven’t asked her to at least.”

He took her response in stride, a sliver of the concern in his gaze melting like snow beneath the heat of Love’s flames. “What kind of spirit?”

A heartbeat, hard against her ribcage. “Love.”

Cullen blinked rapidly, a frown tugging at his face, having not expected that response. “That is…well, I’m glad it’s not a demon, at least.”

“And you’d just take me at my word? I’ve held this secret from you for months and you simply believe me without any proof?” A brick placed, mortar slathered as she built a wall back up around herself.

“You have no reason to lie.” Cullen tilted his head. “And I do not spy any of your tells.”

Ash bristled, awakening old irritation that he’d catalogued all her carefully hidden tells. She huffed, releasing her hold on her legs and letting them fold beside her, turning to face him and scooting back a touch. “I’m a possessed mage, Cullen. You’re supposed to…to want me dead! Let alone believe me and still sit here with me like nothing’s wrong. You were a templar and you–possessed mages tortured you! How can you look at me and not see them?”

A scared little girl, crying for her mother whose body lay in their aravel, cold and lifeless. A mother who had never loved her like she should have, but had given her a sister who had become her entire world - for better or for worse. A sister who was being taken from her piece by piece. Love had been a gift, turned sour upon the realization that it burned. Both spirit and emotion. They burned her still, and she couldn’t withhold the flames as they sparked towards anyone within reach.

He was quiet for a beat, his eyes cast wide and his lips parted. The light breeze that floated through the hole in his roof brought her attention to the tears that fell down her cheeks, and she hastily wiped them away. Cullen leaned forward, his hand twitching like he wanted to reach out and touch her, but thought better of it.

“I do not see the mages of Kinloch Hold because you are not them,” he said with equal measures of patience and firmness. “All I see is you, Ashvalla, as you are and as I have always done. There is now a…new part of you that I wasn’t aware of, but it doesn’t…”

Cullen broke off with a grimace, shaking his head to clear his thoughts of the turmoil that blocked what he was trying to express.

“It is difficult to believe that the entire time I’ve known you, you’ve been possessed. If we had met only a year earlier, it would have been nearly unconscionable, but now, after I’ve come to realize my misbeliefs and mistakes, and come to know you, I…don’t entirely know what to think other than that you are still you, and I am still me. While it was foolish of you not to have a single confidant, I am simply relieved that you haven’t been harmed in the decades you’ve kept this to yourself. I can only imagine the toll such a secret took on you.”

Fuzziness overtook her mind, dulling her senses and sending pins and needles to her lips and extremities. It wasn’t fair that he could meet her with such kindness when she’d prepared herself for his anger and hate. What was she supposed to do with her full battle armour in the face of a tender caress? He’d removed her helm and was dutifully working on freeing her of all other entrapments.

“I won’t pretend to know what it was like for you the night that your clan was attacked,” he continued, like she wasn’t a shell of a person. “When I went through my…ordeals, I was an adult, but you were only a child. You did what you had to do to survive, and I cannot bring myself to disavow that which saved not only your life, but the Inquisitor’s and many other innocent children. I do not understand it, but I want to.”

The tears she’d wiped away rolled down her face anew despite her best efforts to keep them contained. Her chin quivered as she bit her bottom lip hard. Her ears trembled, and she cursed her body for its betrayal. Now he would know without a doubt how deeply he affected her, how much she cared for him. Her soul barred before him and he held it so gently that it wept. Had she ever been held like that before? How long had he been waiting for her to allow him the chance to be the first?

Her lips parted around a wordless reply, unable to fathom a response. The profound sadness in his eyes did not help.

“I will not give you the hate or misplaced anger you undoubtedly expected.” Ash flinched as his gentle words cut through to her heart. “I need time to adjust and process, but I meant it when I said that this would not stop me from wanting to spend every day at your side.”

She sniffled and scrubbed her cheeks like she could wipe them clean of the evidence of her tears. “That doesn’t—You can’t—I lied by omission, but it was still a lie. I kept this vital piece of information from you and you are…” Paranoia prickled down her neck, setting the hairs on her nape on end, and she narrowed her eyes. “Is this some tactic to get my guard down so you can make me tranquil?”

“What?” he barked, horror and confusion twisting his face. “No, that’s not—I would never. Ashvalla, I would never subject you to that. Why would you even suggest it? Do you honestly think I am capable of rendering you tranquil? Of…losing you.”

Yes, a broken part of her whispered in the back of her mind. He’d been a Templar for a decade; he’d seen the worst of what mages had to offer, had experienced horrific torture at their hands. If anyone would want her tranquil, it should have been him. But it wasn’t. He was a templar no longer, and if she’d truly believed he’d make her tranquil, she wouldn’t have told him in the first place.

“No,” she said, barely audible, though in the quiet of his room, he heard her.

He reached for her hands, and when she didn’t pull away, he held them gently in his. Like she wasn’t a weapon waiting to explode. Like she wasn’t a liar, selfish, just as her mother had believed her to be. Like she was worthy of his affection. He inched closer, and she hung her head, unable to bear the softness of his gaze. But he’d never been one to let her run away, and his fingers found her chin, lifting her face towards his.

Ash was tired of crying, of her vulnerability, but that didn’t stop her body from going through the motions she so often suppressed. Left speechless, all she could do was stare at him with wide, wet eyes and pink, salty cheeks, and wonder what she had done to deserve such compassion.

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, and his hand moved to cup her cheek, his thumb wiping at the tear tracks and pulling a sigh from her throat. “I’m sorry for…all this. You have enough on your plate already.”

Cullen’s other hand raised to hold her other cheek, and he leaned closer, mere inches from her waiting lips. “Don’t apologize. I am grateful that you have told me now. You are safe, there is no imminent threat, and now I may ensure your continued safety. We have time to figure out what this means for us, but know that I would still have you if you would have me.”

Ash exhaled a shaky breath. “Okay.”

Her confession of love could come another day, when she hadn’t already dumped a world-altering truth in his lap and left him to pick up the scattered pieces. Though Love swooped low in her chest, a silent plea to release those three little words, Ash held back. She’d taken the first step. For now, that would have to do.

Cullen shook his head ruefully. “Maker’s breath, to think you’d already all but said it and I was still blind to see what was right in front of me.”

An airy giggle broke free from her throat, and she coughed as it choked her. Once recovered, she said, “To be fair, I haven’t even told Rae yet. The only ones who know are Solas and Varric and they guessed all on their own. I've never willingly told anyone before. It feels…strange.”

Surprise flashed through his eyes. “I suppose out of everyone, it would make the most sense for them to be able to ascertain your…possession. Given Solas’s expertise with spirits and Varric’s former friendship with Anders.”

Concern overtook his surprise, and worry roiled in her gut. “I won’t end up like Anders,” she said firmly, a promise both to him and to herself.

He smiled softly. “I know. I trust you still.”

Tears threatened to overflow once more, but she sucked them back. Stubborn to a fault. “Thank you.” Though she could not hide the tremor in her voice.

Cullen glanced at the pillows. “Shall we lie down? I am tired and would like very much to hold you.”

“I’d like that, too.”

Ash followed him down to the bed, tucking herself into the crook of his neck and down the length of his body, her leg slipping between his. His arms wrapped around her, safe and solid, and his breath tickled the top of her head.

I love you, she thought to herself. I love you so much that it scares me, vhenan.

They had time, as Cullen had expressed. Time to sort out how her possession affected them, time to answer his questions, time for their relationship to continue. Rejection had been her expectation, but she’d been met with patience and concern - not for her potential for destruction but for her. It warmed her an unspeakable amount. But she would take it. Whatever time and affection he was willing to give, she would hoard it like a dragon with a pile of gold.

And she would tell him she loved him, when the time was right.

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tired-truffle · 2 months ago

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Your OC as the Solar System: Tag Game

Thanks for the tag @p0lkadotdotdot!

Rules: Bold what applies - italicize sometimes - strike out never. (Bonus): Color the ones that especially fit. Tag some friends to play along!

Ashvalla Lavellan

SUN • egotistical • melted wax wings and fingers • stretching sunburnt skin • the most generous soul • blood in the fruit • halos • anger on fire • high vitality • thunderous laughter • is pride really a sin? • halogenic aura

MERCURY • expansion of the mind • silver-tongued • an everlasting wanderer • polyglot • high dexterity • handwritten letters • innately critical • en vogue • eyes in the trees • hidden libraries • there’s always room for improvement

VENUS • in love with strangers • iridescent waters • love potions for your mirror • selfless devotion • shattering crystal • seafoam upon sand • the golden ratio • drowning in your own passion • material value & high principles • luring • plush lips

EARTH • fresh springs • tree hugger • we can start again tomorrow • a blazing rainforest • respects survival of the fittest • nature’s adversity • lazy bones • constantly evolving • flowers sprouting from wounds • a granite altar • fossilized remains

MOON • illusory • silver shimmer off the ocean • secrets and gossip • cycles of reincarnation • a crybaby • physically ethereal • shared glances with a stranger • cat eyes • mistrusting their intuition • fear is a prison • ornate magic wands

MARS • healthy competition • attraction and repulsion • magma and rubies • a blade being forged • wrath wrath wrath • malefic • intense eye contact • cannon fodder & fireworks • blood floods • copper taste on your tongue

JUPITER • red robes and a suit of armor • beacon of stability • leader by birth • thunderbolts and lightning • guilty but can’t stop • secret rich kid • golden touch golden tears • innate optimist • failure isn’t an option • constantly reaching for more • unfinished symphonies

SATURN • traditional • overbearing energy • a sculptor of reality • this existence is a karmic one • has a heart it’s just.. way down deep • law, order & justice • avoid all necessary risk • the sound of shackles clanging • sisyphus’ struggle • grappling with the reality of time • self-governing

URANUS • psychedelic funk music • overflowing cups • a rebellion with skin • looking good in photo id • oblivious but caring • middle fingers in the air • double rainbows • icy diamond exterior • holographic • afraid of their own mediocrity • pearlescent smoke

NEPTUNE • an elegy for the lost • dissolving boundaries • white horses • the burden of mystical conditions • deceptive • escapism is their reality • a polarizing entity • artists soul • paranoia • searching for the unseen • a siren’s swan song

PLUTO • angel statues over graves • power • the cycle of necrosis • transformative • unfathomable depths • an ivory tower toppling over • screaming at the sky • violets and irises • eclipsed darkness • speaks with their shadow • sex, death, rebirth

Tagging @bibutterflies and @acquiredpond and anyone else who want to do this for their OCs!

#tag game #ashvalla lavellan #cullen x lavellan #dragon age inquisition

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tired-truffle · 2 months ago

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Last Line Meme

Thank you @theluckywizard for the tag and sorry it took me so long to get to this!!

From a new (un-edited) AU that I’ll likely be posting this week!

“And she would tell him she loved him, when the time was right.”

Is this about Ash and Cullen? Maybe maybe 🥰

Tagging @bibutterflies @dragonagedorks @sweetjulieapples @phillypumpkin and @acquiredpond and anyone else who would like to participate

#tag game #fanfic #ashvalla lavellan #cullen rutherford #non inky lavellan #dragon age inquisition

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tired-truffle · 2 months ago

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Hiii Truffle! For ASH! (pitchforks edition if you dare) What's an unsavory detail about your OC or opinion they have (to a modern Tumblr audience)?

In what way is your OC worse than you?

Hmmmmmmm, this is a hard one. For the unsavoury detail or opinion: I mean, Ash is Dalish and doesn’t believe in the Dalish Gods (before, well, you know 👀). She thinks they are stories and maybe existed at one point, but she doesn’t see the point in worshiping gods who haven’t done anything for them for centuries and allowed them to be slaughtered. But thats I think understandable.

Outside of that, she wants all bears dead (they also want her dead) and I think bear lovers everywhere would hate her 😆

Oh wait! Ash will hurt other people (emotionally) to push them away before they can hurt her. I imagine that wouldn’t go over well with a lot of people, very unhealthy (but she’s working on it! I promise!)

For how she is worse than me: Ash bottles up all her feelings and would rather die (literally) than share them, whereas I will tell people pretty easily. She also will lie to herself forever to avoid truths she doesn’t want to face.

#ugly oc asks #ask game #Ashvalla Lavellan #cullen x lavellan #cullen rutherford #dragon age inquisition

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tired-truffle · 2 months ago

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"What uncharitable takes would your OC have about you if they met you?" for Ash AND Rae 💜💜

I love this question 🥰 and also time to expose myself 😆

Ash would think I am way to open - my oversharing tendencies would flabbergast her (but maybe we could find a balance together lol 😆), and she’d also despise that I was mean to my younger sister as a teen (me too, Ash, me too. That was a bad move that I regret deeply)

For Rae, she’d take one look at my nightlight and think I’m a chicken 😬 and she’d be right, I’m very much a scardy cat who cannot handle the dark (there could be something there! And you’d never know!) and horror of almost any kind.

#oc ask game #ugly OC asks #non inky lavellan #rae lavellan #Ashvalla Lavellan #cullen x lavellan #cullen rutherford #dragon age inquisition

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tired-truffle · 2 months ago

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"Who hates your OC? Why?" for Ash and Rae!

That’s a very good question and thank you for asking! I’m realizing now I need more people to hate them 😬 it’s probably to cheesy to say themselves 😆

But Ash’s mom is at the very least responsible for Ash’s self-hatred. She didn’t entirely hate her, but she didn’t love her either. Other than that, I imagine a few of the nobles from Halamshiral hate Ash out of jealousy for ‘stealing’ Cullen, suckers ☺️

Rae is hated by a fair few people as Inquisitor. Corypheus is probably her biggest hater, but maybe I’m just coping out with that one!

#cullen x lavellan #elder sister to the inquisitor #inquisitor’s sister #cullen rutherford #dragon age inquisition #oc ask game

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tired-truffle · 2 months ago

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Ugly OC Asks

Let's get messy 🔥

Questions compiled with @monocytogenes. Reblog with your OCs tagged and enjoy the crunch!

(I'm not numbering these so people have to copy the questions into the ask box.)

😈😈😈😈

What is your OC petty about?

When's the last time your OC hurt someone emotionally? What did they do?

What's an unsavory detail about your OC or opinion they have (to a modern Tumblr audience)?

What's an unsavory detail about your OC or opinion they have (to their peer group)?

What does your OC's love interest dislike about them?

Is your OC ever wrong? Big ways? Small ways? About what?

What does your OC lie about?

In what way(s) is your OC bad at life?

What's the fatal flaw in your OC's relationship(s)? What could destroy those relationships?

What fills your OC with envy? Alternatively who does your OC envy and why?

What physical trait(s) is your OC insecure about?

What personality trait(s) or habit(s) is your OC insecure about?

What's a moment your OC is ashamed to remember?

What's your OC's biggest fuck up?

What unconscious biases or expectations does your OC have regarding other genders, races or sexualities?

What skill does your OC need to work on improving?

What uncharitable takes would your OC have about you if they met you?

What's the longest grudge your OC has ever held? Against whom and why?

In what way is your OC worse than you?

Have there been any horrible consequences to well-intentioned choices your OC made? How did they cope with that?

Who hates your OC? Why?

What do your OC and their LI fight about?

#oc ask game #original characters #writing resources #character development #character questions #oc questions #ask game

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tired-truffle · 2 months ago

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Something’s Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 5.6k

Part 61: Something Good

Tag list: @thomrainierapologist (Thank you for coming along!)

“You are a church of broken glass and hallelujahs. You are haunted like every other holy thing. What tried to destroy you didn't have the strength. Still you stand. Sturdy and smelling of smoke.” - Clementine von Radics

Masterlist

Give me your heart, Ashvalla. Allow me to save you. Love’s voice rang in her mind even before she awoke, bruised and battered and more exhausted than she’d ever been before, but miraculously alive. But it hadn’t been a miracle that kept her heart beating once again, it had been Love. For the second time, Ash had been too weak to resist.

But for the first time, Love was not waiting, nestled between her ribs with a warmth that settled her.

“Ash?” Rae’s voice, hoarse and tired, but real, came from above her.

Ash’s face twisted with a grimace, battling the heaviness of her eyelids. A groan pushed past her parched lips, and her attempt to lift her arm to rub her eyes ended with it flopping uselessly at her side. The sound of hooves clopping along a dirt path reached her ears, and as she drifted further into awareness, she felt the packs beneath her back, and she curled up into a warm, reedy body. Rae, if the fingers prying at her eyes were anything to go by.

“Hey,” Rae tapped her forehead, making her frown, “are you awake?”

A grumbled response must have been an adequate reply as the tapping came to a halt. A shiver ran through her, and she summoned enough energy to crack her eyes open, snuggling closer to Rae. Rae didn’t pull away; instead, she let her arm rest on Ash’s shoulder. She frowned, blinking blearily up at her sister - when was the last time that Rae allowed her to snuggle so close?

Purpling bags clung to the skin beneath Rae’s eyes, her skin pale, her hair a frizzy mess. Dried blood was scattered haphazardly over her body, both hers and not, and a new would-be scar carved across her nose and over her cheek. She sat with her back against the wagon they rode in, propped up against the packs like Ash, though not tossed like a useless rag doll.

“Is…” Ash coughed and accepted the water skin when Rae handed it to her, grateful for a balm to her parched throat. “Is everyone alright? Is Corypheus defeated?”

Rae nodded, and Ash exhaled a sigh of relief. The Creators must have been smiling upon them that day, to have not only ended Corypheus’s reign of terror, but to all have survived…Cullen’s luck had worn off on them all.

“Solas disappeared,” Rae said tonelessly. “After the Anchor broke he just…left.”

That scoundrel not only shattered her heart and stole her vallaslin, but he also had the audacity to abandon her completely. If Ash ever caught him, she’d flay him alive.

“Fen’lin.” Ash brought her hand up to lay it on Rae’s knee, a comforting gesture. “I’m sorry. That isn’t fair of him.”

Rae shrugged, though Ash was not fooled into thinking it didn’t bother her deeply. “S’whatever. I didn’t want him around anyway.”

Now was not the time to push her on her lie, and Ash let the matter rest - until they had both regained their energy.

“What happened to you?” Rae asked, brows furrowed as she scrutinized Ash, eager to move on from the topic of Solas. “Dorian said you summoned a dragon made of fire.”

Her shrug sent knives cutting down her nerves and she winced. “Something like that. It, ah, needed life force to sustain it so…”

The words caught in her throat, lodged like a hot stone. Love was gone, sacrificed so Ash may live. Her last act had been to take over Ash’s body and defeat the Archdemon that had nearly claimed her life again. She’d thought herself prepared. She should have headed Flemeth’s warning.

Ash cleared her throat, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Love, she…she isn’t…” The explanation shouldn’t have been as hard as it was - it was a simple fact. Love was dead, Ash lived, alone and hollow and—

Lost in her spiralling thoughts, it took her a moment to notice the faint, almost entirely imperceptible flutter within her heart. Startled, she sat up abruptly, narrowly missing a collision with Rae's head. Her sister, with her quick rogue’s reflexes, leaned back just in time to avoid the accidental headbutt.

“Ash?” Rae asked, concern pinching her brows. Ash laid a hand on her chest, her breath coming in rapid bursts as dizziness rocked her - both from the revaluation and the sudden change in position.

Beneath her trembling fingers, emanating from the deepest recesses of her heart, the delicate flutter occurred once more. A sob caught behind a sharp inhale, a tentative smile blooming across her face as the light flutter persisted. She could recognize that flutter anywhere, as familiar as her own heartbeat. Even if it wasn’t in the cavity of her chest, Love’s energy was unmistakable.

“I thought she was gone,” Ash whispered in disbelief. “Love used herself up to power the spell but…I think a piece of her remained. I don’t know how…”

Rae tilted her head to the side, curious, but unable to offer any insight.

In her heart. That was where the broken piece of Love was lodged. The heart Ash had given to the spirit in the snowy mountains around Haven, body half-charred, her life teetering on the brink.

“After Haven.” Ash’s hand curled into a fist. “There’s a piece of her in my heart, she must have embedded it inside when she kept it beating. Did I tell you about that? I can’t remember. But I can feel it. I don’t know what that means for her or our deal, but she’s still there. Just…different.”

Rae’s small hand patted Ash’s back, a slightly awkward if not endearing attempt at comfort. “That’s good, right?”

Ash’s head bobbed. “It is. We won, and no one died. You pulled off the impossible, Rae. Creators, I’m so proud of you.”

Pink rose to Rae’s cheeks and her ears twitched, ducking her head and fiddling with her belt. “Yeah, well, I didn’t do it alone.”

“But you did lead us.” Ash placed a hand on Rae’s knee, and her sister glanced up through her shaggy curtain of hair. “You should be proud of yourself, too.”

A snort huffed from Rae’s nose, and she smiled shyly. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Laughter bubbled up from Ash’s chest, relief and joy all mixed into the contagious sound. “There’s my little sister,” she cooed affectionately, and Rae’s smile turned into a lopsided grin.

“Oh, look, our sleeping beauty is awake!” Dorian’s cheer from behind her had Ash twisting at the hips, shooting him a wide smile, edged with exhaustion, but too elated to care. Love had lived against all odds, her friends were on their victory march home, and a certain handsome Commander would be waiting for them - for her. “Now what are we celebrating exactly? We may not have wine for the occasion but I’m certain we can come up with something.”

Wine and further celebration awaited them at Skyhold, but surrounded by her friends, they had a small joyous celebration all

Roaring cheers greeted them as they passed through Skyhold’s main gate. Weary and exhausted, the party followed behind Rae, their Inquisitor, their leader. Dorian held Ash up at the waist, needing to maintain an image of strength. The Inquisition and all its members wouldn’t bend to Corypheus or any threat against Thedas.

All Ash wanted was to lie down and sleep for a few weeks. By Mythal - she cringed as the phrase came instinctively to mind - did her body hurt. Like her muscles had been flattened in a clothes ringer, her skin flayed from bone and sewed back on with fraying thread. Every breath strained, every step a mile run from an angry bear. But she pulled herself along, Dorian to aid her, and stood with her companions as they reached the courtyard.

The stone steps leading to the great hall lay before her, and her eyes followed them up, seeking and searching for her heart, her home. On the platform, Cullen waited, Josephine and Leliana at his side, a smile of relief and love that sent butterflies skittering through her stomach. A lifetime of pain culminated in that moment of triumph. Their future together, their dreams shared in whispers pressed into skin like a promise, were tangible now. She wanted to go to him, but even if her legs worked well enough to make it up the stairs, that wasn’t her place.

Rae began to ascend the stone steps, and Cullen’s eyes remained trained on Ash, worry flickering in their depths as he took in her injured state, taking a step forward before holding himself back. She gave him her bravest grin, though it may have been more of a grimace as her spine twinged. Cullen’s face fell.

“Perhaps it would be best for our poor Commander’s nerves if you keep those pained smiles at bay, dear,” Dorian said in an aside to her, earning himself an irritable huff.

Though she was unable to go to him, despite her bones yearning to nestle against his, all she could feel was relief. They’d survived, and now the possibility of that peaceful future he’d spoken of lay before them. Much to Ash’s surprise, however, peeking out from around Cullen’s legs was none other than Sweetpea - completing the task that Ash had given her prior to her departure. The fickle cat had kept him company, even when in public. Sweetpea raised her head, her eyes fixed on Ash. Rae reached the top of the platform, and her cat chirped at her sister, leaving Cullen’s side to briefly rub against Rae’s leg before descending the stairs.

Cullen chuckled as he turned with Rae and her advisors to face the crowd of onlookers, but Sweetpea paid him no mind.

Stopping at Ash’s feet, she sat on her haunches, tilting her head, ears flicking as cheers rose for the Inquisitor and their triumph.

“You kept him company while I was gone, didn’t you?” Ash cooed, and Dorian - with only a few minor grumbles of complaint, helped her into a crouch. Sweetpea butted her head into Ash’s palm, purring loud enough to be heard over the exuberance. A sign of assent. “Good girl.”

Delighted as Sweetpea was to see her alive and well, once the celebrations commenced, she didn’t linger long - meandering off into the gardens for an evening snack.

The festivities were moved to the main hall, where Josephine had arranged a gathering in their absence. Ash squinted at the broad stone stairs against the faintly glowing sun. The world spun slightly, knocking her off balance, as if the castle itself had tilted in agreement with her exhaustion.

“If you faint now,” Dorian said in an aside to her, “it will upstage the Inquisitor’s moment. I’ll catch you, but I can’t promise I won’t make a scene.”

She elbowed him, but gently, out of respect for her own ribs. “You’d love that.”

“Oh, immensely. Shall we?” He gestured grandly at the steps.

They made their way up, a little more slowly than the rest. But she reached the landing successfully, and the warm torchlight from within beckoned them inside.

Cullen waited just inside, pulled with the other advisors to begin the celebrations. He stood away from the main crowd, his eyes anxiously scanning the entrance. His face softened as soon as he saw her - truly saw her, battered and leaning heavily on Dorian’s arm. His smile, small and close-lipped, trembled at the edges like he didn’t trust it not to fall apart. He excused himself from Josephine and Leliana with a polite nod, and then he was moving, steady and purposeful, weaving through the crowd like a ship carving water.

Dorian intercepted Cullen before he could crush what remained of her carcass in a bruising hug. “Commander!” Dorian greeted him exuberantly. “She remains in one piece, more or less, but I’d recommend a gentle touch. Her bones are held together by sheer force of personality at this point.”

Cullen hesitated. Hovered. Wanting to hold her but not break her. Ash caught his gloved hand and squeezed. “I’m not glass,” she said, though her voice failed halfway and even she heard the wobble in it.

Ash opened her arms, or thought about it, but only one arm got the message; the other hung at her side, tingling with pins and needles.

The hesitation melted. Cullen drew her in, Dorian relinquishing his hold with a sardonic, “I leave her in your capable, if slightly callused, hands,” before stepping back and giving the couple some space.

The hug was awkward at first, more a careful bracing than an embrace, but Ash’s arms found their way around him and Cullen exhaled all at once, his lips pressed against her temple. His breath was shaky against her hair.

“You did it,” he whispered. “You came back.”

She nuzzled into his neck. “Like anything could keep me away from you.”

Ash could have stayed in that moment with him forever, but her legs began to tremble under her exhaustion, and Cullen took notice. He pulled back, his brow pinched and eyes watery as he examined her feverously for any lingering injuries.

She’d seen Cullen in every state of undress - literal and emotional - throughout their campaign, but never this undone. Not the first time he’d kissed her, or in the fevered aftermath of the siege at Haven, when he’d held her hand at her sickbed, not even when she’d confessed her love for him covered in her own blood and seconds from turning into an abomination. This was different. This was surrender, unadorned and complete. In the back of his mind, he hadn’t expected her to return alive.

“Let’s get you off your feet,” he said, and put an arm around Ash’s waist in a grip that brooked no argument.

He guided her not to the thick of the celebration, but towards the fireplace near the entrance where a square table stood, already occupied by Varric and Cole. Varric looked entirely at home, boots crossed at the ankles on the edge of an upturned crate, one hand wrapped around a mug of something that steamed and smelled suspiciously like whiskey. Cole sat atop the table, legs swinging as he watched the party from beneath his wide-brimmed hat.

Cullen pulled out a chair for Ash and only let go of her when he was sure she was settled. Even then, he hovered, fingers brushing her shoulder, her hand, the back of her neck, as if making certain her soul didn’t slip free of her body the second he looked away.

Varric grinned. “You look somehow worse than you did this morning, Frosty. You sure you’re alright?”

Ash smirked, the motion tugging at her split lip. “And you look entirely too comfortable, would you like me to fix that for you?”

Varric raised his mug in a salute of surrender. “I’ll let you save that energy for someone more deserving.” His eyes slid to Cullen, but her lover paid no attention to his subtle teasing.

Cole tilted his head towards Ash, choosing then to join the conversation. “You’re in pain,” he said softly. “But it’s a better pain. Sore instead of hollow. There’s still something missing, but you’re not empty. Not really.”

Cullen sat beside Ash, as close as furniture allowed, and rested his hand over hers. That simple touch - solid, real - felt like it was all that was holding her together.

“Well, we did it,” Varric said, and there was a subtle catch in his voice, like he hadn’t quite believed it until he heard it aloud. “Corypheus is Fade fodder, and the Inquisition’s finest are still standing. I say we skip the speeches and pour another round.” He pushed a pitcher towards Ash. “You know, for medicinal purposes.”

Ash poured herself a small measure, wincing as the motion yanked at her side. She caught Cullen’s worried look and waved him off. “I’ll be fine. I can handle a sip of whiskey.”

Cole leaned forward, hands braced on the table. “The future, the past, the weight of all the people who might have died.” He looked at Cullen. “You want her to rest, but you also know she won’t, not really.”

Cullen huffed a tired laugh. Once, he would have been so unnerved by Cole that he would have dismissed the boy's words, but now, he’d grown accustomed to the strangeness of spirits. “You’re not wrong.”

Ash took a sip and let the burn of it clear her head. Cullen smiled at her, wry and gentle, and the din of the hall faded beneath his thumb tracing circles against the back of her hand.

Across the room, Rae worked her way through a gauntlet of well-wishers, accepting more than a few awkward hugs and claps to the shoulder from soldiers, clergy, and various other hangers-on. She wore a carefully selected smile that said ‘please do not make this a scene’. If Ash had the energy, she’d have rescued her sister, but even if she wanted to help, her legs refused to budge.

“Do you think,” Ash said, turning to Cullen, “that it’s all over? Or that we only bought a little time for peace before someone or something crawls out of a crypt to start it all again?”

“I think…” He considered, the firelight flickering across the worn lines of his face. “I think if something else comes, we’ll face it. But tonight? We celebrate. Tomorrow, we figure out what peace actually means.”

Ash nodded, and as she was about to reply, Cassandra appeared at the edge of the table, looming like the ghost of responsibility. Her armour was splattered with grime, her face grim, but she had a plate of spiced cake in one hand and a plate with little snacks piled high in the other.

“I brought this,” she said to Ash, setting the plate of cake before her. “You haven’t eaten in hours. It is not good for your health to drink on an empty stomach.”

“Andraste’s ass, Seeker,” said Varric, “let the lady have her whiskey. It’s medicinal.”

Cassandra pointed a finger of warning at Varric, then transferred her glare to Ash and Cullen, as if challenging them to start something out of line. “One hour,” she said, “then the formal toast. Don’t be late.” She stalked off, a second plate clutched in her other hand, presumably for Rae.

“She is happy but she does not know how to show it,” Cole said as he watched her go. “It comes out wrong. A sword in place of a hug.”

Ash laughed, the tension in her ribs loosened. “Have you ever tried hugging Cassandra?”

Cole looked at the floor. “Once. I’m not sure if I survived.”

Varric’s laughter joined hers, but the sharp tug of fatigue at the back of Ash’s eyes was growing harder to ignore. She wolfed down a few bites of the cake. It was sweet, spiced, and gone too fast; when she looked down, the plate was bare and her fork was shaking in her hand. She laid it down before it could clatter to the surface.

“Ash,” Cullen said, his tone so gentle that she almost missed the command in it, “you’re exhausted. Let’s get you somewhere quiet.”

She wanted to retort. To make a joke. To insist she was fine, as always, held together with spit and sarcasm and the will to power through. But she found she just…didn’t have it in her. Her head lolled a little and she blinked hard to clear the static from her vision.

The world dipped and righted itself. She was fading faster than she’d realized.

The next thing she knew Rae was standing beside her, arms crossed and eyes hard.

“You need to sleep,” Rae pronounced. “That’s an order.”

If Ash hadn’t been so tired, the threat would have been laughable. “Says the woman who just banished an ancient crazed magister with the magical orb in her hand. Besides, Cassandra gave firm instructions to remain for the formal toast.”

Rae’s brow ticked. “My command supersedes Cassandra. And I’m not the one who spent the last twelve hours convalescing in a hay wagon. Also, you’re drooling.”

Ash wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Tactical advantage. No one expects it.”

“Commander,” Rae addressed Cullen, fed up with her sister, “I am authorizing you to physically remove Ash from this room and see to it that she sleeps. If she resists, use force.”

“Yes, Inquisitor.” Cullen stood and offered Ash his arm. Ash scowled at her sister’s blatant abuse of power. “Don’t make me ask Cole to help.”

Cole, sitting so quietly he’d almost faded into the background, perked up at the prospect. “I could carry you. Or take the pain away for a while.”

Ash shuddered. “Please don’t.”

Cullen got his arm beneath hers and, with a subtle flex of muscle, leveraged her to her feet. The sudden change in altitude made her see stars, and she grabbed onto his bicep for balance.

“Go on, get,” Rae shooed her, mirth swirling in her eyes.

Ash managed a wobbly salute before Cullen guided her away from the table, his arm locked firm and steady around her waist. As soon as they were past the thick of the crowd and into the relative hush of the side corridor, she let her weight sag against him. Too much pride to let anyone else see just how badly her legs were shaking, but with him, she could admit it. Maybe.

Ash’s steps kept getting smaller, more shuffle than stride, until the only thing keeping her upright was Cullen’s arm and his unwavering strength. Halfway down a hall lined with small, circular windows, he stopped, and without preamble, he scooped her up as though she weighed about as much as Sweetpea. Her legs found his waist and her arms encircled his neck, the fluffy mantle tickling her nose.

She made to protest - a witty quip locked and loaded on her tongue about how much he’d find any excuse to have her legs wrapped around him - but the words dissolved before they reached her lips. Her head lolled into the crook of his shoulder, the scent of armour polish and elderflower soothing her. His stride was smooth and sure, her body rocked with the even tempo of his boots on cold stone. No one in the corridor bothered to gawk; the sight of the Commander toting the Inquisitor’s sister like a sack of flour mattered little in the face of Corypheus’s defeat.

He didn’t take the turn towards his office. Instead, he headed for the garden wing, where her small room overlooked the trees and the wildflowers that choked the old stonework. The moon was a flat coin behind the window as he shouldered through the door. Sweetpea was already there, tucked in like a loaf of bread on the foot of the bed, her tail twitching with vague, judgy interest.

Cullen eased Ash down onto the edge of the mattress, then knelt to unlace her boots. They were caked with dried blood and mud; she couldn’t remember if both feet inside were hers. He worked the leather with patient hands, setting each boot aside. She studied him through the haze, the way his lashes caught the moonlight, the pinch of his forehead.

Sweetpea hopped up, planted herself beside Ash’s lap, and yawned in solidarity. Cullen leaned in, brushing Ash’s hair off her cheek. His fingertips lingered on her jaw. She wanted more.

She wanted the taste of his mouth and the weight of his body over hers, wanted to drown out the ache in her ribs with the ache that came from him and only him. She reached for the ties of her battered robes, but her hands trembled and the ties wouldn’t loosen.

Cullen saw her struggle and, without a word, undid the ties himself. He gently removed her robes, peeling away the underlayers, all with a reverence that lurked in the dark, hungry way he gazed at her. He helped her out of her breastband, his hands warm, palms braced against her ribs.

“You don’t have to—” he started, but Ash cut him off with a clumsy hand at his neck, drawing him down. Her lips met his, and the pain dulled under the pressure of the kiss, replaced by something hot and bright and so alive it nearly brought her to tears.

He groaned into her mouth, the low sound that always meant he was close to losing control, and shifted his weight, kneeling between her thighs. Sweetpea emitted a long-suffering chirp and relocated to the pillow, eyes narrowed with disapproval.

She should have let him tuck her beneath the blankets and fade into a merciful sleep. Yet all she wanted was for him to take her. But there were limits, even now. He must have seen the exhaustion pulling at her face, the tremor in her hands as she groped for his tunic. He pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against hers, breath ragged and warm.

They stayed like that, still and silent, until she felt the ache in her body swap places with a softer, sweeter ache, one that came from the heart and not the bones.

Finally, she allowed him to tuck her into bed, Sweetpea kneading her pillow and purring her content.

“Tomorrow,” Cullen promised, stealing another kiss from her lips. “A real bath. And soup. And all the sleep you can stand.”

Ash hummed, already half-dreaming.

“When you’re awake, truly awake, will you tell me what happened?”

She could barely nod. “Yes,” she breathed.

“Thank you,” Cullen said, and his lips pressed softly against her cheek.

She heard him moving about the room - the familiar whisper of his tunic and breeches as he stripped out of them, his armour clanking gently on the stone floor. The mattress dipped beside her. Cullen slid under the covers, careful not to jostle the cat, then pulled Ash into the crook of his arm and pressed her head against his chest. The heat of him radiated through her, melting the last shreds of chill from her bones.

She was asleep before she remembered to tell him she loved him.

Sunlight striped the sheets and the back of her eyelids. She woke to the even rhythm of Cullen’s heart, his hand curved around her shoulder, and Sweetpea kneading lazy biscuits into the small of her back. Aches and sharp little complaints pricked up and down her body, but they hummed in the background, muffled and harmless under the blanket of contentment pulled snugly over her.

She opened her eyes. Cullen was awake, watching her with a soft, blurry sort of smile. His hair stuck up at several angles, and his stubble had grown, but he looked happy, and that was all that mattered to her.

“You’re staring,” she rasped, throat still rough from sleep.

“I’m making sure you’re still here.” He raised her hand to his lips, kissed the knuckles, then rested their joined hands over his heart, his chest hair tickling her fingers. “You worried me.”

Ash rolled onto her back. “You were always going to be worried about me, even if I returned with nary a scratch or hair out of place.”

He huffed, half-laugh, half-exasperation, and let his arm fall across her stomach, fingers splayed wide to keep her from venturing out into danger. “How do you feel?”

Head tilting to the side, she considered his question. “Like someone used my insides as kindling, then stomped the ashes into the snow. But I’ll survive. The handsome Commander in my bed certainly makes it all seem worth it.”

Her fingers walked up his chest, up a thin line of scarring to the hollow at his throat, where she pressed her lips with lazy morning deliberation.

“Do you think,” she said against his skin, “a little kissing would help my recovery? Or am I doomed to perish here in the sheets, pining for your lips?”

He snorted so loudly Sweetpea startled. “My lady, it would be injudicious to ignore your suffering.”

Rolling atop her, he was careful to remain mostly propped above her, and cradled her between his arms. The weight of him was instantly right. She remembered their first attempts at this - him pushed to the brink of exasperation, her mostly sarcastic, fretting about what came next. Now, the only thing between them was linen and time.

The kiss was slow, unhurried. Her ribs barely twinged. His hand found her hips, and he held her there. Her breath still tasted of whiskey and sleep, but he drank it in like it was a delicacy. He grazed his teeth over her bottom lip, and she gasped, but not from pain. It was infuriating, how easily he undid her.

He drew away only when Sweetpea, not to be neglected, headbutted his shoulder. Reluctantly, he shifted to Ash’s side, propping himself up on one elbow, watching her face in that way that made time slow down.

Ash pressed one hand to his stubbled cheek, thumb tracing the divot of his chin. “You want to ask what happened,” she guessed, “but you don’t want to ruin the moment.”

He nodded, lips thin, eyes gold and anxious. “If you’re ready to tell it.”

Sweetpea sat beside Ash’s head and batted her forehead with a soft paw. Ash frowned at her cat, but Sweetpea simply watched her with a tilted head. Ignoring her strange creature, Ash took a deep breath and told it all. The fire in her veins as she reached for power beyond what mortals should; the price - the dragon of living flame, her life force pouring into it, burning her from the inside out. How Love had taken the reins when Ash was too weak to hold them, and how Love had given herself up so that Ash might live and win and come home.

She tried to say it cleanly, without the sob that built in her throat, but when she reached the part about the flutter in her heart, the hope that Love had left something behind, her words faltered.

He kissed her knuckles again. “You never do anything by halves, do you.”

“Wouldn’t know how,” she said, then stared at the ceiling for a long, silent minute. The morning sun was a dull smear behind frost on the glass. “There’s still a piece of her inside me. I can feel it. Like a phantom limb, or a song you can’t get out of your head. I think that maybe, with time, it will grow.”

“What does that mean for you?”

Ash shook her head. “I don’t know. But I’m alive, and I think she is too. There may still be work to do, but our future seems so much closer now.”

Cullen leaned in, catching her mouth with his. It wasn’t the desperate, hungry clutch of grief deferred or longing too long denied. It was a quiet, thorough sort of claiming, a mapping of every tired line in her lips, an inventory of the new hurts and the old. He kissed her like he was tasting proof she was real, that nothing the world had done could take her from him. When he drew back it was only far enough to brush his nose alongside hers, his hand warm against her jaw.

“The battle is over, there will be a new Divine,” he said after a moment, gaze solemn and voice so close she could feel it in her bones. “Yet I don't care about anything other than you being here." He pressed his forehead to hers. “That’s all I could ever ask for.”

Ash swallowed, her throat tight. “I think you might be the only person in Thedas not concerned with the next world crisis.”

“I have excellent priorities,” he said, and she believed it.

She didn’t say, I might be the next world crisis. She didn’t say, There’s a piece of a spirit in my heart, and I don’t know if she will remember me or our deal when she wakes up. Instead, she said, “I could stay like this all day.”

“I’d allow it.”

Sweetpea, having resigned herself to being the third wheel in this union, trotted down the bed to curl into the warm space between their knees and began an unrelenting bout of self-grooming. Ash rolled onto her side, watching the cat for a while, content to let the world outside their tangle of sheets and limbs drift by unremarked.

Ash thought of Rae, somewhere in the stronghold, probably already neck-deep in missives and threats, dismantling the war she’d just won. Maybe Rae would find Solas, or maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe no one would. Ash hoped that at the very least, Rae would get the answers she deserved.

She rolled over and prodded Cullen’s chest until he grunted.

“Do you think the world will ever let us rest?” she asked. She meant it as a joke, but the words ached; the smile didn’t quite land.

Cullen gazed past her, eyes tracing the stone walls. “I think we make rest where we can.” He hooked a finger in her hair, curling it absently around his knuckle. She wondered if he realized just how gentle he always was with her, even when she didn’t make it easy for him.

They lay there, their legs tangled and their pulses slow, Sweetpea purring away the sting of bad memories. Ash’s breath came easy now. The pain was background, manageable. She thought of Love, still fluttering quietly inside her, and decided that if the world had to live with the scars, so did she.

“I love you.” His declaration vibrated beneath her skin, and she smiled against his chest.

“I love you, too, vhenan. And when I am well enough, I will show you exactly how much.” Another promise, this one much easier to keep.

She’d given and given until she’d broken, and from the cracks, something beautiful and purely good had bloomed. Sorrow and fear born from torment had nearly drowned them, but they’d risen above all their strife. And they would continue. Together, until the end.

A/N: I don’t even know how to say thank you to everyone who has come with me along this journey and brought so much joy 🥰

I want to say a special thank you to @bibutterflies for your lovely comments and of course chatting about our favs. You inspire me all the time and Ash and Culllen would not be where they are without you! Thank you for being my first internet friend 🥰

And thank you to the Cullen Romancers discord for your endless entertainment, connection, support, and ideas! I’m so happy to have you all in my life ❤️

Ash and Cullen aren’t over yet! They still have more cannon and AUs to explore, so if you’d like to stay updated you can subscribe to the series ☺️ See you soon!

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tired-truffle · 2 months ago

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Latest Fanfics - Opening Lines

Rules: post the beginning lines of your most recent 10 published fanfics, then attempt to tag 10 people!

Thank you @opal-apparition and @theluckywizard for the tags ❤️

~The following fics are all dragon age except for one ‘cause I can’t get enough~

All links lead to AO3 as I haven’t posted all these fics on Tumblr yet

1. Something’s Gotta Give (CullenxLavellan, Will be complete June 12th 2025, E) - “Shala Nar Asa’ma’lin (Protect your sister). Make sure she is safe, guard her with your life if you have to.” Ever since Rae had left for the Conclave at the behest of the First, her mother’s command had echoed in her ears. She’d ensured her sister’s safety for twenty years, taught her to fight and survive in a world that did not care for them. The first thing Rae had done with those skills was insist to the Keeper that she be the representative from their clan to spy on the Conclave - potentially the most influential meeting of the century, a chance for the Chantry, the templars and the mages they oppressed to meet and form a treaty.

2. One Plus Two Makes Three (CullenxLavellanxTrevelyan, Complete, M) - Competing for the affection of the same girl as another guy could be an exhilarating game, but after a period of playful tension and uncertainty, the thrill began to fade. Emotions inevitably entered the mix, and with those emotions came a sense of attachment that made Ash's skin crawl. He was out the door before she could put her panties on - still damp from the previous night's passion, now stiffening as they dried in the morning air.

3. Sweater Weather (CullenxLavellan, Complete, E) - The fingers of Father Winter wrapped themselves around Cordelia’s spine and set her to shivering. Her innate pyromancy typically kept her from feeling the worst of the chill, even in the glacial mountains of Skyhold the cold had been nothing more than a mild irritant at best. Yet, after a full day of using her magic to the point of draining herself almost entirely, her mana reserves were low, and her natural heat abandoned her. Fixing up their home in the middle of winter may not have been her brightest idea, but once inspiration struck, she couldn't resist diving headfirst into the project. A distraction from her tumultuous emotions, she knew this, yet she wasn't ready to confront everything she'd discovered at the Exalted Council.

4. I Love You, I’m Sorry (CullenxLavellan, Complete, M) - Knock, knock, knock, a sharp, firm tapping at the door to her small wooden cabin. The sound sliced through the quiet, pulling Ash's attention away from the pages of her book - a loan from Dorian that she’d already read many times over, but she’d always been a sucker for romance. Especially smutty romance.

5. A Lesson In Humour (AlistairxOC, Complete, T) - “Right.” Alistair's fingers drummed against the table, slightly sticky from spilled ale. “You want me to teach you how to notice when someone’s telling a joke?”

Back as straight as a board, Lux shifted in her seat. “That’s correct.”

His lips pursed as he considered her request. “I appreciate your confidence in my skills of wit and humour, but I’m rather curious as to why you’d choose me, specifically.”

6. Taking Dicks and Taking Pics (CullenxTrevelyan, Complete, E) - Never before had Astoria felt so insatiable. All it had taken was a little taste of a bashful blush when he’d been proven wrong, and she’d been hooked. From that moment on, Cullen had taken up permanent residence in her thoughts. That lopsided smirk that tugged at the scar on his upper lip, the crow's feet around his eyes that crinkled when he chuckled. Ugh, he was undeniably, irritatingly handsome.

7. Cadaver Hearts (EmmrichxRook, Complete, M) - Steady breathing trailed over the top of her head and through her mussed hair. Lithe fingers ran up and down her sternum, absentmindedly following the raised tissue like a map. His delicate wrist was free of the many bangles Aster adored but found uncomfortable when they dug into her sides as they slept cuddled together. She was relatively certain that if Emmrich had a choice, he’d never take them off. They were as much a part of him as his pencil mustache, though she’d never ask him to remove that. She enjoyed the way it tickled her upper lip or cheek in chaste kisses.

8. My Soul to Keep (ReaderxViktor—Arcane, In-Progress, M) - The room was unfamiliar. Shelves of leather-bound books lined the walls, trinkets scattered around - at first glance seemingly random, but once you gave it more thought, their placement was nothing if not precise. A worn leather couch sat at the centre of the space, facing the shelves, two end tables on either side. A cozy, wine-red rug slipped beneath a coffee table stained with water rings, remnants of long-forgotten mugs. A modest kitchen sat off to your right, tiled with a plain off-white hexagonal pattern, and to your left—

A desk, cluttered with odds and ends, papers stacked high, but your gaze was drawn to the figure turned towards you.

9. Gentle Creatures (Cole&Lavellan&Merrill, Complete, G) - “Oh, aren’t they just dreadfully cute?” Merrill cooed as she trailed her fingers gently between the nug’s ears. “I can see why Sister Nightingale is so fond of them.”

Lavellan smiled, a nug in her lap and another snuffling at her bare toes - her stockings exposing most of her feet. “If someone had told me that Leliana, the left hand of the Divine and infamous cutthroat rogue, bred nugs, I’d have laughed in their face.”

“Father and son, second of his name.” Cole, who had taken quite the fascination with the nugs, had crouched down, his face level with one of Leliana’s favourites. “She misses her first, but honours his memory.”

10. Petals in a Storm (AlistairxMahariel, Complete, T) - A year. It had been a year since Adhlea had last seen or had any non-formal contact with Alistair. She received the occasional letter from the crown - as Teryna of Gwaren, it was her duty to report her taxes collected and any threats posed to her lands - and while he had signed all correspondence, she doubted he’d done more than take a cursory glance at most. However, it hadn’t stopped her from ripping the first letter to shreds and then sobbing over the remains.

Tagging: @celestialteapot @bibutterflies and anyone else who would like to participate!

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tired-truffle · 2 months ago

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Something's Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 4.4k

Part 60: Love, in Fire and in Blood

"No daughters, only soldiers." - Unknown

Tag list: @thomrainierapologist (If you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know!)

Masterlist

The ground rocked beneath their feet, and a sudden, eerie flash of vibrant green cut through the thick, grey clouds. Sweetpea’s back arched, her fur standing on end as she glared out into the distance. Ash staggered, catching herself on the battlements, her gaze pulled past the mountains as horror settled in her stomach like a heavy stone. The Breach had been reopened. Corypheus had made his final play.

Skyhold sprang into action.

The war horns blared, and the council gathered while the inner circle prepared themselves for the impending confrontation at the front line. Ash, clad in her chest plate, her staff tightly gripped in one hand and a scroll tucked securely at her side, took a deep, steadying breath. She could do this. She’d survived once before, surely, she could survive a second time. She had to, there was no other choice. To give up everything she’d worked so hard for, for the peace and love she’d painstakingly carved out of the bedrock of life, was unconscionable.

The inner circle congregated at the main gate, their horses prepared and ready for the journey to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

If fortune favoured them with clear skies and swift winds, they could reach their destination in a day. A single day until they reached the final battle, until Ash stood against the Archdemon.

Rae led her advisors to meet her companions, her face set in a stern grimace, shoulders back, daggers ready at her hips. Head held high, she embodied her title as Inquisitor perfectly. Yet, beneath Ash's calm exterior, her stomach roiled with unease. When the Inquisitor's role was fulfilled, would there be anything left of her dear sister?

Cullen caught her gaze as Cassandra passed Rae the reigns of her beloved bog unicorn, his lips twisted in a grave frown, his brow furrowed and the skin around his eyes tight. Would this be the last time she saw him? There, in front of their friends and the gathering residents of Skyhold, would they say their final goodbye?

Hands clenching into fists at her sides, Ash steeled herself. This was not a farewell, she told herself, but merely a ‘see you soon.’ She wanted that future he spoke of, the small house by a lake, family surrounding them, peace. She wouldn’t let Corypheus take that from her.

“We won’t be stopping until we reach the Breach.” Rae’s voice carried over the crowd. “The bulk of our forces will not arrive in time; it falls upon us to defeat Corypheus once and for all. He is weakened, his plans thwarted at every turn by our hands, and now we stand equipped with every tool necessary to vanquish him and his Archdemon.”

Rae glanced at Ash, a flash of fear in her eyes, barely noticeable had she not known what to look for. “We depart in five minutes. Prepare yourself. All of you will return alive. That’s an order.”

A chorus of ‘yes, Inquisitor’ rippled through their group. Rae’s eyes flickered to Solas, the apostate’s gaze watching her with an indiscernible intent. Rae scoffed low under her breath and turned away, she didn’t have time to waste on her feelings. They had an ancient Magister to kill.

The party moved, finalizing the last of their preparations. Cullen stepped towards her, and Ash met him in the middle. What did one say to their lover as they departed to confront a deadly threat? A simple ‘good luck’ seemed too casual, and anything more at risk for jinxing their luck.

Sweetpea let out a soft, insistent meow from where she sat by Ash's feet. Ash bent down and gently scooped her up, cradling her in her arms. As she stroked Sweetpea's fluffy head and scratched behind her ears, the cat's eyes widened, round and glistening like polished marbles. Sweetpea tilted her head slightly, her gaze full of curiosity and affection, searching Ash's face.

“Sorry, Pea. You can’t come with me this time,” she said quietly, but loud enough that Cullen could hear. “Keep Cullen company for me, will you?”

After so long in each other’s company, Ash had become adept at deciphering every subtle meow and pointed look from Sweetpea. Her cat meowed affirmatively, pawing at Ash’s nose as if to say that she had better return soon. Ash smiled and placed a kiss atop her soft head. Parting from Sweetpea felt like ripping her soul in half, one to face the Archdemon, the other to wind itself around Cullen’s legs and leave dead mice on his desk when he wouldn’t eat. She couldn’t bring herself to let go. But she had to, she couldn’t bring Sweetpea with her unless she wanted a charred cat.

Before she could ruminate on it any further, Ash thrust Sweetpea at Cullen, her little grey body dangling from where Ash had her under the armpits. “Keep her safe for me while I’m gone? She will keep you company until I return.”

“Of course.” With a tender smile that warmed the ice around her heart, Cullen accepted the cat into his arms, letting her nestle in his mantle, her big eyes peering out at Ash. “We will greet you at the gates when you return triumphant.”

Ash wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince more; her, himself, or Sweetpea, but she appreciated his words of affirmation all the same. They stood there, at the precipice of the end, the distance between them feeling insurmountable. If she held him now, she’d never want to let go.

When had she started shaking?

Rae’s whistle broke them out of their trance, her sister whooping loudly as their party gathered. Ash glanced toward her sister and back at Cullen, and in that split second threw all caution to the wind.

The kiss was far too quick, too chaste, and though one hand came to grip her hip, his other arm was occupied by a furry bundle that resented being squished. The scar on his lip pressed against her, and she committed it all to memory - as she had a thousand times before. The taste of his elderflower tea, the stubble that scratched her chin, the way his fingers gripped her hard enough to bruise. Despite how restrained the kiss was, only she knew how deeply affected he felt.

She pulled back and brushed her hand across his cheek. “Our victory celebration will be much less tame, vhenan,” she said with a grin that crinkled the skin of her nose.

Dropping her hand, Ash stepped back, Cullen swaying as if to follow, but he caught himself. “Be safe, Ashvalla.”

With one last loving look, Ash turned, mounting her horse and joining the party as they left the safety of Skyhold, and rode towards their deaths.

Their horses gradually slowed to a cautious trot as they approached the green vortex that swirled above the crumbling ruins of the ancient temple. Soon, they would have to dismount and leave their steeds with the pages who’d accompanied them, the animals too jittery to get up close. Ash rode beside Dorian, the two friends sharing an uncharacteristically silence. Until she broke the charged quiet.

“Dorian,” she began, biting her bottom lip as the Altus mage turned towards her, “we still don’t entirely know what this spell will do to me, and while I hope it doesn’t have any…lasting consequences, it would be naive of me not to consider the likelihood that it will require some sort of sacrifice.” She took a deep breath, her heart fluttering in her throat like a caged bird. “If I don’t make it…Rae will manage; she’s strong and she has Sera, but Cullen…will you promise to look after him for me? Make sure he's alright, that he finds his way?"

“No.”

Ash blinked rapidly, the single-syllable word rattling in her ears.

“What?” She shot Dorian an incredulous look, but he simply lifted his chin.

“I said no, my dear. I will not entertain the ridiculous notion that you will not survive. You can't just waltz into my life, become my closest friend, and then expect me to go on in the world without you. That's not how this works,” Dorian said tartly, his shoulders stiff. “You must live. You cannot use me as an excuse to sacrifice yourself. And the Inquisitor would box your ears for suggesting she would be fine without you.”

Ash’s mouth fell open, disbelief raising her eyebrows. “I…” Lost for words, she shut her mouth with the click of her teeth.

Dorian sighed wearily, sympathy glinting in his dark eyes. “I am his friend, too, I will be there to support him if needed,” he said with patient gentleness. “But I can’t replace you. You need to look after him yourself. Besides, he bid me to bring you back alive, and I plan to follow through on that request.”

Oh. Ash supposed she should have expected as much, but to know Cullen had asked that of Dorian both warmed her heart and chaffed at her pride. Love nestled behind her ribs, pleased.

“Then I will endeavour to make your task easy,” Ash said, shaking off the gloom that had taken over her.

Dorian laughed, lacking its usual rich depth, but good-natured nonetheless. “Liar.”

They left their horses with the stewards minutes later, and began the trek to the temple on foot.

No one spoke. The gravity of what they marched toward weighed heavily on their minds. Would fate be kind and grant them victory, or would this be their final gathering? Solas watched Rae as she strode at the head of the party. While Ash's heart clenched at the thought of the imminent battle with the Archdemon - knowing it would demand every ounce of her focus and effort, leaving Rae without her protection - it settled a piece of her soul to know that Solas would be at Rae’s side. Whatever his mysterious reasons for ending their relationship, it was not for a lack of love. That was clear in the way his eyes shone, how even now he gravitated towards subconsciously.

Red lyrium spikes glowed an eerie red over their approach, the sounds of shrieking demons and the cries of their scouts ahead quickening their steps. Cassandra arrived first, gutting a demon on her long sword and glaring up at the foe who stared them down.

Corypheus stood on the ruins, his lips curled in a snarl at the sight of Rae and her companions. He was just as ugly as ever, and Ash resisted the urge to gag.

“I knew you would come,” he said, his voice low and filled with malice, accompanied by a mocking bow.

Rae was tired, the dark circles under her eyes sharpening the anger in her gaze as it fixed on the source of all their problems. “This ends here, Corypheus.”

Sparking red magic crackled over his fingers. “And so it shall,” he replied before thrusting his hands into the air.

The ground beneath their feet shook, but unlike in Skyhold, it didn’t cease. Rock breaking from dirt and roots torn overwhelmed her senses, and Ash was knocked off balance as wind whipped around them. Had it not been for her staff, she would have fallen flat on her face. Embarrassing in front of friends, let alone the man they had been sent to kill.

They lifted higher and higher into the sky. A warning trickled in the back of her mind. The voices from the Well, foreboding and the heat of ancient fire burned in her ears. Ash’s stomach sank to her feet, bile rising in the back of her throat, and her burns itching. The Archdemon had nearly killed her, disfiguring her permanently, and then it had nearly stolen her sister from her, left Rae to fall to her death. It had been lucky those times, Ash had been unprepared. Now, she swallowed her fear, gritting her teeth as she pulled the scroll from her belt. The wretched creature wouldn’t survive its third encounter with her, she would ensure it met a grizzly fate.

Corypheus spoke, throwing vitriolic hate at her sister, but Ash wasn’t listening. She used his ego, his need for flowery speeches to her advantage, and hid behind Iron Bull's bulk as she unfurled the scroll and began to read.

The ancient Elvhen script pulsed before her eyes, each glyph shifting from indecipherable to crystal clear understanding. Ash's lips moved, forming sounds she'd never spoken yet somehow knew intimately, as if they'd been sleeping in her bones since birth. The voices of the Well swelled within her mind, no longer a whisper but a resounding scream that guided her tongue.

Heat bloomed in her chest, surging through her veins like liquid fire. The magic felt different - wild, primal. This was older, raw.

A shadow passed overhead.

Instinct seized her. Ash's hands thrust skyward, the scroll burning to ash between her fingers as the spell manifested. Flames erupted from her palms, converging into the massive form of a dragon, its fiery wings spanning wide and powerful. The construct roared just as the Archdemon dove toward them, jaws wide and ready to devour.

The two dragons collided in a battle of screeches and flame. The Archdemon tumbled sideways, its trajectory shattered, wings flapping as it desperately tried to right itself.

“You dare. You will pay for your insolence, girl.” Corypheus fixed his beady eyes on Ash, but she paid him little mind. He wasn’t hers to fight.

“Go!” Ash yelled to Rae as her sister readied herself to fight. “You focus on Corypheus, I’ve got this!”

From the pursing of her lips and the downward tilt of her ears, Rae knew that Ash was correct. But to leave her sister behind to battle the creature that had almost killed her took more willpower than she’d anticipated.

“Ashvalla is correct, Inquisitor,” Cassandra said as Corypheus roared his rage.

Rae growled, her eyes alight with righteous anger. “Bull, Dorian.” She addressed the two men. “Stay with Ash, watch her back while she does…whatever it is she needs to.”

“I’ll be fine,” Ash protested, but Rae was already jogging away, the rest of the party following in her tracks.

“That’s an order!” Rae called over her shoulder, daggers drawn as she charged her enemy. “Kill it and get to safety!”

The sounds of her dragon of flames came from below, and Ash ran to the edge of the platform, peering out into the vast expanse of sky stretching between them and the distant ground. Her stomach flopped and nearly emptied itself.

“You heard the Boss,” Bull twirled the greatsword in his hand, “let’s kill this fucker.”

“I’m afraid we may be preoccupied with other enemies, Amatus,” Dorian pulled Bull’s attention, pointing to the horde of twisted demons hurtling toward them, screeching their bloodlust.

The first of the demons landed with a wet crunch, its scythe-like arms angled straight for Ash’s heart. Iron Bull met it midair, his sword cleaving through limbs and embedding in its thick skull. They had her back, just as instructed, and she had a mission to accomplish.

Ash’s focus snapped back to her creation. The fire dragon and the Archdemon tore through the sky like a meteor shower, careening and clawing, their shrieks echoing across the ruined temple. She could feel her construct, could sense every slashing talon and bout of flame, each move an extension of her will. It was glorious, addicting, a taste of what ancient mages must have felt when they cracked the world open with their ambition. She wanted to laugh, or scream, or both. Possibly even cry.

But it was also eating her alive.

Every second the construct existed, it drank from her - her mana first, but then her heat, her pulse, the marrow in her bones. Her hands trembled with cold, her forearms prickled with numbness and pain. She watched as her fingertips darkened from pink to purple-black, the veins beneath her skin standing out like rivers of ink. The fire dragon’s next swipe cost her feeling in three of her fingers; she almost dropped her staff.

She clenched her jaw. It was worth it. It had to be.

The Archdemon, wings battered and scorched, reeled from a glancing hit. It recovered midflight, spiralling upwards until it hovered above the temple. The green light of the Breach backlit its silhouette, a tainted star given form.

Ash’s vision doubled. The voices of the Well were louder now, shrill and urgent, but she drowned them out with the force of her own will. She flung her staff up, pouring every last scrap of energy into her dragon. It streaked after the Archdemon, jaws stretching wide. The fire dragon latched onto the Archdemon’s throat.

The Archdemon screeched, clawing at the flames, but the construct held, slamming the thrashing creature into the ground and kicking up clouds of dust and debris. Ash could feel its triumph, its hunger, the way it wanted to consume and never stop—

No. Not hunger. Her own desperation. To protect Rae, to see Cullen again, to finish what she had started. She was the fire; it was only a mirror.

Pain radiated up her thighs and into her hips as her knees hit the ground hard. Her chest heaved as she gasped for breath that wouldn’t come. Pins and needles pricked at her blackened fingers, and her vision was rocked by dizziness. Sweat bedded down her temple, and exhaustion tugged at her mind.

The Archdemon threw her construct from its neck with a deafening roar.

The blasted creature still wasn’t fucking dead, and Ash wasn’t sure how much she had left in her. Would it kill her first, or would they die together?

“Ashvalla,” Dorian’s voice rang in her ears as he skidded to a halt beside her, eyeing her pallid complexion with concern. “Are you alright?”

A tangy metallic taste filled her mouth, and she spat to rid herself of it. Crimson splattered across the grey stone and she huffed. “Peachy.”

“How can I help?” Dorian beseeched her, and she shook her head.

“You can’t. Help Bull. I have to do this a—“

Like a comforting, woollen blanket enveloping her in front of a slow-burning, crackling fire, Love’s presence gently nudged at the edges of Ash’s consciousness. Initially, it was a subtle, tender touch, but as fatigue seeped into her bones and eroded her hold on herself, Love's influence grew stronger and more insistent.

“What are you…” Ash’s limbs ceased responding to her command. “No. Stop. Love, don’t. It will destroy you—“

Her body was no longer her own, left adrift in her own mind, all she could do was watch as Dorian’s eyes widened, and he took a step back.

Love smiled sadly, using Ash’s mouth, Ash’s voice. “For you, my Ashvalla, I would gladly make that sacrifice.”

The world turned crystalline. Everything sharp, everything unbearably bright. Love seized the magic, and the Well’s voices became a choir, a thousand nameless ancestors lending their pain, their longing, their relentless, undiminished hope. The Archdemon drew every ounce of focus: hideous, battered, but not nearly dead enough.

Ash screamed at Love, wordless, furious, pleading. But the spirit’s resolve was a wall, gentle and impenetrable.

The Archdemon shook itself, blood and ichor raining from its mangled throat. Love raised Ash’s arms and cast, not with the limited skill of a mortal mage, but with the boundless abandon of a spirit. The fire dragon transformed, brighter, hotter, less like an animal and more like a living wound torn straight from the Fade.

Every second, Ash’s body burned, though no blisters erupted across her skin, her eyes wept blood and tears both.

Love drove the fire beast straight at the Archdemon - no clever feints, no patience, just a collision of pure will. The Archdemon countered, shrieking, its wings thrashing, its jaws clamping down on the construct’s leg. The two locked midair, tumbling - neither would yield.

Ash, silent and powerless inside her own mind, wept. She saw Love’s memories, the quiet moments in bed with her lover, the warmth of Sweetpea on her chest, the wishes for peace. She saw every time she’d struggled to protect others, thinking herself alone, not realizing that Love had always been there to support her, a silent partner in every reckless act. Now Love was giving everything, burning herself away so Ash could live.

The spell reached its breaking point. The fire dragon exploded, taking the Archdemon with it in a blossom of white-hot light and roaring flame. The shockwave knocked everyone flat. The demons evaporated, their empty husks flaking away on the wind. A lone ball of crackling red energy floated from the Archdemon’s corpse and flew further into the ruins.

A broken, wailing cry ripped itself from Ash’s throat as her body was relinquished back to her. She fell to the ground, the gravel digging into her palms as she swayed, holding back her stomach contents from spilling onto the stone. Emptiness filled her chest, a void where there had once been heat and love and kindness. There was nothing. No fluttering behind her ribs or insistent banging on her spine. Love was gone. After twenty-three years, only Ash lived in her body. All the progress they’d made in the past few weeks crumbled to dust. Their tentative trust and friendship vanished like the spirit herself. Ash didn’t deserve Love’s sacrifice, but Love had given it without hesitation.

Choked sobs fell from her lips, tears burning salty tracks down her cheeks as she leaned her forehead against the ground. She shivered. Never before had she felt so cold. Not even in the mountains after Haven, her body failing, Love lodged in her heart, using her energy to keep Ash’s life-giving muscle beating.

Dorian came into view as he rushed to her side, kneeling beside her, a hand placed on her back as though to reassure him through touch that she lived.

She lived and Love didn’t.

Dorian shook her gently as Bull’s thunderous footsteps arrived on her other side. She couldn’t make out the words that slipped from beneath his mustache - not a hair out of place despite the intensity of the battle, but from the concern in his eyes, she could guess he was inquiring about her well-being.

But she could barely think under the tangle of vines that pressed her sorrow into her battered flesh.

“She’s gone,” she croaked instead. “Love is gone.”

A thick silence had her curling in on herself, unable to see their confusion lest it break her further.

“Gone? Whatever do you mean 'gone’?” Dorian asked incredulously.

Ash's sobs came in ragged, uneven gasps as she tried to explain, but her tongue was held down by loss.

“Let’s save the explanations for when we’re safe.” Iron Bull’s soothing rumble eased into her chest, filling a sliver of the emptiness.

Pushing herself up on trembling arms to kneel, she spat blood from her mouth - blacker than before. “We need to go after them.”

Her legs felt like jelly, refusing to support her weight, and as she attempted to rise, they betrayed her, folding beneath her like a house of cards. Before she could tumble to the ground, Bull's strong arms caught her.

“Not like that you won’t,” Dorian chided.

Ash’s ears pinned against the sides of her skull, her teeth barred in a snarl. “I can fight.” Fog overtook her mind, numbness and agony fighting for dominance. “I-I can’t lose her, too.”

“The Boss is stronger than you think.” Bull hefted Ash’s body into his arms, limp as a ragdoll.

Her head lolled to the side, her gaze landing on Dorian’s disapproving grimace. “What happened to making my task easy? Cullen will be beside himself already with the state you’re in. He may just flay me alive if I allowed you to rush after the Inquisitor now. You killed the Archdemon for her, you’ve already lessened the danger significantly.”

That was…a fair point, and Ash bit her tongue to hold back her irritated rebuttal. Dorian was being a good friend, and though she wanted to fight alongside Rae, she’d only be a hindrance. But to risk losing another that day…she couldn’t handle the thought.

Tears fell from her cheeks, carving tracks through dried blood, and she didn’t care where they landed. Her body jostled as Bull carried her away from the carnage Love had left in her wake. Ash shivered again, her teeth clattering together.

“It’s so cold,” she mumbled, feeling herself slipping away, dizzy and head stuffed full of cotton.

“Hold on for just a few more minutes, we’ll get you warmed up soon.” Dorian’s voice had tightened, frustration and tension upping the octave. “Once we find somewhere safe.”

“I don’t want to be alone.” She sniffled, a child held in securely against a broad chest, like she never had been.

Dorian patted her shoulder. “You aren’t.”

No, that’s not what she meant. She wasn’t alone out there, she was alone inside. Hollowed out and discarded like an empty husk. But her mouth couldn’t form the words to express this, and her breathing began to slow.

“Ash,” Bull barked, though it didn’t have the desired effect. Her eyes fluttered closed. “Hey, don’t go to sleep on us now.”

But it wasn’t her choice, the exertion had taken its toll, had ripped her soul from its companion and left her wandering the moonlit wheat fields of her psyche, calling for her oldest friend and getting nothing but a muted echo of her own voice in return.

Green light of the anchor flashed into the sky, imprinting itself on Ash’s eyelids, though she didn’t stir. Rocks fell around them as Bull and Dorian ducked for cover, and she remained still.

She breathed, but barely, and as darkness encroached on the vacant field within her mind, Ash gave one last, plaintive cry.

“Love, please come back! Don’t leave me like this! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please, don’t go!”

She fell back, weightless, a singular droplet of water plinking into a puddle. Her vision single to a pinpoint, the stars above her mere specks among the cold dark of the night. Her consciousness teetered on the brink, vaguely aware of Dorian calling her name, but no matter how badly she wished her limbs to move, to let her crawl her way back, they remained uselessly limp.

A second, one singular moment in time, right before the darkness took her, her heart beat; and within that beat, within that organ that sustained her, an oh, so familiar warmth flickered.

Next Chapter

A/N: If I promise I'll fix it, do you promise not to murder me? If you're worried, I consider Love a main character, and I haven't updated any tags, if that helps.

The chapter title was inspired by this quote, which I imagine to be from Love's perspective: “In this part of the story I am the one who dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you, because I love you, Love, in fire and in blood.” - Pablo Neruda

I'd love to hear anyone's predictions on the final chapter!

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tired-truffle · 2 months ago

Text

Something's Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 4.3k

Part 59: This is Solas's Fault

"Are you praying again? How raw are your knees? How often will you repent?" - Unknown

Tag list: @thomrainierapologist (If you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know!)

Masterlist

Whether in the middle of a crowded hall or the depths of the Brecilian forest, Ash would recognize Cullen’s voice anywhere. His tenor tone, soft and tired, called to her from the small Chantry built into the old fortress walls.

“Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond.”

Sweetpea chirped at Ash as she wove around her ankles, eager to see Cullen. Ash wasn’t one to pass up an opportunity to see him either, and she stepped up to the open door that led to the pews and flickering candlelight. Her gaze immediately fell upon her beloved, kneeling at the altar. His head was bowed in quiet reverence, with his hands clasped tightly together in prayer.

“For there is no darkness in the Maker’s light and nothing He has wrought shall be lost.”

Leaning casually against the door frame, she folded her arms over her chest. Sweetpea trotted into the room ahead of Ash, her paws pattering on the stone floor. She sat herself by Cullen’s feet and her bright eyes watched him expectantly.

“You’re going to convert Pea to the Andrastian faith if you aren’t careful.”

Cullen glanced over his shoulder, a soft smile gracing his lips when he noticed the cat at his feet. Gloved hand or bare hand, Pea accepted his head scratches all the same, raising her butt in the air as she purred happily.

“I’m certain the Maker would appreciate her offerings more than I do.” Cullen scratched her chin before pushing himself up to his feet. Sweetpea leaving dead mice on the altar might only serve to aggravate Mother Giselle. It was for the best that she remained Dalish.

Lightning did not strike from the heavens when Ash stepped fully into the Chantry, and she took that as a sign that it was safe for her to continue.

“Praying for anything special?” she asked as she stopped less than a foot away from him, her chin tilted to meet his gaze.

“A prayer for those we have lost.” He clicked his tongue on the back of his teeth. “And those I am afraid to lose.”

“The fearsome Commander of the Inquisition, afraid? It’s difficult to picture,” she said, a light tease meant to uplift his spirits. He’d never cower away from danger, but he held his fear in his heart, in the furrow of his brows, his eyes shadowed with weariness and overflowing with worry.

He huffed, though unable to keep the hint of mirth at bay, and Ash grinned, pleased with herself. “How could I not be? We lose people every day and I…” He tugged at her heartstrings in time with the shake of his head. “Corypheus will retaliate. It’s only a matter of time. We must draw strength wherever we can.”

“We will,” she said, though how much strength they could draw would remain to be seen. If it wasn’t enough…a bridge couldn’t be crossed if they were chained to one side.

He pursed his lips, unconvinced. “When the time comes, you will be thrown into his path again, into the path of his Archdemon. Andraste preserve me, I must send you to face that which almost took you in Haven.”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Ash said, sounding braver than she felt. “I have luck on my side, remember?”

The Archdemon couldn’t touch her when she wore his lucky coin as a necklace, right? A thin leather strap tied around the coin cut through Andraste’s face, but as she pulled it from her robes, the pendant was unmistakable. Bless Dorian for his suggestion, Ash had never been skilled at keeping track of her belongings. This way, she’d be much less likely to lose it.

“A necklace…” he trailed off, taking the coin in the palm of his hand, a smidgeon of worry dissipating from his creased forehead.

“Mhm,” she rocked on the balls of her feet, “so your luck can rest in my cleavage, where it belongs.”

A startled laugh slipped from his lips, his eyes crinkling with unimpeded happiness - if only for a moment. Making Cullen laugh was a simple joy, but Ash cherished it as if it were the air she breathed. He dropped the coin, letting it settle on her chest, and he trailed his fingers along her collarbone. From scarred skin to soft and back again, reverent, as though the statue of his goddess did not exist a mere few feet from them.

Ash placed her hand on his armour-covered chest, dropping her tone low and soft. “I’ll be alright. I won’t be alone.”

Flames suffused beneath her skin, Love reaching for his hand and prickling along his fingers. He didn’t pull away, his other hand coming to hold her hip, anchoring her to him.

“That’s less comforting than I’d hoped.” He sighed. “Has she had any more luck in deciphering the scroll?”

To have the answer he wanted would be a boon that not even his lucky coin could provide. She wished she could give him what he sought, the comfort of knowing exactly what she’d be facing without him there to ensure her safety.

“From what Love has been able to uncover, it’s a…summoning of sorts, but not for a pre-existing creature, necessarily. Its…” She sighed. “I don’t know, it’s difficult to articulate in a way that makes any sense. It demands a significant amount of energy and willpower, but beyond that, it’s unclear.”

Ash ghosted her fingers along his chest plate. The one he'd commissioned for her all those months ago had saved her life, or at least saved her the pain of further burns. Though it had to be repaired before it could be worn again, it had been restored by the time she was ready to rejoin her sister on missions. That chestplate would be donned when she faced the Archdemon for a second time. She’d be better prepared. Her arsenal would be fuller, her strategies sharper. She would not be caught off guard again.

His frown bordered on distress, and without a word, he pulled her in for a tight hug - like he could keep her safe in his arms forever, the outside world unable to reach them. The fur of his mantle tickled her nose, but she barely registered it, too preoccupied with holding back the trembling fear that slithered down her limbs - pretending it didn’t exist. To face that monster again…terror tugged at the primal, instinctive part of her that screamed at her to run.

“Whatever happens,” Cullen said, gravely with preemptive grief, “you will come back to me.”

“Rae is in more danger than I am.” Ash attempted to soothe his worry, but there was no calming the choppy, white-capped waves that crashed against her unease.

He pulled back slightly, his hand cupping her cheek. “That’s the problem. I know you would not hesitate to throw yourself in harm’s way if it means keeping her safe.”

His eyes darted to the burn scar on her cheek, following the line of warped flesh as it travelled down her neck and disappeared into her robes.

“Cullen, you don’t have to—“ she started, but he shook his head ruefully, cutting her off.

“Allow me this. To believe anything else would…I can’t.”

Her vhenan, ever the one to bear the weight of the world on his shoulders, weary and exhausted but marching forward relentlessly. She hoped that she lightened that heavy burden, even if just a little. Whether it was through a gentle touch, a kind word, or simply being there when he needed her most, she longed to be his refuge as he was for her.

Ash, allergic to seriousness when evading trepidation of her own, said, “If it would make you feel better you can fuck me against the statue of Andraste. Perhaps it could grant us some extra luck, like rubbing a rabbit's foot. Except I’d be rubbing your—”

A light pinch to her backside had her giggling, sacrilegious as she might be, he enjoyed her teasing. He leaned forward so his lips brushed her ear, knowing exactly what that did to her. “Don’t push your luck,” he growled.

And like the dutiful lover she was, she followed his command. For now.

"Fashionably late as always, my dear," Dorian said with a dramatic flourish, extending his arm to Ash.

She laughed, taking it with a matching flair. "It's not a proper entrance if they haven't been waiting for us."

The matching outfits she’d purchased adorned their bodies, each showing off their best assets, as they entered the Herald’s Rest arm in arm. The establishment was quieter than a typical night. Cabot had locked the doors after dinner, leaving only the inner circle to enjoy the evening. Sera had already claimed a corner table, feet propped up as she balanced precariously on two chair legs - Rae’s leg poised as though she’d meant to kick the legs out and had only stopped upon Ash and Dorian’s entrance. Ash was glad to see her sister present, having dragged herself out of her mournful cave of blankets and pillows to celebrate. Blackwall nursed his ale quietly beside her, while Cole watched everyone from his perch on the stairs.

The Iron Bull let out a low whistle from his seat by the fire. "Arriving late and showing off a matching amount of chest. That's commitment."

"What can I say?" Dorian preened, bumping her hip with his. "Great minds think alike, and great chests deserve to be displayed."

Varric chuckled, raising his tankard. “Don’t I know it.”

"The emerald suits you both," Cassandra admitted with surprising sincerity before quickly burying her face in her drink.

Solas was noticeably the only one absent, even Vivienne had joined, lounging in the corner with a book propped open in her lap and a glass of deep red wine in hand.

Cullen sat at the largest table with Josephine and Leliana, his armour on as it always was, but his mantle had been discarded - the fire keeping the room too warm for his Fereldan blood.

“We should commission something similar for all our members, don’t you think?” Leliana asked with a sly grin.

Josephine clapped her hands together. "Oh! Like a uniform but so much more stylish! The Inquisition could use a fashion upgrade."

"Over my dead body," Cullen grumbled, though his eyes never left Ash, a flush creeping up his neck.

She sauntered over, leaving Dorian to stalk towards Bull - like a rabbit sauntering up to a wolf - the slits in her robe revealing flashes of leg with each step. Without ceremony, she plopped herself onto Cullen's lap, draping an arm around his shoulders and leaning against his chest.

"Commander," she purred. A blush bloomed across Cullen's cheeks, spreading to the tips of his very biteable ears.

"Ashvalla," he managed, his voice strangled. "You look…lovely.”

Leliana snickered behind her hand, earning her a glare from Cullen, undercut by his bashful blush. His hands rested on her waist, almost unconsciously, and she lay her head on his shoulder to hide her smirk.

Sera cackled from across the tavern. "Look at Cully! Red as a nug's arse, he is!"

"Leave the poor man alone," Blackwall chided, though his eyes twinkled with amusement. "Not everyone enjoys being a spectacle."

Taking that mildly chaotic moment as an opportunity, Josephine stood, smoothing her ruffles with one hand while raising her glass with the other. With one hand, she smoothed the ruffles of her attire, ensuring every fold fell into perfect place. In the other hand, she lifted her glass high, its crystal surface catching the light.

"To the Inquisition," she began, her Antivan accent more pronounced after several glasses of wine. "To every soldier, scout, and friend who has brought us this far. We stand on the precipice of our hard-earned victory!"

"If we could only find the bastard," Blackwall grumbled, his dark beard failing to hide his smile.

"He'll turn up," Ash said, raising Cullen’s tankard that she’d absconded with. "He won’t be able to resist." She downed his drink in one go and resisted the urge to gage. Ferelden ale. Disgusting. No matter how many times she drank it, she could never grow accustomed to the pungent taste.

The night wore on, the tavern growing warmer with laughter and song. Maryden had been given the evening off, but that hadn't stopped Sera from producing a lute and playing it with surprising skill - if not accuracy. Even Vivienne had abandoned her book to join the larger group, sharing a surprisingly ribald story about a noble in Val Royeaux that had Josephine laughing heartily.

Ash remained perched on Cullen's lap, though his initial embarrassment had faded into a comfortable contentment, his arm now wrapped securely around her waist. He leaned forward occasionally to whisper observations in her ear, each one making her giggle or swat playfully at his shoulder.

Ash adjusted her position on Cullen's lap, smoothing the emerald fabric of her robe.

"Careful," he whispered against her ear, his breath warm and tinged with honeyed mead. "If you keep shifting like that, I might need to excuse myself."

Heat flushed Cullen's cheeks as Ash deliberately wriggled her hips in response. She delighted in the way his hands tightened possessively on her hips, the slight hitch in his breath that only she could hear.

"Would that be so terrible, Commander?" she whispered back, tracing the scar on his lip with her finger. A smouldering hunger burned in his eyes, slick pooling at the apex of her thighs. How many more drinks would it take for his restraint to slip, for him to succumb to the temptation and bite her finger around a crowd?

A crash from across the room interrupted their moment, drawing everyone's attention. Rae stood swaying, the remnants of a broken bottle at her feet, liquid spreading across the floorboards. Her cheeks were flushed a vibrant pink, eyes unfocused, and her laughter rang hollow as she waved off Bull's attempt to steady her.

"M'fine!" she insisted, words slurring together. "Jus' fucked up a little. Like always, right? Fuck-up Rae, can't even hold ‘er drink proper."

Ash straightened on Cullen's lap, her playful mood evaporating as she watched her sister reach for another bottle with unsteady hands. This was the third drink Rae had spilled, and Ash had been counting - this would make ten drinks total consumed. Far too many for someone who rarely indulged and was little more than a waif.

"Perhaps we should call it a night," Cassandra suggested gently, but Rae's face hardened.

"The night's young! We're celebrating!" Rae threw her arms wide, nearly toppling backward. "What's the point of bein’ Inquisitor if I can't get shit-faced with my friends?" Her smile was too wide, too forced, and didn't reach her eyes.

Ash exchanged a glance with Cullen, who nodded fractionally. She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before sliding off his lap.

"I think I need some air," Ash announced, moving toward her sister. "Care to join me, Rae?"

"Nope!" Rae popped the 'p' sound with exaggerated emphasis. "Air's cold. Drink's warm." She raised her newly acquired bottle in a mock toast before gulping half its contents.

Sera sprang up from her seat. "Oi! Just remembered I nicked somethin' special from Josephine's fancy wine cabinet." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Got it hidden in your quarters. The good stuff, yeah? Ambassador doesn't even know it's missing."

Josephine gasped, so convincingly that Ash couldn’t tell if she was simply playing along or genuinely startled. "You did what?"

"Nothing!" Sera sang, grabbing Rae's arm. "C'mon then. This piss-water's nothing compared. I got the bottle that costs more than my life, probably."

Rae's glazed eyes lit up with interest. "Expensive shit? Lead the way." She stumbled forward, nearly face-planting before Sera caught her.

"Might need a hand," Sera said, glancing at Ash. "Quizzy’s heavier than she looks."

Ash slipped under Rae's other arm. "I've got her."

Together they maneuvered Rae towards the door, her feet dragging as she mumbled about "fancy Orlesian bottles" and "drinking the rich under the table." The cool night air hit them as they stepped outside, making Rae shiver and lean more heavily against her companions.

"There's no wine, is there?" Ash whispered to Sera as they navigated the courtyard stairs.

"‘Course not," Sera snorted. "Even I know better than to nick shite from the Ambassador. But telling her to stop drinking wasn't working, was it? Needed somethin’ better to get her moving."

The journey to Rae's quarters was slow, interrupted by Rae's increasingly nonsensical commentary about the stars - "They're all.…large and pointy tonight" - and occasional stops when she needed to be sick. By the time they reached her room, Rae had grown quieter, her head lolling against Ash's shoulder.

"Where's the fancy wine?" she mumbled as they guided her to the bed. "You promised."

"Tomorrow," Sera said, helping Ash remove Rae's boots. "Can't appreciate the good stuff when you're already right sloshed, can you?"

Rae flopped back onto the mattress with a groan. "Don't feel so good."

"I'm shocked." Ash rolled her eyes, retrieving a basin and propping it on the pillow beside her. She gently brushed Rae's dishevelled hair from her forehead. "What were you thinking, drinking so much?"

"Wasn't," Rae whispered, eyes fluttering closed. "That's the point."

Ash sighed softly, adjusting the blankets and tucking them gently under Rae's chin. Her sister looked smaller somehow, vulnerable in a way she rarely allowed herself to be seen. She’d been looking like that a lot the past few days.

"I'll keep an eye on her," Sera said, already dragging a chair closer to the bed. "Not my first time watching over someone who's had too much. ‘Sides, I blame that prick for this one. Taking her elfy face tattoos and her happiness. He’ll get worse than lizards in his bedroll for what he’s done."

As did Ash, but she hesitated, her hand lingering on Rae's forehead. "Are you sure? She might be sick during the night."

"Pfft. Like that scares me." Sera plopped down in the chair and kicked her feet up on the edge of the bed. "I've got nowhere better to be. Rae's a good friend, even when she's being stupid."

At the sound of her name, Rae mumbled something unintelligible, turning onto her side and curling into herself. Sera leaned forward, adjusting the basin to ensure it was within reach.

"Go on then," she told Ash with a shooing motion. "Back to Commander Tight-Breeches. Poor man's probably still sitting there with his hands in his lap trying to hide his excitement."

"That's not—" Ash tried to protest to protect Cullen’s dignity, but Sera cut her off.

"I have eyes, you know. Now go. We're fine here. Promise I won't draw on her face." She paused, then added with a mischievous grin, "Much."

With a final, pursed-lip glance at her sister, Ash relented. "Send for me if anything happens. Anything at all."

"Yes, yes. Now get out of here before I change my mind."

Sera turned her back to Ash, and she descended the stairs from Rae's quarters, her festive mood evaporated. The sounds of continued revelry drifted from the tavern as she passed by, but held no appeal.

She quickened her pace towards Cullen's tower. The guards nodded respectfully as she passed, pretending not to notice the Inquisitor's sister sneaking to the Commander's quarters at this hour. Not that it was much of a secret anymore. If it ever had been.

She climbed the ladder to Cullen's loft, the familiar scent of leather and elderflower welcoming her before she'd even reached the top. When her head cleared the opening, she found him sitting on the edge of his bed, already stripped down to his smalls for the night, his armour neatly arranged on its stand. Sweetpea slept in a ball at the centre of the bed, her ears flicking the only signs she was aware of Ash’s arrival.

"That was quick," he said, looking up from the report in his hands. Always working, even after having imbibed - though not as much as he had the night of wicked grace. Only she got the honour of seeing him mostly naked this time.

"Sera's with her." Ash pulled herself fully into the room. "Probably won't remember much tomorrow."

Cullen set the report aside and held out his hand. "And you? Are you alright?"

She took his hand, allowing him to pull her onto his lap, where she belonged. "Just worried for her. All that shit with Solas really messed her up. I’ve never seen her so upset."

"She's lucky to have you," he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

"Is she?" Ash sighed, leaning into his touch. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm any help at all. I can't protect her from everything, no matter how much I want to."

Cullen chuckled softly. "Now you know how I feel every time you walk into danger."

"That's different."

"Is it?" He cupped her cheek in his callused palm. "We both love someone who carries the weight of the world on their shoulders. And we both know we can't carry it for them, even if we wish we could."

Ash rested her head on his shoulder, the tension in her body slowly unwinding. "When did you get so wise, Commander?"

"I have my moments." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Though they're usually when I'm not distracted by you sitting on my lap in front of all our friends. When you left the teasing seemed like it would never end."

An impish smile crested atop her lips. "Is that why you left?"

Cullen's flush deepened, spreading down his neck and over his chest. He cleared his throat, eyes darting to the side as he shifted uncomfortably beneath her.

"Partly," he admitted, voice dropping to a husky whisper. "But also because I couldn't remain seated much longer without…" He paused, searching for delicate phrasing. "Without everyone noticing my, ah, enthusiasm for your attentions."

Ash burst into delighted laughter, placing a kiss against his jawline. "Commander, are you telling me you fled the tavern with an erection?"

"Maker's breath," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Must you say it so loudly?"

"The walls are thick enough," she teased, running her fingers through his coarse smattering of chest hair. "Though perhaps not as thick as—"

He silenced her with a tender kiss, his lips pressing softly against hers. One hand tangled gently in her silky hair, feeling the strands slip through his fingers. When they broke apart, he was smiling even through his embarrassment.

"You are impossible," he said against her lips.

"And yet you love me."

"I do." His eyes softened. "Very much."

Sweetpea chose that exact moment to stretch, her petite body elongating until she appeared to double in size, each vertebrae popping into place. Her front paws extended gracefully, followed by a luxurious arching of her back, before she sprang off the bed with an indignant meow. Her fur shimmered in the moonlight, and her eyes, half-closed in annoyance, conveyed clearly that their conversation had interrupted her beauty sleep.

"Even the cat judges me," Cullen sighed, watching as Sweetpea found a new resting spot atop a pile of Ash’s discarded clothes from days earlier.

Ash nestled closer, breathing in his scent. Elderflower may yet become her favourite smell. If it wasn’t already. "She's just jealous. You're very comfortable."

A natural silence fell between them, Cullen’s hand rubbing up and down her back, leaning his cheek against the top of her head. After everything they had survived, everything that should have broken them but hadn’t, they’d stayed together - so close to that future they sought.

"Do you think she'll be alright?" Ash finally asked, her thoughts circling back to Rae.

"The Inquisitor is strong and stubborn, much like her sister. She'll find her way through this."

"And if she doesn't?"

"Then we'll be there to help her." He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. "She isn’t alone."

He meant every word, and that terrified her more than she cared to admit. Because they couldn't always be there, could they? Haven had taught her that much. One wrong turn and everything could change.

She'd spent her entire life watching over Rae, fulfilling the promise she'd made to their mother. Being the shield, the protector, the one who made sure her little sister never faced the world's cruelties alone. But the world had gotten so much bigger than inter-clan squabbles. Now, there were demons and darkspawn, Venatori assassins and ancient magisters. Archdemons left scars that would never fully heal.

And there was Solas. The quiet apostate who'd slipped past all their defences and broken Rae's heart so thoroughly that she was drowning herself in cheap ale rather than facing the pain sober. What good was Ash's protection when the wounds came from within their own ranks?

The thought of facing the Archdemon never failed to make her shiver, memories of burning flesh and screams flashing behind her eyelids. But she'd face it a hundred times over if it meant keeping Rae safe. She'd burn and bleed and break if necessary. That's what big sisters did. What she'd always done. And she’d promised to live, so she would do that too.

Yet something in Cullen's words rang true. She couldn't shield Rae from everything - not heartbreak, not duty, not destiny. The Anchor had chosen Rae, not Ash. The world looked to the Inquisitor, not her sister. Some burdens couldn't be shared, no matter how desperately she wanted to carry them.

Perhaps true protection wasn't about preventing pain but being there to help pick up the pieces afterward. To hold hands through the darkness until dawn broke again. To remind someone they weren't alone.

Tomorrow, she would check on Rae, hold back her hair if she was sick, listen if she wanted to talk. And when the time came to face Corypheus and his dragon, she would stand beside her sister. Whatever support Rae required, Ash would gladly provide.

Next Chapter

A/N: Only two more chapters!! I can hardly believe the main story will be over so soon :') But there will be more, I'll be plotting out Trespasser after this and then onto Veilguard (it will be set during VG, but not much of Rook's story will be involved). See you all next week for the final chapters!!

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