tired-truffle

[tired-truffle]

Something’s Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 6.8k

Part 16 - Confessions

"You will never be clean from sin. Rotten children don't deserve heaven. There is no god who could give you your purity back." - Unknown

Masterlist

Rae had successfully rescued Hawke’s warden friend from the clutches of his fellow wardens and ended one of the largest Fade rifts outside of Haven in one fell swoop. Crestwood was saved from its murderous mayor, and Alistair Theirin - a decorated warrior who aided in ending the last Blight - was unharmed and more than willing to lend his aid to the Inquisition. Especially if it was in exchange for finding his lady love who’d disappeared months ago in search of a cure for the death sentence of being a Grey Warden. Ash had known little about the organization, but a thirty-year expiry didn’t entice her to it any further. 

“I think it’s sweet how much he loves her,” Ash argued, seated at a table as Dorian perused the library for a book he hadn’t already devoured. 

“You didn’t have to hear him last night, lost in his cups at the Herald’s Rest, lamenting about how much he misses her.” Dorian crinkled his nose and pulled his lips back in a disgusted sneer. 

Ash leaned back, her chair creaking beneath her with the movement. “I’m partial to a man who adores his lover so much it turns him pathetic now and again. It’s very romantic.”

“On that, we disagree.”

“Right,” Ash drawled, flicking her hand lazily. “Your idea of romance is riding the Bull until you can’t walk the next morning.”

Narrowing his eyes at her, his mustache twitched irritably above his lip. “Must you be so crass?”

“Must you scream his name at the top of your lungs when he—“

“Alright, enough,” he hissed and Ash grinned triumphantly. “I get the vividly painted picture. But, speaking of romantic exploits, you’ve been spending quite a lot of time with Commander Cullen lately.”

Her blush betrayed her as she squawked indignantly - and perhaps that betrayed her too. “There’s nothing romantic about that.”

"Oh come now," Dorian teased, "you can't blame me for being curious. The dashing ex-Templar and the wild Dalish mage? It's practically the plot of one of Varric's romance serials."

"There's nothing to be curious about," Ash insisted. "We're just friends."

Dorian raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Friends who spend an awful lot of time together. Friends who make each other blush and stammer like schoolchildren."

"I do not stammer, and he’s the one blushing all the time like a Chantry virgin," Ash protested, then immediately cursed herself for playing into his hands.

"Ah, but you don't deny that you’ve been spending copious amounts of time in his office.”

“You're impossible,” she pouted.

"I prefer to think of myself as charmingly persistent," Dorian replied with a grin.

“Is that how you got Bull into your bed?”

Dorian groaned. “Not this again.”

Ash placed her elbows on the table, propping her chin up in her hands. “He does make you happy, does he not?”

Dorian blinked, a frown marring his lips. “In bed? I believe we’ve already established that he is well accomplished in that department.”

“Well, yes, obviously, but…” Ash pursed her lips, unsure where exactly she was going with this. “Outside of your physical exploits, does he make you happy?”

With a deep and dramatic sigh, Dorian plunked himself down into the seat opposite her, having given up on his perusal. “Must there be anything outside of a roll in the hay, as the Fereldans would say it?”

“No.” Ash tilted her head to the side, mimicking Sweetpea’s favourite gesture - or was Sweetpea mimicking her? “But there is something between you, isn’t there?”

“Perhaps,” Dorian glanced out the window before returning his gaze to her. “And that - something more between Bull and myself - wouldn’t…bother you?”

It was Ash’s turn to frown, her nose crinkling as she scanned her memory for anything at all that would indicate she wasn’t more than happy for Dorian to be with Bull. But when his eyes followed her frown, or rather, the dot-like scars around her lips, it all clicked into place. 

Reaching across the table, she placed her hand atop his, her smile gentle, though she struggled to get it to reach her eyes. “No one from the Qun did this to me, Dorian. And even if they had, I wouldn’t hold it against Bull.” 

He blinked rapidly, his eyes darting nervously to the faint, raised scars that encircled her lips. She was accustomed to this reaction from people, as she had met very few who did not curiously gaze at the dots and wonder about their origin. But rarely did they ever ask, instead choosing to silently ponder and speculate. She doubted that Dorian would have ever explicitly brought it up, but it was entirely obvious to her where his thoughts were headed, and she believed it best to cut them off with precision. 

“I-I…” he stuttered before he gathered his composure. “I apologize, I should not have assumed, but I am…too familiar with what the Qun do to their mages.” 

The Saarabas were treated as worse than livestock among the Qunari, their fear of demons so all-encompassing that they wouldn’t risk for even a second that one of their mages would become possessed. Instead, they were bound and subjugated, forced to use their magic for their master’s bidding, to further the Qun. It was a fate similar to Tranquility, though with all one’s emotions left intact so they could feel the true extent of their suffering. 

“Inspiration may have been taken from the Qun,” Ash admitted, her fingers trailing over the familiar scars, “but it was regular men who did it. The men I told you about, the ones who tried to kidnap me and Rae.” 

Dorian’s face paled and Ash regretted her words. It wasn’t something she enjoyed talking about, not necessarily because of the painful memories - though she didn’t like those much either - but because she hated the pity that swam in people’s eyes when they knew even a fraction of the abuse that she had suffered her that night.

She withdrew her hand from his and smiled, wide and genuine as she said, “That is to say, I hold no hard feelings for Bull and I would be delighted if you found all the romance and happiness you could ever wish for with him.”

A spark of affection flickered in Dorian’s dark eyes, but he was not so quick to feign positivity. “You have become a dear friend to me, Ashvalla. I only wish to ensure that whatever I have with Bull will not come between us.” His gaze hardened. “Those men, did they get the punishment they deserved?” 

Charred flesh, acrid smoke, blackened bones across seared dirt. “Yes, they did.” 

Dorian nodded, opening his mouth to speak once more, but Ash’s ears perked at the faint sound of Rae’s drawl coming from the rotunda below. 

“-never done anything like that before, on a number of levels.”

Ash held up her hand to shush Dorian, to which he gave her an irritated huff, their heart-to-heart conversation snuffed out in an instant. But when she motioned for him to listen, she watched with satisfaction as his lips curved into a delighted grin. 

Solas chuckled, low and more lighthearted than Ash had ever heard from him before. “I apologize,” he said, though he didn’t sound necessarily sorry. “The kiss was impulsive and ill-considered, and I should not have encouraged it.”

Jaw dropped and eyes widened, Ash froze momentarily in her seat, still as a mountain in a hurricane. She’d been well aware of her sister’s feelings for the apostate, but to discuss a kiss so openly… 

Ash scrambled to the edge of the rotunda, vaguely aware of Dorian crouched behind her as they eavesdropped. 

“You say that,” Rae laughed, not at all offended by the mildly condescending words that Solas had thrown at her after their, ugh, kiss, “but you’re the one who started with tongue.”

Dorian made a startled choking noise, but managed to muffle it under the shuffle of his boots as he rebalanced himself. Ash suppressed a prideful grin, good on Rae to keep a man on his toes by stating the explicit - even though the mental image it conjured had her slightly nauseous. 

“I did no such thing,” Solas protested, offended at even the suggestion that he hadn’t been in control. Ash was pleased to hear that Rae had gone after what she wanted, and perhaps gotten more than expected. 

“Oh, does it not count if it’s only Fade-tongue?” A freaky magic kiss. Rae had exceeded even Ash’s expectations. 

“It has been a long time, and things have always been easier for me in the Fade. I am not certain this is the best idea. It could lead to trouble.” The hesitation with which he spoke had Ash’s suspicion rising. Why wouldn’t he want to be with someone as amazing as Rae? He was a fool.

“What, is there something you’re afraid of? Or rather someone?”

Solas chuckled again. “Your sister does not frighten me, if that is who you are referring to.”

Ash held back an irritated scoff, not that he should be afraid of her necessarily, but a healthy dose of wariness couldn’t do any harm. 

“Good to know.” Rae softened, still bold, but less teasing. “I’m willing to take that chance, if you are.”

“I… may be, yes. If I could take a little time to think. There are…considerations.” 

What was there to consider? Rae was the best that uppity elf could ever get, what else was left but to say yes and devote his whole heart to her? Rae deserved nothing less. 

“Take all the time you need.” Rae had not gotten her patience from Ash or their mother, she had always taken after their father in that regard. 

“Thank you. I am not often thrown by things that happen in dreams. But I am reasonably certain we are awake now, and if you wish to discuss anything, I would enjoy talking.” 

“I’ll think about it.” Rae echoed his words back at him, and with what was likely a sharp turn of her heel and a hungry look in her eyes, her boots padded across the ground, exiting before Ash could get a good look at her. 

But that didn’t mean she was going to be far behind. 

“Our little Inquisitor, all grown up.” Dorian wiped a fake tear from his eye and pushed himself to stand, offering Ash a hand. 

Ash accepted his offer, her cane abandoned at the table and unable to help. Brushing off her robes, her gaze was pulled to where Rae had disappeared. “Don’t let her hear you say that, you’ll get a smack upside the head.”

“That is why I said it to you.”

Ash bid Dorian farewell with a playful wink before she hurried down the spiral staircase, her boots and cane clicking against the stone steps. She emerged into the great hall, weaving between the nobles and dignitaries milling about. The midday sun streamed through the stained glass windows, painting the floor in a rainbow of colours.

She pushed open the heavy wooden doors leading to the battlements, stepping out into the crisp air. The wind whipped at her short hair and a pang of longing shot through her as she missed her waist-length braids.

Her eyes scanned the ramparts for any sign of her sister. There - a flash of shaggy blonde hair vanishing around a corner.

"Rae, wait up!" Ash called, hiking up her robes in an indecent but practical manner to jog after her - cane tucked under her arm. Her sister paused and turned, one eyebrow arched expectantly as Ash caught up to her, slightly out of breath.

"What's got you in such a hurry?" Rae asked, the mountains stretched out endlessly behind her, snow-capped peaks glinting in the sunlight.

Ash grinned, her scars framing her lips. "Oh, nothing much. Just heard an interesting bit of gossip and thought I'd come straight to the source for confirmation."

Rae narrowed her vibrant green eyes. "Gossip? About what?"

Ash couldn’t stop her impish grin from spreading across her face. “About your romance with Solas.”

“What?” Rae spat, her teeth barred in a snarl.

Ash linked her arm through Rae’s, bumping her hip against her sister’s, unperturbed by her anger. “You weren’t exactly quiet or subtle about it. If you didn’t want the entirety of Skyhold to know then perhaps a more private location would have been wise? Or did you want everyone to know that Solas kisses with tongue?”

Rae’s face turned so red she could have been mistaken for a large tomato. “Shut up,” she hissed, attempting half-heartedly to pull her arm out of Ash’s grip, but Ash wouldn’t let go. 

“No, I don’t think I will. Was kissing in the Fade different than in waking life?”

This time, Rae shoved Ash hard enough to dislodge her. Ash stumbled but caught herself on her cane before she tumbled off the edge of the battlements. 

“Come on, Rae,” she pleaded with almost sincerity to be believable. “I’m only asking for the sordid details? I’ve so often provided you with mine, it's only fair.”

“That is because you lack tact,” Rae sniffed. “Besides, if you did listen to our whole conversation, then there are no more details for me to share. That was all it was, a kiss in the Fade and a promise to think about it.” 

From the sour twist of Rae’s lips, Ash's heart sank with the realization of where she had gone wrong.

“He would be a dahn’direlan not to care for you as you do him. Whatever he decides, it is a reflection on Solas, not you.” 

Rae scoffed, though her muscles loosened as she looked out over the horizon, lost somewhere in her memory. “Maybe,” she sighed, uncharacteristically dejected. “Either way, there’s more important things for me to focus on. I cannot let my dalliance with Solas cloud my mind.” 

Always so serious, so motivated. Ash only wished that among all that duty and burden, Rae could find moments for herself. 

“Speaking of which, I believe Sera said she was looking for you,” Ash lied, though Rae did seem to perk up. “Something about a prank she needed help with? It sounded very important.”

“You’re right,” Rae said with mock solemnity, her smirk giving her away. “I must see to this immediately. If you’ll excuse me.” 

Ash bowed her head, and Rae departed, taking the stairs two at a time down towards the Herald’s Rest where her friend resided.

Her little sister, the Inquisitor, saviour of Thedas, getting tangled up with the likes of Solas. There was an aloofness to him, a distance he kept from everyone, even Rae it seemed. What kinds of secrets was he hiding? It took a secret keeper to know one, and whatever he was squirrelling away, Ash had no doubt it was big.

She released a long exhale, her breath fogging. Skyhold rose proudly from the mountainside, ancient stone walls and soaring towers proclaiming the strength and resilience of the Inquisition. The castle teemed with life - soldiers training in the courtyard, messengers hurrying across the battlements, the distant clang of metal from the forge. It was a bastion of hope in a world teetering on the brink of ruin.

And at the center of it all was Rae. Strong, passionate, determined Rae, who had been thrust into a role she never asked for but shouldered the burden with grit and grace. Ash's heart swelled with pride even as it ached with the knowledge of how heavy that burden was. Rae deserved every scrap of happiness she could find, every stolen moment of laughter and levity amidst the crushing responsibility. If Solas could provide even a glimmer of that, then Ash supposed she would tolerate his enigmatic ways. For now.

Nodding resolutely nod to herself, Ash continued, her robes swishing around her ankles as she strode along the battlements. The ancient stone was rough beneath her fingers as she trailed her hand along the parapet, feeling the history etched into every weathered crack and crevice.

As Ash walked, her thoughts drifted to the Commander of the Inquisition's forces. Cullen - a man forged by duty and tempered by a past filled with pain. She wasn’t clueless enough to think he didn’t have secrets all his own, though he was much less adept at hiding them.

Her steps quickened, carrying her along the windswept battlements toward Cullen's office. She could picture him inside, hunched over his desk, his brow furrowed in concentration as he pored over missives and troop movements. Always working, always pushing himself. Did the man ever take a moment to breathe?

She would have to make sure he did.

Ash reached the heavy wooden door, pausing for a heartbeat before knocking against the weathered surface.

“Come in,” Cullen called from within, his voice tight and clipped. 

Briefly, Ash debated turning around and fleeing, but ultimately decided against it. Knocking and then ditching would likely only irritate him further, and she wasn’t sure she was fast enough to make it back to the Herald’s Rest before he swung open the door to find the culprit. 

The hinges creaked as she entered, taking immediate note of the darkness that filled the room. The curtains had been drawn over the windows, the only light coming from the now open doorway and the candle perched precariously at the edge of the desk. Cullen sat hunched over its surface, hand fisted around a quill as though he was trying to wring the words from it. While he appeared to be well groomed - his hair remained in its usual slicked-back style, his face shaven, and his clothes unwrinkled - the tightness around the corners of his eyes gave him away. Ash had had enough of her own blistering headaches to know how they outwardly appeared. 

Strong enough now to lift the spare chair to her usual spot, she quietly took her seat, watching him carefully as he too watched her - guarded and almost suspicious in the narrowing of his eyes. 

“May I?” she asked, gesturing to a stack of missives. 

He nodded, giving her an affirming grunt. The headache must have been killer if proper and sophisticated Cullen could do little more than make animalistic noises - not that she minded, of course, only that she’d prefer to be the cause. 

Ash turned her attention to the pile of missives, carefully selecting the top one and unfolding it with a crinkle of parchment. The flowing script stuck out to her as she scanned the contents - a report from Leliana's scouts about dangerous activity on the Storm Coast. She set it aside in a new pile, mentally categorizing it as a matter for the spymaster.

The next letter bore the seal of a minor Orlesian noble, the wax imprinted with a fleur-de-lis. Ash resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she skimmed the contents, a long-winded and thinly veiled request for the Inquisition to settle a petty land dispute. She placed it on top of the previous missive, making a note to have Josephine draft a diplomatically worded response.

As she worked, she could feel Cullen's gaze on her, heavy and assessing. She kept her eyes firmly on the papers in front of her, the scratching of his quill the only sound in the room. Questions burned on the tip of her tongue - about his well-being, his duties, the way he drove himself to the brink of exhaustion. But she bit them back, knowing that he would bristle at her concern, interpreting it as pity or doubt in his abilities.

Instead, she sorted and organized, the piles of parchment growing steadily as she worked through the backlog of correspondence. Her fingers were smudged with ink and her eyes ached from straining to read in the dim light, but she didn't dare disturb the fragile peace by rising to open the curtains.

A sudden movement from Cullen caught her attention, and she looked up to see him opening his mouth as if to speak. But then he shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with a grimace before bending over his work once more.

Disappointment sank like a stone in Ash's stomach, but she ruthlessly pushed it aside. It wasn't her place to pry, to demand his trust when he was clearly not ready to give it. She had to respect his boundaries, his need for privacy.

Just shut the fuck up, she scolded herself sternly, keep your big mouth firmly closed. He doesn't need your meddling or your pity.

“Why…” Cullen spoke, drawing her attention. He pressed his lips into a thin line, tilting his head as he regarded her. “Why are you so quiet?”

Ash hadn’t expected him to ask outright, but she saw no issues with answering truthfully. “You have a headache, and contrary to popular belief, I am capable of shutting up when the situation calls for it.” 

The crease between his eyebrows deepened. “That’s not—“ He sighed, long-suffering but not angry. “Was it that obvious?”

“The lack of light, squinting, and grunting were enough for me to put the pieces together. Are you getting sick?” 

“No,” he dismissed her. “I’m alright.”

Disbelief arched Ash’s eyebrow, and Cullen propped his elbows on the surface of his desk, balancing his chin on his steepled fingers.

“It will pass, I promise,” he insisted, and for now, Ash was willing to let the subject drop. However, it did not stop her from wondering what exactly was happening with the Commander. This wasn’t the first time she’d noticed a headache brewing behind his eyes, pounding at his temples, making him irritable and short - though not typically to this extent. Nor had she failed to notice the days when the pallor of his skin was ashen, when the bags beneath his eyes deepened. But it was none of her business. He tolerated her and they were friendly, nothing more. Pushing him, especially in this state, would only turn him against her - and she couldn’t have an ex-Templar on her bad side.

“If you’re so keen on talking, then you could always tell me how you knew that man working with Corypheus.”

Cullen blinked hard, sitting straighter as he struggled to process Ash’s proposed topic of conversation. 

“You said you knew him,” she prompted, “I was only wondering how you’d come to know a man like that.”

A darkness formed in Cullen’s eyes, unfocusing for a beat. “Raleigh Sampson. I met him back in Kirkwall before he was expelled from the Order.” His shoulders slouched. “He was a good man, back then. I roomed with him, I knew him. I cannot fathom what pushed him towards such evil.” 

Ash took a moment to absorb what Cullen had told her, letting her mind work over his words to avoid saying the first crass thing that came to mind. “Why was he expelled?”

“He was delivering letters from a mage to his lover.”

Creators fucking forbid a mage trapped in the Circle find a small modicum of happiness, some love amongst so much hate. 

“Seems like a harsh punishment,” she said instead of screaming about how much she despised the Chantry. “I imagine the mage received a less lenient sentence.”

Cullen had left the Templars, but he still held loyalty to them. It irked her, but she had yet to figure out what she wanted to do about it - other than a quick fuck to get him out of her system once she was feeling up to it. 

He furrowed his brow, watching her carefully as she tried to disguise the myriad of emotions that had risen in her, spurned on by Love’s burning rage over lost love between a mage and non-mage she had never met. “Maddox was made Tranquil.” Ash’s heart sunk into her stomach like a lead pipe. “Meredith made mages Tranquil for less. It was another sign I willfully missed that she was…not fit to lead.”

Cullen shook his head, banishing the memories. “But this is why I cannot understand how a man like Sampson could betray those who trust him in such a way. He risked everything for Maddox, and suffered through lyrium withdrawal for it, yet he has sided with Corypheus? It doesn’t make sense.”

Ash rubbed her chest as Love bashed uncomfortably against her ribcage, unease churning in her gut. “Are we truly so terrifying that a few love letters should get us stripped of all personality and will?”

“No,” Cullen said quickly, and with a little too much force. “No, you are not. I have…treated and thought of mages unfairly in the past and I have much regret. I am doing everything in my power to right those wrongs and make amends. Though I’m not sure it will ever outweigh the harm I have caused.” 

“Probably not,” Ash crossed her arms over her chest, keeping Love contained and catching the sorrow that flitted over Cullen’s face. “But it’s better to try than to do nothing. Even a little good is better than leaving it all bad.” 

He nodded shallowly, his gaze averted. “Sometimes I wonder how you sit here, knowing what I allowed to happen to the mages under my care. The stories of Kirkwall supersede me.” 

Were vulnerability and insecurity symptoms of a headache? Ash had never heard him sound so downtrodden before. Leaning forward and placing her hands on the edge of the desk, she said, “Because I enjoy your company. It was an indescribable shock to find a former Templar pleasant to be around, but it was a fact I could not deny. While healthily suspicious of me at first, you’ve only ever treated me with dignity and respect, even when I perhaps did not deserve it.” She grinned, and the corner of his lips twitched. She took that as a good sign. “You have moved past your hateful beliefs, tolerating me is proof enough of that, and I would never discourage someone from trying to change course and do good.” 

He heaved a heavy sigh, though a flicker of light had returned to his sharp eyes. “You are more gracious than I am worthy of.” 

“I am curious though,” she began before she could stop herself. “Why did you hate mages so much?” 

The light in his eyes was snuffed out in an instant, a haunted emptiness taking its place. A muscle in his jaw ticked, and Ash waited in tense silence - sometimes she wondered if she was cursed to overstep, or if it was a natural skill she possessed. 

Silence answered her first, and then he found his voice. “What do you know of Kinloch Hold?”

“That’s the Ferelden Circle, right? I’ve done my best to stay away from Circles, so not much. But I heard that it was attacked during the last Blight. Something to do with blood mages. I stay away from those too, in case you were wondering.”

Possession was difficult enough to conceal, she didn’t need to add blood magic to it.

Cullen hummed his approval, not that she needed it. “Rogue mages used blood magic to summon demons and take over the tower. It was…bloody and of my fellow Templars who were trapped with the mages, I was the only one who survived.” He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging a curl. Sympathy filled her throat, but she remained silent, allowing him to continue. “I began to fear that all mages would become like the blood mages from Kinloch, and I let my fear control me. It took me a shameful amount of time to realize this.”

Ash nodded, mulling over his story as his gaze remained on her, searching and guarded. It added perspective for her, and while it was clear he was holding back important details, what he had told her was enough for his feelings toward mages to make sense - and the remorse that coloured his tone settled her. 

“Fear makes people do a lot of things they come to regret, but I am glad that you no longer hold those ideals. I’d be terribly bored without you to annoy, scaring you would be a lot less fun.” Ash considered this, tapping her chin. “Or maybe it would be.”

A half-smile formed on his lips despite the shadows that still clung to his eyes. "I assure you, attempting to frighten me would not end well for either of us."

Ash grinned, leaning back in her chair. "Is that a challenge, Commander? Because it sounds an awful lot like one to me."

He shook his head, exasperation and amusement warring across his handsome features. "Maker's breath, woman. Must everything be a game to you?"

"Not everything," Ash conceded, her smile softening. "But life is too short and too full of darkness not to find levity where we can."

Cullen studied her, his amber eyes intense and searching. For a long minute, the wind whistled against the building outside and the muffled clatter of activity from the courtyard rose from below. Finally, he sighed, his broad shoulders releasing the remainder of their tension.

"Perhaps you’re right," he admitted, low and rough. "I’ve been so focused on my duties, on atoning for my past, that I have forgotten how to simply...be."

Ash's heart clenched at the weariness in his tone, the bone-deep exhaustion that seemed to seep from his pores.

"Well then," she said brightly, injecting a note of mischief into her tone, "I suppose it falls to me to remind you. Prepare yourself for terrible jokes and ill-advised frivolity, Ser."

"Andraste preserve me,” Cullen groaned. “I fear I may come to regret this."

Ash winked at him, delighted by the hint of a blush that rose to his cheeks. "Oh, undoubtedly. But it will be worth it, you'll see."

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head ruefully. Ash propped her feet up on the corner of Cullen's desk. He raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't comment on the impropriety. Progress.

"You know," he said slowly, as if testing the words, "if you truly wish to bring more levity into my life, perhaps I could return the favour by teaching you some sword fighting techniques. A bit of self-defence, as it were."

Had he really just offered to teach her how to wield a sword? Her - the mage who could barely walk without a cane? She had only just begun to train with her magic again, and the thought of adding sword fighting to it did not fill her with confidence.

A laugh bubbled up in her throat, escaping in an undignified snort. "Ah, no. No way. That's a terrible idea."

Cullen frowned. "Why? I thought you might enjoy the challenge. And it never hurts to have a few tricks up your sleeve, even as a mage."

Ash shook her head, still chuckling. "I appreciate the offer, truly. But can you imagine? Me, stumbling around the training yard, trying to swing a sword? I'd probably just end up crying in frustration and then everyone would know that you made the Herald’s sister cry."

His frown deepened. "What? Why would you cry?"

"Because you're always barking critiques and corrections at your soldiers.” She smiled as she said it, hoping to lessen the blow. “I can hear you from clear across the keep sometimes. 'Shield up! Feet apart! Thrust, parry, slash!'" She imitated his clipped commands in an exaggeratedly deep voice.

Cullen had the good grace to look a bit sheepish. "I'm not that bad, am I?"

Ash quirked a brow. "You can be quite…intense. Which is good for training soldiers, don't get me wrong. But me?" She gestured to herself, to the cane propped against her chair. "I already know what I'm doing wrong. I don't need someone else to berate me for it too."

Understanding dawned in his eyes, followed by a flash of something that looked suspiciously like sympathy. Ash's hackles rose instinctively. She didn't want his pity.

But when he spoke, his voice was gentle, devoid of condescension. "Ashvalla, I would never berate you. Critique and correction are necessary for improvement, yes. But there is a difference between constructive feedback and cruelty. I would not be cruel to you."

Her eyes darted over his face, searching for any hint of insincerity or placation. His amber irises were like molten honey, shining with earnestness and sincerity. A knot in her chest loosened.

"I…" She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "I'll think about it. The sword fighting lessons. But no promises."

Cullen nodded, a small smile curving the corners of his mouth. "Of course. The offer stands, whenever you feel ready."

Ash returned his smile, a tentative thing that felt foreign on her face. She cleared her throat, desperate to change the subject before the strange fluttering in her stomach could take root. "So, Commander, tell me - what's the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you on the training field?"

"Maker's breath, you would ask that.” He wiped a hand down his face. “Weren’t you only moments ago trying not to aggravate my headache?”

Ash grinned, unrepentant. "It’s too late for that now. Come on, spill. I promise I won't tell a soul." She leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

He was weak to her charms and with an exaggerated sigh, he said, "Very well. But if this gets out, I'll know exactly who to blame."

Ash found herself in Rae's quarters the next day. Her sister had been suspiciously absent at dinner, and worry gnawed at Ash's gut. It wasn't like Rae to miss a meal, especially not one where she could regale the inner circle with tales of her latest exploits.

Stepping into the spacious room, her eyes roamed over the organized chaos that was so distinctly Rae. Books and scrolls were scattered across every available surface, interspersed with strange artifacts, dirty clothes, and glimmering treasures from her travels. Twin daggers sat on her desk, ready at a moment's notice. The bed was haphazardly made, rumpled furs and silken sheets betraying Rae's restless sleeping habits.

"Rae?" Ash called softly, moving further into the room. "Are you in here?"

A vague sound of acknowledgement drifted from the direction of the balcony. Ash picked her way through the clutter, careful not to disturb the delicate order of Rae's belongings. She found her sister leaning against the railing, her gaze fixed on some distant point in the mountains.

"Hey," Ash said, coming to stand beside her. "Everything okay? You missed dinner."

Rae shrugged, a jerky motion that made her distracted thoughts clear. "Not hungry."

In all their years together, she had never known Rae to not be hungry. Something was definitely wrong.

"What's going on?" she pressed gently. "Talk to me, Rae."

Her sister sighed, her breath clouding in the nippy evening air. "It's nothing. I'm just…tired."

Ash raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Nugshit. I know you better than that. Something's eating at you, and I'm not leaving until you spill."

Rae shot her a baleful look, but there was no real heat behind it. She turned back to the mountains, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

“I shouldn’t—” Rae began, but Ash was quick to interrupt.

“Whatever it is, it's weighing you down enough to make you turn down dinner. I promise I won’t tell anyone, you know I wouldn’t.”

Ash waited patiently, the silence stretching between them like a vine pulled taut. The sun dipped below the jagged peaks, covering the sky in fierce streaks of orange and red.

"It's Cullen," Rae admitted finally, lowering her voice to a low whisper.

Ash's heart stuttered in her chest, Love flopping along with it. "What about him?"

Rae’s head shook, her shaggy hair falling into her eyes. "He's trying to quit lyrium. Has been for a while now. But the withdrawal…it's bad. You’ve probably noticed. He’s worried it will affect his work, affect the Inquisition. Or worse, that it could kill him."

Where her heart had stuttered before, it almost stopped entirely. She knew a little about lyrium withdrawal, that it could drive even the strongest of people to madness. It was a constant threat of torture that kept the Templars in line should their supply be cut off and they be subjected to the whims of withdrawal.

"Fenedhis," Ash breathed, running her scarred palm down her arm to soothe the goosebumps. “That…actually makes a lot of sense.”

The headaches, the snippiness, his wane complexion and the bags under his eyes were the signs she had attributed to long hours or sickness, when instead they belonged to the pull of lyrium at his fraying willpower. And it…well, she wasn’t entirely sure how it made her feel about his ex-Templar status, but it didn’t hurt, at least.

“I’ve known for a while, but yesterday I caught him arguing about it with Cassandra, he was asking her to replace him, but she refused. She’s been keeping an eye on him and she has yet to doubt his abilities.” Rae gripped the railing of the balcony and leaned back on her heels, face turned towards the cloudy sky. “I gave him an order to stay away from lyrium. It was what he wanted, but…what if I let my friendship with him cloud my judgment?”

Ash turned to face Rae fully, her brows knitting together. "What do you mean, 'cloud your judgment'? You think ordering him to stay off lyrium was the wrong call?"

Rae pushed off the railing, pacing the length of the balcony with quick, agitated strides. "I don't know! I mean, I want to support him, of course I do. I respect his choice. But what if I'm putting the Inquisition at risk by allowing him to continue as Commander in this state? What if his withdrawal jeopardizes our mission?" She raked a hand through her hair, frustration rolling off her in waves.

Ash fell silent, taking a minute to contemplate her sister's words. Rae felt the pressure of her responsibility keenly, the constant need to make the right choices, to put the needs of the many above her own desires. It was a thankless task, one that left little room for personal considerations.

But this was Cullen they were talking about. The man who had stood by Rae's side from the beginning - despite the lack of Chantry support - who had worked tirelessly to build the Inquisition's forces into a formidable army. The man who, despite his past with mages, had proven himself to be honourable, dedicated, and fiercely loyal. If anyone was worthy of Rae's support, it was him.

Ash reached out, gently grasping Rae's elbow to halt her restless pacing. "Rae," she said softly, waiting until her sister met her gaze. "I think you did the right thing."

Rae's eyes widened fractionally, a flicker of hope sparking in their depths. "You do?"

She squeezed Rae's arm reassuringly. "I do. You can never tell him I said this, but he’s not just the Commander, he's our friend. He deserves our trust and support in this."

Rae searched Ash's face, vulnerable and making Ash's heart ache. "But what about the Inquisition? What if—"

"The Inquisition will endure," Ash interrupted gently. "We've faced worse threats than one man's personal battle. And he's not alone. Cassandra’s watching out for him, right? And the rest of us too. We'll make sure he has whatever he needs to see this through."

Some of the tension seemed to drain from Rae's posture, her shoulders slumping as she exhaled.

"You're right," Rae said, a ghost of a smile flickering across her face. "Of course you're right. I just…I worry, you know? About making the wrong call, about failing everyone who's counting on me."

Ash pulled Rae into a tight hug, talking over her muffled protest. "You could never fail us, Rae. You're doing an amazing job leading the Inquisition. We're all behind you, one hundred percent."

Rae patted her back, about as close as she ever got to returning Ash’s embrace. "Thank you," she mumbled into Ash's shoulder. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Crash and burn, probably," Ash teased, earning a watery chuckle from Rae. They pulled apart, and Ash was relieved to see some of the darkness had lifted from her sister's eyes.

"Alright, enough of this sappy shit," Rae declared, straightening her spine. "I'm starving. Race you to the kitchens?"

Ash snorted. "As if. You know I can't run."

"Excuses, excuses," Rae sing-songed, already bounding towards the stairs. "Last one there has to do the other's laundry for a week!"

"Hey, no fair!" Ash called after her, walking as briskly as she could to catch up. "You got a head start!"

Rae's laughter echoed up the stairwell, bright and carefree, and Ash couldn't help but smile. Her sister was resilient, a force to be reckoned with. She would weather this storm like she had all the others - with grit, determination, and the unwavering support of those who loved her.

Including Ash. Especially Ash. 

A/N: A much-needed talk between Cullen and Ash to shed some light on his past and Dorian uncovers more about Ash’s run-in with slavers. 

Now the question is, what will Ash do with her new knowledge of Cullen’s lyrium addiction? I'd love to hear your predictions!

[tired-truffle]

Something’s Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 3.8k

Part 15 - Overbearing Eldest Sisters

"Still, there is this terrible desire to be loved. Still, there is this horror at being left behind." - Michael Cunningham

Masterlist

Crestwood was said to be a miserable, cold place with nothing to offer except a mugging or death by dragon fire - she’d tried that once and was not eager to repeat the experience. Despite this, Ash wished she was there - with Rae, Dorian, Bull, and Varric as they met up with Hawke to find her Grey Warden friend. They’d been gone for a week already, the trek to Crestwood itself was a journey of a few days, and Ash was finding herself more lonely than she would have liked. With almost all her favourite people gone, she was stuck with those she…favoured less. 

“You’re healing remarkably well,” Solas remarked, fitting squarely into the category of people she was none particularly fond of. They’d come to a civil agreement, but they would never be the best of friends. 

Ash huffed, four weeks out from the attack on Haven and she had only just been cleared to start practicing her battle magic again, though with limited movements. She’d started simple magic last week and it had gone well, but she wasn’t satisfied. At least she’d been able to swap from crutch to cane. “Not fast enough.”

“It would be wise to grant yourself some time, Ashvalla,” he said with none too little condescension, his healing hands glowing as they hovered over her leg. “You are well aware of the consequences of reinjury.”

“That Rae will beat me over the head with my own arm?”

Solas chuckled, a tender glint in his eyes that Ash disliked immensely. “For starters, yes. I imagine there would also be some yelling and perhaps even admonishments of character.”

“There will probably be those anyway.”

“Probably.”

It unnerved her how often she found herself agreeing with Solas as of late. She would have to find something to rectify that, something he would despise. Sera may have an idea - she did have a knack for irritating the apostate. Ash made a mental note to seek her out. 

Ash found herself unable to resist seeking out the Commander more and more frequently. It had been an entire day since she’d last bothered him with her presence and had made it a habit to intrude on his work over the last week. So, after Solas had finished his thorough check on her healing progress - as mandated by Rae in her absence - Ash berated herself for her predictability.

With a quick rap of her knuckles against the door, she waited for his call granting permission to enter before swinging open the door. Cullen’s broad shoulders were hunched over his cluttered desk, pinching the bridge of his nose while gripping the pommel of his sword tightly. Ash paused, taking in the rigid set of his posture and hoping it wasn’t something that she had done to upset him.

“I was wondering when you’d reappear.” Though he may have meant to be teasing, the tone was exasperated at best. 

Still, Ash plastered on her sweetest smile as she sauntered over to him. “I couldn’t leave you without my—is that a dead mouse?” She’d halted beside him, cringing away from the small, bloody body laid out on top of his desk, staining a now unusable piece of vellum. 

“An astute observation.” He crossed his arms over his chest, transferring his weight to rest mostly on one leg as he waited for her to come to a conclusion that was lost on her.

“And how did that dead mouse end up on your desk? A snack for later?” 

“Up until moments ago I hadn’t the faintest idea, but…” Cullen turned to glare reproachfully behind him, at the chair that sat in the corner - the one he usually pulled up for her when she made it clear she intended to stay. 

When she followed his gaze, she suppressed a groan. Yes, she should have guessed that the puff of tabby fur that lay curled up on the seat was to blame. 

Ash sighed, heading over to her silly cat and giving her a hard look to convey her dissatisfaction. Sweetpea simply lifted her head, meeting Ash’s stare and meowing pleasantly in greeting. 

“While it’s kind of you to ensure that he is eating, the Commander does not want the spoils of your hunts, Pea.”

The feline’s head tilted to the side and Ash took this to mean that she understood and simply did not care. With a soft meow, she sat up, gracefully placing one leg over the back of her neck as she began to meticulously groom herself.

Turning back to the Commander, Ash shrugged. “I apologize, she never listens to me. She’s just trying to look out for you, but if you keep throwing them away she’ll eventually get the hint.” 

He shook his head. “I appreciate her efforts, but they are not needed.”

Narrowing her eyes, she took in the hollowness of his cheeks that had steadily been growing over the past few days, the paleness to his skin, and the slight tremor he tried to hide in his hands. “Are you sure?” 

“What?” he asked indignantly, more defensive than the situation warranted, and Ash bit her tongue to stop herself from brashly pointing out all of her concerns. 

“I hear mouse soup is all the rage in Orlais these days, are you sure you don’t wish to partake in fine cuisine?” A joke to ease the tension, a specialty of hers. 

His shoulders removed themselves from his ears and a soft smile returned to his face - crisis averted. “I cannot say I’m particularly interested, no.”

“Unfortunate that we must put all of Pea’s hard work to waste then.” The cat in question meowed mournfully. “Speaking of work, do you have anything I can assist with?”

Cullen was never in short supply of work, and she was once again given the delightful opportunity to sort through missives and letters of all sorts as he penned responses. Though the work was dull, she welcomed the chance to be useful again after weeks of convalescing. More than that, she relished this quiet time with Cullen. She watched him surreptitiously as he scribbled away, admiring the furrow in his brow and the way the candlelight illuminated his golden waves.

Ash was so focused on admiring him that she didn't notice he’d swapped his attention to her until he spoke, interrupting her thoughts. "I wanted to say…" Cullen began, then trailed off, gazing at her intently as if trying to communicate wordlessly.

Ash raised an eyebrow. "I'm a mage, not a mind reader, Commander. Though some mages can read minds, they are rather rare."

Cullen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I…I'm glad to see you’re healing well is all."

"Oh," Ash said eloquently. She felt her own face growing warm. Damn him for saying something so plain yet tooth-rottingly sweet. "I’m happy about that too.”

With a nod from Cullen signalling his understanding, they returned to their work. However, while the quiet with Cullen was relatively peaceful, Ash had never found quiet of any kind to be comfortable. As she struggled to find something to say, or even ask about, she suddenly realized how little she actually knew about him. She had observed many things in their interactions - his intense passion for his work, his meticulous attention to detail and order, and his clever and subtle humour - but nothing that could truly be considered particularly personal. 

But when she came upon a letter addressed to Cullen - his name written in loopy handwriting - she pushed aside the jealousy swooping in her stomach and plastered on a teasing grin. 

“A letter from a secret admirer?” Ash swung the letter between her fingers, holding it aloft like a boy who’d caught his first fish. “Oh, Commander, how intriguing. Do tell.”

Cullen’s forehead pinched as his eyes tracked the swaying letter. "What are you on about?" But they widened as recognition set in - finding familiarity in the loopy scrawl. How many letters had he received from this mystery admirer? With a scowl, he snatched the letter from her hands, tucking it into a drawer. "It's not secret and not from an admirer. It's merely from Mia.”

“Oh?” Ash sat back in her chair, legs crossed elegantly - revealing the length of her pale thigh through the singular slit in her robe, tucking the scarred one underneath - and arms resting against her stomach. “And Mia is a friend? Relative?”

"Relative,” he replied with poorly guarded reluctance. "She’s my eldest sister, and she tends to be rather...persistent about our correspondence, even though I continue to remind her that my duties as Commander keep me busy."

“Sounds like an older sister,” Ash said with a wink. 

"Exactly," he agreed with a tired laugh. "She believes she must know every little detail about my life, but I simply do not have the time to write what she needs.”

Ash squinted at him, her ability to sniff out lies and half-truths leading her to believe that there was more than he was letting on. “But you have responded to her, haven’t you? We’ve been here for weeks.” 

Guilt was etched onto his features, visible in the way he nervously rubbed at his burning neck. The lines on his forehead deepened as he averted his gaze and fiddled with the end of his quill, avoiding eye contact. 

“Don’t tell me you didn’t write to tell her you were alive after Haven.” Ash could scarcely believe she’d said that out loud. Even in a hushed whisper it sounded wrong and raised her hackles. Poor Mia, Ash held great sympathy for the eldest sister who had to deal with a stalwart of a brother like Cullen. 

He leaned his head back, gaze raised to the ceiling. “I haven't…I was just…look, I've been busy, alright? I have been meaning to get to it but I had other more pressing priorities."

“Too busy to tell your sister you’re alive? Is this where Rae learned to do it? You don’t want Mia to travel all the way here and demand to see you like I did to Rae, right?”

"I—That's—" He let out a heavy sigh, releasing his neck and fixing her with a chidden stare. "No, of course not. I may have just forgotten." It was a lame excuse, and he grimaced as he waited for her to call him out for it.

But Ash had already pushed him enough for one day, and he may be in an agreeable mood now, but that did not guarantee that he would remain so. “Distracted, were you? Something caught your attention?” she asked with a wry tilt to her grin. 

"No. Not exactly,” he responded defensively, a light blush creeping onto his cheeks, well acquainted with the insinuation of her tone. He cleared his throat and looked away, refusing to meet her eyes. "Like I said, I've been…preoccupied with important matters.”

“Preoccupied and distracted are close enough.”

Cullen rolled his eyes, trying to play off his slight embarrassment as annoyance, but the effect was lessened greatly by the light flush of pink travelling down his neck. “Yes, well, I'm not perfect, you know," he retorted, though without much bite.

“It would be boring if you were. But you may want to think twice about ignoring your sister, though I would love to meet her.” Ash grinned with feral delight as Cullen paled. “I’m sure we’d have plenty to talk about. Think about it, you could end up just like Rae with your sister following you around everywhere and inserting herself into every aspect of your life.”

"I…appreciate the warning.”

“Anytime, Commander.” Ash folded her arms under her breasts instead of using them as a shelf, pressing them together.

“Right,” he said quickly, looking anywhere but at her chest. “I will answer right away.”

Ash only shook her head, returning to her work, and wondering what exactly a man like the Commander would write in a personal letter to his sister. Would it be hesitant but warm, or rather cold and calculated? She had no insight into their relationship, though from what she understood of his past through Varric’s tales of Kirkwall, it would stand to reason that he hadn’t been home in quite some time. Did his strong sense of duty extend to his family as well? Perhaps there were other reasons he avoided them. One day, she was sure to figure it out.

Drawing in a deep breath, the chill mountain air filled her lungs. Ash spread her feet shoulder-width apart and extended her arms, palms up. Calling on her magic, she conjured a swirl of icy energy between her hands. The magic prickled over her skin as she shaped it into a glowing orb.

Though the wounds on her body had mostly healed, a deep ache still plagued her muscles. Weeks of disuse had weakened her, eroding the honed skills that had once come as naturally as breathing. But she was determined to regain her strength.

Focusing on the target dummy across the courtyard, she hurled the icy orb. It sailed through the air and exploded against the dummy in a burst of frost, coating it in a thick layer of ice. A smile tugged at her lips, despite the sharp pain the throwing motion triggered in her shoulder.

Her magic may be out of practice, but this was progress. Bit by bit, she was piecing herself back together. Soon she would be battle-ready again, her injuries and weaknesses firmly in the past - though her mobility would never be the same, the skin tighter and less malleable than it had once been. Was it strange to hope that her lack of sensation would help make up for it? She’d be less likely to falter after taking a hit if she couldn’t feel it. Not every part of her burn had been affected in that way, but the patches of less to no feeling had spread throughout her limbs and up her neck.

Ash conjured another icy orb, feeling the magic surge eagerly through her. She had never been one to sit idly by, and though her motivations were more complicated than simple restlessness, she told herself this fixation on recovering her skills was just that – a desire to be active once more.

It had nothing to do with the need to show off should one handsome Commander of the Inquisition show up to the training grounds to observe his troops. Once she had him, surely this nagging desire would fade. It was only the chase, the flirtatious game, the need to have what was off-limits, that occupied her thoughts so frequently. Yes, she decided, one night with the stoic Commander would get this fascination out of her system. Or two, or three…perhaps even four.

Ash lobbed another orb at the dummy, obliterating it in a satisfying explosion of ice. She winced, not having meant to destroy it so thoroughly, but then again, thoughts of Cullen’s sword-roughened hands caressing her body had been rather distracting. And…was that fire at the base of the dummy? She hadn’t meant to use her flames, hadn’t even realized there was any heat at all to that attack. Love had made herself known.

"Getting carried away?" Came a low tenor voice behind her.

Ash turned to see Blackwall watching her, hands resting on his hips. She’d had little interaction with the quiet warden, and she masked her surprise by straightening up, gathering the shreds of her dignity.

"I'm adjusting," she said lightly. Though she appreciated his gruff sense of humour, she was unsure how to act around him and it set her on edge.

Blackwall nodded, eyeing the wreckage of the dummy. "No harm in being too powerful, as long as you learn to control it." He gestured with his chin to the remaining dummies. "Try again, but this time focus your will. Don't let emotion cloud your aim."

“I didn’t know you were an expert on mage combat.” Ash bristled slightly at the criticism. How he’d seen right through her she wasn’t sure, though she’d do better to keep her guard up around him from then on - he was more perceptive than she’d originally ascertained.

“Not an expert,” he admitted, “but I’ve taught a fair few mages in my time. You pick up a thing or two.”

That was a fair point, and she didn’t see the harm in humouring him. She could always ignore his advice if it wasn’t any good. Inhaling steadily, she turned back to the targets. As she prepared another spell, Blackwall moved to stand within her line of sight.

"Here, turn your body like this," he instructed, positioning himself to show what he meant, pointing to her hips and then stepping back with his right leg. Most men would have jumped on the chance to move her body with their hands, to use instruction as an excuse to touch her. But Blackwall remained a respectful distance away, eyes assessing but only in the way a teacher would a student. Ash found herself relaxing. Blackwall meant well, even if he was straightforward and gruff about it.

She took up his stance, noticing with surprise that such a subtle shift of her weight had the pressure almost entirely taken off her hips. Shooting him a bewildered glance, she thought back to all her previous teachers. They had all been rather willowy elves, and their stances had reflected such. But Blackwall…well, he wasn’t a curvy woman, that much was obvious, but he still took into account how her proportions would affect her. All without being lewd about it.

She loosed another volley of ice bolts and Blackwall gave an approving rumble. "Better. Much more focused. But you need practice against a moving target if you’re going to get back out in the field." He met her eyes steadily. "If you'd be willing, my shield is at your disposal."

Ash hesitated, surprised by the offer. Beneath his gruff exterior, she realized, lay a core of genuine kindness. Grateful, she inclined her head. "I would appreciate that."

Blackwall took up a wooden practice sword and hefted his shield onto his arm. "Right. Let's begin."

Ash dragged her aching body back to her quarters, leaning heavily on her cane. The sparring session drained every ounce of energy from her, leaving her muscles trembling with exhaustion and her joints protesting with each laboured step.

She clenched her teeth and let out a low, angry curse at the betrayal of her own body's frailty. Just weeks ago she had been traversing the Hinterlands, flinging spells with effortless grace. Now simply walking across Skyhold felt like an insurmountable ordeal.

Ash was so focused on putting one foot in front of the other that she didn't notice Varric’s approach until he fell into step beside her.

"Rough day?" he asked, eyeing her sympathetically.

Ash grunted, too winded to respond. Varric chuckled, patting her arm.

"Yeah, I figured. You look like you just went three rounds with an Ogre."

"Blackwall may take offence to that," she said. "But you're not far off. But to be fair, I did tell him to stop going easy on me."

Varric shook his head, clicking his tongue. "He can be relentless when he wants to be. And you-" he nudged her gently with his elbow, "you shouldn't be pushing yourself so hard."

She gripped her cane tighter, her knuckles white - feeling touchier than usual, frustrated at herself. "I have to get stronger, Varric. I can't just sit around feeling useless while Rae is out there risking her life."

"No one's saying you should," Varric countered. "But you’ve got to be smart about this. It's a long road back." He studied her profile, his eyes softening. "You've been through a lot, Frosty. It's okay to need some time."

Ash's throat tightened, a swell of pitiful emotions rising in her chest. She quickly blinked back the wetness gathering in her eyes. "I know," she whispered. Everyone kept telling her to ‘give herself some time’, but while she understood, she couldn’t put it into practice. She’d never had time before, why should now be any different?

They walked in silence until they reached a private part of the path leading to her quarters, the noise of the courtyard fading behind them. Varric hesitated, then spoke in a hushed tone. "Hey…how are you doing? With the, ah, spiritual situation?"

Ash's shoulders tensed, the muscles coiling tightly as if preparing for battle. They had been avoiding this topic ever since their time in Redcliffe, and she saw no reason to break that silence now. "Fine," she muttered tersely.

Varric raised his hands in a display of innocence that had Ash wondering how often he had to make such a gesture. "I didn't mean to pry. I only wanted to check in, make sure you're holding up alright."

Ash sighed, softening and dropping her shoulders from where they’d risen to her ears. "I know. I'm sorry, I just…I don't really want to talk about it."

"No problem." They walked a few more paces before he spoke again. "So…what kind is it, anyway?"

Ash chewed her lip. She hadn't told anyone else - but this was Varric, and he already knew about the possession, what harm could it do? Reluctantly, she answered. "Love."

Varric's eyebrows shot up in shock. "Huh. Well that's…different." He let out a low whistle. "Explains a few things though."

Ash narrowed her eyes at him, her ears lowering as she tried to hide her blush behind a thick curtain of hair. “What is that supposed to mean?”

A grin spread across his face - one that meant that she was going to hate what came out of his mouth and she braced herself. “I think you know, but I’d be happy to spell it out for you. Starts with a C- and ends with an -urly.”

Disliking what he was implying, she brushed past Varric as she limped down the stone walkway. "I have no idea what you’re talking about," she growled, her ears flattening against her head.

"Alright, alright. I can take a hint." Varric’s warm eyes crinkled with amusement and sympathy. She hated both sentiments equally. "Just let me know if you need an ear later."

Ash nodded curtly, leaning heavily on her cane as she continued to her room, Varric peeling off to do…whatever it was he occupied his days with. Likely writing salacious stories and finding gossip to add to his collection - or attempting to father Cole, if what Dorian told her was correct.

A wistful smile ghosted her lips before she tamped it down, ears flattening against her head once more as she reflected on Varric’s assumptions about her feelings for Cullen. It was true that she found him attractive and enjoyed flirting with him, but to be associated with a Spirit of Love? The very idea seemed absurd to her. But if Varric had thought so…did Cullen think the same? A flush of heat crept up her neck at the possibility. She needed to regain control of her emotions before things became unbearably awkward.

But control was so difficult to attain with a meddlesome spirit residing in one’s chest.

Next Chapter

A/N: It would mean so much to me to hear what you think!

[tired-truffle]

Waiting for You

An AlistairxWarden fic

Word Count: 5.6k

One-Shot

A reunion based on the concept art by Matt Rhodes of the Warden returning as a companion - made mute by decay from staving off the Blight - and Alistair left in the Fade to be rescued by Rook.

A/N: Song recs to accompany this one-shot: Lonesome & Mad by Under The Rug and Would You Fall In Love With Me Again from EPIC the Musical.

Enjoy this fic that gnawed its way into my mind and would not let go <3

Masterlist

The years had not been kind. She’d fought tirelessly, until her skin had peeled from her bones, her muscles wasted away, the Calling eroding her mind. She was no longer elvhen, but something else entirely - a shadowed reflection of her former self, a disgusting burden on humanity. Yet still, she persisted. She could no longer recall why. 

Her name was long forgotten, memories shredded like fine paper and left to soak in her tainted blood. She’d been a Grey Warden, a hero, some had called her - but it mattered little in the end. The world had used her and spat her back out, a mangled, unrecognizable mess. 

She’d tried to hold onto herself at first, relaying her memories aloud as if they were stories, remembering friends, speaking their names and hers. But her jaw had rotten from its socket, held on by the sinew and dirty bandages she’d wrapped around her head, a vain attempt to hide her decaying carcass from view - unable to speak, her mind expunged her identity like a rung-out sponge. 

It was for the best, she told herself, she wouldn’t want the people she cared about to see her like this. Better they think she was dead. Besides, the one she would have wanted most by her side was gone. He’d promised he’d return, and when he hadn’t she’d searched endlessly for him. She should have accepted his death when she was able to remember why. Her weakened heart beat its anguish against her ribcage - a mournful drumbeat. Try as she might, she couldn’t grasp the slippery fish of his name that swam at the back of her skull. 

She’d wandered Thedas, no longer entirely sure of her purpose. Ridding herself of the Calling had been her goal, but as her mind faded, her love torn from her arms, she lacked reason or motivation. 

That was, until Rook had found her drifting in the Anderfells, tearing into Darkspawn with her boney fingers, her rage an unstoppable force. Those creatures had stolen her life, so she would steal theirs. She could no longer recall how the bright-eyed elf had convinced her to join her team, a kinship, perhaps. Both were treated as the lowest of the low until society had need of them, had need of their sacrifice. She was fucking sick of sacrifice. Someone had to ensure that Rook didn’t meet the same fate. 

Thankfully she could still write. Though she kept mostly to herself, Rook’s companions found ways to bring her out of her broken shell.  They’d even given her a name; Lady, they called her. She’d turned down all others, too mortal, too familiar. She wasn’t like them, though she wasn’t much of a Lady either. They’d outright rejected her suggestion of Ghoul. 

At every meal, they made it clear that she was to join them at the table. Eating had become a challenge for her, as she struggled to keep the food in her mouth and manually move her jaw to chew. But they assured her it wasn't a problem. She couldn't decide if she felt comforted or insulted by Emmrich's declaration that he had witnessed many a skeleton attempt to eat, and at least for her, the food didn't simply fall through her ribcage. A strange reassurance.

A room had appeared for her in the Lighthouse base, off the side of the kitchen, up a set of stairs and tucked away. Private, but close enough to keep watch of the others. The four-poster bed with its thick furs covering the firm mattress, the well-worn desk tucked into a corner, and the crackling fire in the stone fireplace all felt like echoes from her past. She’d had something similar once, could almost picture it. But it was hers, not theirs, like it had been. It lacked his presence and that of their faithful dog who used to lounge by her feet while she worked at the desk. 

She’d had a dog, hadn’t she? 

Unable to bear the emptiness of her bed without the warm weight of another body, she instead placed the furs on the floor and curled up in front of the fireplace to chase away the chill from her bones. She had become the dog now.

Harding had come to her with some tea early on in her stay. She’d noticed Lady’s winces and rubbing of her temples as the Calling ebbed and flowed. She itched to sink her gnarled fingers into the flesh of the Old Gods who’d done this and tear them limb from limb. 

While the tea did little to soothe her inclination towards violence, it did help with the headaches, if only marginally. 

“I was wondering,” Harding began, getting to the point of her visit, perched atop Lady’s desk with her short legs dangling, “since you’re a Grey Warden, did you feel Corypheus’s Calling ten years ago? From what I heard, only the wardens in Ferelden were affected by it.”

Lady shrugged, letting the scalding hot tea burn away the last of her taste buds and dribble out the sides of her mouth to catch in the bandages. A nuisance she would never get used to.

“The Inquisitor travelled with a warden, Blackwall, or I guess he was actually Thom Rainer, but we found that out much later,” Harding continued. “Oh, and that old warden friend of Leliana’s that joined for a bit before…he didn’t make it back from a mission.”

Her teacup rattled in her hand, gripped tight in her fingers, close to breaking from the force. Leliana…that name rang a bell, a quiet tinkling that joined the ever-present vibrato of the Calling. How did she know that name? She didn’t dare ask Harding for more. And that warden they lost on a mission, Leliana’s friend, why did the thought fill her with uncontrollable grief?

“Lady,” Harding called her attention, her brows pinched as she scanned Lady’s face. “You’re looking a little pale, or rather paler than usual, given that you’re essentially, uh, blue.” 

Placing her teacup on the floor beside her, she pulled her pad of paper out of her pocket and scribbled her response. 

Really? I hadn’t noticed. 

Harding giggled, a delightful sound that felt entirely at odds with Lady’s gloomy existence. “Okay, okay, you got me.” 

But it was nice to experience it, if even for a little while. Her eyes crinkled in a smile that her mouth could no longer form. 

Weeks passed and Lady settled in, joining them on missions and learning more about Rook’s companions. She couldn’t bring herself to think of them as hers; she’d lost her companions, she couldn’t replace them with others. 

Rook had sent a request to her warden contacts about a cure for the Calling, but had yet to hear back. Davrin hadn’t a clue, and seemed entirely unnerved by her presence, though he refused to say it. It was polite but unnecessary, she couldn’t blame him for it. This was his future if he refused death too - decayed and decrepit, a ghost of the hero she’d once been. 

The Fade had called to Rook, an unsettling whisper on the wind that begged for aid in a language only the young elf could understand. A connection to the Fade as strong as Rook’s held many mysteries, and with caution, she departed with Taash and Lucanis. Lady stayed in her room, exhaustion weighing her down until she’d burrowed into the furs she’d stolen from the bed and placed in front of the fire. She’d become housebroken, not wild and feral as she’d once been. She couldn’t bring herself to care. 

Voices floated to her room, the familiar cadence of Rook’s Ferelden accent signalling her return. She couldn’t make out the words through her thick glass windows, but when they entered the kitchen, she could hear them through the cracked wood of her door. 

“And this is the kitchen, where my favourite part of the day happens; dinner!” Rook exclaimed with what Lady assumed was an enthusiastic grin. 

“A woman after my own heart.” The man’s words were jesting and said with the cheekiness of a young man, but his voice held the tired ache of decades of hardship. “What I wouldn’t give for some of those special Orlesian cheeses.” 

No, it couldn’t be. By the Maker, it couldn’t be him.

A hot, salty wetness spilled unbidden down her hollow cheeks, soaking her bandages. That voice, warm and enticing like a soft bed after weeks of sleeping in a damp tent, pulled at her heartstrings like an out-of-tune fiddle. How she wanted to throw open the door and demand he speak again, drown her in his sweet words and gentle affection. 

“Some Fereldan you are,” Rook snorted, and he chuckled. “You should meet our other Fereldan with a penchant for unpatriotic cheeses. At first, I thought we had a mouse problem until I caught her in the act.” 

Embarrassing as it had been to be caught by Rook in the middle of the night with a handful of cheese - it was easy to eat with her ruined mouth, and the taste reminded Lady of someone she missed more than her own name - it did not stop her shoulders from shaking as she held back gasping sobs. She was too enraptured by the man’s voice to care about anything else.

Though she couldn’t fully grasp why. 

Footsteps echoed up the stairs, and she scrambled back from the door, eyes darting around for an escape. She couldn’t let him see her, not like this, not when he wouldn’t recognize her beneath sagging skin.

Opening the window, she jumped to the ground, thankful that she was only on the second floor - though her old, creaky knees protested as they absorbed the impact.

“Lady?” She heard Rook call as her door creaked open. “You in here?”

Lady was around the corner before Rook could notice the open window. Slinking along the opposite side of the courtyard, she escaped into the main building, her hood drawn, avoiding eye contact with Neve as she passed by. Assan squawked, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him either. 

She was in the Crossroads before she realized where she was headed, panic guiding her feet to flee. 

How was he here? He couldn’t be here. She didn’t know why, but she knew it was true. He’d left, she’d sent him to his death and still, he walked this earth. Her fuzzy, hole-ridden mind couldn’t comprehend, couldn’t piece together the edges of her heart’s jagged puzzle. 

The man she loved, her best friend, her confidant, the one she trusted more than any other. She couldn’t remember his name or what he looked like or anything they had shared but by the Andraste’s sword did the sound of his voice bring back all the longing and grief she had to suffer through when she’d received the letter of his passing. She’d been unable to get out of bed for weeks.

She wished she hadn’t remembered, let it stay buried and forgotten with everything else she’d lost. A stubborn flicker of hope in her chest disagreed. He’d loved her once, why couldn’t he do it again?

Because I’m a monstrosity, a deformed creature masquerading as the woman he loved. 

She had to leave, put distance between them before he realized who she was - who she had been to him - if he could recognize her at all. She didn’t care where the Caretaker took her, as long as it was far away from him. 

But her legs refused to budge, her yearning for him rooting her to the spot. 

“There you are!” Rook’s call jolted her from her thoughts, but she kept her back to them. “We have a new addition I’d like you to meet.” 

Praying to the Calling to end her right then and there did nothing. Typical. 

“Lady?” Rook placed a hand on her shoulder, concern written across her face as she ducked down to peer beneath Lady’s hood. “Did you hear me?”

She nodded once, a barely perceptible movement, her body tense as she sensed his presence behind her. 

“I’m sure we can do introductions another time when you’re not, ah, busy,” he said hesitantly, and she could hear his feet shift side to side in the short grass. “No urgent need, I’m nothing special.”

If she could still speak, she would have snapped at him. Nothing special? How dare he say such a thing when he was her everything. His death had destroyed her, weakened her until the Calling took hold, and at first, she’d welcomed it. To live without him had been torture. 

She wanted the memories to stop. It was too painful.

“Rook!” Harding yelled from the entrance to the Crossroads. “Davrin and Lucanis are bickering again and I can’t get them to quit it!”

With a heavy sigh, Rook straightened. “One minute!” she yelled back, wiping a hand down her face. At a regular volume, she said, “You two hold on, I’ll be right back.” 

Wasting no time, Rook strode off, grumbling under her breath about the childishness of grown men. 

Silence filled her empty space, leaving the two of them to wither in it. 

“So,” he drawled, dragging out the vowel and she thought she might vomit at how familiar it sounded, “nice place you have here. Much better than my corner of the Fade, a lot less giant spider demons lurking around. If you haven’t encountered them I’d highly recommend you avoid it. Way too many large, hairy legs if you ask me. Although they’re surprisingly nutritious if you’re desperate enough.”

He was…in the Fade. All this time and he was just in the Fade. She pressed the back of her hand to her bandaged lips, holding back the sobs and roiling of her gut that choked her. 

“Sorry, I’ve been told my rambling puts people off, just seems so strange to actually talk to real people again and not my shadow puppets. Though they did tell some rather lively stories.” He chuckled awkwardly. “I’ve forgotten how to hold my tongue, if I ever learned in the first place. Please forgive me.” 

Turning to the side, she kept her gaze firmly on the ground and away from him, but she nodded. She’d always enjoyed his ramblings, adorable as they were. 

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Wonderful! The last thing I want is to irritate one of Rook’s companions when she’s so graciously let me stay while I…figure everything out.”

She tilted her head to the side, what did that mean? 

He read her like a book and her gut clenched - he understood her without words and the barest of gestures. “You know how it is, you get trapped in the Fade for somewhere around a decade and lose contact with everyone you’ve ever cared about, only to be found and roped into stopping another Blight. A superpowered one this time, so that’s…different.” He was quiet for a beat. “But I really need to find…well, someone very important to me. I can’t imagine what she’s been through, and I…just hope she’s still around. Maker knows it’s taken me much too long to get back to her.”

Too long and now she was a husk, an entirely different creature. He would not find what he was looking for. 

“I should apologize again, I’m unloading my tale of woe onto a complete stranger.” She could perfectly picture him rubbing the back of his neck, a pink tinge to his cheeks. She used to press her lips against his heated skin, giggling as he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close. 

She waved him off, vision blurry as she held her breath against her cries of despair. Her aching bones were nothing compared to the searing flame of need that burned through her, reaching for something she couldn’t have. 

So consumed by her grief, she didn’t notice his sharp inhale or his step closer. 

“Where did you get that?” he demanded breathlessly, and she frowned at his boots that had moved into the corner of her sight. She needed him to step back, but couldn’t bring herself to put distance between them. 

“That ring,” he prompted, “where did you get it?”

He pointed to her left hand and she had to resist the urge to capture his gloved hand in hers and never let go. Her heart raced, pounding against her ribcage, aching with longing for him. She could almost feel his gloved hand resting over her heart, as if it belonged there.

In her haste to escape her room, she’d forgotten her gloves. Lifting her arm, she stared at her hand, at the ring that caused the skin beneath it to slough off. She had refused to remove it. At the time, she couldn’t explain why she held onto the simple gold band so tightly - she would rather have taken a sword to the gut than gotten rid of it. It had become a part of her, and she had so few pretty parts left. Yet it too had been broken at some point in her long-forgotten past, judging by the seam and poorly done metalwork to seal it.

The ring, she realized as he gestured towards her hand again, it rested on her ring finger. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Snatching her hand close to her chest, she took a step back and felt like she’d torn her bones from her body. Maker’s breath, she longed for him, but he was no longer hers to have. 

“Wait.” He reached for her, attempting to grab her wrist. She sidestepped him and he stumbled in front of her. 

She kept her head ducked, but she gobbled down the sight of his chest - thinner beneath his wrecked and patched Grey Warden’s armour - and his long legs. 

Silence flickered between them for several beats before he found his voice - she would never again find hers. “I know that ring. I mended that break.”

If she ran now, would he follow? Grab her wrist as she fled and pull her back to the safety of his embrace. It didn’t matter how long it had been, to her, it felt like lifetimes that she’d been without him. How was the moon supposed to exist without her sun? Dulled and hidden. Alone and wandering the vast expanse of a starless sky, darkened without his light. 

He pitched his voice lower and she shivered. “Did you get it from someone or is it…is it yours?”

Did she dare believe the faint hint of hope she detected in his tone? With shaking hands, she pointed to herself. It was hers, she would never part with it, not in life or death or wherever she was between them. Surely he knew this.

His body tensed. Had she made him angry? Disgusted, perhaps, that a walking corpse wore his wife’s ring. She was his wife and he was her husband. She loved him and it had broken her. Needlework had never been a skill he possessed, but if he stitched her back together, she didn’t care if she came out looking mishappen.

He took a deliberate step forward. She didn’t back away. His boots halted inches from hers, the warmth emanating off of him making her want to curl up in his arms as she’d done in front of her fireplace. He had been what she was missing from her bed. 

“Please, look at me.” A desperate plea from a man who hadn’t seen his wife in…a decade? How long had it been? She couldn’t recall. He would never see her again, she was not that woman, she was Lady now. The echoes of him calling her ‘my lady’ reverberated in her skull. She would always be his, but would he be hers?

His hand, callused and yet tender, cupped her sharp chin, gently insisting. The first time he’d touched her in years and her knees shook like a baby deer trying to walk for the first time. She was powerless to resist, always had been when it came to him. 

Their eyes met, and she wondered how her lungs had kept her breathing without him. 

Time had aged him, though not as it had her. Streaks of grey started at his temples and entwined with his sandy blond hair that fell to his shoulders - haphazardly cut at unequal lengths like he’d taken a dull blade to it. The lines on his face had deepened, his bronzed skin paled from lack of sun. But his eyes, those beautiful, loving eyes - wide with shock and disbelief - remained the same.

Alistair. 

His name seeped through the cracks of her broken mind and she cursed herself for having forgotten - an impossible thing. Had she been able to speak, she would have sobbed his name until her lips no longer knew how to form any other word.

The fog over her memory cleared, and with each blink, she saw him as he had been. When they first met, boyish and kind, when they’d married, teary even as she giggled, and when they’d parted for that last time, a promise on his lips that he hadn’t kept. ‘I’ll see you soon, my love.’

But it was him, he‘d returned to her. Longer than expected, her body twisted beyond recognition, but he’d come back.  

He blinked back the dampness that had gathered in his tired eyes, the bags beneath purpled, new scars littering his skin. 

“Kal,” he breathed her name, his hand releasing her chin to cup her cheek. Not Lady, but Kal, Kallian Tabris, Hero of Ferelden, Warden-Commander, daughter, friend, wife. “Maker’s breath, but I missed you.”

Not what happened to you, what have you become, is that really you? I missed you. Simple and honest and the destruction of her last restraints. 

Her arms were around his shoulders before she could stop her body from all but flinging herself at him. He caught her like a leaf floating on a slow breeze, her body too light, muscle mass and fat eaten away by the Blight, leaving her a grotesque imitation of skin and bones. Yet he clung to her like she was the only thing keeping him buoyant in a stormy sea, like she was the air in his lungs and the heart beating rapidly in his chest. 

She trembled as his strong arms encircled her waist, careful not to break her but unable to hold himself back from crushing her against him - both gentle and possessive. Her feet left the ground as he lifted her, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her skull through her hood. Her tears spilled down her cheeks, dampening the skin on his neck as she sobbed uncontrollably, muffled by the tight bindings keeping her jaw shut. 

After years of emptiness, of existing as little more than a shell, feeling anything at all was almost too much to bear. Yet she clung to Alistair desperately, afraid that if she loosened her grip for even a moment, he would fade away - a hallucination of her Blight-addled brain.

How could this be real? She had mourned him, grieved for him until her soul had withered. The Calling had eaten away at her mind, leaving only fragments of memories behind. But now, with his arms around her, his familiar scent enveloping her, those pieces were slowly knitting back together.

She wanted to speak, to tell him how much she loved him, how she had never stopped loving him even when she could no longer remember his name. But her ruined jaw and decayed vocal cords betrayed her, leaving her mute. All she could do was hold him tighter, hoping to convey what her voice could not.

His knees buckled and they collapsed to the ground, the impact sending a sharp jolt through her shins as they hit the moss-covered stone. Ignoring the pain, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he curled himself protectively around her. Shaking, he mumbled her name over and over again into her hood.

He held her together, better than her bandages ever could, and she wept until she couldn’t anymore. As her tears dried, sticking her bandages to her cheeks, she could not stop her trembling. What happened next? So much had changed since she’d last seen him, could he truly still love her even when she was closer to darkspawn than elvhen? 

He had to practically pry her off of him, chuckling as he pulled back just far enough to meet her glare. The crow's feet around his eyes deepened as he gave her a watery smile that wiped the scowl off her face. Gods, he was gorgeous, the years may have changed him but they hadn’t been able to steal the lopsided tilt to his grin that set her heart aflame. 

“Is it truly such a crime to catch a glimpse of my beloved wife?” His hand returned to her cheek, his thumb brushing over her sharp cheekbone, the bandage wet with her tears. His wife, she was still his wife, and he was the sun to her moon and finally, he shone his light back on her after years of nothing but darkness. 

When she didn’t answer, only stared at him with open yearning, he rested his forehead against hers, breathing her in. 

“I feared that you��” His throat bobbed around a thick swallow. “When I was trapped in the Fade, all I thought of was you, how you must have reacted when you learned of my fate. I had to get back to you, and I couldn’t allow myself to think about the possibility that you wouldn’t be there when I returned. I was an idiot to ever consider that as a possibility. You are so much stronger than I.”

Even when she couldn’t remember him, she had waited for him. She’d clung on to life, refused to let go until it gave him back to her. Alistair, her love. He’d come back. 

I love you, I need you, never leave me again. 

Slipping his hand back around her neck, her hood slipped, revealing her bandaged head. Thin, coarse wisps of white hair escaped through the gaps. His touch was reverent as he trailed his fingers down the long column of her neck, pulling fire in its wake - heat suffused into her chilled body. 

“Kal,” her name a soft sigh on his lips, “I’m so sorry I made you wait for me. Will you…ever be able to forgive me?” 

Forgive him? She pulled back, letting her hands raise from his shoulders to trace his jawline, her thumb pressing the wrinkle between his brows to soften. Cupping his cheeks in her discoloured palms, she lifted his gaze to hers. Red-rimmed and watery, he took in everything she couldn’t say. There was nothing to forgive. She loved him and would love him for eternity. 

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” he asked with a tremulous chuckle. 

Lowering her hand to rest over his heart, she gave him her answer. He was Alistair, the boy with the youthful grin who had captured her love as easily as he caught her gaze, his kind heart and raucous laughter, his teasing words laced with affection. He hadn’t needed to do anything, she would have loved him regardless. 

Unconsciously, his eyes dropped to her hidden lips, wanting to kiss her, and by the Maker did she wish he could. But her lips had shrivelled long ago, he’d only be kissing teeth. Glancing back up at her, she saw the unasked question lingering in the furrow of his brows. Why was she like this? He didn’t voice it, afraid that she may see it as an expression of disgust or rejection.

Reluctantly, she released his cheek with one hand, tapped her temple, then her ear, and wiggled her fingers behind her head. 

His lips flattened into a thin line, understanding what he had already suspected. “The Calling.”

She nodded, the relentless drumbeat ever-present. Drawing a question mark in the air and pointing at him, she asked a question of her own. 

“No,” he said and relief flooded her with the force of an avalanche. “I don’t hear it, not yet.” Pausing, he gathered his thoughts. “Are the bandages what’s stopping you from speaking?” 

His finger brushed over her chin and she shook her head. Tapping her where her jaw met her upper facial bone, indicating its weakness, she watched him closely - and all he showed was his tender love. She’d been so scared that he’d hate her, be disgusted by her rotting form, but she had been a fool. She should have known better than to doubt his devotion. 

“Does it hurt?” 

She shrugged in lieu of admitting how deeply her joints ached, how her blood burned like molten lava in her veins. He narrowed his eyes a fraction, seeing right through her, but did not call her on it. 

“I take it you were unsuccessful in finding a cure?”

She blinked once, twice. A cure…she’d been looking for one, but somewhere along the way she’d lost her purpose, lost herself. Lost him.

Alistair’s mouth pulled into a frown. “When we parted you were chasing a lead on a cure for the Wardens. Do you not…remember?” 

Her silence was answered enough. 

“Kal,” he said like a sacred promise. “Why do they call you Lady?” 

Unable to stand his gentle scrutiny, she tucked her face into the crook of his neck, allowing his scent of sweat and musk to wash over her. Andraste’s tits did she ever miss that smell, it soothed a feral part of her that had been thrashing and gnawing at its cage since she’d lost him. 

And all she’d done since finding him was let him worry over her, unable to speak the questions she wanted to ask. When did you last eat? Are you hurt? That clicking in your knee, has it gotten worse? 

“Is my interrogation too much for even the great Hero of Ferelden to withstand?” His breath tickled her scalp, his lips ghosting over the shell of her ear, half exposed beneath her bandages. 

She carded her fingers through his hair, making him shiver, and giving him a firm but teasing tug. 

He chuckled. “Resorting to hair pulling are you? Hardly fair when you don’t have any.”

She did it again for good measure, pulling another chuckle from his lips.

“Pardon me for inquiring into your welfare,” he drawled, pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive space right below her ear. “But I would like to know all that I missed, when you are ready.”

She nodded against his neck, she could give him that, at least. Preferably when she had her pad of paper and quill to aid in her explanation. 

“Uh,” Rook’s voice jolted her out of their little bubble of reunion, having returned from corralling her companions. “I think I’m missing some key information here.” 

Underneath the bandages, Kal’s cheeks heated as her tainted blood rushed to the surface. From Alistair’s awkward cough, he was similarly affected. Like two teenagers could in an illicit act, neither knew what to say or do. 

She nuzzled her face against his neck, burying deeper as silent laughter shook her frame. Ridiculous. Out of all the insane situations she’d been through, this had to be somewhere at the top of the list.

Alistair cleared his throat, his arms wrapped protectively around her. "Ah, yes. Well, you see…" He trailed off, unsure how to explain.

Reluctantly, she pulled back from the safety of Alistair's embrace, though she kept her hands on his shoulders, unwilling to break contact completely. She turned to face Rook, who was staring at them with wide eyes and a bemused if not slightly befuddled grin.

"Lady?" Rook asked hesitantly, placing a fist on her cocked hip. "Do you know each other?"

Kal nodded emphatically, gesturing between herself and Alistair.

"We're, um, married actually," Alistair supplied with a hint of pride, despite the awkwardness of the situation. His hand found Kal's, intertwining their fingers.

Rook's eyebrows shot up. "Married? How? When?”

Kal tapped Alistair's chest, silently urging him to explain. He squeezed her hand gently before speaking.

"It's a bit of a long story," he began. “Perhaps it would be best suited to somewhere more comfortable? Preferably after a nap, if you don’t mind. Ten years traversing the Fade and fighting demons beyond imagination is more exhausting than you’d think.”

Rook's eyes darted between them, her forehead pinched as she processed this new information. "Right, of course. We can discuss this over dinner. I'm sure everyone will be eager to hear your story. I have a feeling Davrin most of all." She paused, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Though I suspect Lady might prefer to keep you to herself for a while."

Kal ducked her head, grateful that her bandages hid most of her blush. Alistair chuckled softly, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand.

"If you'll excuse us," he said, rising to his feet and gently pulling Kal up with him. "I believe my wife and I have some catching up to do."

A decade of loneliness and despair melted away, replaced by a cautious hope she scarcely dared to nurture. The man she loved had returned to her, against all odds and reason. He'd seen her broken form, touched her decaying skin, and still looked at her with nothing but adoration in his eyes. Kal's heart swelled with a bittersweet joy. She was no longer the woman he'd married, her body ravaged by the Blight and her mind splintered. Yet here he was, whole and alive and hers once more. Whatever trials lay ahead, whatever horrors the Blight had in store, she would face them with renewed strength. For Alistair had come back to her, and in doing so, had brought back a piece of herself she thought lost forever.

A/N: I maintain my stance that Alistair would love you if you were a worm.

I decided not to go the Fade spirit guide route that I believe was tossed around for the character left in the Fade. I believe his time would change him, but given that I wanted it to be a one-shot and not a multi-chapter I wouldn't have time to fully explore that in the way that I wanted to. But the angst potential for both of them not recognizing each other...maybe one day I will :)

If you want to read my other Alistair fic, you can find it on my page, though it is currently undergoing revisions. Alternatively, I am writing a CullenxLavellan fic as well that I'd love to see you at!

I hope you enjoyed the culmination of my Alistair brainrot! I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments :)

[tired-truffle]

Something’s Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 5.7k

Part 14 - Did You Miss Me?

"I dreamt of being wanted; some object of desire - something heady & sweet & worthy to be held down." - Yves Olade

Masterlist

Avoidance wasn’t something Ash was familiar with. She much preferred to face her issues head-on, firm and resolute in her stance. But when it came to Cullen she couldn’t quite bring herself to speak with him. 

It had been two weeks since their arrival at Skyhold, and the Inquisition had wasted no time settling down. The once-empty halls were now bustling with activity, filled with soldiers and scouts scurrying about their duties. This meant that the Commander was almost always busy - and was a great excuse for Ash to validate her reasons for not going to see him. She reasoned that he had more pressing obligations than entertaining her with idle chatter. She should be focusing on her healing, and on beginning to practice her magic again. 

Except her magic was…different. Temperamental and unpredictable at the best of times. She wanted to grab Love by the throat and shake her until she explained what she’d done, but then that would only be strangling herself, and she had enough injuries to worry about without adding a crushed airway to the list. 

Practice and repetition make perfect, but there was only so much she could do with her limited mobility before her boredom began to burn through her with the force of a thousand suns. 

That was how she ended up hovering outside of Cullen’s newly designated office space, a rundown turret on the battlements that overlooked the entry to Skyhold. She’d already exhausted herself for the day, her energy had not fully recovered, but the thought of being stuck back in her room had her skin crawling. 

Sweetpea chirped at her from where she rubbed herself against Ash’s legs, eager to see her favourite human.

"Oh, for Mythal's sake," Ash grumbled to herself. "I'm being ridiculous." Before she could talk herself out of it again, she strode forward and pushed open the heavy wooden door, slipping inside Cullen's office without knocking. A proper entrance.

The office was a large, open room, with a ladder leading up to a loft on the second floor. A heavy oak desk sat positioned before a row of tall, arched windows that looked out over the mountains and the troops stationed outside the fortress. To the side of his desk, the stone wall was lined with bookshelves crammed full of - unsurprisingly - books and random objects that Ash didn’t bother to identify.

Cullen sat at his desk, brows furrowed as he poured over the report in front of him, his lips moving silently, absorbing the information. He did not look up at her entrance, immersed in his work and assuming she was just another page or messenger. Ash hovered uncertainly. She knew she should announce herself, but the opportunity to simply study him, appreciate his intent focus and the stubborn set of his jaw, was too tempting to resist.

Sweetpea trotted over to him and tucked herself beneath his chair.

“You may leave your report here,” he gestured vaguely towards the stack of papers piled on the side of his desk.

Ash held back her laughter, making her way over to his desk. “I’m afraid I have no important missives to pass on, simply my excellent company.”

His head snapped up, blinking owlishly up at her as though he believed she was a hallucination. “A-Ashvalla,” he stuttered, straightening his back and rolling his shoulders to shake off his poor posture from stooping over reports. “I apologize, I hadn’t expected you.” 

“Should I have sent notice?” 

“No, I only—“ He stopped himself, steepling his fingers. “Can I help you with something?”

She leaned against his desk, placing her unburned hand on the wooden surface - the other would only grip its irritation at her if it took her weight, hidden beneath a glove. Scanning the multitude of papers and books strewn about, she said, “Are they overworking you already?”

"No more than everyone else," Cullen replied dryly, seemingly unbothered. 

“That is entirely untrue.” Ash grinned lopsidedly.” I know for a fact Dorian has been slacking off based on how much time he’s spent pestering me.”

“You're probably right about that.” His eyes fell to her crutch with concern. "Should you not be resting? You won’t heal properly if you're exhausting yourself just to stand."

“The healers are encouraging me to walk, apparently it’s good for me or something.” Ash shrugged, slipping her hip onto the desk, eager to take the pressure off her leg.

"I'm sure that's what they said." The Commander’s voice dripped with blithe sarcasm. Though he was clearly exasperated, he was also trying very hard not to smile. "You don't need to push yourself, even if the healers give you the go-ahead for some exercise. They’re also meant to give you rest, lest we forget."

“Ugh,” Ash groaned dramatically - in another life, she could have been an actress. “You sound just like Rae. If I don’t do something I’m going to lose my mind.”

“You haven’t lost it already?” The teasing tilt to his smirk was unexpected, but a warmth bloomed in her chest all the same. 

Ash gasped with mock outrage, placing a hand over her chest. “It’s only been two minutes and you’ve already insulted me. If I didn’t know any better I’d think you hated my company.”

Cullen rolled his eyes, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair. “No witty retort of a prurient nature? Can it be that you’ve lost your touch?”

Ash grinned, all sharp canines and feral delight, boredom having evacuated the space in her antsy limbs. “Never.”

"I'm waiting," he taunted, waving his hand as though she needed his permission. Could it be that the Commander was…flirting with her? She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him in such a good mood.

“That’s not how it works. I can’t just come up with something, it has to be natural.”

"Oh, of course," he said with sardonic understanding. "How silly of me to think that a witty retort could be created."

“You know, for someone who's getting after me for not resting, you look pretty exhausted too.”

The Commander's smile quickly faded into a slight frown. Ash wished she’d kept her mouth firmly shut, but rarely did she ever give her mind time to stop her mouth from running. “That's-" he started to protest, only to stop and sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"Yes, well…" He huffed as if he were offended by the truth. "I've been busy."

“Ah,” Ash chuckled ruefully, shaking her head. It was too late to go back now, she may as well go all in. “I forgot that you could just stave off exhaustion as long as you keep yourself busy. Who needs sleep when there are reports to read and soldiers to yell at.”

"Ha ha," he replied, not laughing in the slightest. "Very funny." Cullen sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I suppose you're here to tell me I need to quit working so much, then?"

A delighted grin spread across her face and she was sure he immediately regretted asking. “Nope,” she said, popping the ‘p’. “I’m here because I was bored and needed someone to bother. I’ve gone through everyone else, you’re the last on my list.”

"Maker forbid I get any actual work done-" he muttered under his breath, stopping himself when it only seemed to widen her grin. "Fine,” he conceded. He stood, his chair scratching against the ground as it was pushed back. “I suppose you can keep me company. But you still need to take a seat. And no pushing yourself. I don't want you passed out on the floor.”

Ash hopped off the edge of the desk, as he fetched her a chair from the corner of the room - ever the gentleman - to the opposite side of the desk as the Commander. “I suppose that’s a fair request, but I have a counteroffer. How about instead of making you entertain me - since you already have so much work to do - I help you with said work?”

"So now you want to be helpful?" The Commander smirked faintly, raising an eyebrow at her change in attitude. "And just what exactly did you have in mind?"

Ash bit back her more…suggestive suggestions, knowing there was only so far she could push someone before they snapped. She hadn’t found his limit yet, but she was sure she would soon enough. “You’re the commander, you tell me. Anything is better than twiddling my thumbs in my room, waiting for Dorian.”

"You shouldn't be up as much as you are anyway," he noted, a hint of disapproval in the lowering of his voice. Since when had he become a healer? “But I suppose you can start with those."

He pointed to a pile of reports spread along the edge of his desk, several of them half-sorted in a rather disorganized fashion - like he’d started and promptly given up.

“And what should I do with those?”

"The ones on the left need to be sorted by priority and date," he explained. "I'd also appreciate it if you'd separate them into categories."

“Anything for you, Ser,” Ash said with as much cheekiness as she could muster, gracefully plucking the nearest report from the stack and began to peruse its contents.

"Maker, don't start with that again," he grumbled, shaking his head, though she caught the upwards twitch of his lips and felt pride swim about her chest. 

Cullen reached out for a pen, scribbling a short note before looking back to her, his forehead pinched. "Don't tire yourself out."

A final command, one she was sure to ignore. Honestly, people needed to stop treating her as if she had just faced death at the hands of an Archdemon - she’d survived, she was ready to move on and never think about it again. Stuff those memories in a deep dark cave where she stuffed all the others. "Stop mother hen-ing me and get to your work. I’m not going to die from reading." 

"I am not 'mother hen-ing'.” His attempt at protesting fell flat as he pouted - Ash wasn’t sure he realized his expression would be considered as such - turning back to the task at hand. "You're not made of glass, you're more stubborn than that," he said under his breath as he resumed writing.

Ash smiled wolfishly, stretching the already aching burn on her cheek she was pointedly ignoring. “I’m glad you see my potential.”

"Potential to make my life significantly more difficult, yes." The Commander smirked and Ash resisted the urge to kiss it off his face. Instead, she laughed, bright and joyous and with an undercurrent of panic at her thoughts. But by Mythal did she want to kiss him. No one had the right to be that handsome and endearing.

Ash focused her attention on the reports, using her uninjured hand to sort through the piles. She started by separating them into neat stacks based on priority level, taking care to read each one thoroughly. The mundane details of supply requisitions and troop movements quickly absorbed her, providing a welcome distraction from the aches of her healing body.

As she worked, Ash felt the Commander's gaze flit to her periodically, lingering for a few moments before returning to his own work. She bit back a grin, imagining his eyes tracing over her, his thoughts drifting to decidedly unprofessional places before he caught himself. Wishful thinking, it was almost entirely certain he was looking at the areas of scarred skin that crept up her neck, bare from any bandages and not hidden by her thick cloak.

The minutes stretched on as they worked in comfortable silence, the only sounds the scratch of Cullen's quill and the shuffling of parchment. Ash could feel her energy waning as the simple act of sorting the papers taxed her injured arm and fogged her mind. She blinked heavily, struggling to focus on the words swimming before her eyes. The temptation to rest her head on the desk and slip into the Fade's embrace grew stronger with each report.

Stubbornness kept her going, not wanting to prove Cullen's concerns valid. But eventually, her traitorous body betrayed her, a yawn cracking her jaw.

She didn't notice Cullen look up at the sound, eyeing her with a slight worry. "I think that’s enough for today."

Ash scoffed. "I’m not tired.” It was a blatant lie, and she yawned again. 

"You're a bad liar," he replied, raising an eyebrow at the obvious fatigue. "You need to rest," Cullen said with a note of sternness that even the most indignant part of herself yearned to give in to. If she’d been less sleepy, perhaps she would have had the energy to be alarmed at the thought.

Ash pursed her lips, but the fog of exhaustion stopped her from controlling her words. “I don’t want to go back to my room.” 

She hadn’t meant to admit that, but she couldn’t exactly take it back now. 

Cullen leaned back, taking in the reluctant confession and not missing the note of hesitation that came with it.

"Why?"

To most people, it must have seemed odd that she had no desire to rest in her room after such a taxing ordeal. But Cullen's tone held no judgement, only an open curiosity and understanding - though it could have been wishful thinking on her part.

He waited patiently for her response, his piercing honey-coloured eyes fixed on her. They were intense yet somehow warm and beautiful, like pools of liquid gold.

Sighing, she gave in. “Look it’s not that bad, I’m just…I don’t like not being able to help. Everyone is working so hard and I’m just lying in my bed and trying not to think about how much everything hurts.”

That last bit had slipped out unbidden, another unwilling admission, a wound refusing to heal. Ash cringed at the vulnerability. The tightness of her skin pulled at her mottled body, the nerve endings fried and sending shooting pains through her at the most random of times. But Cullen had enough burdens to bear without adding her own to his list. 

"Ah," he replied, and he needed to say no more to convey his comprehension. Cullen exhaled deliberately and pushed himself up and out of his seat, taking a few long-legged strides around his desk to stand next to her.

Ducking her face to hide her embarrassment - why in Mythal’s bloody fucking name had she told him that? - she pulled at the hem of her sleeve, staring at her lap like she could see the scarred skin underneath. 

Cullen hesitated, glancing down at the reports scattered across the desk before resting a hand firmly on her shoulder. She swore she could feel the heat of his touch through the layers of her clothes, and all she longed for was to remove the fabric between them, close the distance and—

"I have seen many soldiers struggle to adjust after a substantial injury, it’s a normal process, though no less difficult for it.” He applied a bit more pressure to ensure she wouldn't try to get up and run off - as was her inclination. Not that she could run in her condition. 

“I know, I know.” She waved him off like a fly buzzing irritably around her ears. “I’ll suck it up. I’m being a baby about it. It just makes me so antsy.”

“You are not behaving like an infant," he protested with a shake of his head. "The fact that you're able to do as much as you have already with the severity of your injuries is impressive in and of itself."

Ash turned to look at him, her eyes guarded. “I needed to do something. Rae already left on her mission, I should have been out there with her.”

His mouth curved into a disapproving frown. “You believe you should be out in the field in the state you're in?"

Even though she sulked, she wasn’t entirely unreasonable at all times. “No. I’m not that much of a pig-headed fool. But I can’t sit around and do nothing either.”

He chuckled quietly at her words. His grip on her loosened somewhat - though she found herself wishing it wouldn’t. "Well that is the first sensible thing you've said all day," he said. "As stubborn as you are, you're not a fool. Though, I'd say you're still a little bit pig-headed."

Ash snorted, rolling her eyes, despite the truth of his back-handed compliment. “That’s not very nice.”

"But you don't deny it," he noted, a smirk resting on his lips.

Ash yawned once more, exhaustion weighing down her eyelids. She supposed he had a point. “I’ll stop taking up your time then, Commander.” She moved to stand, though lacked her usual grace and stumbled a little, wobbly on her feet.

Cullen’s hand dropped from her shoulder instantly, catching her elbow to steady her, stepping closer. His proximity was intoxicating, the subtle scent of leather and parchment drifting towards her. She found herself mesmerized by the flecks of gold in his eyes, visible now that he was so near.

When had the room gotten so warm? Ash's pulse beat a frenzied rhythm and she prayed to any god who would listen that Cullen couldn't hear it. A traitorous part of her mind wondered what it would feel like to close the remaining distance between them, to press herself against the solid bulk of his chest. Would his stubble scratch pleasantly against her skin if she tilted her head up to brush her lips against his?

No, no, no. She couldn't think like that. He was just being kind, helping a wounded… friend? Nothing more.

"Careful,” he warned and she took it twofold.

“What did I say about mother hen-ing?” Ash clicked her tongue in dismissal, though she made no move to remove his hands from her elbow. 

"Oh, stop," he said, moving to her side, still holding her on her feet. "You can barely stand. I am not 'mother hen-ing', I am keeping you from falling face-first onto the floor. Wood panelling is unforgiving.”

“Same thing,” she grumbled, snatching her crutch from where it rested. “I’ll make it back to my room just fine, don’t worry about me.”

"Don't worry about you?" he repeated, the grip on her side tightening. "You can barely take a step without stumbling. If you go back to your room now, chances are you're going to fall and either end up right back where you started, or hurt yourself worse than you already are."

“Well, I can’t exactly fly there now can I?”

"If you continue to be difficult, I'll carry you."

He was half joking, of course, but he'd probably do just that if Ash kept it up - if only out of spite.

She glared at him, unable to slip her crutch under her arm with him in the way. “Don’t you dare.”

"Then start being cooperative.”

“I hate you.” A lie, and they both knew it. “You can help, if you must.”

"Excellent," he replied, his demeanour immediately shifting to self-satisfaction.

He pulled back, offering his strong arm for her to hold onto. With reluctance, she accepted, looping her arm around his. He guided her as she slowly hobbled along, supportive and not as pushy as she had expected. She’d seen him order his soldiers around and she’d wondered if he would make her march.

Sweetpea stared at her from beneath his desk, discontent that she had stolen him away. Ash rolled her eyes, where that cat has gotten her attitude she had no idea, and she refused to look inward.

With a fair amount of trouble, and several instances of Cullen having to steady her when she stumbled, she managed to get into a rhythm of careful steps, making her way across the courtyard. 

“Do you have any sense of self-preservation at all?" Cullen asked when her knee gave out momentarily and he had to hold her upright.

“I was bored,” she sniffed. “You can hardly blame me.”

"You were bored.” He shook his head. "Right. Because being bored is a completely acceptable justification for getting up and exerting yourself until you can’t walk."

“You get it.” She patted his arm condescendingly. “Besides, I honestly didn��t think I was this tired.”

He chuckled faintly, though more out of irritation than humour, and continued to aid her in her walk.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached her quarters. Cullen gingerly helped Ash inside and guided her over to the bed. As she sank down onto the soft mattress, relief breathed air into her lungs.

Cullen pulled back, a hand resting on the pommel of his sword. Ash resisted the urge to request that he wield that weapon against her and cut off the parts of her body that ached, knowing it would only horrify and disgust him. “Now stay here. Rest, maybe, for once."

“Yes, Ser.” Ash saluted him, giving her most serious impression of a dedicated soldier.

"By the Maker…" he muttered, unable to hide his grin at her sarcastic salute.

Ash had the good graces to give him an out, lying back on her bed, her body sagging. “I’ll see you later.” 

“I have no doubt.” He turned to leave, and Ash found a question slipping from her lips.

“Not so long this time, yeah?”

Cullen paused at the threshold, his broad shoulders tensing visibly. He turned back to face her, his eyes clouded with an emotion Ash couldn't quite place. Was it guilt? Regret? She couldn't be sure.

"I…I apologize for my absence," he said, his voice low and strained. "It wasn't my intention to neglect you during your recovery."

Ash propped herself up on her elbows, wincing as the movement pulled at her burns. "It's alright, I understand you've been busy. I just missed our chats, I suppose."

Cullen's gaze dropped to the floor, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in that endearing nervous gesture she'd come to recognize. “I’ve missed them as well. Perhaps we could make them a more regular occurrence.”

Ash's heart fluttered traitorously in her chest. She tamped down the urge to grin like a lovestruck fool, instead quirking an eyebrow and adopting a teasing lilt to her lips. "Why Commander, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to court me."

Cullen's blush deepened to a vibrant crimson that spread to the tips of his ears. He sputtered, hands fidgeting with the pommel of his sword. "I-I didn't mean…Not that I don’t—Maker preserve me." He exhaled sharply, visibly flustered.

Ash bit back a laugh, warmth blooming in her chest at his endearing awkwardness. She decided to take pity on him, softening her smile. "I'd like that. The regular conversations, I mean."

He relaxed slightly, the tension easing from his shoulders. "Good. That's…good." A shy smile plucked at the scar on his lip. "I should let you rest now. Sleep well, Ashvalla."

She watched him turn to leave, admiring the strong line of his back and the way his blond waves caught the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the window.

“You too, Commander, whenever you manage to burrow your way out of that pile of reports.”

Cullen snorted, a sound so undignified it startled a laugh from Ash. "I'll have you know I've developed quite the talent for burrowing. I expect to emerge triumphant any day now." With that parting shot, he strode out of the room before Ash could muster a retort, the door clicking shut behind him.

Ash flopped back onto her pillows, ignoring the twinge of pain from her burns. She groaned, rubbing her face with her uninjured hand. This crush was getting out of control. It was one thing to engage in harmless flirtation, but the way her heart raced at his mere proximity was alarming. She couldn't afford to develop real feelings. Yet she couldn't wipe the silly grin off her face either, replaying their interaction in her mind. It was ridiculous, really, how a few stammered words and a blush could make her feel like a lovestruck teenager. But there was something about Cullen that drew her in, like a moth to a flame. And Creators help her, she was in danger of getting burned. Again.

The following day, Ash rose early and set out once again, but this time she made the conscious decision to leave the Commander undisturbed. Instead, she directed her steps towards the Herald's rest. When she’d been there with Dorian, she’d only seen the first floor, and her curiosity about what went higher was prickling at the base of her skull. There was something up there, and she was determined to find out. 

But as it so happened, it - or rather he - found her instead.

“Pulled, blood that is not blood, a tiny trace of time. Lips struggling to shape language her parents lived.”

Ash nearly leapt out of her skin at the sound of a breathy voice emanating from the dark corner of the third floor. That her head didn’t smash into the ceiling when she jumped was pure luck. As it was, her heart seized and the air in her lungs was expunged in a sharp gasp. She needed to learn to be more aware of her surroundings. 

The source of her heart attack made himself known as he stepped out from the shadows. It was the boy, or rather spirit, that she had seen on the day Haven was destroyed. He wore his silly wide-brim hat inside, an unexpected touch that added to his whimsy and mystery. The brim of the hat cast a shadow over his face, making it difficult for her to read his expression.

Straightening her spine and regaining her breath, she eyes him warily. A buried memory tickled the back of her brain; words of comfort whispered in the dark, her skin blistering and burning, splitting from the inside out. Cole, her sister had said he was called, a spirit of compassion.

“I’m surprised to see that the Inquisition has let a spirit stay loose in their base.” If he was so intent on talking to her that he risked her death, she supposed she could oblige. She took a few careful steps forward, close enough to speak at a regular volume, but far enough away that she could run if needed. Love pushed against her ribcage, an overwhelming sense of curiosity flooding her senses. They had never met another spirit in the wild before, certainly not one that seemed so… well-adjusted. 

“Keep him close, under a watchful eye until his intentions are clear. Keeper Deshanna said demons and spirits are the same, but he isn’t.”

Ash frowned, narrowing her eyes. “Did you overhear Rae say that?” Who else would have both the power to make that decision and a connection to the Lavellan Clan Keeper?

“Your sister is kind but…suspicious.”

Rae had never been the most trusting of people, but her paranoia had only been on the rise since she’d become the Herald, now Inquisitor. “She has a lot resting on her shoulders.”

“You have a lot resting on your heart. Love weighs you down, but she could set you free if you let her.”

That was what she’d been afraid of - that Cole could sense the spirit within her as she could sense him. Squaring her shoulders, her eyes darted around the room, careful to ensure no one was listening. The last thing she needed was for people to find out about her possession while she was too weak to fight back. He had been cryptic, and it wouldn’t be immediately obvious to anyone who overheard, she wasn’t willing to take the risk. What would he do with this information? Blackmail her to do his bidding? He didn’t seem like the type, but then she’d been wrong about other’s intentions before. 

“Inherited suspicion, yours and your mother’s. I won’t tell anyone, but you should.” His words hit her like a shot of high-proof alcohol on an empty stomach. “Love would not change how they feel about you.”

Ash pursed her lips to keep her snarl at bay. Trust used to come easy to her, but she had learned the hard way - again and again - that no one was ever as they portrayed. But Love warmed her chest, spreading down to her fingertips. Love trusted this spirit, and Ash had no choice but to trust her judgment - and his mercy. 

“Alright.” She forced her shoulders to relax, showing weakness was unwise. She couldn’t let him know that he scared her, not because he was a spirit, but because he knew a secret few others did. “And you’re the expert I take it? Compassion, was it?”

Cole’s forehead pinched as he regarded her. “You are afraid. Possession…you fear losing control. The fire, it burns inside, but it’s smothered beneath your thoughts, racing, always too fast so you don’t have to dwell in the horror lurking beneath the surface.”

Their conversation was quickly encroaching on dangerous territory, but his wide, innocent eyes had her holding back a biting remark. Instead, she said, “All mages are afraid of possession.”

It didn’t help that she’d been possessed as a child, before she’d understood her own power or had a grasp on the dangers it posed.

Cole’s head shook, she wasn’t understanding what he was trying to tell her. “Fear flickering like a flame in the dark. Your mother’s pleas, Rae’s cries for help, you always answer but it is never enough. But you are enough.”

Taking an involuntary step back, panicked magic crackled under her skin like ice beneath a heavy boot. 

“You’re listening to my thoughts,” she accused. She’d be having a word with Rae for not warning her about that particular power. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m only trying to help.” He tilted his head to the side. 

“If I need it, I’ll ask for it.” Ash turned from the spirit, heading towards the exit, hoping he’d take the hint that their conversation was done. But Cole had little experience with social cues. 

“You won’t.”

And perhaps the mind-reading spirit was right. Either way, Rae was about to get an earful.

The word 'fleeing' didn't sit well with Ash as she hurried back into the tavern. It felt too dramatic, too urgent for her hasty departure. But in a way, it was an accurate description. She could tell that Cole didn’t mean any harm, his innocence was practically a tangible thing, but that didn’t mean that what he’d said was not distressing. Truths were not something Ash enjoyed confronting about herself, especially not when it was a truth that another person had witnessed - that Ash wished to remain buried.

"Hey, Frosty, over here!" Amidst the boisterous chatter of the crowded tavern, Varric's deep voice rang out like a bell. He beckoned her over to a table near the cozy fireplace, where he sat with the towering Iron Bull and a slender, dark-haired woman whose vibrant red paint smudges on her nose caught Ash's eye. Though she tried to hide it, Cole's words still echoed in her mind, sending uncomfortable prickles across her skin. She was grateful for the distraction as she approached Varric's table, wincing slightly as she lowered herself onto the bench beside the dwarf - the wood creaking under her weight.

"Making new friends already, Varric?" Ash asked, nodding towards the fierce-looking woman across from her. Up close, Ash noticed the woman had piercing blue eyes that glinted sharply in the firelight.

Varric grinned, clearly pleased to make introductions. "Old friends, actually. Frosty, meet Marian Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall. Hawke, meet Ashvalla Lavellan, the Inquisitor’s sister and survivor of Archdemon fire."

Ash's eyes widened slightly. Like most in Thedas, she knew the legend of the refugee who had risen from nothing to become the saviour of the city of Kirkwall. Varric himself had told many stories during their travels. Ash had known that Varric had contacted her, thanks to Dorian’s gossip, but she never imagined she’d meet the Champion herself.

"A pleasure," Ash said, inclining her head respectfully.

Hawke gave a lazy smile. "Likewise. Any friend of Varric's…" She trailed off, her gaze drifting down to linger on Ash's ample cleavage spilling out of her robes - burns or not, Ash had an image to maintain and she’d opened her stifling cloak as soon as she’d entered the Herald’s Rest. “Is a friend of mine,” she finished with a roguish wink.

“Good to know,” Ash said with a feral grin of her own. From the stories that Varric had told, Ash was well aware that Hawke was entirely besotted with her elvhen lover and took no real interest in Ash. But still, Ash enjoyed a game of flirtation as much as any.

“I was just telling Bull here about the time Hawke fought the Arishok." Varric interrupted their heated eye contact with an eye roll.

"One mage against that monster of a Qunari?" Bull chuckled and took a swig of ale. "I'd pay good coin to see that."

"It was a damn good fight," Varric said. "Hawke dodged that greataxe like it was nothing. The Arishok didn't stand a chance against her."

Ash studied Hawke closely as Varric regaled them with the tale of her battle against the Arishok. Though she wore her fierceness like a second skin, there was a heaviness to the set of the Champion's shoulders, a haunted look flickering in the depths of her eyes. Ash wondered what struggles had honed that edge - there were always struggles with heroes. It reminded Ash of the soldiers she’d seen wandering about Skyhold after watching their friends get slaughtered at Haven. Hawke laughed easily along with the story, exchanging quips with Varric, but underneath, she sensed bone-deep exhaustion, the kind left by trauma that never fully healed.

Ash thought of her Rae, and her heart clenched with worry. Rae had the same reckless spirit, the same desire to prove herself through bold action. Ash saw so much of her little sister in the Champion of Kirkwall. She feared that one day, Rae too would carry such invisible scars from the life she was hurtling towards - who was Ash kidding, Rae already did. The lightness in her would be worn down by harsh experience, her eyes dulled by pain witnessed and caused. It was a disturbing thought. Rae was full of vibrant energy, sharp wit, and eager dreams. Ash desperately wished to protect her from the realities that she herself had come to know, but what good was she if she could barely walk, if only a few minutes of conversation left her exhausted and needing sleep?

She excused herself, ignoring the understanding that spoke of too much experience on Hawke’s face, and took her leave.

Be patient with yourself, you need time, Ash thought in a voice that sounded much too similar to Dorian’s. But she didn’t have time, Rae didn’t have time. Corypheus was a threat of unknown magnitude, and he was coming for her sister.

And Ash would do anything to stop him.

Next Chapter

A/N: They finally talked again! Will Cullen ever tell her that she died in his arms? How will Ash react?

Finally got to introduce Hawke! There isn't going to be a ton of her in this fic but I couldn't not include her at least a little bit :)

[tired-truffle]

Something’s Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 2.5k

Part 13 - The Bogfisher in the Room

"You can be better than this," my shame whispers in my ear. "You need to try harder. You need to hide the scary things you carry around. You need to act like you've arrived, even though you're so inadequate and broken that you never will." - Heather Havrilesky

Masterlist

“Don’t you even think about saying what you’re about to say.” 

Ash lifted her head from where she was sprawled on Rae’s cot. “What?”

Rae sighed like a long-suffering elder dealing with rambunctious children and placed her quill back in its ink pot. She folded her hands together on the makeshift desk, fixing Ash with a deadpan glare. “I can hear you thinking it. You’re not coming with me because you haven’t healed fully and I’m ordering you as the Inquisitor to stop feeling guilty about it.” 

With an irritated huff, Ash let her head flop back on the pillow. Rae had temporarily taken the room beside Ash’s as they worked on clearing out a better, more private space. “You can’t order someone to stop feeling guilty, that’s not how it works.” 

The scratch of the quill against paper signalled that Rae had returned to her missives. “It is now. You saved my life, Ash, you shouldn’t feel bad about surviving too. You’re more important than just another fighter.” 

“You’re right, the role of eye candy is vital to the function of the Inquisit—hey!” Ash startled as a wadded-up ball of paper hit her chest, bouncing off and onto the sheets. 

“First of all; ew,” Rae said, and Ash didn’t need to lift her head to perfectly picture the look of disdain her sister was hurtling her way. “And secondly; you’re more than just your looks and you know it.” 

“Yes, but then I’d have to get all mushy and you know how much I hate that.” 

“You’re impossible.” The eye roll was evident in Rae’s tone. “And you’re staying here. Also, I’m assigning Solas to take over your wound care in addition to mobilizing you.” 

At this, Ash sat up, regretting the sudden movement as pain flared up her side, the burned skin at her hips creasing uncomfortably. If only it could be entirely numb so she didn’t have to feel it. “You’re joking,” she said with a hiss - both from pain and irritation.

Rae didn’t give her the satisfaction of meeting her incredulous gaze. “The other healers will take care of your chest burns, but it's my understanding that those can be managed on your own. Your leg and arm still have a long way to go, and he’s one of the best healers we have. Plus, you can take this time to learn how to get along.” 

Ash barked a laugh. “With that stick in the mud? I don’t think that’s ever going to happen.”

“You get along with Commander Cullen just fine,” Rae said, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. 

“That’s because he puts up with me.” Ash ignored her sister’s leading tone. “Solas decidedly does not.” 

Grabbing another missive from her pile, Rae shrugged. “You’re an adult, I’m sure you can figure it out.” 

Biting her tongue, Ash nodded her understanding. She wasn’t truly that upset about Solas being in charge of her medical care, but she chaffed at not being given an option. Ash was capable of tolerating Solas, and she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that her admiration for him increased dramatically when he not only kept Love a secret, but had covered Love’s involvement in restarting her heart. But at the same time, it was also part of the problem. When she saw him she was reminded of her secret being out. Varric was different - easygoing and laid-back, with an underlying kindness that he often tried to hide under a mask of nonchalant indifference. Whereas Solas…Ash always worried he’d find some way to leverage it against her. 

Love pulsed in her chest, a gentle urging to be released. Ash pressed her knuckles against her sternum, pushing that feeling down. She may have allowed Love into her heart, but that didn’t mean she had to let magic her out. 

A chilly breeze blew through the open window and soothed Ash’s too-hot body - as it always seemed to be. 

“You should get some sleep before you set out tomorrow. The last thing you need is sleep deprivation in the Hinterlands,��� Ash said with a yawn. 

“It’s hard to sleep when you’re taking up my entire bed,” Rae shot back and Ash could admit that she had a point. 

Carefully rolling onto her good side, she pushed herself up so her legs swung off the sides. “We’ve shared a bed roll before, I’m sure we could figure out how to share this.” 

Rae snickered, grabbing another missive. “Didn’t you have to practically lay on me to get me to stop kicking you?”

“I had a bruise that lasted for weeks!” Ash lamented. Her poor bruised shin had twinged with every step. “As recompense, you should pass me my crutch.” 

Rae glanced behind her where it lay haphazardly on the floor. “If you hadn’t thrown it at me you wouldn’t be in this predicament.” 

“I was testing your reflexes.”

“You mean it wasn’t because I commented about how you’ve been mooning over Commander—“

“Stop right there or I’ll find something else to chuck at you.” 

Rae waved the off-white missive as a flag of surrender and - like the dutiful sister she was - stood to retrieve the crutch. 

Upon passing it to Ash, however, Rae was almost pulled off her feet as Ash yanked the crutch towards her, grabbing Rae’s chin in between her fingers when she stumbled. 

Ash scanned Rae’s face, her sister too startled to pull away. 

“You haven’t been sleeping,” Ash accused, noting the ever-deepening bags beneath her eyes. 

Rae scoffed, wrenching her chin out of her sister’s grasp. “I’m getting enough, I don’t need you to mother me.” 

Narrowing her eyes, Ash stood, leaning on her crutch for support. “You know the work will always be there tomorrow.”

“It’s not that,” Rae snapped, her eyes darting to the scars that snaked up Ash’s neck and jumping over to the dot-like scars around her lips. The new and the old.

Ash should have realized from the start. Rae had never been one to break herself over tedious tasks. “Nightmares?”

Rae’s responding glare and clenched fists were answer enough. 

“Do you want to talk about them?” 

Rae's head shook vigorously, her eyes darting away from Ash's unwavering gaze. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. 

It was late, and Ash could barely muster the strength to stand, let alone push Rae on it. 

“I’m here if you change your mind, you know that, right?”

Rae huffed a laugh, a crack in her gloomy mood. “As if I could ever get rid of you.”

There wasn’t any statement truer than that. Ash clapped Rae on the shoulder as she limped away. “And don’t you forget it.”

When Rae departed for the Hinterlands, Ash placed herself in charge of making sure she had an adequate room to return to. With Josephine's capable assistance, they procured all necessary items and made sure that everything was in order. Ash found herself spending more and more time in Josephine's office, as the Ambassador's company was much preferred over-exerting herself elsewhere. Despite being human, Josephine had a deep understanding of Elvhen culture and customs, and she seemed genuinely invested in making sure that Rae's new space would feel like home. For a human, she had a solid understanding of Elvhen culture and customs and seemed genuinely interested in ensuring that Rae would find her new space homey. It was no aravel, but the fresh air that blew through the large balcony doors was reminiscent of the many times their clan had trekked through the mountains. 

She’d even managed to have a cat-sized hole made in her door to allow Sweetpea free access.

While her torso and neck were freed from bandaging, her lower half and arm were not. Dressing changes and checkups with Solas went about as smoothly as Ash could have hoped for. She only cussed him out a few times, but in all fairness, he wasn’t the most gentle. In an attempt to distract herself, she had him recite his elvhen history knowledge that Rae had been so enamoured with. He’d indulged her, even when she scoffed at the pure ridiculousness of it all. Their gods were evil? Why in all of Thedas would they be so dutifully worshipped by a peaceful people if they weren’t good? 

It took a week before all the designs for Rae’s room were built and placed perfectly in the room - leaving Ash without entertainment yet again. Other than her walks with Dorian, she had little to look forward to. 

While Ash had never had much of a green thumb, when Josephine had mentioned that the garden needed tending, Ash had volunteered.

Ash found herself in the garden early the next morning, her crutch propped against a nearby tree as she knelt awkwardly in the dirt, keeping her weight on her right side. The morning breeze felt refreshing on her skin as she carefully tended to a patch of elfroot. Her fingers worked gently through the soil, mindful of the delicate roots.

“When I couldn’t find you in your room or with the Ambassador, I feared the worst,” Dorian said, breaking through her train of thought. “Only to find you knee-deep in the dirt like some sort of wild animal.”

Ash rolled her eyes, she’d hardly call pulling weeds ‘knee deep in the dirt’. While soil was stuck beneath the nails and covering the fingers of her uninjured hand - the other needing to stay clean and too sore for this sort of work - a simple brush on her robes cleared most of it. Ash looked over her shoulder, cringing as the scarred skin of her neck twisted. 

“Wild animals do not garden, Dorian. Though I suppose I can’t blame you for not being familiar with menial tasks given your posh upbringing.” She waved him over, holding out her hand to allow him to pull her to standing, maneuvering smoothly to where she’d leaned her crutch against a tree. 

“I’m familiar enough with gardening to know that it involves certain tools that you have forgone in favour of your bare hands.” Dorian let her set the pace as they began their walk, though he no longer had to support her.

“Are you uncomfortable with my barbaric Dalish ways, Tevinte?” Ash cocked an eyebrow, a challenge in the smirk that adorned her face. 

He shot her an unimpressed look, lips pressed into a flat line. “You know I am not.” 

Ash frowned consideringly. “Do I? We haven’t spoken much about your thoughts on the way Tevinter deals with elves. You’re bound to have some dreadful opinions, most humans do. Doesn’t your family own slaves?” 

“They weren’t all Elves, but yes, they do.” Dorian sighed. “If we must get into it, I ask you to consider that in the South you have alienages, slums both human and elven. The desperate have no way out. Back home, a poor man can sell himself. As a slave, he could have a position of respect, comfort, and could even support a family. Some slaves are treated poorly, it’s true, but do you honestly think inescapable poverty is better?”

Inhaling through her nose, she resisted the urge to bark at him for his naivety. Ash had been the one to bring up this topic and rationally she knew that yelling at him wouldn’t do anything to change his mind, but it was tempting. 

“You’re assuming that they don’t have opportunity and safety elsewhere.” Ash kept her tone even, the scars around her lips prickling at the edges of her awareness. “And you have that privilege, you’ve never been forced into making that impossible choice.”

She could see the gears turning in his head as he considered her words. “I don’t know what it’s like to be a slave, true. I never thought about it until I saw how different it was here. But I suspect you don’t know either, given you’ve spent your life with your Clan,” Dorian said, unaware of the way his words hit her like a knife to the chest. 

They reached a shaded spot near the stables, and as her energy faded, she pulled him to sit at the base of a tree. Leaning back against the rough bark, she was careful to keep her burnt limbs away.

Flashes of Rae’s hands reaching for her - small, even for her young age. The cries of terrified children, not knowing if they’d ever return home again. Bound and beaten, Ash had made a desperate decision.

“We could have met under vastly different circumstances, had the slavers who murdered my parents and kidnapped many of our clan’s children - myself and Rae included - gotten away with their crimes,” Ash said before she could stop herself. She hadn’t talked with Rae about divulging their shared history to anyone, especially a human from Tevinter. Would it change the way he saw them? Make him look down on them like cattle? 

When she glanced at Dorian, she found his jaw slack, his eyes wide as he realized just how deeply personal a topic this was. 

“I may not have experience with what slavery is actually like, but what I have seen of it was brutal. Once people believe it’s an option, they will abuse it. The slave trade has to get their new merchandise from somewhere. What you see of slavery is the palatable side, made so people with a conscience can sleep at night, but that isn’t the side that I am familiar with. How many of the slaves in your family’s care do you think started out like I almost did? Sure, they could have chosen your family because they’d treat them better than those who had no qualms buying them from slavers, but they are still slaves. They have no rights, no family, no power to advocate for their needs. Poverty isn’t right, but slavery isn’t the answer.”

Dorian was silent for a long moment, his brow furrowed as he processed Ash's words. She could see the conflict in his eyes, his face falling.

"I…I'm truly sorry, Ash. I had no idea." His voice was soft, tinged with regret.

Ash felt a twinge of guilt for unloading her past on him so abruptly, but Love pulsed agreeably in her chest, urging her to continue. She took a deep breath, the scent of hay and horse mingling with the crisp mountain air.

“I’m not the only one with an experience like this, not all were lucky enough to get away. You were raised to see it as normal, and I don’t expect you to change your opinions immediately, but I would appreciate it if you’d consider my view, as your friend.”

Dorian's face softened, his eyes meeting Ash's. "Of course, I will certainly give it more thought. Thank you for sharing that with me. It can't have been easy."

Ash nodded, feeling drained from the emotional conversation. She leaned her head back against the tree, closing her eyes briefly. "You're a good man, Dorian. I wouldn't have told you otherwise."

"You know," Dorian said at last, "when I woke up this morning, I didn't expect to have my entire worldview challenged before lunch."

Ash laughed, letting her memories fall by the wayside. “Shall we debate the Maker’s existence next?”

Dorian chuckled, shaking his head. “At least take me to dinner first.”

Ash wasn't foolish enough to believe he'd change his opinions with one conversation, but it was a start, and she had plenty of time to work on him.

Next Chapter

A/N: A horrible lack of Cullen in this chapter, but never fear, there is plenty of him in the next :)

I really enjoy writing Rae and Ash, I just love sisters and the affectionate aggression <3

Inquisition created some wonderfully flawed characters, but I think changing Dorian's ideas about slavery should be started ASAP. Now that Ash had the energy - and security in their friendship - she felt ready to tackle that difficult conversation. And nothing could change his mind quicker than realizing his friend had almost been forced into it.

How do you feel Ash's conversation with Dorian went? And do you have any predictions on how exactly the night where they were kidnapped went down - and what are those scars around Ash's lips from? I'd love to hear your ideas!

[tired-truffle]

Something’s Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 6.4k

Part 12 - Two Steps Forward

"I don't know what's going to come out of me," I told her. "It has to be perfect. It has to be irreproachable in every way." "Why?" she said. "To make up for it," I said. "To make up for the fact that it's me." - Suzanne Riveka

Masterlist

Flames licked hungrily at Ash, their fiery tongues lapping along her skin. A primal scream fought to flee from her lips, but she could only choke on the thick smoke that filled her lungs. The acrid stench of burning flesh assaulted her senses, making her gag.

Through the suffocating haze of agony and terror, Ash strained to make out the looming shape of the Archdemon. Its massive form towered over her, its obsidian scales reflecting the hellish light of the inferno it had unleashed. As she lay paralyzed with fear, she could feel the intense heat emanating from its body, searing her flesh and scorching her lungs with each breath. The beast's demonic eyes glowed with pure malice, savouring her suffering as it held her in its grasp.

Ash's mind reeled, thoughts scattering like ashes on the wind. She had to get away, had to run from this nightmare, but her body wouldn't obey. Her legs were the roots of an old, gnarled tree, rooted in place even as the conflagration roared around her. Blistering, bubbling, blackening skin sloughed away to expose raw red muscle. She was melting, dissolving, disintegrating to nothing under the Archdemon's attack.

It couldn't end like this. Rae, she had to protect Rae. Ash willed her arm to move, to summon ice or water to douse the blaze. But her magic flickered feebly and sputtered out, powerless against the flames. Helpless as a child.

The Archdemon's maw split into a hideous facsimile of a grin, baring dagger-like fangs. With a bellow that shook Ash to her core, it lunged, Voidfire spewing from its gaping jaws.

White-hot, blinding, blazing agony. Too much. Ash threw her head back and howled, an animalistic shriek torn from the depths of her being. The world shattered around her, falling away in a torrent of embers and shards.

But the scene shifted, melted, reformed itself into a different horror. Gone were the flames and the Archdemon's bulk. Now there was only a yawning chasm of darkness, an abyss that left her disoriented, unable to tell which way was up or down. Spectral forms emerged from the shadows - twisted, emaciated things with hollow eyes and gaping mouths. They circled her, clawed hands reaching, grasping.

Whispers filled the air, the words strange and distorted. Ash strained to make out their meaning but it remained just beyond her reach, the voices overlapping, entirely gibberish. Louder and louder they chanted, battering at her mind. She clapped her hands over her ears but it did nothing to block the maddening susurrus.

It built to a fever pitch, hundreds of ghostly throats wailing, the force of it driving Ash to her knees. Something inside her snapped, a thread of control fraying apart. All at once, wild magic burst from her in a concussive wave. A soundless roar filled her head as the surge of power rushed outwards, slamming into the spectres and hurling them back into the void.

Then, like a puppet with its strings cut, the energy abruptly deserted her and she crumpled. The ground seemed to turn to quicksand beneath her, dragging her down into its depths. Deeper and deeper she sank as her vision narrowed to a pinpoint of light, then winked out entirely. The last feeling was the cold press of oblivion folding itself around her, and then…nothing - only the fathomless dark and sweet silence.

“He passed beneath the stone gaze of the cormorant statues flanking the gates and nodded to the guards on his way to the barracks. No one noticed his ragged, bloody clothing, which disappointed him as much as he benefited from it. Recruits these days. Always slacking off.”

Grey stone walls greeted her, a pale light shining through the thick glass window. Her body itched and ached as it had for…days? Weeks? She had little concept of time anymore, though it was clear that she was no longer in her tent. Had they made it to Skyhold? 

Varric’s raspy baritone voice was easy enough to recognize, even in her groggy state. He continued reading, quiet and slow like a soothing bedtime story - but with a little too much violence to tell to children. 

“Donnen bypassed the Captain's office and went looking for Jevlan. By now the kid ought to be rested up, and Donnen suspected he would need backup if his large, suspicious shadows decided to pick a fight. But Jevlan's bunk was empty.”

“Is he dead?” Ash turned her head towards Varric, his feet propped up on the side of her bed - a real bed and not a cot, its mattress lumpy but still cozy - as he leaned back in a rickety-looking wooden chair. At her side, Sweetpea lay curled up, purring and kneading her thigh.

His lips curled into a devilish smirk. “No need to be hasty, you’ll find out in good time.”

Ash huffed, a childish impatience clattering through her that came from, well, however long she’d been stuck in bed. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, eyeing her with a strange amount of scrutiny. Though he tried to appear relaxed, Ash caught a glimpse of the tightness of his shoulders, and how Bianca sat propped against his chair, ready for use. 

“Like I got half my skin burnt off by an Archdemon.”

Varric chuckled, his finger drumming absent-mindedly against the book. “Yeah, I figured as much. But I meant more up here.” He tapped his forehead with his index finger. “No sudden urges to throw me against a wall?”

She furrowed her brow and cocked her head to the side, her lips pursing in confusion. He raised his hands in a gesture of nonchalance.

“I had to ask. The last time you woke up you threw the healer across the room while screaming bloody murder.”

Oh. Her heart sunk into her stomach. Fuck. Had that been the whispers in her dream? Simply the healer trying to do her job?

“Hey, no need to look like you strangled the life out of a kitten with your bare hands.” Varric removed his feet from her bed, placing his elbows on his bent knees and leaning forward. “Other than a few minor bruises and a touch of shock, she wasn’t seriously harmed.”

Ash gritted her teeth. “I still hurt her.”

Varric was silent as he studied her. “Was it you or…?”

Her heart continued to sink lower. “It was just me,” she confirmed, and some of the tension in his shoulders eased. “They sent you here to babysit me?”

“I volunteered.” An affectionate light lit up his eyes, and despite her desire to berate herself until she was blue in the face, she felt herself relaxing. 

But it didn’t last long. 

“I need to apologize.” Ash attempted to push herself off the bed, but she made it no farther than an inch before she collapsed onto the mattress, a guttural groan pulled from deep within her throat. 

“I wouldn’t suggest that,” Varric said a beat too late. “At least not without help.” He leaned back, opening his book once more. “And I’m afraid I don’t have the height to assist you, Frosty.”

Varric's voice washed over Ash as he resumed the tale, the cadence of his words lulling her into a sort of trance and cutting off any further protests. She let her eyes drift closed, the image of the stone walls around her fading away as her mind conjured the scenes he described. But try as she might to focus on the tale he wove, her mind kept wandering, thoughts skittering away like insects beneath a rock lifted by a curious child.

She stared up at the wooden beams crisscrossing the ceiling, tracing the swirling patterns in the knotted grain with her eyes. Dust motes danced in the pale sunlight slanting through the window, glittering like tiny diamonds. She would spend much too long in the coming days staring at that ceiling, until finally - Creators, finally - the healers began to help her up. Sitting came first, and with it came new aches and pains, but Ash was determined to grit her teeth and force her way through it. And that was exactly what she did, much to Rae’s chagrin when she was sparred a moment to check on her sister. It irritated her to the point that she’d assigned Solas to be in charge of Ash’s movement. Ash had almost exploded in a ball of fury when she’d heard this. She didn’t need to be coddled by her sister’s object of affection.

But she should have known better than to expect Solas to coddle her. If Ash was determined to walk through the pain, Solas was perfectly content with this, as long as it didn’t undo all the hard work he’d put into keeping her alive. To her surprise, he offered gentle but firm encouragements, and soon, she’d made it to the window and back while leaning heavily on the elvhen apostate. She wondered briefly if she could put enough weight on him to topple him over, suppressing a giggle at the image of a flattened Solas beneath her plump form.

Rae had other plans for Ash than just sicking Solas on her; she would provide a much-needed haircut. Rae's nimble fingers worked through what remained of her once-luscious locks, trimming away the singed and frayed ends. Ash fought to keep her eyes from straying to the pile of golden strands accumulating on the floor, each discarded piece a painful reminder of what she'd lost.

"You know," Rae mused, her tongue poking out slightly as she concentrated, "I always wondered what you'd look like with short hair. Guess the Archdemon did us both a favour."

"Yes, because that's exactly what I needed. A makeover from the Void."

Rae chuckled, moving to stand in front of Ash and eyeing her handiwork critically. "Don't be such a grump. It's not like you were using all that hair for anything useful."

“A rude assumption.”

Rae ignored her, making a few final snips. "There. All done. Want to see?"

Ash hesitated, her heart thumping nervously in her chest. Did she want to see? To confront how much had changed? Steeling herself, she nodded.

Rae produced a small hand mirror from seemingly nowhere - a trick Ash had long since given up trying to figure out - and held it up.

The face staring back at her was both familiar and foreign. Her hair, once flowing past her waist in golden waves, now barely brushed her shoulders. The left side was noticeably shorter, the burns having claimed more there. But Rae had done an admirable job evening it out, giving it a tousled, almost stylish look.

Purposefully, Ash did not let her gaze wander to the bandages covering her burns.

"See? Not so bad, right?" Rae's voice was gentler now, a hint of concern creeping in. "It'll grow back, you know. And in the meantime, think of how much easier it'll be to wash."

Ash reached up, running her fingers through the shortened strands. It felt strange, lighter. Like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders - both literally and figuratively. "I suppose it's not terrible," she admitted grudgingly. "Though I'll miss being able to braid it."

Rae's face lit up. "We can do little braids along the side, or maybe some fancy pins. Ooh, or we could shave one side completely and-"

"Don't push your luck," Ash warned. And though Ash was sure Rae was tempted, she backed off. For now.

Ash had a few visitors over the days of her recovery, most wishing her well briefly before disappearing, their duties calling them away - Bull had been almost too big to fit through her doorway, and she’d laughed harder than she had in much too long as she watched him struggle to fit his horns into the room. Dorian, however, had taken it upon himself to have tea with her every morning without fail. He would sweep into the room with a flourish, a silver tray laden with a steaming pot of fragrant tea and an assortment of delicate pastries balanced expertly in his hands. His presence was a welcome respite from the monotony of her convalescence, his witty banter and tales of his exploits in the library soothing her restless mind.

Ash was surprised, then, when both Leliana and Josephine separately stopped by her chamber. Leliana arrived first, silent as a shadow, her hood pulled low over her face. She stood at the foot of Ash's bed, her piercing blue eyes seeming to see straight through to Ash's soul.

"I am glad to see you are recovering well," Leliana said, her lilting Orlesian accent softening her words. "We were all quite worried."

Ash shifted uncomfortably under the spymaster's intense gaze. "Thank you.”

Leliana's lips quirked into a small, enigmatic smile. "I have heard reports of your incident with the healer." Shame flooded through her. But Leliana continued, "It is understandable, given what you have been through. Do not let it trouble you."

Ash blinked, taken aback by the unexpected absolution. Before she could formulate a response, Leliana leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I would, however, suggest speaking with Commander Cullen. He has been rather concerned as of late." With that cryptic statement, Leliana straightened, inclined her head in a brief nod, and glided out of the room as silently as she had entered.

Ash stared after her, mind whirling. Cullen was concerned? About her? The thought sent a strange flutter through her chest. But if he truly was concerned, why had he not stopped by? It wasn’t like she could go to him. He was busy, she was sure, but if what Leliana said was true, surely he would have sparred a minute of his time.

She was still pondering this when Josephine arrived, a vision of gold and blue silk, her clipboard clutched to her chest. The ambassador's warm brown eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled down at Ash.

"It is wonderful to see you awake," Josephine said, her voice as smooth and sweet as honey. "I have brought you some lemon cakes, would you care to share them?”

Ash found herself smiling in spite of her melancholy thoughts. "I would love to. Please, join me." She gestured to the chair beside her bed.

Josephine settled herself gracefully, arranging her skirts and setting the silver tray on the bedside table. The scent of the cakes wafted over to Ash, buttery and sweet with a hint of lemon. Her stomach rumbled appreciatively.

As Josephine portioned out the cake, Ash studied the other woman. She had seen the Ambassador around Haven and, of course, had exchanged polite greetings in passing. But they had never really spoken at length. Josephine always seemed to be in motion, flitting from one task to the next with an air of harried purpose. Yet here she was, taking time out of what was undoubtedly a packed schedule to check on Ash's wellbeing. It was touching, and Ash found herself warming to the other woman.

"I must admit, I'm surprised to see you here, Ambassador," Ash said as she accepted a slice of cake. "Pleasantly so, of course. But I would have thought you far too occupied with important matters to waste time on me."

Josephine tutted, shaking her head. "Nonsense. Checking on the health and comfort of the Inquisition's members is never a waste of time." She selected a piece of cake and placed it on a napkin, eyeing it with a poorly concealed eagerness. "And please, call me Josie. I think we can dispense with formalities, don't you?"

Ash took a bite of the cake, the rich buttery flavour melting on her tongue. She closed her eyes briefly in bliss. Josephine certainly knew how to choose her pastries. Swallowing, she replied, "I would like that."

The two women settled into a comfortable rapport, chatting amiably as they savoured the delicate lemon cakes. Josephine regaled Ash with tales of her diplomatic exploits, painting vivid pictures of grand balls and tense negotiations with recalcitrant nobles.

In turn, Ash shared stories of her own upbringing amongst the Dalish, describing the lush forests, ancient ruins that had been her playground, and the more popular Dalish dishes. Josephine listened with rapt attention, keen to glimpse into a culture different from her own.

As the last crumbs of cake were brushed away, Josephine glanced out the window, noting the sun's position with a small frown. She sighed, setting her napkin aside.

"I'm afraid I must take my leave," she said, genuine regret colouring her words. "There are a dozen letters that require my attention before the day's end." She stood, smoothing her skirts.

Ash felt a pang of disappointment, having enjoyed the ambassador's company more than she had anticipated. But she understood the demands of duty all too well. "Of course.” Ash offered a small smile. "Thank you for taking the time to visit. It was nice to have a friendly face to talk to. Well, a woman, that is. Dorian would be beside himself if he thought I’d described him as unfriendly.”

Josephine's smile softened, warmth suffusing her features. "It was my pleasure, Ash. Truly." She reached out, giving Ash's hand a gentle squeeze. "I will try to visit again soon. In the meantime, do not hesitate to send word if you need anything at all."

With a final smile and a swish of silk, Josephine left Ash to her solitude.

That was, until one Altus mage barged into her room the next morning with little care for her privacy and suspiciously lacking the tray of tea he’d taken to bringing as of late.

“A little birdie told me you were in need of a human crutch,” Dorian announced, a teasing grin tilting his perfectly groomed moustache. How would Solas feel about being called a little birdie, she wondered.

Ash was seated in a chair at her bedside, a plush but lopsided cushion placed beneath her to keep the weight off the burns on her rear end. Carelessly, she flung the book she’d been blankly staring at for hours onto the bed. 

“And you’ve come to offer your services?” 

Giving an overdramatic, flourishing bow, Dorian held out his hand. “I have and you may thank me later. Shall we?”

When she’d been walked by Solas, his quiet observation had left her with nothing to focus on but her stiff, achy limbs and the tight pull of her burnt skin, pain racing all over her body as it struggled to process the input from her fried nerves. But with Dorian, Ash did not have to worry about silence. 

Dorian looped his arm through Ash's, supporting her weight as they slowly made their way out of the room and down toward the gardens.

"It’s about time you saw it - Skyhold is positively bustling! We've got pilgrims and recruits pouring in from every corner of Thedas. The courtyard is packed with tents and training dummies. I've never seen Cullen so harried, the poor man is run ragged trying to whip them all into shape."

Ash huffed a laugh, picturing the Commander's exasperated grimace as he barked orders at a gaggle of green recruits. She felt a twinge in her chest at the thought of him, remembering Leliana's cryptic comment. Shaking it off, she focused on Dorian's animated chatter.

"Bull and his Chargers have set up shop in the tavern, of course. I swear, that Qunari can sniff out a cask of ale from a league away. He's become quite the local celebrity - the barmaids are all aflutter over his rippling muscles and 'rugged charm.'" Dorian sniffed disdainfully, but Ash caught a sprinkling of fondness beneath the snark.

They sat down on a bench and Ash pushed down the frustration that arose that she had only been able to make it a few steps into the garden. It was more than she’d managed yet, she should be proud of her progress, and she would have been for anyone else. But for some reason, she couldn't shake off the feeling that she should be meeting an impossible standard of recovery. It gnawed at her like a persistent itch, unrelenting and frustrating - or perhaps that was the twisting scars off her burns.

"Sera has claimed a tavern room for herself - apparently she's been pranking the guests by loosening the floorboards. Poor Josephine is at her wit's end trying to placate the victims."

"Sera's incorrigible. I'm surprised Josephine hasn't strangled her with one of her many sashes."

"Oh, I'm sure our dear Ambassador is sorely tempted," Dorian chuckled. "But she's far too diplomatic for such a scandalous display. Unlike a certain elven mage, I could name." He shot Ash a pointed look.

She swatted at him playfully. "Watch it, Tevinte."

"Speaking of scandals,” Dorian spoke out of the side of his mouth in an exaggerated aside. “You'll never guess who our dear Varric has been hiding from us."

Ash's eyebrows shot up, curiosity piqued. "Do tell."

"None other than the Champion of Kirkwall herself - Marian Hawke!" Dorian announced with a flourish, looking entirely too pleased with himself for delivering this bombshell.

Ash's jaw dropped. "Hawke? Here? But I heard that Varric swore up and down he had no idea where she was."

"He was lying through his teeth, the sneaky dwarf. He's been in contact with her all along, and now she's on her way to Skyhold to lend her aid to the Inquisition. Apparently, they’ve encountered Corypheus before." Dorian settled back against the bench, crossing his legs and smoothing his mustache. "I must say, I'm rather looking forward to meeting the woman behind the legend."

Ash snorted, a wordless agreement. Trust Varric to pull a stunt like that. She couldn't blame him for wanting to protect his friend, and it soothed a piece of her soul that he was able to so capably keep a lie, even under pressure, if he wanted to.

While Dorian’s chatter was a great distraction, soon even sitting on the bench became too much, and with great pain, he helped her back to her room. But he returned later that day, and then the next day, and the one after that, until their strolls became routine.

In the early days, Ash's walks were limited to the rundown gardens just outside her room, too exhausted from her pain and sedentary time. Yet, slowly but surely, she was able to make it further. It helped soothe the restlessness rattling her bones to make her rounds of the Skyhold courtyard.

Ash leaned heavily on Dorian's arm as they made their way into the bustling tavern, the raucous laughter and clinking of tankards assaulting her ears. The scent of stale ale and unwashed bodies hung thick in the air, making her wrinkle her nose. But beneath it all was the mouthwatering aroma of roasting meat, making her stomach rumble insistently.

Dorian guided her through the throng of patrons, his aristocratic bearing and immaculate robes drawing curious glances. He paid them no mind, his focus solely on maneuvering Ash to a relatively quiet corner table. She sank onto the rough wooden bench with a barely suppressed groan of relief, her legs trembling from the exertion of the short walk.

"I'll fetch us some refreshments, shall I? Don't go anywhere." Dorian winked, then disappeared into the crowd.

Ash leaned back against the wall and let her eyes drift shut. The tavern's racket washed over her, voices and laughter blurring into a strangely soothing white noise. She had agreed to this test, to see how she would fare in such a crowded and noisy environment, and so far, she was surprised at how well she was managing. After her lengthy convalescence, she would need time to get used to being around others again.

As Dorian took his sweet time, she felt herself starting to drift, her exhausted body eager to slip into a restful state.

"Look who's up and about!" A deep, rumbling voice jolted Ash from her doze.

Ash cracked open one eye to see The Iron Bull looming over her, his massive frame blocking out the light. A wide grin split his scarred face as he plopped down on the bench across from her, the wood creaking alarmingly under his weight.

“Bull," Ash greeted, mustering a tired smile. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Bull chuckled, the sound like distant thunder. "Just wanted to check in on you. Make sure you weren't getting into any trouble."

"Trouble? Me? Never." She shifted, wincing as her scarred skin pulled taut. "I'm afraid I'm not up for much excitement these days."

Bull's single eye glinted with mirth. "That's not what I've heard. Word is you've been terrorizing the poor healers."

Ash grimaced, shame coiling in her gut. The last she’d heard, the healer she’d tossed against the wall had been assigned to the barracks - far away from her. "Not intentionally." She picked at a splinter on the table. "It's hard being cooped up for so long. I feel like I'm going stir-crazy."

"I get it,” he said, and Ash had the feeling that he was being genuine, not simply placating. “It's tough, being out of commission. Feels like you're letting everyone down." He leaned forward, resting his massive forearms on the table. "But you gotta give yourself time to heal. Pushing too hard, too fast - that's a good way to end up right back where you started."

Ash sighed, knowing he was right but hating it all the same. It was what everyone had been telling her after all. Her restless energy felt like a living thing, crawling beneath her skin and driving her to distraction. She needed to be doing something, anything, to feel useful again. But her battered body had other ideas, betraying her at every turn with its weakness.

As if sensing her darkening thoughts, Bull grinned, his teeth flashing white in the dim light. "Tell you what - when you're back on your feet, you and I can go a few rounds in the training ring. Help you work out some of that frustration."

Ash perked up at the offer. "You're on," she agreed readily. "Prepare to eat dirt, Qunari."

Bull threw his head back and laughed, the sound booming through the tavern. "That's the spirit! I like a woman with fire." He winked roguishly, though there was no true desire behind it.

Before Ash could muster a retort, Dorian materialized at her elbow, two tankards in hand. He slid onto the bench beside her, eyeing Bull with both wariness and reluctant intrigue.

"Making friends, are we?" Dorian asked archly, pushing a mug of water towards Ash. She accepted it gratefully.

"You know me," Bull rumbled, his gaze raking appreciatively over Dorian - now that was a look of desire. "I'm the friendly sort."

Dorian sputtered into his ale, a flush rising on his high cheekbones. He dabbed at his mouth with an embroidered handkerchief - Ash hadn’t seen him take it out, where in the Void had he been keeping it? - glaring at Bull over the fabric. "I'm sure," he said dryly, though his voice held a telltale quaver.

Ash watched the exchange with growing attentiveness, her eyes darting between the two men like a spectator at a particularly engrossing tennis match. Bull's flirtations were about as subtle as a charging druffalo, but Dorian's flustered responses were the real entertainment. The normally unflappable mage was practically squirming in his seat, his wit deserting him in the face of Bull's blatant interest. It wasn’t long before Dorian made a poor excuse to depart - citing Ash’s exhaustion, despite how she had perked up - and all but pulled Ash out of the tavern.

As the week progressed, she had traversed through crowds of familiar faces and caught up with old friends, Dorian always by her side. Even Vivienne had taken a minute to stop her for a chat while she walked with Dorian, unexpected as that may have been.

"Miss Lavellan," Vivienne purred, her gaze sweeping over Ash with calculated precision. "I see you've finally emerged from your sickbed, a feat I wasn’t sure would ever come to pass."

Ash couldn’t figure out if it was meant as an insult, and before she could retort, Vivienne continued, "Those bandages simply won't do. I shall find you some robes that compliment your scars."

Taken aback, Ash covered her startle to the best of her abilities. "I don’t know, I think the white bandages suit me. Besides, the healers said I have to keep them covered, don’t want the sun re-burning them."

Vivienne's perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched. "I said compliment, darling, not cover. One must always present one's best face to the world, regardless of circumstance."

She circled Ash like a shark scenting blood, her critical gaze taking in every detail. "Yes, I believe I have just the thing in mind. A deep emerald silk, perhaps, with gold embroidery to draw the eye. We'll need to adjust the neckline to accommodate your bandages, of course, but that's easily managed."

Ash wasn’t keen on being her doll, though she did like the idea of a pretty robe for when she was feeling better - it would be wasted now. "I appreciate the thought, but I'm not exactly in a state for fancy dress."

Vivienne's laugh was cut crystal, sharp and glittering. "Darling, that is precisely when one must make the effort. Your current state of dishabille may be excused due to your injuries, but it cannot continue indefinitely. The Inquisition must present a united and polished front, even in times of crisis."

Dorian, who had been watching the exchange with poorly concealed entertainment, finally chimed in. "Come now, Vivienne. Surely you can allow our dear Ash some time to recover before subjecting her to your exacting sartorial standards?"

Vivienne's gaze snapped to Dorian, her smile turning predatory. "And you, Lord Pavus? Shall we discuss your penchant for buckles and straps? One might think you were advertising for a very specific sort of attention."

Dorian sputtered indignantly, his mustache bristling. "I'll have you know this is the height of fashion in Minrathous."

"Yes, dear," Vivienne said, her tone dripping with false sympathy. "And that speaks volumes, doesn't it?"

Ash had to pull him away before they spent hours bickering over fashion. She wasn’t interested in spending her limited walking time fighting Vivienne when she knew she wouldn’t win.

Yet, even as everyone greeted her and wished her well, one person was always missing - a certain Commander who had been on her mind more than she would admit. She’d caught a glimpse of his back once as he stood at a run-down table out by the healers’ tents, but he’d been engrossed in conversation and she hadn’t wanted to interrupt. Or rather she had wanted to, but had decided against it for reasons that were still unknown to her - unacknowledged. 

“You’re looking a bit more stable on your feet today,” Dorian commented as they made their way around Skyhold. 

“Worried I’ll be able to replace your support with a crutch?” She was still too prone to dizziness to be able to walk on her own, but the more they walked, the less it happened. Solas had informed her that he would be moving her to crutches within the next week. The healers were also set to remove her bandages then as well. She was looking forward to removing the restrictive fabric and ending her daily dressing changes. Thank the Gods it wasn’t Solas who provided that service.

Dorian laughed, though it was more of a guffaw. “You’ll never be able to replace me with something so simple. I’ll of course accompany you even when you no longer require my steadying presence.”

“You’re right.” Ash leaned more of her weight than was necessary on him, laughing as he stumbled before he caught himself. “I would be lost without your guidance.”

“Then allow me to guide you towards the training yard.” 

Ash found herself wary of the sly grin that appeared on Dorian’s face as he steered her towards the exit of the main courtyard. “Why the training yards? You know I haven’t used my magic since Haven, I’m not exactly in sparring shape.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of observing our dedicated troops. Make sure they’re hard at work, protecting the innocent and ensuring no dastardly demons descend upon us.”

“Is that all?” She didn’t believe him for a second. “No ulterior motives? You didn’t hear a rumour that Bull would be practicing there?”

Dorian raised his nose in the air and sniffed indignantly. “I haven’t a clue as to what you are implying, I assure you my intentions are nothing but pure.”

Ash hummed her disbelief, but acquiesced. She wasn’t opposed to watching the soldiers train - the sight of sweaty bodies grappling and clashing with wooden swords was always entertaining, if nothing else. 

Ash gritted her teeth, stifling a groan as they neared the training yard, her hip tightening in protest. The healers had been correct, she’d lost feeling in patches across her burned body - the worst parts where her nerves had been burned away entirely. However, that didn’t stop the rest of her body from protesting the increased exertion. She could feel the telltale ache building in her muscles, a weariness that seeped into her bones. Perhaps this hadn't been the wisest idea.

She was just about to suggest to Dorian that they turn back when a flash of golden hair caught her eye. Her gaze snapped to the source, and all thoughts of fatigue fled her mind. There, in the center of the training yard, stood the Commander, demonstrating a series of intricate sword maneuvers to a group of fresh-faced recruits. His movements were fluid and precise, each strike and parry executed with a self-assured grace. He was sure of himself, confident and calm, like it cleared his mind.

But it wasn't just Cullen's swordsmanship that had her heart stuttering in her chest. No, it was the way his white linen shirt clung to his sweat-dampened skin, outlining every ripple and plane of his muscular torso. The fabric was nearly translucent in places, offering tantalizing glimpses of what lay beneath. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing corded forearms that flexed with each powerful swing of his sword. She'd never seen him without his mantle and armour before, and her mouth went dry at the sight, her tongue darting out to wet her suddenly parched lips.

A low chuckle at her side had Ash startling, her head whipping around to find Dorian watching her with an infuriatingly knowing smirk - one perfectly groomed eyebrow arched in a silent question.

Ash’s cheeks heated under Dorian's far too perceptive gaze. "Shush," she said with contempt, tearing her eyes away from Cullen's glistening form with difficulty.

"I didn't say anything," Dorian replied, all wide-eyed innocence belied by the wicked curve of his lips.

"You didn't have to," Ash grumbled. "Your face says it all." She shifted her weight, wincing as her burn twinged. Fuck, everything hurt. The dull throb she'd been ignoring in her lower back flared to life, and she had to grit her teeth against a pained hiss.

Dorian's hand on her elbow steadied her, his teasing expression morphing into one of concern. "Perhaps we should head back," he suggested gently. "You're looking a bit peaky."

Ash shook her head stubbornly, even as her scarred leg twitched. "I'm fine," she insisted. Her gaze drifted back to Cullen of its own accord, taking in the flexing muscles of his back as he lunged and parried with a recruit, a practical education. "Besides, I think you're enjoying the view as much as I am."

"Maybe," Dorian allowed, tilting his head to better appreciate the spectacle. "The man does fill out a pair of breeches rather well, I'll give him that much.”

“Mhm,” she responded distractedly, her mind only half on the pleasing sight before her. As she watched Cullen put his recruits through their paces, a nagging thought wormed its way to the forefront of her mind, refusing to be ignored any longer.

Why hadn't he come to see her? She’d spent much too long dwelling on the question, and still, she didn’t have a good answer.

The silence from the Commander was conspicuous, an absence that gnawed at Ash's insides like a hungry rat. She tried to tell herself it was nothing personal, that he was simply too occupied with his duties to spare a moment to visit her - it wasn’t like they’d been friends right? And the Inquisition's forces wouldn't train themselves, after all. Surely that demanding task consumed his every waking hour.

And yet a small, insidious voice whispered in the back of her mind, an insistent lingering of doubt. Perhaps it wasn't duty that kept him away, but discomfort. Unease. Regret.

Ash's stomach twisted into knots as the thoughts burrowed deeper, taking root like poisonous weeds. Her mind spun back to the tent, when Rae had been called away and Cullen had taken her place at Ash's bedside.

She'd been so sure in the moment, riding high on the rush of their verbal sparring, and making such a proud man blush. The soft smile as he’d held her hand, careful not to squeeze too hard - she'd been certain it meant something. Though she wasn’t sure why she wanted it to.

But now, with the clarity of distance and the ache of absence, doubt hounded her like a hunting dog. Had she misread the situation entirely? Projected her own foolish desires onto his reactions, seeing only what she wanted to see? The thought made her stomach churn with embarrassment and self-recrimination - sickening.

Perhaps Cullen had simply been humouring her, too polite to pull away when she'd taken such liberties. What reason would he have to welcome her touch, her teasing? She was a mage, an outsider, a wild Dalish elf with no regard for propriety. Hardly the sort of woman a man like him would look twice at, let alone entertain such flirtations from.

“Should we head down so you can give him your praises in person?”

Ash tried not to let her sourness show in the tightness around her eyes, tried not to dampen the mood with her silly feelings, but Dorian was not so easily fooled. His teasing grin softened, and she scoffed, irritated at the concern swimming in his gaze. 

“You’re thinking so loud I can practically hear it.”

Ash bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted iron. It didn’t matter that Cullen didn’t see her in a romantic or lustful light, nothing could come of it anyway. It was easier if he didn’t care for her. “It’s nothing. I just doubt he’d want to see me is all. He’s…busy.”

If Dorian wore glasses, they would have been halfway down his nose with the exasperated look he was giving her. “Fascinating. Tell me, how did you come to this astounding conclusion?” he drawled, a heavy dosing of sarcasm lacing his tone. 

Ash scowled at him, and though she knew he would judge her for her answer, she said it anyway. “If he wanted to see me he would have chosen to already. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” 

Dorian laughed like she’d just said the funniest joke he’d ever heard. She debated elbowing him in the side again, but decided against it - she could only rain so much physical harm down upon him before he made her regret it. “My dear, sweet Ashvalla.” He patted her cheek with a patronizing smile, to which she only scowled harder, her pointed ears flattened against the sides of her skull. “Did no one tell you that he’s been asking for updates regarding your well-being almost daily?”

The scowl slipped off her face and she blinked rapidly. “What?”

“The Commander is many things, but overzealous and invasive in his affections is not one of them. He is a private man, and therefore attempts to provide privacy in return, a show of respect, if you will.” 

That was…an astute observation of his character. She had been so consumed by her own desires that she hadn't stopped to consider that there was a positive reason behind his absence. Leliana had said he was concerned, but without understanding why, she’d assumed it was over-exaggerated. There was no doubt that he was busy and that would have limited his time to see her even if he had wanted to, but now she felt silly. Like a young girl with a crush on an unattainable man. 

“Fuck,” Ash mumbled, her ears dropping. “I hate it when you’re right.”

"Best not to doubt me, I am usually correct," Dorian quipped. "Now, are you going to continue ogling our dear Commander from afar, or shall we go over and say hello like civilized people?"

Ash hesitated, her gaze flicking back to Cullen. He was correcting a recruit's stance now, strong hands guiding the young man's arms into the proper position as they set up for mock battle. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, tracing a path along the sharp line of his jaw. Ash's fingers itched to follow that trail, to feel the rasp of stubble against her skin.

As if sensing her stare, Cullen looked up, amber eyes locking onto hers across the training yard. Ash's breath caught in her throat, her heart stuttering at having been caught.

She had been such a fool to think he was disgusted by her - no man would stare at her with such rapturous attention if he hated her.

Slowly, deliberately, she raised her hand and wiggled her fingers in a coquettish wave, her smile widening as a flush crept up Cullen's neck, staining his cheeks a becoming shade of pink.

So focused was he on Ash that Cullen failed to notice his sparring partner taking advantage of his distraction. The recruit lunged forward, wooden practice sword arcing towards Cullen's unprotected side. At the last second, the Commander twisted away, but not fast enough to avoid a glancing blow that had him wincing and snapping at the overeager soldier.

Ash couldn't help it - she laughed, the sound ringing out bright and clear across the yard. Cullen's head whipped around, his blush deepening as he watched her laugh at him. He scowled, the twist of his lips more chagrined than angry.

Cullen turned back to his troops, barking out orders with renewed intensity. But Ash didn't miss the way his gaze kept straying in her direction, almost hopeful in its shyness.

"Well, that was entertaining," Dorian intoned, the picture of nonchalance even as he barely suppressed his glee. "Shall we quit while we're ahead? I'd hate for you to be responsible for any training accidents."

Ash snorted inelegantly. "Please, as if any of them could get the better of Cullen in a real fight."

"Hmm, I'm sure you'd love to see just how forceful he can be," Dorian teased.

Ash pinched his arm and he yelped. "Hush, you. Now take me back to my room before I drop dead.”

"As you command, my lady.” He began to steer her away from the training grounds. "Let’s make our escape before you swoon from exhaustion. Or lust. Whichever comes first."

Ash made a rude gesture in his direction, but allowed herself to be led, her legs growing heavier with each step. But she made it, she always did. Like a cockroach Voidbent on surviving the end times, even a little heart racing over a gorgeous man couldn’t stop her.

Next Chapter

A/N: I love writing for Dorian and Ash, two emotionally incapable bitches surviving together <3

[tired-truffle]

💀 you’re so right. The most packed aquafit class you’ve ever seen, and every aquafit lady presents their granddaughter like they are at a ball. Cullen hates it, Alistair is just very bashful and doesn’t know what to do with himself when faced with all these women.

(But also omg you're tag about Alistair in a Zumba class is perfect, I need that in my life fo)

I was at aquafit the other night and couldn’t stop thinking about how my two dragon age favs would feel about it.

Cullen would be reluctant and embarrassed at first. He’d dislike how attention he’d get from the aquafit ladies, but once he realized how gentle the workout was on his achy joints and made friends with the ladies, he’d secretly love it. They’d find him charming and would absolutely dig into his love life - this he doesn’t like as much, but is willing to tolerate it.

Alistair was introduced to aquafit by Wynne and accompanies her to every class. He joins more as a joke to begin with but finds himself genuinely having fun and of course loves charming the aquafit ladies, much to Wynne’s exasperation. He’d adore the attention.

I’d love to hear anyone else’s DA aquafit takes ✋☺️

[tired-truffle]

Something’s Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 4.4k

Part 11 - One Step Back

"I've never felt more human than I do right now, holding her in my arms, desperately wanting to kiss her. I've never felt a need like this before. I need to touch her. I need to feel her. I need to know she's alive and okay." - Ban Gilmartin

Warning: Historical methods of healing lung infections

Masterlist

The mere thought of Corypheus made Ash's blood boil. She couldn’t wait to get her hands wrapped around his disgusting throat and squeeze the life out of him - impractical as it was. He deserved to suffer for what he’d done to Rae - for what he planned to do. But first, Ash needed to heal. 

After her conversation with Rae, Sweetpea had wrapped herself around Ash’s head, warming her despite the chill that had settled in her bones. It had been decades since she’d felt cold, and she hadn’t missed it - her body struggled to regulate its temperature as a side effect of the burns. But it hadn’t taken long for the heat and the softness of Sweetpea’s tail caressing her cheek to lull her into a dreamless sleep. 

When she’d next awoken, she thought for a moment that she must be underwater, trapped under a heavy weight. Every breath was a struggle, her lungs burning and her chest feeling like it was seconds away from bursting and covering everything in her viscera. It was a different kind of agony than the searing pain of her burns, but just as unbearable and excruciating. 

Her ears throbbed as if they had been stuffed with thick wads of cotton. Every sound was muffled and distant, making it difficult to distinguish the words being spoken around her. But with all her concentration, she could barely decipher the hushed voices mentioning 'fever' and 'fluid'. 

Infections were a death sentence, especially without the aid of magic to combat them. The Inquisition lacked skilled healers, and with the severity of her burns…

“I don’t care what you have to do, just fucking fix her!” Rae’s scream burst through the muted barrier around Ash’s ears. 

Ash's stomach churned uncomfortably, a gut feeling warning her against what was to come. But before she could form any objections, the all-encompassing darkness.

Her screams tore from her raw throat, pulling her from the depths of unconsciousness. Hands, rough and unyielding, pinned her down as she thrashed against their hold. There was fire in her lungs and blades slicing between her ribs. With each cough, a gut-wrenching gurgle came from her sides and a viscous liquid seeped from her chest.

Pus, she would later learn when the healers had settled her. The thick, yellow-green substance had collected in her lungs and they had to remove it before she drowned in it. The healers had no choice - ordered by her sister - but to perform an agonizing procedure, cutting into her lung and stuffing a balled-up cloth in the incision to soak it up. It would repeated every few hours.

Sweetpea took one sniff at the cloth and promptly gagged, scurrying from the tent like her tail was on fire. Ash was inclined to agree, though she had no strength to speak, and spent what must have been a few days dozing in and out of consciousness - only able to communicate her pain through grunts.

Slowly, the burning in her lungs started to subside, and she became lucid. She found herself longing for the peaceful bliss of unconsciousness, anything was better than the persistent ache and stinging fire of her burns. Each shallow breath felt like inhaling flames, and the rattle of phlegm in her chest refused to subside.

Rae’s visit was a balm to her weary heart. The rags were producing less and less pus each time they were removed and with a wave of her hand, she dismissed the healers from their watch over her sister. She would take over now, giving them a much-needed break. They did not dare argue with their revered Herald. 

Rae brought news with her. While Ash was feverish and murmuring her delusions to the healers, the Inquisition was heading for Skyhold, an old fortress in the mountains that Solas had become aware of in his travels. 

Slipping her hand into Ash’s, the two lapsed into a comfortable silence. Rae hummed a quiet tune under her breath, slowly lulling Ash into a state of half wake, half sleep. 

But peace never lasts for long. 

With all the grace of a Templar in full plate, the Commander pushed past the tent flaps, his armour rattling as he moved. 

“Herald, we have need of your—“ he began, as strict and direct as always, only to halt in his tracks, eyes widening as they landed on Ash. 

A coy smirk ticked at her lips - a cover for how much she hated that he saw her like this; vulnerable and weakened. “It is impolite,” a ragged breath, “to barge into a lady’s room without knocking, Commander.”

“I-I…” he stammered, though to her dismay his cheeks remained pale. Had her injuries made her lose her touch? Surely tits were still tits, even when they were burned. Was it because she was under a large pile of blankets? “I apologize for the intrusion, though I am glad to see you awake.”

Ash grunted noncommittal, she wasn’t a fan of wakefulness, it brought pain and fevers and confusion. Sleep was much more peaceful, dreamless and blissful. But even she couldn’t sleep forever. 

“What is so important that you sought to rob my sister of her privacy, Commander?” To anyone who didn’t know her, Rae would seem irritated and impassive, but Ash knew all her quirks, every subtle sign. From the twitch of her ears to her relaxed posture, Rae was very much enjoying giving her war commander a hard time. 

He straightened, his eyes widening further. “Please accept my apologies, Herald. I fear all this travel has made me forget my manners.” 

“Apology accepted,” Rae said with indifference. “At ease, or whatever. And spit it out already.”

“Right,” Cullen nodded his assent. “Josephine and Leliana are requesting your presence urgently. There is a…delicate matter that needs your attendance.”

“Does Mother Giselle have her big hat in a twist?” Rae slanted her head, an almost evil quality growing in her smooth grin.

Cullen chuckled. “Something like that. It was urgent enough that they did not bother finding a runner and insisted I fetch you personally.” 

Ash found that…intriguing, they had the power to boss him around like that? She remained silent. 

Rae clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “I see, but I can’t leave Ash alone.”

“I’ll be fine Rae, you have important religious figure business to attend to. I will survive in your absence.” Ash squeezed Rae’s hand with a whisp of her former strength - which hadn’t been much to begin with. She may be skilled with magic, but muscles she had not. 

Rae turned half towards her, an unimpressed slant to her brows. “Absolutely not. The next thing I know you’ll have pitched yourself off the bed and gotten your gross lung pus everywhere.” 

Ash crinkled her nose. “That sounds terribly painful and frankly disgusting.” She coughed, wincing as it irritated her open wounds and, well, everything. “I’d much rather lay as still as possible and let you all do the heavy lifting.” 

Rae narrowed her eyes, ready to argue, before Cullen interrupted. “I will stay, Herald. If that is amenable with you, Ashvalla.”

“I would be honoured by your company, Commander.” Ash gave him a wolfish grin, ignoring the sharp burn across her cheek as her burn stretched and cracked. 

Rae eyed Cullen skeptically, weighing her options. She was loath to leave Ash alone, even for a moment, but duty called and the Commander had offered a solution.

"Fine," she conceded begrudgingly. "But Commander of the Inquisition or not, if I hear you've been bothering her-

"I would never dream of it," Cullen assured, though she was sure he had dreamed plenty.

Rae fixed him with a piercing stare, green eyes boring into amber, before she leaned down to brush a kiss over Ash's forehead, whispering so only she could hear.

"I'll be back soon. Try not to seduce the Commander while I'm gone.”

Ash laughed, the sound morphing into a painful cough.

"No promises," she rasped with a wink.

With one last warning look at Cullen, Rae swept from the tent, leather boots scuffing against the dirt.

Cullen hovered in the doorway, looking everywhere but at her. 

“I don’t bite, you know,” she teased, patting the spot on the cot where Rae had vacated. “Unless you want me to.”

There was the blush she so adored, tickling the tips of his ears, almost hidden in the low light. “I would prefer to remain unbitten, if that’s all the same to you.”

“Suit yourself,” Ash said, unbothered. “But please sit, your hovering is making me anxious.”

With a shake of his head, a smirk pulling at the scar bisecting his lip, he perched on the side of the cot. 

Ash smiled at him, genuine, and softer than she’d meant to. “Are you going to hold my hand too?” She wiggled her fingers, forcing her lips into a grin. 

Just because she was in pain and feeling mildly delirious, didn’t mean she had to get soft on him. 

He was a Templar for ten years, do not forget that your heart was only recently kept beating by the spirit that possesses you, she reminded herself, repeating it like a mantra in her mind. 

Cullen rolled his eyes, and Love trilled happily in her chest when his leather-gloved hand found its way to hers. “Better?” he asked, mirth creasing his crow’s feet. 

“It will do. For now.” 

“Even injured and bedridden you find ways to be difficult. I cannot say I am particularly surprised.” 

Ash shrugged with her uninjured shoulder, wincing as it tugged on the burnt skin of her back. She couldn’t lay on her side because of the incisions, but laying on her burn was not her preferred position either. Ideally, she’d float in mid-air, but she had yet to figure out how to achieve that feat. “It’s in my blood.”

“On that, we agree.” His eyes travelled the length of her body, quickly, instinctively. “How are you feeling?”

Ash raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the bandage-covered arm resting above the furs, her neck and cheek also wrapped in white cloth. 

He had the decency to look sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “Forgive me. I only wished to know if you are as well as you could be, given the circumstances.”

“I was roasted by an Archdemon and somehow I still live. I’d say I’m pretty good.” She grinned using only one side of her face, attempting to stop irritating her facial burns. Ridiculous, but she made an effort. That had to count for something.

Gaze darkening, a pinch appeared between his brows, his lips curving into a frown. He was very handsome when he scowled; Ash couldn’t decide if she liked his glowers more or his blushes. 

Ash sighed, anxiety pulling at the lines on her face. “If you want me to be completely honest.” She made a disgusted noise and his scowl of irritation turned into a scowl of disapproval - a minor improvement. “Then I…everything hurts. And by Mythal does it itch. I never would have thought the itching could be worse than the pain, but I’d rather get stabbed with a thousand tiny needles or tear my skin off in strips.” Another rattling breath. “These stupid cloths in my lungs make it feel like I’m breathing wet fire, which I can confirm is far worse than breathing regular fire. And I’m so fucking afraid that after enduring all of this, I still won’t make it. That the illness will take me anyway. But I can’t tell Rae any of this. She has enough on her plate and I won’t add to it. I can’t be a burden on her.”

She blinked, she hadn’t meant to say all that, but in her pain-fueled haze, it had tumbled from her mouth like rocks down a cliff. 

Silence settled between them and Ash refused to look at him. 

“I may not have much…experience, with your predicament, but I have spent a significant amount of time around the Herald in the past few days, and let me assure you that you are not, nor have you ever been a burden on her.” He spoke with such gentle conviction, his hand squeezing hers, and Love pulsed weakly in her chest. But the spirit had always been a sucker for affection, for men bestowing kind words upon her, it meant nothing. “As I believe I said before, the Herald is less sullen with you around. You give her…drive, confidence. Though you may be stuck here, you give her something to fight for, to keep her head up.”

Why couldn’t the Archdemon have burned her tear ducts off?

“It’s alright Commander,” Ash ignored the blurring of her vision, “you can say cunty, I give you permission.”

His head shook, exasperation tilting his small smile. He refused to fall for her trap, smart man. “Be that as it may, she is happy you are alive and recovering. As am I.”

“You were so close to getting rid of your biggest irritant,” Ash teased. 

Cullen shook his head. “You overestimate yourself. That title belongs to the rashvine Sera continues to try to put in my smalls, which has not ceased even in our time of strife.”

A giggle tumbled from Ash’s lips, the skin around her eyes wrinkling and her smile widening, despite the pain it caused. “She’s just trying to find a way to get you to loosen up. Or she just hates authority. Either way, I think it’s funny.”

“I’m glad one of us is amused,” he said, as dry as wheat stalks in autumn.

Ash paused, her mind racing as a thought took hold and fought to escape. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, but was unable to hold it back. “Why are you being so nice to me? It's strange. You’re supposed to be a big, mean Templar.”

Cullen shifted on the cot, a flash of uncertainty crossing his face. "I suppose holding your hand at your sickbed does undercut that image. Though it is not an image I wish for you to have of me so I can’t say I’m upset that I do not fit your description. I am trying to make amends, for my past actions towards mages." He paused, gazing down at their still joined hands. "I have many regrets. I no longer wish to be a man blinded by fear and hatred, I would like to be someone that mages could trust, that you could trust."

Sincerity hadn’t been what Ash had expected, and she blinked twice, unsure of how to respond.

"As for you specifically, at first I saw you as nothing more than a nuisance. Another reckless mage determined to get under my skin."

Ash laughed softly, relieved he hadn’t continued with his vulnerability - she was not in the space to respond appropriately and didn’t want to ruin…whatever this was. "Can't say you were wrong."

Cullen huffed a quiet laugh of his own. "No, I suppose not. But I was wrong, I have seen how deeply you care for others, how hard you work, how much you’re willing to sacrifice. I fear I misjudged you.” 

“I’ll just have to work harder then,” she teased. “Though, I should thank you.” Ash discarded their conversation in favour of a new one that she was much more comfortable with.

“Whatever for? I’m ashamed to say I was little help to you after…you were injured.”

Ash brushed him off with a dismissive noise blown through her teeth. “You had much more important tasks than tending to me, and there was little you could do after I had the bright idea to stand in the way of Archdemon fire.” He opened his mouth to argue, but Ash did not let him speak. “What I wanted to thank you for was the chest plate you insisted I wear. From what I’ve been told, that is the only reason my…” she shot him a wolfish grin, “assets were unharmed. Should you ever wish for repayment, I have the perfect idea of how we could achieve this.”

A dark pink tinge spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Ash did her best not to show her satisfaction. “Oh, I…Maker’s Breath, no. No repayment is necessary. I am simply happy to hear you were less harmed.” 

“Let me know if you change your mind.” 

His blush deepened and his hand twitched in hers. “I…” He released a deep, long-suffering sigh, but his hand remained. “I assure you, I will not request any repayment.” 

“If you’re sure.”

“Very.”

She wasn’t sure if that stung or not. He was a gentleman who would never dream of taking advantage of her like that, but at the same time, for some illogical reason, Ash wanted him to want her. Were the burns deterring him? Or maybe that she’d have permanent scarring? He didn’t seem like the type - he was a soldier, he must have his own scars hidden beneath his armour. And tits were tits, Ash had found a majority of men were not as picky as they pretended to be. They may gripe and moan about her weight, but they folded as soon as they thought no one was watching.

Jaw creaking, she suppressed a yawn. The singular hour of being awake had taken its toll on her. 

“You should rest,” Cullen said, grateful for the chance to distract her. 

Ash narrowed her eyes, even as she fought another yawn. “I’ve had plenty of rest.”

“And you will require plenty more if you are to recover.” His eyes flickered to her ribs where the cloth remained plugged in her lungs. Rae must have said something. 

Ash scowled. “I dislike when you’re right.” It was petulant and pouty, but she was allowed to have a few childish arguments when her entire body throbbed and her skin felt like it was two seconds from crawling off her body and laying itself over a tanning rack. 

“That does not change the fact that I’m correct.” That damned smirk tugged at his scar and Love fluttered insistently in her chest. “Or would you prefer I fetch a healer to confirm?”

“No,” Ash said too quickly, though she was much too tired to care. “Stay. Please.”

His face softened and he squeezed her hand reassuringly. Ash was pleased he hadn’t let go, even through her teasing. “As you wish.”

Ash felt her eyelids growing heavy as a wave of exhaustion washed over her. The dull ache in her ribs and the incessant gnawing of her burns were pushed to the back of her mind by the comfort of Cullen's steady presence at her bedside. His large hand engulfed her long fingers, allowing the tension in her body to slowly unwind.

She studied his face as her vision began to blur, taking in the strong line of his jaw and the wrinkle between his brows that seemed permanently etched there. Even in repose, he looked focused, vigilant - the result of years of intensive Templar training. She wondered if he ever truly relaxed. The thought made something in her chest constrict.

"You'll stay?" she confirmed again, too exhausted to care that she was being needy, her words slightly slurred with impending sleep.

“As long as you need.”

He didn’t know what he had promised. As long as she needed? She was embarrassed to even think about how attached she had started to become. No one else put up with her flirtatious teasing like he did, what was she supposed to do without him? Life would be dreadfully boring. Blessedly, she did not get the chance to voice her thoughts as sleep took her once more.

Upon waking, Ash felt a cold emptiness where Cullen's hand should have been and he was nowhere to be found. They had moved again, the tent having shifted and her cot sloped at a different angle. Her ribs were sore but it was dull, no longer the sharp stabbing of the open hole in her lungs.

Though Cullen may have left, she was not alone. 

Seated at the side of her cot was Dorian, his mustache perfectly styled, and an old-looking book in hand - Ash imagined it must contain all kinds of Tevinter secrets. 

“What are you doing here?” Her question came off much harsher than intended, she’d only meant to verbalize her confusion at seeing Dorian of all people in a gross healer’s tent - it lacked his pristine. 

The mage looked down his nose at her, closing his book with a severe snap. “I am here because someone needed to watch over you - the Herald’s orders, if you were wondering - and I was deemed to have too much free time on my hands. Never mind that all I’ve been doing for days has been trudging through mountains packed to the brim with Ferelden snow. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to feel my toes again, though all this sun is doing wonders for my complexion.”

“At least you’ve got one good thing going for you.” Her throat was dry, but no longer as irritated as before.

“Yes, and you know what is less good?” He narrowed his eyes, swivelling on his stool to scowl more completely at her. “That my friend decided to play the hero and almost got herself incinerated in Archdemon fire. Your sister may be Andraste’s Herald, but that does not mean you must perish similarly to the goddess.”

If not for the undercurrent of concern, Ash would have thought that Dorian was truly mad at her.

“I’ll consider that next time.”

“Next time?” Incredulousness raised his brows. “There will be no next time, you will be staying far away from that thing as long as I can help it. Best not to give it a second chance.”

Ash studied his face, her eyes tracing over the hard lines and tense muscles. There was a fierce look in his gaze, but she could sense the fear that lurked just beneath the surface. It caught her off guard and she felt strangely moved by it. After all, they had only known each other for a little over a month.

“Ugh,” he made a disgusted noise, and waved his hand at her as though she was a pesky fly. “Don’t make that face at me.”

Ash frowned. “What face?”

“That one,” he said snippily. “The one that says you know what I’m feeling even though I don’t want you to, and that you feel some sort of sympathy for me and my pathetic emotions. It’s unnerving. And furthermore, I’m supposed to be the one feeling sympathy for you, not the other way around.”

Ash smiled, though judging by the glare that pulled at Dorian’s features, it was still too soft. “I just didn’t think you liked me that much.”

He huffed, lifting his chin. “You’re one of the few people who tolerates my Altus presence. It would have been lonely without you, obnoxious as you may be. Who else am I supposed to gossip with?”

“Varric, The Iron Bull, Vivienne, Rae—“ Ash listed until Dorian cut her off with a sharp exhale through clenched teeth. 

“Alright, I get it, but none of them are as…fun as you.”

“I thought you’d started to get along with Bull?”

“Getting along with and enjoying one-on-one chats are entirely different things, my dear.”

Ash waggled her uninjured fingers enticingly at him. “But you could, if you wanted to.”

He scowled harder. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“A big, muscular man like Bull? I’m sure his private chats would be, uh, interesting.” 

“As was your talk with our stuffy Commander, I’m sure,” Dorian purred, a knowing spark lighting up his dark eyes. 

Ash grinned, though the skin of her cheek felt tighter than it had before. She knew enough about burns to know that that wasn’t good. She’d been sedentary, and if she didn’t start to move soon, her skin would heal in a fixed position and further limit her mobility. “If you won’t spill, neither will I.”

“I have nothing to spill about. You on the other hand, I saw the way the Commander came out of your tent, you must have at least said something scandalous to him.”

“You truly do have too much time on your hands if you were sitting around waiting for him to come out. I’ll have you know that I fell asleep, so I didn’t say anything.”

She repositioned her shoulders while she spoke, and winced as pain radiated through her arm. She was going to have to start moving soon. Dorian's sour expression softened with concern. "Are you alright? Should I fetch a healer?"

"I'm fine," Ash muttered through gritted teeth. It was better than it had been, surely she should be able to handle it by now. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to focus past the pain. When she opened them again, Dorian was staring at her intently.

"You know, you don't always have to put on a brave face," he said gently. "Especially not for me."

Ash looked away, a faint blush colouring her pale cheeks. She wasn't used to others seeing through her act so easily. With most people, the witty banter and coy smiles were enough to keep them at arm's length. But Dorian seemed intent on getting past her defences - possibly because they were so similar to his.

"I'm not - I mean, I just…" She faltered, uncharacteristically lost for words.

Dorian leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "It's alright," he said. "You've been through quite the ordeal. No one expects you to bounce back so quickly."

Ash glanced back at him, taking in the sincerity etched across his carefully primmed features. She wondered briefly what she had done to deserve a friend like him.

"Thank you, Dorian," she said softly. "I appreciate you checking in on me."

"Think nothing of it," Dorian replied airily, though his eyes were kind. "I should hope you'll return the favour once you've recovered. Maker knows it’ll be unbearable without your company to brighten my days."

Ash laughed, then winced again as soreness lanced through her healing body. Dorian shook his head, clucking his tongue in sympathy.

"Now try to rest, won't you?" he implored. "We've only a day left to Skyhold, and we'll need you at your best."

Ash nodded, exhaustion settling over her like a shroud. Her eyes drifted shut even as Dorian settled back in his chair, intent on keeping watch over her as she slept. The Fereldan mabaris must be rubbing off on him, despite his protests otherwise. His steadfast loyalty brought a small smile to her lips as she surrendered to sleep - though this time, more willingly than before. 

Next Chapter

A/N: I spent a lot of time looking into old healing methods for lung infections, and this seemed the most probable for where they currently are, though pretty gnarly.

I hope you're liking it so far! I'm happy we got some good Dorian time, and there is plenty more of that to come <3

I'm also very partial to Cullen holding her hand :)

[tired-truffle]

I was at aquafit the other night and couldn’t stop thinking about how my two dragon age favs would feel about it.

Cullen would be reluctant and embarrassed at first. He’d dislike how attention he’d get from the aquafit ladies, but once he realized how gentle the workout was on his achy joints and made friends with the ladies, he’d secretly love it. They’d find him charming and would absolutely dig into his love life - this he doesn’t like as much, but is willing to tolerate it.

Alistair was introduced to aquafit by Wynne and accompanies her to every class. He joins more as a joke to begin with but finds himself genuinely having fun and of course loves charming the aquafit ladies, much to Wynne’s exasperation. He’d adore the attention.

I’d love to hear anyone else’s DA aquafit takes ✋☺️

[tired-truffle]

i just wanna say that i really love your work I'm a big fan of viktor fics 🫶✨

literally i think about it all the time and it's the first thing i wanna do when i wake up , even tho my english is bad but this is the first time i don't feel bored reading something in another language, and i really feel every emotion the story gives.🥹

please bless us with your talent more, thank you 🙏💗

Thank you so much ❤️❤️ I’m so happy you enjoy my Viktor fics!!

I have a few Viktor fics planned/in the works, though it may be a while before I am able to post any 🥲 But they will be posted as soon as they are ready!!

Currently I’m working on a Muj Milacek AU thing where Mila is a powerful Motus Mage who lives in the mountains around Piltover and Viktor is the ‘emotionless’ Machine Herald hired to kill her. And also on a slightly crack-fic ish concept of reader gets Isekai’d - can you tell that I love throwing readers into other worlds lol - into Arcane but is essentially a ghost that only Viktor can see.

I hope you enjoy them when they finally get posted ❤️

[tired-truffle]

Trying to convince you to read my CullenxLavellan fic with ~ quotes ~

For context: Ash is the main character and eldest sister to Rae - the Herald.

Read it on Tumblr here

Or AO3 here

[tired-truffle]

Something’s Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 3.9k

Part 10 - Forged in Flames

"My bones are smoldering And my knuckles are bloody. Forgive me. Forgive me." - Aloud (20/365)

Warning: Death of parents and severe injuries.

Masterlist

“Shala Nar Asa’ma’lin (Protect your sister). Make sure she is safe, guard her with your life if you have to.” Dark scarlet stained her mother’s lips as she clutched at Ash’s biceps, finger digging into flesh squeezing to the point of pain. But Ash was too petrified to protest, her body shook, the sounds of fighting getting ever closer to the aravel where they hid. Rae, wide-eyed and terror-stricken, clung to the skirt of Ash’s robes.

She knew not where her father was. He and her mother had left when the shem’len attacked, and only her mother had returned, wounded and pale. 

“Mamae,” Ash began, confusion leaden on her tongue, a bitter metal. 

Her mother spoke over her, harsh and demanding, her breathing rattling in her chest. “Shivasa (Swear it).” Wet crimson covered her torso. Logically, Ash knew it was blood, but the panic that clouded her mind refused to label it as such - that would only make it real.

Her mother dropped to her knees, bones cracking against the wooden floor, still clutching onto Ash’s arms. Ash glanced down at Rae, only half Ash’s size, and too young to understand what was happening. 

Ash returned her mother’s gaze, her resolve hardening. “Dirtha’vhen’an (The heart of speech).”

Relief flooded through her mother, her grip on Ash beginning to loosen as her shoulders sagged. Ash wished she’d hold her tighter, pull her into her arms and sing her a lullaby. A selfish desire, her mother would admonish her for the thought, but she longed for it anyway.

Ash's ears pricked up, alert to the sounds of fighting and cries of pain as they drew nearer. Her mother's breath grew ragged as she struggled to her feet, pushing her daughters behind her.

"Hide, Da'len," she rasped, clutching a wicked ironbark dagger in one bloodied hand. Ash's eyes went wide, darting frantically between the sharp glint of the weapon and her mother's ashen face.

With an explosive boom, the wooden door splintered open, sending shards flying across the room. Three heavily armoured shem’len burst in, their polished swords glinting cruelly in the flickering candlelight. Ash's mother let out a guttural cry and lunged at the intruders, her dagger slashing wildly. The shems responded with precision and brutality, their weapons finding easy purchase in her weakened body - piercing through skin, muscle, and bone with ease, her chest filled with their sharpened blades.

Ash screamed, the sound mingling with Rae's sobs, fat tears falling down her chubby cheeks. Blood sprayed in a gruesome arc across the room and splattered across her plaid robes. The shem leader yanked his blade free and turned towards the girls with a sneer.

"You’ll fetch us a pretty penny, won’t you?" he leered, grabbing Ash roughly by the arm. She struggled in vain, pulling and kicking but it was no use. He was much too strong.

“Mamae!” Ash screamed, Rae's blood-curdling shrieks of terror drowning out her cry. “Mamae, ma’halani! (Mommy, help me!)”

She’d made a promise, unbreakable, sacred, but as her mother’s limp body fell to the floor, the light in her eyes extinguished, she could barely breathe through the anguish and horror that tore at her heart like jagged nails. She was a child seeing her mother cut down, a baby deer on unsteady legs unable to comprehend the arrows sticking out of the one who had raised it, hunters descending upon it.

“Ma’halani!” she cried again, raw and anguished.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she fought against her captor with all her might, her fingers bursting into flames but barely making a dent in his thick leather armour. “Halani, mamae!”

But it was no use. They were torn away from their home, from their clan, and her body burned with desperate need as she struggled against the man keeping her immobile, the scent of charred flesh and the feel of fire upon her skin. But that wasn’t right, was it? They hadn’t hurt her yet. That would come later, when they realized she was a mage, when they tried to separate her from her sister. 

“Atisha, arani. Ma’ama (Calm, my friend. You are safe).” The voice that spoke to her tugged at the edges of her memory, familiar and yet not - soothing in its deep, ancient tone. 

“Felasil (Idiot),” Rae hissed, though it did not come from the little girl screaming and wiggling in a leering shem’s arms. “What were you thinking?”

She opened her parched mouth, a hoarse cry parting her cracked lips. 

“Ma’fenlin,” Ash croaked. She had done her job, kept her unbreakable promise. As consciousness returned to her, she was greeted by an unbearable agony that seared through every inch of her flesh, flaying skin from muscle and muscle from bone. She was a rabbit shredded and devoured by a pack of rabid wolves, the stars smothered by the rising sun. She was torment given mortal form, and all her suffering ended in a scream.

Her body thrashed against an invisible enemy, impossible to fight, the sound of her pained cries echoing in her ears. Eyes squeezed shut, writhing as hands pressed against her shoulders, sending fire cascading through her bones. 

“Hold her still!” Solas demanded. 

“I’m trying!” Rae yelled back. 

All semblance of reason had left Ash’s mind, all she knew was the endless scorching of her flesh tearing at her sanity. She was no longer Ash, she was a near-corpse, nerves set ablaze, only capable of howling and thrashing and—

The wooden slats of the Chantry ceiling crossed above her like a simple puzzle. Pain flared anew, but her exhaustion sucked dry the cry that built in her throat. How many healing potions had they poured into her mouth to allow her this moment of consciousness?

“Burning, charred remains like the ones who tried to take your sister. You wonder if you can survive this, if you want to. I made you forget the pain, but Love wants you to remember. She fights me, she will not let me help.” 

A whimper wiggled through her lips, her head lolling to the side, her desiccated neck tight like leather as she moved, whimpering. Though her vision was hazy, there was no mistaking that strange, wide-brimmed hat or the unnerving blue eyes that sat beneath it. 

“Rae,” she rasped, coughing as her chest rebelled against her - only adding further to the fire that filled her nose with the acrid scent of her charred skin. 

The boy tilted his head to the side, revealing her sister, battered and bruised but blessedly alive. Cutting an imposing figure in front of Rae’s much smaller form stood the Commander, his fluffy mantle high around his neck as his shoulders raised and tightened, his lips pulled into a frown. Ash couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the look of resigned determination set in Rae’s eyes was enough. Andraste had burned at the stack, what would become of her Herald? 

“He does not know which is worse, the Herald risking certain death, or that her sister will never forgive him for allowing it. It is a selfish thought, one he banishes under his duty to protect the others.” The boy spoke as though listening to distant whisperings, his words settling uneasily in Ash’s gut. 

Her magic, once powerful, had been depleted. Drained of vitality, of life, hanging on by a thread of sinew. With the last bit of strength she could muster, she summoned a sharp of her ice magic and cast it in Rae’s direction. The tiny icicle clattered at her sister’s feet, and both Rae and Cullen turned towards her. Ash’s breathing was ragged, her chest rising and falling in shallow pants.

Please, she begged with her eyes alone. Don’t put yourself in danger.

Rae's head shook, her shaggy hair swishing across her shoulders. With straightened shoulders, she cast an apologetic glance towards Ash, and strode out the doors with all the purpose bestowed upon her by the world’s expectations. The gods seemed to take great pleasure in tearing them apart.

The Herald of Andraste, gone to face her sacrificial death.

Tears blurred her vision, her voice cracking as a muted sob slipped past her lips. Her trembling hand reached to where Rae had disappeared like she could use her magic to pull her sister back to safety. 

“I’m sorry, Ashvalla.” She wasn’t sure when Cullen had appeared beside her, but she didn’t care. He was allowing her sister to head out to where only the gods knew what awaited her. “It was her choice, and I’m afraid it was the only way.”

Ash wanted to scoff, she wanted to scream and rage and follow Rae out into the snow, but she couldn’t do any of it. She hadn’t kept her promise after all. Would her mother despise her for her failure when Ash joined them in death? Her mind succumbed to the darkness once more.

Biting wind whipped against her exposed face, though she couldn’t feel it, she couldn’t feel much of anything. Pins and needles pricked at her fingers and toes, the only sensation left in her numbed body. It was a welcome relief, an improvement to the last time she’d woken in agony, and the jostling of her body as she was carried in sturdy arms would have surely sent pain racing through her body.

The scent of leather and armour polish replaced the scent of charred corpses, her cheek pressed against a pelt she could not identify. 

Where was Rae? If they were being moved then she must have returned. They wouldn’t leave without their Herald, right? If only she could open her eyes to check. 

But she couldn’t even twitch her fingers, couldn’t make her lungs expand with breath, or her heart start beating. 

Her heart wasn’t beating. She was…dying, or dead.

“Solas!” Was that the Commander? She could barely make it out over the roaring of the wind. “She’s not breathing!”

“Give me your heart, Ashvalla.” Love’s voice rang through her skull, sluggish as she processed the words with the dregs of her consciousness. “Allow me to save you.”

No, she would be making no more deals with spirits. She’d rather die than hand her body over. 

“Mirae still needs you, you must fight and your heart must beat.” Love soothed across her weary mind - the gentle touch of a lover, a kiss on her forehead as her mother hummed a soft tune, Sweetpea kneading her lap. “I will keep it beating.” 

Rae…where was she? Love made it sound like she lived, and if that were true then Ash could not rest. She had to live, to protect her sister by any means necessary. 

Warmth suffused through her limbs, her heart gently cradled in Love’s soft embrace, squeezing in a steady rhythm. But with each beat, the pain that had temporarily disappeared began to seep back into her body like molten lava - it crushed her bones to ashes and consumed the last of her consciousness until there was nothing left.

Blankets wrapped around her still form, tucked in at the sides and up under her chin. Yet despite the heat they provided, she felt as though she’d been plunged into a glacial river. Her body was being moved, rocked on the cot she lay on, though not of her own accord. The pain that engulfed her had not lessened, though it had localized to her left side and across her back, radiating from head to toe. Ash wondered if that was what it was like to touch the sun. 

A low whine left her throat, and the movement stopped. 

“Ashvalla,” Solas’s deep voice reached her ears. “You’re safe. Please, do not try to move.”

“Rae,” Ash croaked instead of listening to his instructions, earning her a fatigued sigh. Her hand clenched beneath the sheets, a dull ache in her bones. “Where.”

“Do not worry about your sister, you must focus on your recov—“ Solas began, but Ash cut him off with a sharp hiss. 

“Where.” A rattling breath. “Is.” A wince as her tongue cracked, dry and brittle. “Rae.”

Outside, the wind howled like a wolf at a cliff’s edge. Silence stretched between them, filled only by the chattering of Ash’s teeth - how was she so cold under all those furs? Where had Love’s heat gone?

To her heart, to keep it beating.

“If she is half as stubborn as you are, then she will return to us.”

Like a leaden anvil pressed against her chest, his words stole all the air from her lungs. Ash gritted her teeth, a choked sob rising to her lips. Forcing her eyes open, hazy as her vision was, she found the blurry pale figure that was Solas. Love flickered in her chest, a ghost of her usual strength. She’d kept Ash’s heart beating, and now Ash was going to put it to use. 

“Where is she?” Ash growled, her feral rage glistening in her sharp canines. If anyone had been complicit in taking her sister from her, she would raze this Gods-forsaken place to the ground. 

Solas shook his head, hovering his green, glowing hands over her leg, soothing the burn. “I do not know. But if you do not rest, she will not have you to return to. You’re lucky your spirit kept you alive. By all accounts, you should be dead.”

None of it mattered if Rae didn’t survive, how could he not see that? But as his magic eased the pain from her flayed skin, her adrenaline waned and pulled her consciousness with it. 

Cold and burning and groggy, Ash returned to wakefulness, her cot feeling…fuller than it had previously. A weight shifted at her side, and another smaller weight curled around her head, two soft little paws pressed against her scalp. The weight at her side released a tired sigh, hands balled in tight fists where they gripped at Ash’s furs. The smell of melted snow and embrium filled the space and in an instant, she calmed. Rae was alive, Rae was with her - Ash had kept her safe and Rae had returned. She had kept her promise.

The searing pain of the burn spread from her foot up to her cheek on her left side, the skin tight and throbbing with heat. Soft bandages had been wrapped around her, a stickiness between her skin and the cloth - whether it was some sort of healing balm or her melted flesh, she was not sure. The imprint of the flames extended towards her right side, but they had not made it - though she could feel bruises and scrapes from where the force of the creature’s fire breath had pounded her into the dirt. 

By Mythal, she’d survived a dragon attack - if that’s what that thing was. By some miracle - and Love’s timely intervention - she’d made it through. 

A dry, hacking cough rattled in Ash's chest, causing her whole body to convulse. The sharp and shooting pains that followed made it hard to breathe, as if someone was pressing down on her chest with every spasm. Rae, who had been sleeping beside her, shot up. Her tousled hair stuck to her face, covering the fresh scars and scratches that marred her skin.

“Ash?” Rae’s eyes were cast wide and her hands fluttered over Ash, unsure of how to help. 

All Ash could do was grimace and wait for the coughing to subside, her throat burning and each spasm feeling like fire in her lungs. She clutched at the furs draped over her, gritting her teeth against a cry. Finally, the fit subsided and she collapsed back onto the cot, her body trembling and weak.

Ash blinked slowly, her eyes adjusting to the dim lighting of the tent. The thick canvas walls muffled the sounds from outside, creating a quiet refuge within. She was lying on a simple cot, a lumpy pillow propping up her head. The coarse wool blanket beneath the furs was scratchy against her skin, but provided welcome warmth in the chilly air.

Rae’s hair was tangled with knots that would normally take Ash hours to brush out as Rae whined and gripped. A multitude of cuts, now healed over, littered her skin, mixing with tracks of dried tears - but her watery eyes shone with relief.

Ash shifted her gaze to the small, furry head resting on the pillow, just above her own. Two bright blue eyes blinked lazily back at her, whiskers twitching. Sweetpea, Ash's faithful feline companion, had curled herself into a perfect grey circle, her long tail wrapped around to touch her little pink nose.

Ash tried to push herself up to get a better look at them, but fire flared across her right side. She sank back with a gasp, fresh tears stinging her eyes. Though her mind felt addled in the way only a numbing potion could make it, it wasn’t enough to remove all aches.

Sweetpea meowed, loud and demanding as she all but glared down at Ash.

“You tell her, Sweetie.” Rae patted her on the head and the cat closed her eyes, basking in the praise like the smug little creature she was. Rae looked down at Ash. “She was waiting for me, you know. I think her caterwauls alerted Cassandra and the Commander that I’d made it.”

Ash tried to speak, but her throat felt as dry and cracked as a barren desert. Only a raspy wheeze blew past her chapped lips. She swallowed, wincing at the sandpaper-like grit.

Rae's brows pinched with concern. "Don't try to talk. Here, let me get you some water."

Rae reached for a waterskin sitting on a small wooden crate serving as a makeshift table. She unscrewed the cap and carefully brought it to Ash's mouth.

She drank greedily, the water making her stomach gurgle in protest after what she could only assume must have been days of little to no sustenance.

Rae pulled the waterskin away before Ash could finish it all, setting it back down on the crate. "That's enough for now," she said gently. "You need to take it slow."

Ash nodded weakly, her head feeling heavy against the thin pillow.

“…you okay?” Ash managed to choke out after unsticking her tongue from the bottom of her mouth, her throat parched. 

Rae narrowed her eyes, scowling. “No, you fucking masa (ass), you don’t get to ask me that,” she spat, venomous and biting like a snake beneath her boot, “not after the shit you pulled. What in the Void were you thinking? You could have been killed!” 

“You’re welcome…” A rattling breath. “For saving you.” She scowled back, wincing as it pulled on the burn that crept up her cheek. 

Rae’s lips curled back in a sneer, shadows from the low light deepening her rage. “I can keep myself safe. I did perfectly fine when you were—“ Her voice cracked and she bit her bottom lip. Hot tears welled in her eyes - vibrant green eyes, like their mother’s, like looking in the mirror. “You aren’t allowed to die. That’s an order.”

Face softening, Ash pushed at the furs covering her body, slipping her unburned hand out to place it on top, palm up. Rae wiped at her eyes before threading their fingers together, grasping firmly onto Ash’s peace offering. 

“I will try not to,” Ash said softly. 

Rae’s grip tightened. “Not good enough. Promise me you’ll live. You’ve been out for days, I thought you might…I can’t…I don’t want to do this without you.”

Ash scoffed, wincing as it aggravated her throat. “I thought you said that didn’t want me here, remember?”

“I was lying.” Rae's face twisted into an unimpressed glower. 

Ash grinned, though it quickly fell as it pulled at her injuries. “I will remember that. And I promise I will do everything I can to remain alive. Happy?” 

“No, but it’ll have to do.” 

Ash lay still on the cot, her hand clasped tightly in Rae's, as a heavy silence settled over them like a thick blanket. The only sound was the soft purring of Sweetpea curled beside Ash's head, a comforting rumble that filled the tent.

“How bad is it?” Ash asked, unsure if she truly wanted to know the answer. 

Rae’s gaze scanned her covered form, her face a mask of stifled emotions, so muddled together that Ash couldn’t discern what they were. “If Solas hadn’t been there to heal you…” She shook her head, banishing the thought. “Your heart stopped during the evacuation but by some miracle he got it restarted.”

Ash waited patiently, her thumb brushing over the back of Rae’s hand in a silent encouragement to continue. As reluctant to admit it as she was, she was grateful for Solas - not only for his healing abilities but also for continuing to keep her secret safe. He had to know that it was Love who revived her.

“And if you’d put that barrier up even a second later, he may not have been able to.” Rae paused, pursing her lips and averting her eyes. “The burns are…bad, Ash. I’m sure you can feel them, they must hurt. Most of your torso will heal, or so I’m told, but…your arm and leg may never regain the same mobility. The scar tissue will be thick and restrictive, and you will more than likely lose some feeling. Your lower stomach and hip aren’t much better.” The news wasn’t comforting, but she hadn’t been certain she’d survive at all so she sent a quick prayer up to her Gods as thanks for her life. Even if it was tinged with annoyance at her loss of function. “But you’ll be pleased to hear your chest remains mostly unscathed thanks to the chest plate Commander Cullen commissioned for you. The metal was heated by the flames, but it’s nothing more than a surface burn.”

Ash was not sure how she felt about that. She wanted to hang onto her anger at him for allowing her to risk her life in Haven, while her memory was hazy, she couldn’t mistake the guilt that had pooled in his frown. But Rae had survived, they both had, and she did not possess the energy to retain her rage.

“Your neck isn’t as terrible,” Rae continued, seriousness returning to her tone. “And your cheek is the only part of your face that got burned. You managed to shield it with the rest of your body.”

Ash chuckled, dry with a smattering of mirth. “I couldn’t ruin my wonderful complexion. Besides I don’t think Ghilnan’nain would be too pleased if I burnt off most of my vallaslin.”

Rae rolled her eyes, huffing good-naturedly. “I think she could forgive you just this once.”

“Will you?” Ash asked, a sobering question she hadn’t meant to speak aloud.

Rae's smile fell from her face like a fading star, and Sweetpea meowed, the sound trailing off in a questioning purr as though she too wanted to know the answer. 

“If you recover, I’ll consider it.” 

That was a fair bargain. Ash had already endured the worst of it - the searing heat that charred her skin and melted her tissues, an agony unlike any other. Healing couldn’t be worse than that, it couldn’t be harder than watching Rae head into battle without her.

A wet cough, thick and heavy with mucus, made its way up her throat. It choked her like a snake slithering from her lungs, leaving behind a bitter tang of sickness.

“I’m fine,” Ash waved off Rae’s concerned frown. “How about instead of worrying about me, you fill me in on everything that I missed?” 

Reluctantly, Rae did as Ash had asked.

Healing was nothing, her heart stopping and restarting was nothing. The resurrected Tevinter Magister and his Archdemon who were coming after her sister’s life, now that was everything.

Next Chapter

A/N: For anyone wondering why Solas was rocking her, pressure injuries are no joke! I work in a hospital and I've seen some pretty gnarly ones and they can cause some serious complications. Since Ash is fully unconscious/unmoving (not like how we are when we sleep) and her skin has broken down, they would need to be very careful.

Dirtha’vhen’an is a promise that Dalish elves make, it is meant to be unbreakable.

Can you guess who was carrying her away from Haven? Will he mention how she died in his arms?

It would mean so much to me to hear your thoughts so far in the comments!

[tired-truffle]

Something’s Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 5.4k

Part 9 - You Can Breach Me Any Day

"I am not a creature that was born. l am a fire that was set." - Moss Angel the Undying

Masterlist

The Chantry was not Ash’s favourite building, but there was something to be said for the sturdiness with which it was built. Perfect for blocking out all sounds of revelry and celebration, and exactly the kind of hiding spot a stoic, fun-averse Commander would seek out. 

Walking through the eerily empty hall, Ash pushed all distractions aside in favour of stalking her prey. There was no room for thoughts on how Love had throbbed and pulsated with power as she’d channelled her magic into the gaping, green monstrosity of the Breach.

Pushing open the war room door, memories of the Breach vanished, replaced by an irreverent need to poke and prod at the disgruntled man who stood with his back to her. 

“Yes?” he snapped with no small amount of bite to his tone. One would think that he would be happy at a time like this, their task complete, the world saved. Leaning over the war table, examining the pieces of the Inquisition’s influence, and snapping at anyone who interrupted him was a strange way to celebrate. 

“If now is a bad time I can always return later,” Ash said, her canines sparkling in the low candlelight as she curved her lips into an impish grin. 

Cullen's gaze slowly shifted in her direction, his tired eyes glancing down at her body before he seemed to register their subconscious movement. Leaning against the doorway and popping her hip out, she was pleased she had taken the time to change into her favourite robes. Even if her chest plate covered the plunging neckline, the slits up to her hips cut quite the figure, and it wasn't long before a faint dusting of blush began to colour his cheeks as he realized where his eyes had wandered. 

"Yes, no, I-" the Commander stuttered, his stern demeanour faltering. He forced himself to look away, clearing his throat as stared at a random point on the floor. "You can stay.”

Permission granted, she took a step forward. “I came to see how you were feeling after the weak little mages managed to close the Breach. Does it have your Templar knickers in a twist?”

Cullen let out an exasperated sigh as he turned away from the door, running a hand through his carefully styled hair.

"My 'Templar knickers' are perfectly fine, thank you for asking," he retorted, dry and laced with a hint of sarcasm. Her favourite. Maybe he wasn’t in as sour of a mood as she had originally thought. 

“And the mages?”

"The mages did…better than expected," Cullen conceded. "We successfully closed the Breach, and that's what matters most." He shifted his weight as he regarded her with a weary yet resigned look. “I can't deny that their abilities proved to be quite helpful.”

Ash raised an eyebrow. “So you no longer disagree with your Herald’s decision to recruit them?”

Cullen sighed, his expression growing more serious.

"I still have my reservations." He folded his arms over his chest, widening his stance. "Working with so many mages comes with its own set of challenges and dangers."

“You’re right.” Ash waved her hand about in a lazy attempt to imitate magic. “We were just about to organize a blood-magic possession circle, invite some demons to join, would you care to attend?”

"Very funny," Cullen replied dryly, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "I'm simply trying to be careful," he continued, “I want everyone to be safe, mages included."

“I don’t know what us poor mages would do without our valiant saviour.” Ash placed a hand over her heart, pushing out her bottom lip in a pout.

"I'm serious, possession is no small matter," Cullen retorted, his tone carrying a hint of indignation. 

Little did he realize that Ash was personally familiar with the dangers of possession. “I know,” she said, the sarcasm having been replaced by something softer, sadder, almost. 

Cullen gave a small nod in acknowledgment, the irritated lines of his face smoothing out. 

"I've seen what mages can do when they’re not careful," he admitted quietly, his gaze flickering away from her. "I…I just don't want to see anyone harmed, or worse, possessed by a demon."

“Most people don’t,” Ash said with patient amusement, shoving down the pang in her heart at his casual hatred of possession. It was a normal reaction, she had never met anyone who didn’t think that way, besides Solas and maybe Varric. Yet still, it was just another reminder that they would never be compatible. The minute he learned of her possession she had no doubt that there would be a sword to her throat. 

Cullen let out a weary sigh, his fingers tracing an invisible pattern on the war table behind him. "I have to consider every possibility no matter how unlikely. It is my duty to keep our people safe.”

“Yes, yes, you’re a very serious, very staid Commander,” Ash intoned, stepping forward to close the space between them. Looping her arm through his - and ignoring the startled widening of his eyes - she tugged him towards the exit. “But the Breach has been closed and everyone is celebrating, now is not the time to be locked up and brooding in the war room.”

"I'm not brooding," he grumbled somewhat petulantly, allowing himself to be guided towards the door. "I'm just contemplating."

“Contemplating broodingly.” If he truly didn’t want her to continue pulling him, Ash was well aware that he could easily stop her with just his physical strength alone. While he gave a mild resistance, he allowed himself her to continue, a small, almost undetectable smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Either way that is terribly boring and there is a party outside.”

"I've never been one for parties," he admitted with an exhaustion born of a life spent much too seriously. "They're too loud, chaotic, and people get too…well, drunk."

“You may stand at the edges with the other recluses if you wish, but your men would appreciate seeing you, I’m sure. Their Commander should be at the celebration of all their efforts, right?”

"Very well," he conceded with a sigh. "I'll make an appearance, but I can't promise to stay longer than an hour. There’s still plenty of work to be done even with the closing of the Breach."

“We’ll see.”

They exited the Chantry and stepped out into the cool night air, the sounds of laughter and music and triumphant revelry washing over them. Golden lantern light illuminated the yard where a great bonfire crackled merrily. All around, people were singing and dancing, their faces flushed with joy and ale.

Some strummed lutes while others pounded on drums in a lively rhythm. The smell of roasting meats and freshly baked bread mingled with the sweet scent of embrium that lay stacked in crates off to the side.

Ash scanned the crowd, picking out familiar faces. There was Sera, precariously balanced atop a barrel as she scanned the crowd for a target for her latest prank. Across the way, Dorian lounged elegantly against a wooden pillar, sipping wine while chatting amiably with Vivienne. Bull could be heard booming out a bawdy tavern song in his deep baritone while the Chargers clapped along.

A grimace settled onto the Commander's face, wincing at the sheer volume of the party. Yet he stayed at her side, continuing to allow her to walk him towards the bonfire. 

Ash nudged his side with her elbow. “It’s not so bad.”

Cullen reluctantly nodded, resignation and mild irritation pulling at the lines around his eyes. "It’s not as terrible as I thought it would be. But I still don’t understand the appeal of getting drunk and flailing around to loud music."

Ash shrugged, never one for drunkenness, though she was partial to the flailing. “People like to let loose, ease a little tension sometimes. Of course, there are always other ways to relieve tension. I’m sure you could find someone here willing to help you with that.”

The flush that bloomed across his cheeks rivalled the rich colour of the roaring flames, and it only made Ash’s wolfish grin grow wider.

“I, uh, Maker’s Breath.” He turned his face away from her in a vain attempt to hide his embarrassment.

Ash was feeling merciful and she didn’t let him stew for long. “But if that’s not what you’re looking for, maybe you should join Solas.” She pointed in the direction of the elvhen apostate, leaning casually on a wooden barrel, watching the revelry with quiet contemplation.

Eager to move on from her suggestive comments, he said, "Ah, Solas. He has a certain detachment that I sometimes envy,"

Ash snorted, entirely unladylike but true to her feelings. “That’s one way of putting it.” 

But before they could discuss Solas’s detachment any further, Rae's voice pierced through the revelry, calling out Ash's name. Ash turned, spotting her sister on the outer edges of the dancing circle, her arms waving frantically and a wide grin on her face.

“It seems I’m being called away, maybe I’ll save a dance for you.” Ash winked, realizing belatedly that her arm was still tucked in his, and released him from her grasp.

“Ah, yes, off you go,” he said with a reluctance she found rather curious. Was he upset to see her go or displeased at the idea of having to join her for a dance?

She could examine this later, for now, she made her way through the crowd, dodging drunken partiers as she went. Rae grabbed her hand as soon as she was close, pulling her into the circle of dancers.

"Come on, let's show these Shems how it's done!"

Ash grinned, and with a nod of assent, the musicians picked up the tempo. Ash and Rae began the steps of an old Dalish dance, their bare feet moving nimbly over the gravel and dirt.

They twirled and leapt, blonde hair flying as they lost themselves in the rhythm. No one paid them much mind, too caught up in their own celebrations to judge that of two elves stomping and clapping along to the beat. However, out of the corner of her eye, Ash thought she spotted Cullen watching with an odd little smile. She felt her cheeks grow warm, suddenly self-conscious, but then Rae was grabbing her hands again for the next intricate spin and she forgot all about it.

The dance ended with the sisters back to back, chests heaving from exertion. Rae hugged Ash excitedly, the smell of alcohol wafting from her breath.

“That was fun! But not enough people were watching, we should do it again!”

Ash laughed. "I don’t think a second round will help any." Her gaze flickered to Cullen again, but he had turned away. She shouldn’t have been as disappointed about it as she was. “Besides, I’m sure they have better things to watch, the Keeper never did praise us for our dancing skills.”

Rae nudged her shoulder. "The Keeper never had any praise when I was involved. But there was at least one special someone who watched you specifically. Don't think I didn't notice you making eyes at Commander Cullen."

"What? No!" Ash protested, but she could feel her traitorous blush deepening. Rae cackled gleefully.

Before she could tease Ash further, Dorian appeared beside them, bowing gallantly. "My ladies, I am sorry to interrupt, but Ashvalla, may I have the next dance?"

Ash gave an exaggerated curtsy in return. Rae rolled her eyes, waving her sister off as she launched herself in the direction of Sera, likely to get up to no good.

"Why Dorian, I would be delighted." Ash offered him her hand. "I should warn you though, I don't actually know any of these Sh-uh, non-Dalish dances."

"Not to worry, I shall lead and you simply need to follow," Dorian reassured her with a charming smile. He drew her into the steps of a quick waltz, expertly guiding her through the strange but not entirely difficult footwork.

Ash stumbled a bit at first, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she tried to mimic Dorian's movements. But she was a quick study, and soon she was moving with semi-gracefulness, trusting Dorian to steer her in the right direction.

"You're a natural, my dear," Dorian said approvingly over the music. "And here I thought southerners had no sense of rhythm."

Ash laughed, the sound bright and loud - too loud, some would say, but over the music, no one batted an eye. "We Dalish prefer our dances more natural. Less restrictive shoes for one thing." She tapped her toes against his fashionable but impractical footwear.

As the music transitioned to a slower waltz, Ash relaxed into the gentle swaying motion. "It’s been a few weeks since you first joined the Inquisition, how are you enjoying it now that you’ve had an in-depth look?" she asked conversationally.

"Oh splendidly," Dorian replied airily. "The cold, damp, and dog smell is growing on me. And the Inquisition's ranks could certainly benefit from my particular expertise."

"Dog smell?"

"I may not have seen any Mabari in Haven, but the smell has a way of…lingering.”

Ash bit back a grin. "Fereldans do love their dogs. I suppose you'll just have to get used to it. I’m partial to cats myself."

She’d spotted Sweetpea a few turns ago, snatching some roasted meat off of a drunk soldier’s plate.

"Ugh, must I?"

Ash tipped her head back as she laughed. They had closed the Breach, and now Rae could be free of her title if she so wished. She deserved a moment of reprieve, to let go fully and enjoy herself. Yet as Dorian led her through the steps of the dance, Ash felt an odd prickling on the back of her neck, like eyes watching her from the shadows. She glanced around but saw nothing amiss among the crowd. Still, she couldn't shake the strange feeling that something wasn't quite right. Perhaps it was just leftover jitters, it had taken a toll on her to close the Breach - a leftover survival instinct not yet ready to let go.

"Is everything alright?" Dorian asked, noticing her distraction.

"Hmm? Oh yes, of course," Ash replied lightly, not wanting to alarm him over what was likely just her imagination. But the sensation persisted, setting her nerves on edge. It reminded her of the uneasy atmosphere in the forest just before a storm, when the air felt charged with danger - a warning that she always heeded.

Anxious to clear her head, Ash made an excuse to Dorian as the dance ended. "Thank you for the lovely dance, but I find my poor feet aching and in need of a rest."

Dorian nodded amiably and she guided him over to Iron Bull, deftly handing the mage off to the boisterous Qunari before he could voice any of the protests that very clearly crossed his face - a sharp indignation that made her giggle.

She slipped through the crowd towards the flowing casks of ale and filled two mugs of mead. Clutching the frothy mugs, Ash scanned the area until she located Cullen standing off to the side, looking handsome as always but slightly uncomfortable amidst the rowdiness. She felt an instinctive pull towards the Commander, and she allowed herself to follow it. If something was off, maybe he’d noticed it too - or better yet, he could put her nerves at ease.

But before she could reach her destination, a familiar figure stepped into her path. Leliana materialized from the shadows like a cat stalking a mouse, her lips curved into a knowing smirk that made Ash's stomach do a little flip.

"Off somewhere?" The Spymaster purred.

Maintaining her composure despite the sudden interruption, Ash said, "Just some refreshments. I thought our dear Commander could use a drink to loosen up a bit."

Leliana's grin widened. "How thoughtful of you. I'm sure he'll appreciate the gesture."

"Care to join me?" Ash offered, gesturing with one of the mugs. "I'm sure I could rustle up another drink if you'd like."

Leliana waved a hand dismissively. "No need. I prefer to keep a clear head, especially on nights like these."

Ash took a sip of her mead, resisting the urge to spit the bitter liquid back into the mug. She watched as a group of soldiers attempted a clumsy jig, their laughter echoing across the courtyard.

"It's good to see everyone enjoying themselves," Ash remarked, her eyes still scanning the crowd. "They've earned it after all we've been through."

"Indeed. Though I suspect not everyone is quite as carefree as they appear."

"Oh?" Ash prompted, feigning nonchalance. "And who might you be referring to?"

"Well, our dear Commander for one. He seems rather…distracted tonight, don't you think?"

Ash felt heat creep up her neck, but she forced herself to maintain a neutral expression. "I hadn't noticed," she lied smoothly. "Though she did say that he's not one for parties."

"No, he's not," Leliana agreed. Her piercing blue eyes locked onto Ash's face, searching for any crack in her composure. "But I've noticed he seems particularly attentive when you’re around."

Ash's heart skipped a beat, but she refused to give Leliana the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, she took another long sip of mead, using it to collect her thoughts.

"Is that so?" Ash finally replied, carefully casual. "Well, I'm sure he's just being polite. After all, he works closely with my sister."

Leliana chuckled, a knowing glint in her eye. "Of course. Though I must say, I've never seen Cullen blush quite so much during a simple work conversation."

Before Ash could formulate a response, Josephine appeared at Leliana's side, her eyes sparkling. "Oh! Are we discussing Ash and the Commander? How thrilling!"

Ash fought the urge to roll her eyes. "There's nothing to discuss. We're colleagues, nothing more."

Josephine's face fell slightly, but her enthusiasm couldn't be dampened for long. "But you would make such a lovely couple! The dashing ex-Templar and the spirited mage, how romantic."

"I'm afraid your imagination is running wild, Ambassador,” Ash insisted. “The Commander and I are far too different to ever be compatible."

Leliana's knowing smirk never faltered. "Sometimes, opposites attract in the most unexpected ways."

Ash let out a melodramatic sigh. "As fascinating as this conversation is, I'm afraid these drinks won't deliver themselves. If you'll excuse me, ladies."

She sidled past them, feeling their amused gazes on her back - along with that ever-present feeling of wrongness that had yet to leave her - as she made her way towards Cullen. Their teasing had only heightened her awareness of the Commander, and she found herself suddenly nervous as she approached. Irritating, she shouldn’t be nervous when it didn’t matter.

“Can I interest you in some rather disgusting mead?” she asked in greeting, her smile just shy of meeting her eyes, the hairs on the nape of her neck prickling. 

He straightened up from his leaning stance against the wall and took the offered cup reluctantly - polite as ever. 

"Ah, mead. Never my favourite, but I will make an exception just this once," he said, hiding his smirk behind a small sip of the drink. “Thank you," he added, somewhat gruff, but a hint of genuine appreciation flashed in his eyes. 

Ash smiled as she too took small sips, barely tasting the foul drink, her gaze darting around. She was just being paranoid, right? It had been a crazy few months since the Conclave, it was only natural that her mind would take time to comprehend that they were safe. 

And yet, she couldn’t let go of her unease. 

"Is something wrong?" Cullen asked, cutting through her thoughts. He observed her closely, concern creasing his forehead as he tried to discern what had her so quiet. 

“I…” She frowned, once again scanning their surroundings, there was nothing but drunken celebration. “I don’t know. Something just…doesn’t feel right.”

His face hardened, his hand clenching around the pommel of his sword, always attached to his hip. He scanned the area, squinting into the distance as if it would reveal the potential threat. 

"What doesn't feel right?" he asked, taking on a more serious tone. "Do you see something out of place, or is it just a feeling?"

Ash sucked her lips between her teeth. “Just a feeling, but I don’t-“

If Solas had interrupted any of her other conversations with the Commander, Ash would have been more than a little irked. But when he strode up to her side, a dark and contemplative look on his face, she felt only relief. “You feel it too, I take it, the disturbance. The Fade is…distressed.” He addressed Ash, his eyes flicking over to the Commander. “Something is coming.”

Cullen’s eyes widened for a moment, so brief she almost missed the flicker of fear. “What sort of disturbance? Demons? A rift?"

“Worse,” Solas said, and as if he had heralded chaos, the warning bells sounded, loud and exactly what Ash had feared.

A scout, his breaths coming in short, urgent gasps, ran up to Cullen’s side. The Commander’s face darkened and his muscles tensed as the scout spoke in hushed tones, too low for Ash to hear. Cullen nodded his understanding, and strode towards where Rae stood on the steps of the Chantry, sparring one last concerned glance at Ash before bellowing, “Forces Approaching! To Arms!”

Haven erupted, like a wave rolling over the ranks, they surged. Soldiers scrambled to take up arms and defensive positions while panicked non-military members fled for shelter. Solas's words echoed in her mind - something was coming, something worse than demons.

Cursing under her breath, Ash pushed through the crowd of people and snatched her staff from where it rested against a casket. Thank the Creators she hadn't taken off her chestplate yet. Moving swiftly, she strode toward the gates. She had to see this threat for herself.

As she reached the palisade, Ash felt her blood turn to ice. Spread out along the winding mountain passes, flickering torchlight glinted off thousands of soldiers marching toward Haven. An entire army had come to destroy them. Terror and fury rising in her chest, she tightened her grip on her staff. Love pulsed once in her chest, a silent offer of the power she could desperately use in such a fight, outnumbered and ambushed. But she couldn’t. Not yet, not when they could still pull through.

Ash joined Rae’s side as they gathered at the gates, watching with apprehension as the lights crept closer, their voices growing louder and footfalls echoing as time began to run out.

“Cullen?” Cassandra prompted.

“One watchguard reporting. It’s a massive force,” he pointed towards them, mouth set in a grim frown, “the bulk is over the mountain.”

Josephine stepped forward and Ash both worried for her out in the open with combat looming so close, but also admired her bravery, for doing her job even in these horrifying circumstances. “Under what banner?” she asked, but Cullen shook his head.

“None.”

“None?” Josephine echoed, though no one had a better answer, nor was there any time. Two harsh bangs pounded against the doors to Haven, red light flickering beneath the wood.

“I can’t come in unless you open!” Came what sounded like the voice of a boy barely turned a man. How in Mythal’s name did a child get out there?

With a glance towards Ash, worry clouding her gaze, Rae strode towards the entry, signalling for gates to be opened.

Ash gripped her staff tightly, ready for danger, as the guards followed Rae’s command. Beyond stood a lone soldier, clad in dark armor that bore no heraldry or insignia. Before anyone could react, the soldier choked and gurgled as a blade burst through his chest in a spray of crimson. As the body crumbled to the ground, it revealed a strange, pale boy holding the bloody dagger.

Ash halted in her tracks, pulling up short to where Rae began conversing with the newcomer, his large-brimmed skull cap flopping as he gesticulated. Love pulsed, her energy pressing on Ash’s ribcage, the bones creaking uncomfortably. She grimaced, rubbing the heel of her palm on the centre of her chest in an attempt to calm the spirit. The energy wasn’t distressed, it was calm yet insistent, pulling her towards the boy as though Love recognized him and was eager to see him. 

“Templars?” Cullen barked, jolting her out of Love’s grasp, the boy shying away from him. Ash had never been happy to hear that title before, and that had not changed, even in these dire circumstances. “Is this the order’s response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?”

The boy’s next words chilled Ash to the bone, ice instinctively rising to her palm. “The Red Templars went to the Elder One. You know him? He knows you. You took his mages.” He turned and pointed towards a cliff edge in the distance. “There.”

Ash followed his outstretched finger, squinting against the smoke and darkness that covered their march, making out two shadowy figures standing atop a rocky outcropping, one at least twice the size of the other. As her eyes adjusted, she held back a gasp. The larger figure was grotesque, his face misshapen and his body seemingly fused with chunks of a red crystalline material. His arms were too long and thin for his body, but his large pauldrons gave his shoulders an unnatural width. He was a monster, there was no doubt about it. She could barely see the smaller man beside him as enemy soldiers raced past them, but he’d held a brutal-looking sword, one that promised death.

She glanced at Cullen and saw the blood drain from his face. "I know that man…but this Elder One…"

Cullen's acquaintance with a person who would willingly associate with someone like that creature was disconcerting. But before she could voice her concerns, the conversation shifted once again.

“He is very angry that you took his mages.” The boy stared into the distance, eyes unfocused.

Rae shook herself, her hands flexing at her sides as she turned to her war commander for guidance. “Cullen!” She used the tone she always did when she was panicking but trying to hide it - a demand to disguise the tremor. “Give me a plan, anything!”

But there was very little for the Commander to give; Haven was not meant for a siege, it was a small village that their base camp had been set up in. The mountains should have protected them, and Leliana’s scouts should have seen the army coming, but it hadn’t, they hadn’t, and now there was nothing left to do but attempt to control the battle. And they would have to use every trick and trap up their sleeves if any of them were to survive the night.

“Mages!” Cullen turned to address their huddled group that waited at the ready. “You have sanction to engage them.” Now was not the best time to express her irritation that Cullen thought the mages needed his permission to defend themselves, so Ash - always mindful - bit her tongue. “That is Samson. He will not make it easy!”

He strode across their ranks. “Inquisition! With the Herald!” he shouted, Rae straightening as he turned and thrust his sword at the sky. “For your lives! For all of us!”

She squared her shoulders and gripped her staff, magic swirling through her fingers. And with a rallying cry, the battle was upon them.

Ash charged forward, magic crackling at her fingertips as the Red Templars charged towards them. At her side, Rae let out a fierce and feral scream of warning, daggers glinting, canines sharp, as she leapt into the fray. The sounds of clashing metal and shouted spells and screams for help were impossible to ignore - and yet they had to, had to focus on the enemy. Or they would all die.

Ash unleashed a barrage of ice, spikes erupting from the ground to impale the charging templars. Beside her, Rae ducked and wove, her blades finding weak points in armour with lethal precision. Further down the snowy hill, Dorian sent lightning raining down to scorch the earth, exploding amid the enemy ranks. His spells sowed havoc, opening gaps for the Inquisition's forces to press through. Solas called on the raw fury of the Fade, conjuring barrier after barrier to block the Red Templar’s attacks.

Cassandra bellowed orders as she bashed through Templar shields, her sword cleaving through armour and bone. Varric's crossbow sang as it loosed bolt after bolt into the tide of red lyrium monsters. The Inquisition gave no ground, standing firm against the onslaught. But they could not hold on forever.

The Templars kept coming, endless waves throwing themselves against Haven's defences. Ash could feel her mana waning as the battle dragged on, but a lyrium potion was shoved in her hand by a young mage and she downed it without a second thought. Beside her, Rae bled from a dozen minor wounds. They had to turn the tide somehow.

Cullen's voice rang out. "Hit the trebuchets! Bury them in snow!"

With the last of her strength, Ash called up a shield of shimmering ice. "Go, I'll cover you!" she shouted to Rae. Her sister sprinted for the nearest siege engine, flanked by Cassandra and Varric. Ash braced herself as a fresh assault crashed against her barrier, the ice fracturing under the blows.

A great groaning creak split the night - the trebuchets had fired. An avalanche of snow boiled down the mountainside, swallowing the advancing horde.

A cheer went up amongst the ranks of the Inquisition, but as Ash lowered her ice barrier, she could feel with resounding dread that they had celebrated too soon.

Like a rift had opened beneath their feet, the ground began to tremble and shake, throwing Ash off balance. She caught herself on her staff, grabbing hold of Rae’s sleeve before she toppled over. Tugging her sister to her side, any words she had wanted to say were drowned out by a deep and primal roar, the air filling with the scent of acrid burning and rotting flesh.

Soldiers and mages alike broke out in a jumble of shouting, screaming their terror as they scrambled to get away. But there was nowhere to go. Swooping low over the village, the massive, archaic form of a…decaying dragon crested over the trees. 

Ash's breath seized in her throat as the dragon descended upon them, its massive wingspan blotting out the night sky. Grotesque flesh hung in tatters from its skeletal frame, bits of sinew and jagged bone exposed beneath rotting hide the colour of clotted blood. Smouldering shadows dripped from its jaws as it parted its maw, unleashing an earsplitting shriek that rattled Ash’s skull. This was a force beyond reckoning, an extinction given form.

The creature reared back as it flew at a breakneck speed, the membranes of its wings spreading wide. A glow emanated from deep within its throat, flames kindling to life behind jagged fangs.

Ash realized two things at once. First, the decaying dragon was only seconds away from where both she and Rae stood beside the trebuchet as it carved a trail of fire and death. Second, they would not have enough time to run or leap out of the way of its attack. 

Ash's heart ached with all the words she wanted to say to Rae, to apologize for her past mistakes and to tell her just how proud she was of her. But the seconds were running out, and Ash could only hope that her actions would convey the depth of her emotions.

Releasing her hold on Rae, Ash gripped her staff with both hands and with all the magic available to her, channelled a blast of pure force against her chest. In the split second before the magic hit Rae, they locked eyes, anguish and betrayal colouring her sister’s face as she realized too late what Ash had planned to do. As Rae flew over the hill and out of harm's way, Ash felt a wave of calm wash over her. She had done the right thing, she had kept Rae safe.

But that didn’t mean that Ash was going to face her death lying down. Barrier spells had never been her forte, sound and detection she could manage, but anything else always eluded her. As the flames licked at her skin, burning through her robes like kindling, heat searing into her exhausted body, Love erupted, her magic pushing into Ash’stoo-latee barrier, a desperate attempt to survive. 

The agony lasted for only a second, but in that second she experienced pain like she never had before. It was like her skin was peeling back from muscle, like her insides were being boiled, her bones charred. She heard her own screams rattle inside her skull, blood-curling and shrieking, and then everything went blissfully, numbingly black. 

Next Chapter

A/N: I know that it's the Archdemon, but since Ash doesn't know that yet I had to describe it in other ways. I apologize for the cliffhanger, but we got some good Cullen time in this chapter :) Poor guy is gonna be so distressed when he sees the girl he likes go up in flames…hehe…unless??

[tired-truffle]

Something’s Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 3.6k

Part 8 - Impertinence and Other Skills

HENRY: Why are you here for her? You have put yourself at great risk. MARY: Because she is my sister, and therefore one half of me."

Masterlist

Ash found Solas on the bank of a trickling stream, legs crossed and hands laid on his knees. His face remained blank, his breathing even, and his posture relaxed. Serenity like that wasn’t something Ash had ever experienced and she took a little joy in ruining it for him. 

“Apologies for interrupting what I’m sure was a very insightful session of, uh, thinking, but we need to talk.” 

His fingers twitched, tension crawling up his neck. He kept his eyes closed. “Urgent enough that it cannot wait?” 

Ash tapped her foot impatiently. "Nope, not waiting. Unless you'd prefer I start singing. Fair warning, I'm tone-deaf and know exactly three bawdy tavern songs and one lullaby."

Solas's eyes snapped open, a flicker of alarm crossing his face - rude - before settling into his usual mask of calm. "Very well. What is it you wish to discuss?"

Ash plopped down beside him, the damp grass cool against her skin. She plucked a nearby wildflower, twirling it between her fingers as she tried to formulate her question. "So, Rae tells me you know a lot about spirits, that you’ve met them?"

Solas inclined his head. "You are correct. I have encountered many spirits in my journeys through the Fade."

Ash leaned forward, the wildflower twirled faster between her fingers, petals blurring into a soft pink haze. "What are they like? I mean, are they all wisps and whispers, or do some of them look like people?"

He arched an eyebrow, his gaze drifting to the stream. "It depends on the spirit. Some appear as nothing more than flickering lights, while others take on more complex forms. Spirits of wisdom often appear as scholarly figures, while those of courage might resemble great warriors." Solas turned back to her. "I fail to see how this line of questioning could not wait until a more appropriate time."

Ash waved her hand dismissively, accidentally flinging the flower into the stream. She watched it float away, carried by the gentle current. "Oh, don't be such a stick in the mud. It's a beautiful day, perfect for a chat about otherworldly beings."

Solas's eyes narrowed, studying her with an intensity that made Ash's skin prickle. The gentle babbling of the stream filled the silence between them, punctuated by the occasional chirp of a nearby bird.

"Ashvalla," Solas said, low and measured, "while I appreciate your curiosity, I suspect there is more to your inquiry than mere academic interest. Perhaps it would be prudent to address the true nature of your concern."

She plucked another flower, this time a delicate blue, and began methodically shredding its petals. "Fine. You can sense spirits, right? Like, if one was nearby, would you know?"

"Ah, I see,” Solas said without missing a beat. “You're asking if I can sense the spirit possessing you."

Ash cursed beneath her breath, letting the mangled flower fall from her fingers.

Solas's lips twitched as though about to break into a smile. "Spirits of Love are exceedingly rare, you should be honoured.”

Ash's mouth opened and closed, words failing her as she stared at Solas in disbelief. She ran a hand through her hair, dislodging a few strands from her braids. "How long have you known?"

"Since our first meeting," Solas replied, his tone surprisingly gentle. "The spirit's presence is…subtle, but unmistakable to those who know what to look for. I spoke to her in the Fade and she assured me that this was what she wanted, even though it’s a terrible idea."

Ash groaned, covering her face with her hands, trying not to let her panic overrun her. In the span of a few months, two people had uncovered her secret when she’d spent decades without incident. "Fantastic. Just fantastic. Any other deep, dark secrets you'd like me to reveal while we're at it?”

“Not at the moment, but I’ll let you know should that change.”

Lowering her hands, Ash glared at Solas who seemed far too pleased with himself for her liking.

"So, you've known all along." Resignation pitched her voice lower. "And you just…what? Decided to keep it to yourself? Watch me squirm?"

"I apologize if my approach has caused you distress. That was not my intention. I simply believed it was not my place to reveal such a personal matter.”

Ash snorted, plucking another flower. "How noble of you. And here I thought you just enjoyed having one up on me."

"While I won't deny a certain satisfaction in knowing something others do not, that was not my primary motivation," Solas replied. "I was curious to see how you would manage around so many and in battle against demons. You use so little of Love’s power, I can’t help but wonder why.”

“And you will continue to wonder.” Ash flicked the flower into the soft breeze, watching as it floated away, a question banging on the inside of her teeth. "Are you going to tell anyone?"

Solas shook his head. "I have no reason to do so. I do not wish you or Love any harm. Many are ignorant to the true nature of spirits, and their fear leads them to violence. I understand why you have kept this a secret."

Relief washed over Ash, her shoulders sagging as the tension drained from her body. She looked up at Solas, a wry smile curving the corners of her lips. "Well, that's good. But you're still a condescending prick, you know that?"

Solas chuckled, rich and surprisingly warm. "No one’s perfect. Not even me."

Ash couldn't help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting her. Here she was, sitting by a stream with an elven apostate she disliked, who knew her deepest secret, trading barbs and chuckles like old friends. She’d kept this secret for twenty-three years, and he’d discovered it within minutes. How horribly aggravating.

As Ash's laughter faded, she found herself studying Solas with newfound curiosity and an undercurrent of worry. The sunlight dappled through the leaves overhead, casting shifting patterns across his face, softening the sharp angles of his features. For a moment, she could almost see why her sister found him so intriguing. Almost.

A rustle in the nearby bushes caught her attention, and Ash turned to see Rae emerging from the foliage, twigs caught in her shaggy blonde hair. Her sister's gaze darted between Ash and Solas, surprise and suspicion in the raise of her eyebrows.

"Well, well," Rae drawled, placing her hands on her hips. "I see you two are getting along. Should I be worried?"

Before Ash could respond, Solas spoke up, his tone dry as autumn leaves. "Even us condescending pricks can learn how to coexist sometimes."

Rae's eyes widened, her gaze snapping to Ash. "Did you really call him that?"

Ash shrugged, unrepentant. "I regret nothing."

Her sister let out an exasperated groan, pressing her fingers to her temples. "Creators, give me strength. You're impossible."

"It's part of my charm." Ash rose to her feet and brushed grass from her robes. The fabric clung to her legs, damp from the dewy ground.

"Ugh, let's go. It's time we get back to Haven. I'd rather not give Cassandra another reason to glare at me."

Ash stretched, her joints popping satisfyingly. "Fine, fine. Back to the land of snow and Ferelden repression, we go." She turned to Solas, who had risen as well, his posture as impeccable as ever. "This was…enlightening. Let's never do it again."

Always the cryptic, he said, "As you wish, though I suspect fate may have other plans.”

Ash trudged through the snow-covered paths of Haven, her boots crunching with each step. The chill mountain air nipped at her cheeks, turning them a rosy pink - though she didn’t feel it, her body was always too warm.

Rae had asked her to attend the war council meeting on behalf of the mages, as Grand Enchantress Fiona was preoccupied with settling their new allies into Haven. This was an important responsibility, one she couldn't afford to mess up. The mages were counting on her, and more importantly, Rae was counting on her.

She pushed open the heavy wooden doors to the Chantry, the hinges creaking in protest. Ash strode through the dimly lit hall, her footsteps echoing off the stone walls.

As she approached the war room, voices drifted out, muffled but clearly engaged in heated discussion. Ash took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and pushed open the door.

The room fell silent as she entered, all eyes turning to her. Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen stood around the massive war table, maps and markers scattered across its surface. Cassandra leaned against a nearby wall, her arms crossed and her expression as stern as ever.

"Ah, Ash," Josephine greeted her with a warm smile. "Thank you for joining us. We were just discussing the placement of the mages for the upcoming attempt to close the Breach."

Ash nodded, moving to stand beside the table. "Happy to help. What's the plan so far?"

Cullen cleared his throat, gesturing to the map. "We've been considering positioning the mages here, at the base of the ruins. It would give them a clear line of sight to the Breach while keeping them at a safe distance."

Ash studied the map, her brow furrowing. "That might work, but it's awfully far. The mages will need to be closer to channel their power effectively."

"But moving them closer puts them at greater risk," he argued, “we don’t know how the Breach will interact with their magic.”

"I understand your concern, but if we want this to work, we need to take some risks, Ser."

He narrowed his eyes. She’d done it again, hadn’t she? Used the honorific as a tease. “Why does it feel so…impertinent when you say it?”

Ash flashed Cullen a coy smile. "I'm simply showing you the respect your position deserves. How could that possibly be impertinent?"

Cullen's jaw clenched, a muscle twitching over bone. "Your tone suggests otherwise."

"Enough," Cassandra cut in, pushing off the wall. "We don't have time for this. Herald, your opinion would be most welcome.”

The discussion continued, voices rising and falling as they debated the merits of various positions. Ash found herself warming to the task, her initial nervousness giving way to determination.

The meeting wound down and though the final plan wasn't perfect, it should work.

Leliana rolled up the maps with practiced efficiency, while Josephine scribbled final notes in her ever-present ledger. Cassandra pushed off from the wall, her armour clanking softly as she strode towards the door.

"We'll reconvene tomorrow to finalize the details," Rae said, her posture straight and authoritative.

Ash nodded, gathering the few notes she'd scrawled during the meeting. As she made her way to leave, she found herself falling into step beside the Commander. The torchlight flickered across his face, casting shadows that accentuated the sharp line of his jaw and the faint scar on his lip.

Cullen cleared his throat, his eyes flicking towards her before darting away. "The armour is faring you well?" he asked, gesturing vaguely towards the gleaming silverite chest plate she wore.

A mischievous grin tugged canted across Ash's mouth. "Oh yes," she replied. "My back pain is much improved."

Cullen's forehead pinched in confusion. "Your back…?"

Ash's grin widened and she leaned in slightly, close enough that she could catch the faint scent of leather and armour polish that clung to him. "Well, you know," she said, dripping with suggestion, "it was quite the burden, carrying around all that weight up front. The chest plate keeps everything tight and distributes the weight more evenly."

Realization dawned on Cullen's face, a blush creeping up his neck to stain his cheeks a vivid pink. His eyes widened, darting down to her chest before snapping back up to her face with almost comical speed. "I…that is…forget I asked," he stammered.

Before Ash could tease him further, Cullen all but fled, his long strides carrying him swiftly down the Chantry hall. She watched him go, chuckling to herself as she admired the way his cloak swished with each step.

"You're terrible," Rae's voice came from behind her and she turned to find her sister leaning against a nearby pillar, arms crossed and a wry smile on her face.

"I have no idea what you mean," Ash replied innocently, batting her eyelashes for added effect.

Rae pushed off from the pillar to join her. "Of course not.” A heavy pause and she stuffed her hands in her pockets. “We have enough mages coming with us to the Breach, you don’t have to go too.”

The defensiveness within Ash bristled at the back of her neck and she tamped it down - Rae hadn’t ordered her to stay behind. Yet. “Why ask me to represent the mages if I wouldn’t be there? I can’t tell them what to do and then sit back and relax. Besides, you’ll be there at great personal risk, we have no idea what that Breach will do when you try to close it.”

“Or what it will do to the mages,” Rae countered, her shoulders hunched. “I don’t want to have to worry about you when I should be focusing on the Breach.” 

Ash took a moment, examining Rae’s closed-off posture, the tension in her jaw. The stress she was under as she reached her ultimate goal, the lives of everyone in Theda’s resting on her shoulder, was enough to crumple just about anyone. Yet Rae continued standing, stubborn and willful, but she didn’t have to do it all alone. 

“Since when do you worry about me?” Ash pushed lightly at Rae’s shoulder, earning herself a wicked glare - but she’d succeeded in getting Rae to straighten and she’d take her wins where she could get them. “I’ll be with dozens of mages, all of us supporting you. I’m not going to miss this.”

Rae's eyes narrowed, her jaw clenching as she studied Ash. Tension crackled between them, like the buildup before a lightning strike. Then, with a deep sigh that seemed to come from the depths of her soul, Rae gave in.

"Fine. But you stay at the back of the group, and if anything goes wrong—"

"I'll run faster than a goat with its tail on fire," Ash finished, grinning. "Promise."

Rae snorted, smiling reluctantly. "I was going to say 'follow Cassandra's orders,' but that works too."

As they stepped out of the Chantry, the crisp mountain air hit Ash's face like a slap, bringing with it the scent of pine and woodsmoke. The sun hung low on the horizon, covering Haven in hues of gold and orange. The bustle of the day was winding down, replaced by the quieter sounds of the evening.

Ash's gaze swept over the village, taking in the sights that had become familiar over the past weeks. Mages and templars mingled uneasily near the tavern, their old animosities set aside in the face of a greater threat. Chantry sisters hurried about as they tended to the wounded and the weary. And everywhere, the subtle undercurrent of anticipation, of holding one's breath before the plunge.

Tomorrow, they would attempt to close the Breach. Tomorrow, they would learn if all their efforts had been in vain.

The Breach loomed ominously above as they readied themselves for the final confrontation. Cullen came up beside her. "Good luck," he said gruffly, shifting his weight from foot to foot, his mouth opening and shutting like he wanted to say more, but didn’t know how.

Ash's eyes darted to Cullen's mantle, where a vibrant red leaf nestled itself among the thick fur. Without thinking, she’d reached out, her fingers brushing against the soft pelt as she plucked the leaf free. Her knuckles grazed the warm skin of his neck, sending a spark of electricity through her hand.

A faint blush crept up his neck at her touch, staining his cheeks a dusty pink that Ash found oddly endearing. Ash's gaze drifted to Cullen's lips, noticing the way the scar there pulled slightly as he swallowed hard. She wondered, briefly, what it would feel like to trace that scar with her fingertip, or perhaps with her own lips.

"I, uh…" he started, then trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Thanks," she said finally. "For the luck, I mean. We could use some of that today."

He nodded politely. “Of course.”

And because she couldn’t let him go that easily, she added, "You know, Commander, if you wanted to give me a token of your affection, you could have just asked. No need to hide it in your mantle."

Cullen's blush deepened as he fought back a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They departed for their stations, Cullen to join his men in case it all went wrong and they needed to fight back hordes of demons, and Ash to join the other mages.

Rae stood at the forefront, her slight frame dwarfed by the swirling vortex of the Breach. Yet there was an unmistakable aura of power surrounding her sister, the mark on her hand pulsing with green light. Ash watched, breath held, as Rae raised her marked hand towards the sky.

The signal came - a sharp nod from Rae - and Ash felt the surge of magic rise within her. She poured her power into Breach feeling the combined strength of dozens of mages joining with her own. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once, like standing on the edge of a cliff and leaning into the wind.

The Breach pulsed and writhed, angry wisps of green light lashing out against the assault. Ash gritted her teeth, pushing harder, feeling the strain.

Love stirred within her, agitated and confused. The spirit's usual warmth turned erratic, flickering like a candle in a storm. Ash's concentration wavered as she felt Love's distress rippling through her.

"Not now," she gritted out through clenched teeth, trying to maintain her focus.

But Love's unease grew stronger, her essence stretching and twisting inside her. It was as if the spirit was being pulled in two directions at once - drawn to the Fade beyond the Breach, yet tethered to Ash's mortal form. The conflicting forces sent shockwaves through Ash's body, making her magic sputter and flare unpredictably.

Sweat beaded on Ash's brow as she fought to control the chaotic energy surging through her. The world around her blurred, reality seeming to warp and bend. For a dizzying minute, she thought she could see through the Breach - glimpses of impossible landscapes and fleeting visions of spirits just beyond reach.

Love's confusion bled into her own thoughts, memories and emotions tangling together. Ash saw flashes of her childhood, felt the warmth of her father's embrace, tasted the bitterness of loss and the sweetness of newfound purpose. Through it all, Love's presence pulsed like a second heartbeat, frantic and erratic.

Clenching her fists, Ash redoubled her efforts. She could feel the other mages' power flowing around her, steady and strong. She couldn't let them down, couldn't let Rae down.

Ash wrenched her magic back under control. She built walls in her mind, cordoning off Love's fraught emotions, creating a barrier between herself and the spirit's distress. It hurt, like trying to sever a part of herself, but she pushed through the pain.

The Breach contracted, the swirling vortex shrinking as Rae's marked hand glowed ever brighter. Ash poured every ounce of her strength into the Breach, her vision narrowing until all she could see was the pulsing green tear in the sky.

A deafening crack split the air, and for a heart-stopping moment, Ash thought they had failed. But the Breach collapsed in on itself, green light imploding with a final, thunderous boom.

The force of the Breach's collapse hit like a battering ram, sending Ash and the other mages sprawling. She tumbled across the frozen ground, her armour clanging against rocks and debris.

As the dust settled, Ash found herself flat on her back, staring up at a sky suddenly, blessedly whole. The Breach was gone, leaving only empty air where it had once dominated the clouds. She blinked, hardly daring to believe it was real.

Rae. Where was Rae?

Ash scrambled to her feet, ignoring the protests of her bruised body. She scanned the battlefield frantically, searching for any sign of her sister. All around her, mages and soldiers were slowly rising, but she couldn’t see Rae.

There - a flash of blonde hair amidst the rubble. Ash's heart leapt into her throat as she spotted Rae, struggling to her knees. Without a second thought, she was running, her feet barely touching the ground as she raced towards her sister.

Ash reached Rae just as she managed to get one knee under her. She slid to a stop, kicking up a spray of pebbles and immediately wrapped an arm around Rae's elbow. "Up you get," she said, helping her sister to her feet.

Rae leaned heavily against her, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps - Ash feared the worst. But then Rae lifted her head, and a tired smile spread across her face. Relief flooded through Ash, so intense it made her knees weak. Rae stepped away and Ash released her.

"You did it," Cassandra's voice rang out across the clearing. The Seeker stood a few paces away, her sword hanging forgotten at her side as she stared at the now-sealed sky.

As if Cassandra's words had broken a spell, a great cheer erupted from the gathered forces. The sound swelled, echoing off the mountains and filling the space with triumph.

Ash felt Love stir within her, the spirit's earlier distress fading into a glow of contentment. The feeling spread through her, amplifying her own joy until she thought her heart might burst. She turned to Rae, grinning so wide her cheeks hurt.

“I think we’ve earned a celebration, don’t you?”

Next Chapter

A/N: I'm very excited for the next chapter and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! Fun times and…some not so fun times.

[tired-truffle]

Something’s Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 2.9k

Part 7 - And So It Continues

"My mind knows I cannot have you but that doesn't stop it from dreaming of all the ways that I could." - S.L. Gray

Masterlist

The journey back to Haven was blissfully uneventful. The four members of their party went ahead of the larger group of mages as they gathered their forces and evacuated their wounded, their children unable to keep up a steady march - Dorian had stayed behind to help. Rae had gone ahead to speak with her Advisors, and Ash had headed to her tent, depositing her pack and a sleeping Sweetpea, she laid down beside the cat, curling around her soft form. Sweetpea stretched long, her sharp canines glinting in the afternoon light streaming through the canvas walls, and made short work of kneading Ash’s plump stomach. She found herself grateful for the leather of her armour that kept Sweetpea’s sharp claws from piercing her skin, and let herself doze, mind wandering.

She was still processing the whirlwind of conflicting emotions from their time at Redcliffe and everything else that had happened over the past two weeks - the shock of seeing Rae alive after thinking her dead at the Conclave - even though she’d sent a letter stating otherwise, Ash hadn’t let herself fully believe it. The relief at their reunion had calmed her, but there was no end to the danger they now faced.

Though Rae was still as headstrong and defiant as ever, Ash noticed the new heaviness in her sister's shoulders - how could she not - the lingering shadows behind her eyes. Being named the Herald of Andraste and figurehead of the Inquisition had taken its toll, forcing Rae into a role and responsibility far beyond her years. As much as the sisters clashed on occasion, Ash's protective instincts kicked in, wanting to shield Rae from further pain. She hoped this victory at Redcliffe might lift her sister's spirits.

And yet, the time magic Alexius had unleashed could have obliterated Rae completely if not for Dorian's intervention. They had come perilously close to losing each other all over again.

At least some good had come of Rae’s journey into the time-warped future - they had secured an alliance with the rebel mages, thanks in no small part to Rae's perseverance, and had new knowledge of the betrayal to the Orlesian crown.

But it was only the beginning step. There were more alliances to secure, more battles to fight, and then, the final confrontation; closing the Breach once and for all. Ash feared what this would mean for Rae, what closing a Breach of that size would do to the mark on her hand - and by extension her. Ash was determined to be there, to ensure her sister’s safety. She would fight Rae tooth and nail on her attendance, but Ash always won in the end, when she truly wanted to.

The tent could only capture Ash’s attention for so long, and once she felt herself growing bored - despite the exhaustion in her limbs from their trek - she placed Sweetpea back on her sleeping roll, watching for a moment as the small animal curled up peacefully, heaving a heavy sigh before going back to sleep. If Ash was ever reborn, she hoped it was as a cat.

Exiting her tent and heading back towards Haven proper, she came once again upon the training grounds. Though she tried to resist the pull of her gaze, she couldn’t ignore the flash of blonde hair that caught her attention. Cullen paced the grounds, overseeing the troops with the weary command of a man who'd seen too many battles. Her resistance vanished in the blink of an eye, and she found herself sidling up to him, her stride exuding the confidence of someone who knew exactly where she belonged, even though she couldn’t remember actively making the decision.

"Commander," Ash greeted him, her tone laced with a tease that cut through the formality of titles. "I’ve come to see how you’re faring after Rae broke the news of her alignment with the mages."

Cullen's gaze shifted from the soldiers to Ash, something unidentifiable flickering across his strong features.

"Is that so?" he asked, a twitch at the corner of his lips suggesting he wasn't immune to her charm. “How thoughtful.”

"Indeed," Ash replied, leaning closer as if sharing a secret only they were privy to. "I think it was the right call, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

Cullen's fingers travelled with practiced precision to the bridge of his nose, squeezing lightly as if trying to stave off an impending headache. He peeked through the gap between his fingers, exasperation etched into the lines of his weary face.

"Ashvalla," he started, threaded with a patience that fought against fraying ends, "I already told you, I trust the Herald's decision. It's not about who's right or wrong. I want all of us to make it through this in one piece. We must have safeguards in place to keep everyone safe, mages included, but I will not undermine the Herald’s decision even if it was one I would not have made.”

Ash rocked back on her heels, lips curling into an impish grin. "I know, I know. But come on, Commander, can't I have a bit of fun? I mean, when was the last time I got to rub anything in someone's face?"

He dropped his hand, fixing her with a look that was likely meant to be stern, but lacked a cutting edge. "Do you ever take anything seriously?" he asked.

"Sure I do," she said, brushing her hair - kinked from having recently been removed from her braids - over her shoulder. "My sister, for example. Sometimes I open my big mouth without thinking, but Rae? Everything she does is planned. Don’t let those innocent eyes fool you, she’s always got something up her sleeve, and I intend to ensure her victory, one way or another."

Cullen's gaze softened, and there was an unexpected warmth in the way he regarded her then - too gentle for Ash’s liking and she resisted the urge to recoil. "I can see that," he conceded, and the plainspoken words carried more substance than any flowery speech.

Ash tilted her head, puzzled at the tenderness in his voice. She filed away the anomaly in the back of her mind, right next to the other curiosities that seemed to grow whenever she and Cullen crossed paths.

Cullen's gaze lingered on Ash, the usual creases of command smoothing out as he observed her - she hated that too, much too similar to the way one would look at a friend, and they were certainly not that. "It’s good for her, to have you here," he said, unguardedly honest. "She’s noticeably less…"

"Less what?" Ash prompted with a feigned innocence as she clasped her hands behind her back. "Less cunty?"

Cullen's expression flattened; the brief flash of amusement in his eyes was as fleeting as a shadow under the midday sun. "I was going to say 'sullen,'" he corrected, yet the subtle playfulness betrayed by the upward curve of his lips suggested he wasn't entirely immune to her.

Ash laughed, clear and bold in the crisp air of Haven, her nose crinkling with delight. "You can admit it. 'Cunty' has a certain ring to it."

Cullen shook his head. "If you say so, Ashvalla," he said, though the formality of her full name sounded oddly sweet on his tongue.

Before Ash had any time to dig further into this new, less irritable side of the Commander, Rae's arm waved from across the courtyard, a signal cutting through the conversation. Ash glanced over, noting the urgency in her sister's posture. "Duty calls," she said, bowing half-heartedly. She turned to leave but paused, cocking her head with a playful smirk. "Don't miss me too much, Commander, I’ll see you soon."

Cullen's cheeks flushed a shade that could give the sunset a run for its money, his tongue stumbling over a retort. "I-I assure you, I have plenty to keep me occupied," he stuttered as she winked and sauntered away.

And she was sure to keep good on her promise.

Week One

Rae's eyes were always moving, sweeping their surroundings with the precision of a hawk. Every shadow held potential danger, every whisper a hidden threat. As missions unfolded, she was everywhere and nowhere, a ghost flitting between reality and attacking from behind. Ash, on the other hand, was decidedly less graceful.

"If I didn’t know better, I’d say you had a vendetta against me." The Iron Bull teased amidst a training session, his meaty hand snatching a flying icicle from the air inches before it would have kissed Ash's cheek. "You almost ruined my favourite face."

"Your reflexes are getting better," Ash shot back, her smile devilish. "Or maybe I'm just making you look good."

"Ha! You wish." Bull scoffed, tossing the icicle aside with a chuckle. "Keep dreaming, 'cause that's the closest you'll ever get to piercing this beautiful hide."

They returned to their practice, a blend of ice, muscles, and swaths of pale skin that left Cullen exasperated as he had to repeatedly knock his recruits back to attention.

It wasn’t long after that that Cullen presented her with the chest plate he’d commissioned. She’d been shocked at first, having thought he wasn’t serious about his offer, but she’d recovered quickly, ensuring to repay him with as many salacious comments about protecting her chest as she could manage before he left in a huff of rosy cheeks and flustered grumbling.

Week Two

The forest of the Hinterlands was alive with the usual rustle of wind in leaves and the distant calls of wildlife, but as Ash crept alongside Rae, Dorian, and Blackwall, a sudden, guttural roar shattered the tranquillity. A great bear, its fur matted and eyes wild, emerged from a shadowy cave they had only just peered into.

"Maferath’s balls!" Dorian cursed as they all turned on their heels, sprinting away with the enraged beast close behind.

"We didn’t even do anything to it!" Ash gasped out between laboured breaths, her robes billowing behind her like a flag of surrender. But Bears could not understand flags and it was hungry.

"Perhaps it didn't get the memo!" Rae shouted back, tinged with an edge of fear.

With a deft flick of his wrist, Dorian summoned a barrier just as the bear swiped at Ash's retreating figure. The shimmering force field absorbed the blow with a crackle, buying them precious seconds.

"Timely save, Tevinte," Ash said, casting a grateful glance over her shoulder as they continued their reckless dash.

Dorian huffed, feigning insult. "For you, dear, I'll be anything but late."

Once they'd put enough distance between themselves and the bear to slow down, Blackwall leaned against a tree, panting. "Next time someone suggests cave exploring," he wheezed, "let's remember this little escapade."

"Ah, but where's the fun without a bit of danger?" Rae leaned on her knees as she caught her breath.

"Speak for yourself," Ash wiped the sweat from her brow, her chest heaving against the metal plate that protected her assets - and a few slightly vital internal organs. "I prefer my adventures without nearly becoming bear food."

Week Three

Sera, always one to stir the pot - as Ash had quickly found out - slid up to Ash with that impish glint in her eye - a precursor to trouble or teasing; often both.

"Andraste’s, well, tits, Ash. Your tits are like a pair of prize melons in that top." Sera held her hands out and squeezed as though she had said prized melons in her grip. Ash had gone for her favourite casual robe, a soft green fabric with a plunging neckline and slits that ran up to her hips, the stockings keeping her legs warm - not that she necessarily needed it with Love’s endless fire burning inside her. Sera’s description was surprisingly apt.

"Thank you, Sera," Ash replied, hand on her hip and head tilted in pride. "I'd offer you a squeeze, but I'm afraid your hands are full with all that…subtlety you carry."

Sera threw her head back and let out a brash laugh, genuine and unapologetic. "Me, subtle? That’s a laugh."

"Clearly," Ash said, her own smile creeping across her lips as she shook her head, amused by the younger woman’s brashness.

"I’ll leave you and your melon tits to it then," Sera said with a snort and a wink aimed at Ash’s chest before sauntering off to cause mayhem elsewhere. And mayhem she did cause. Though Ash wished she’d lay off the rashvine.

Week Four

Flames crackled, casting a warm glow on the small circle of companions. Ash lounged by the fire, her hair - removed from their braids and washed in a nearby river - reflected the flickering light as she watched Varric, propped up against his pack, his crossbow, Bianca, resting beside him. His hands animatedly gesticulated as he spun yet another tale from his infamous Kirkwall days.

"And then Hawke says, 'If I wanted to hear from an ass, I'd have farted!'" Varric delivered the punchline with perfect timing, eliciting a snort from Rae and a rare chuckle from Cassandra.

"Varric," Cassandra chided, though a hint of a smile tugged at her lips. "Surely you are exaggerating. Not even Hawke would be so crude in the presence of nobility."

"Seeker, I swear on Bianca's string, that's exactly how it went down."

Ash leaned back, relaxing in the company of her friends. That is what they’d become in their weeks together - friends. It was a new experience for her, other than Rae - if she could be counted - Ash had never had any truly close friends before. It was…nice, in the way a warm bowl of soup is nice after a day spent working out in the snow. And Ash had always loved soup.

Week Five

They found themselves trekking through the dense undergrowth of Ferelden, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and pine. Ash sauntered behind Vivienne and Solas, Dorian at her side, his Tevinter flair undiminished even in this rugged terrain.

"Hey, Dorian," Ash whispered with a conspiratorial grin, eyeing the ornate staffs carried by the two mages ahead. "Which one do you reckon has the bigger staff? My money's on Vivienne; she does love her accessories."

Dorian choked back a laugh, casting a sidelong glance at the elegant mage and the stoic elf. "In terms of sheer ostentation, our dear Madame de Fer wins hands down."

Their shared snicker was cut short by sharp looks from both Vivienne and Solas. With impeccable timing, Rae materialized at Ash's elbow, a knowing smirk on her thin face.

"Stop bothering Solas," Rae whispered as she tugged Ash away from the others. "We wouldn't want you scaring off the only person who actually knows anything about this mark." Rae flexed her left hand, the green light of the mark flaring with the movement.

"Please," Ash scoffed, rolling her eyes, "like anyone could scare him off when he’s too busy making eyes at you."

Rae merely shook her head, her shaggy hair covering her light blush as they continued onward. But it didn’t satisfy the curiosity that burned within Ash.

"Okay, spill," Ash prodded, nudging Rae with her elbow. "What's with you and Solas? You've been hanging on his every word about spirits and the Fade like it's the chant of light and you’re a devout Sister."

Rae shot Ash a glare that could curdle milk. "For the last time, I don't 'like' Solas - I respect him. He's a font of knowledge, and we need every scrap we can get if we're going to close that damn Breach."

"Uh-huh. And here I thought you just enjoyed his glowering pout."

"Would you be serious for once?" Rae huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "He knows things, Ash. Things about the Fade that most of us couldn't even dream of understanding. Have you seen the way he talks about spirits? It's not just academic with him; it's personal."

The words hung between them, laden with implications. Personal. What did that mean? Ash's heart lurched uncomfortably in her chest. If Solas's connection to the Fade ran deeper than she realized, then…

"Personal how?" Ash pressed, trying to keep her tone light despite the sudden tightness in her throat.

"Like he's met them," Rae said, dropping to an awestruck whisper. "Talked to them, even befriended them. I think he can sense them, he did when we found this old artifact. I’ve never met anyone like him before."

"Right," Ash managed, her thoughts racing. If Solas had such an intimate knowledge of the Fade, if he could sense spirits, what did that mean for her secret? Surely he couldn’t tell? Could he?

They reached a clearing, where the group decided to set camp for the night. As tents were pitched and fires started, Ash found herself stealing glances at Solas, watching him with a new wariness. She turned away quickly each time, but not before she caught the tail end of one of his piercing gazes.

"Etunash (Shit)," she muttered under her breath.

"Something wrong?" Rae asked, eyeing her sister with concern.

"Nothing, just…" Ash trailed off, her eyes finding Solas once more. This time, he held her gaze for a heartbeat too long before turning back to Vivienne, resuming their conversation as if nothing had happened.

"Nothing," Ash repeated, forcing a grin. "Just thinking about how much fun we'll have explaining to the Commander how we lost the compass he loaned us."

Rae snorted, seemingly oblivious to Ash’s lies - thank the Creators. "Good luck with that, you’re the one who lost it so you get to tell him." Rae chuckled, shaking her head as she walked off to join the others.

Left alone with her roiling thoughts, Ash watched Solas from across the campfire, the flames casting flickering shadows over his sharp features. She swallowed hard, knowing, without a doubt, that this was far from over.

Next Chapter

A/N: A bit of a filler chapter, but it needed to be done. I hope you enjoyed the little time skip! As time goes on there will be more Cullen, but I wanted it to be gradual so it doesn't seem too quick and unnatural.

[tired-truffle]

Something’s Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 3.1k

Part 6 - To Flay a Magister

“My mother did not mean to hate me, she did not even know she hated me, and yet I was hated. And I carried that hate with me through life with more pride than it perhaps deserved. A bruise of honor.” - Mada Hayyas

Masterlist

Ash watched with a churning mix of admiration and trepidation as her sister squared off against the Tevinter Magister. Her shaggy blonde hair was like a war banner, swaying as she marched up to his throne, and those vibrant green eyes of hers blazed with a fire that would not be quelled. Ash's fingers twitched at her sides, eager to leap into the fray, yet she remained rooted to the spot. The scars around her mouth tightened - a grimace or a grin, it was hard to tell - as pride swelled in her chest. Rae was more than just spitfire and rebellion; she was a leader, fierce and unyielding.

Their scouts struck, stealing the Magister’s men from him and leaving him defenceless, just as they’d planned. But he too had tricks up his sleeve, and would not be beaten lying down.

The Magister's scowl deepened, his hand waving in a complex arc, and reality buckled. A swirling portal snapped open like a voracious maw, and in a gust that smelled of ozone and dread, it devoured Rae and Dorian whole.

"Rae!" Ash's cry was a ragged blade, slicing through the ringing silence that followed. Her heart lurched into a frenzied gallop, each beat a thunderous demand for her sister's return. The magister's smug expression was the spark that ignited the powder keg that was her magic.

Panic, thick and cloying, clawed its way up from her gut, and with it, the fiery influence of Love - wild and untamable. It surged through her veins, an inferno begging for release. Ash staggered, her vision swimming. The power within her strained against its bindings, yearning to incinerate all that stood between her and Rae's safety.

"Bring them back!" she demanded of no one in particular, her voice cracking under the strain of holding back the flames. Around her, the world seemed to slow, the edges of her consciousness frayed by fear and a fierce desire to protect.

"Easy there, Frosty," someone said - a voice both grounding and familiar. But Ash barely heard it, her senses overwhelmed by the scent of burning flesh and the echoes of her sister's cries for help.

"Bring her back.” It was a command, a plea, a sister's raw need laid bare. The magister simply sneered, but Ash could not afford to be cowed. Not when everything within her screamed that Rae needed her, that she would defy the very laws of magic to bring her sister home.

The power of Love roared in her ears, her fiery magic lashing out, hungry for retribution. Ash fought for control, but it was like trying to leash a wildfire with strands of silk. The magister, unfazed, simply arched an eyebrow, his lips twisting into a sardonic smile.

But before he could make any cutting remarks, as sudden as their departure, the portal snapped back into existence with a crack that split the silence. Rae and Dorian stumbled through, disoriented but unmistakably whole. Ash's chest unclenched, Love’s power vanishing from beneath her skin, relief flooding her so fiercely it nearly brought her to her knees.

"Rae!" she cried out for a second time, bolting forward. Her fiery eyes dimmed, the inferno in her hands snuffing out - though she couldn’t remember when she’d conjured the flames. She felt Love recoil within her, retreating into the shadowed recesses of her soul, leaving only a whisper of heat behind.

But her relief was short-lived, choked by the realization that Varric's keen eyes had not missed the spectacle. He watched her with a careful blend of concern and curiosity, the gears behind those sharp brown eyes already turning. Damn it, Ash thought, there would be questions later - questions she wasn't sure she could answer.

"We're all right," Dorian assured, brushing off his once-pristine robes now smeared with unknown substances. “Though glad to see our return is met with such enthusiasm.”

But Ash barely heard him, her attention riveted on Rae. She rushed to her sister's side, her hands hovering just shy of touching, as if afraid she might still disappear. Rae met her eyes, unspoken anguish and terror flashing across them before disappearing under the anger she directed toward the man who had caused it. There was no time to dissect that look, though, as Rae, ever the Herald, sprang into action with a predator's grace. The Tevinter Magister didn't stand a chance as she closed in on him, her lithe frame surprisingly intimidating despite the residual tremble from her unplanned temporal excursion.

Ash stood frozen, she’d come so close to unleashing Love completely. What if she had? Would she have burned down the entire castle, friend and foe alike, in her desperate frenzy?

She could barely focus as Rae ordered Alexius to be chained and sent back to the Inquisition for trial, or as the reigning Monarch of Ferelden and a slew of her personal guards marched through the door to admonish the mages for their foolishness. And they had been exactly that - foolish, naive, scared - but they had not been the only ones.

Ash's gaze slid across the room like a pebble skimming lake water, touching upon Queen Anora's stern visage and the circle of mages that surrounded her like a flock of disgruntled pigeons. The queen's lips moved, presumably issuing some royal decree or another, but Ash heard nothing over the roar of her own thoughts. Her sister was back, but would Varric keep her secret? The fear that had clawed its way up her throat lingered, a bitter aftertaste.

"Thoughts, Ash?" Rae's voice sliced through her spiralling thoughts.

"Uh," Ash managed, blinking rapidly as if coming out of a trance. "I agree with your assessment." She winced internally; she hadn't caught a word.

Rae squinted at her, not fooled, but let it slide - another battle for another day.

It took them hours of political deliberation and agreements before they finally found themselves retiring for the night in the local inn. In the dimly lit hallway, as Ash made her way to Rae’s room, Varric's presence barely registered until she’d rounded the corner and almost run directly into where he leaned casually against the wall.

"Better watch where you’re going there, no one wants to see a stampeded dwarf," he teased, though something deeper lurked behind his half-lidded eyes. Ash knew what that was about, though she wasn’t exactly keen on having that conversation now. But on the other hand, it may be best to get it over with.

"I’ll endeavour to peek around corners before turning them from now on," Ash quipped half-heartedly. “There’s something else you’d like to say though, so out with it. I haven’t the energy for beating around the bush.”

Varric held up his hands in a placating gesture. "As you command, Frosty.” She didn’t dislike the nickname, though she felt there were better ones he could have chosen. “I saw what you did back there.”

"I did a lot of things back there," she replied, feigning ignorance. "You'll have to be more specific."

"Let's just say my Chantry sense was tingling," he chuckled. "But don’t worry, your secret's safe with me. Though, if you’re feeling the itch to blow up a Chantry, mind giving me a heads up first?"

Ash froze, then relaxed into a forced laugh. Kirkwall. He had been there, and Ash had heard the stories of the spirit-possessed mage who’d begun this civil war between mages and Templars. The connection clicked into place like a lock snapping shut. He’d been friends with the possessed mage, hadn’t he? A sympathetic dwarf at heart.

“You’ll be the first to know.” The promise came easily to her, she could never imagine herself causing such wanton destruction, whether it was deserved or not. Especially not at the bidding of a spirit.

"Sure, sure," he drawled, not buying it for a second. "Just remember, I'm here if you need an ear for any dastardly plots you’ve been cooking up."

"Dastardly plots?" Ash raised an eyebrow, her tone dripping with mock innocence. "Varric, you wound me. I'm a paragon of virtue."

"Right, and nugs fly," Varric retorted with a smirk, pushing off the wall as he began to make his way back to the tavern below. “Stay out of trouble, yeah?" he said, his voice trailing off as he turned the corner, leaving her alone once more.

The corridor stretched ahead, dimly lit by flickering torches that cast long shadows on the walls. She took a deep breath, and with a shake of her head, she steeled herself. Varric had said he would keep her secret - at least for now - and she would simply have to trust him. The first person to find out about her possession being a famed storyteller was less than ideal, but it wasn’t like she had the power to erase his memory - nor did she particularly want to kill him. There was nothing she could do, and though she writhed under the powerlessness of it all, if Varric was willing to ignore it then she would be too - if only to keep her sanity intact. One thing at a time.

Her knuckles rapped against the aged wood of Rae’s door, the sound more tentative than Ash intended. There was a pause - a moment thick with uncertainty, wondering if she should give up and allow Rae her space - before the door creaked open. Rae stood there, her eyes betraying a weariness that seemed out of place on her youthful face - as it had so frequently as of late.

"Can I come in?" Ash asked softly, tucking a stray blonde curl behind her ear where it had escaped from her dual braids.

Rae stepped aside wordlessly, her movements slow, devoid of their usual vigour. The sight of her sister so drained gnawed at Ash's heart, but she masked her concern with a smile as she entered the modest chamber.

"Thanks," she said, scanning Rae's drawn features. The desire to protect, to fix everything for her little sister, surged within her, but she kept it at bay. That was not what Rae needed.

But before Ash could weave words into comfort, Rae leaned forward, her face coming to rest against Ash's shoulder. Her arms dangled at her sides, loosely, as if the very concept of hugging had slipped from her grasp. Ash's breath stilled, taken aback by this rare display of vulnerability. It took her a heartbeat to react, but then she enfolded Rae in a firm hug, her hand gently soothing up and down Rae’s back.

They remained clasped in silence, time stretched, thin and fragile, until Rae pulled away with a sigh, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. She slumped, leaving a space beside her that was more an invitation than any words could be.

Ash joined her, sitting close enough for their shoulders to brush. She brushed aside the curtain of shaggy hair that hid Rae's face. "Want to talk about it?" Ash ventured, her smile kind and patient.

Rae's gaze flickered with something dark and unsettled. "No…maybe. I don't know." The words tumbled out, hesitant and laced with exhaustion.

"I want to do this, to lead, but what if I'm just…" She trailed off, her eyebrows pinched together. "I've never had to answer for so many lives before. They look to me, and half the time I'm just…making it up."

"Hey," Ash said, reaching out to squeeze Rae's arm reassuringly, "bluffing is half the art of leading. You're doing great, Rae. Truly."

Rae huffed, a ghost of her usual fire flaring in her eyes, but it didn't reach her deflated posture. "Easy for you to say," she muttered, but there was no bite to her words, only weariness.

"Sometimes," Ash continued, her tone threaded with warmth, "the bravest thing a leader can do is admit they don't have all the answers. That doesn't make you weak. It makes you mortal. And from where I'm standing? You're the best damn mortal I know, and I know quite a few."

Rae's mouth quirked in a faint smile, a reluctant nod acknowledging the truth in Ash's words. "Just don't let it get around, or they'll start expecting heartfelt speeches."

"Dirtha’var’en (I promise), no one else will know. Wouldn't want to ruin your reputation as a heartless despot."

Rae's laugh was a brief, bright sound that cut through the gloom that wore her down. But solemnity took its place, and her slender fingers traced the stitching on the quilt that had been laid over the end of the bed. "The portal," she began, so quiet that Ash could barely hear her, "it sent Dorian and me forward in time, to a year from now. The Inquisition had crumbled without us."

Ash watched Rae's face, the way her eyes seemed to hold hidden pools of unspoken horrors. "Fenedhis (Wolf’s cock).” Ash had already expended her words of wisdom for the day and could find nothing more intelligent to say. “I take it that we were not…well?”

"Poisoned. With red lyrium." Rae's voice hitched, and it was as if the temperature in the room plummeted.

"Red lyrium?" Ash frowned. "That's….I don't know what that is."

"Should've mentioned it earlier," Rae said, tugging at the ends of her hair. "It's lyrium, but tainted. It drives people mad, corrupts everything it touches."

"Creators, that's horrible.”

"Horrible doesn't begin to cover it. Everyone was all different kinds of fucked up. Varric was riddled with the stuff, so much so that it stuck out of him like…like evil crystals or something. Leliana had tried to stage a rescue, I guess, but had gotten herself captured and they’d been…peeling her skin off and draining her blood in some sick experiments. And you…they’d infected you with red lyrium too, but it did something else. It was torture, Ash." She choked on the last word as if it scalded her tongue.

Ash stared at Rae, her eyes wide with horror. She shook her head slowly. "I’m so sorry, Rae." She trailed off, unsure of what else to say.

"The red lyrium amplified your power," Rae said quietly. But it also made you unstable, erratic." She met Ash's gaze, her eyes filled with anguish. You weren't yourself anymore. The lyrium hollowed you out, leaving something twisted behind."

Ash couldn't bring herself to correct Rae's assumption about where her powers originated. Not when Rae looked like she'd been through the Void itself.

Rae took a deep breath. "You were constantly on fire, Ash. I mean that literally. Your skin was covered in flames, but it didn’t burn you. Your eyes glowed like hot coals. You weren’t entirely yourself anymore."

Dread pooled low in Ash’s gut as Rae paused, glancing down at her hands as she fidgeted. "You would speak to yourself, like there was someone else inside your head. You'd argue and yell and scream at the air. But I knew…deep down, buried beneath the red lyrium madness, my sister was still in there. The real you, Ash. I had to believe you weren't totally lost."

A silence hung between them, charged and suffocating, until Rae's breath shuddered out. "You, Varric, Leliana, you all sacrificed yourselves so we could get back. So I could…"

Ash’s heart constricted, the imagined terror all too real. "Rae, I'm so sorry you had to see me - to see us - like that," she said softly. Reaching out, she took her sister's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "But we're here, now. You're not alone in this. We'll find another way that doesn’t end like that."

"Another way?" Rae sniffled.

"Of course," Ash said, grinning despite the gravity of their conversation. "I'm not letting some wannabe magister play dress-up with my magic. Plus, I rather enjoy my complexion un-crispy, thank you very much."

Rae let out a reluctant chuckle, the sound mingling with sorrow and relief. "Un-crispy. Right."

"Besides." Ash nudged Rae's shoulder with her own. "If I'm going up in flames, it better be for something cool. Like trying to take down a fire-breathing dragon to save a damsel in distress."

"Only you would make jokes about self-immolation," Rae said, shaking her head but allowing a genuine smile to break through.

"Someone's got to keep things lit around here," Ash winked, drawing a laugh from Rae that felt like the first clear sky after a storm.

As their laughter faded, they sat together, shoulder to shoulder, finding solace in the absurdity of their shared moment.

Red lyrium. Constant flames. A hollowed-out version of herself, arguing with thin air. She refused to let that happen, to allow Love so much control. The spirit was quiet now, a warm ember nestled in her chest, but Ash couldn't shake the image Rae had painted. Ash had always prided herself on her control, on the delicate balance she maintained between herself and Love. But now, doubt gnawed at her like a rabid dog. What if all her careful restraint was just a facade, ready to crumble at the slightest provocation?

Ash lingered beside Rae - unsure if she should stay or go - after her sister's laughter had dissolved into the quiet of the room, her fingers drumming an idle rhythm on the wooden frame of the bed.

“The Herald of Andraste,” Ash said at last, “Ma’Fenlin (my little wolf), my dear sister, is nothing if not resilient. You will make it through this, and I will be with you every step of the way"

Rae nodded, the ghost of a smirk crossing her lips. "The Herald of Andraste…I hated it at first, but it does have a nice ring to it."

"Of course it does." Ash chuckled, sitting beside Rae. "It's all in the title, you know. Half the battle is won with a good name."

"Is that so?" Rae laughed, her spirits visibly lifted.

"Absolutely.” Their conversation ended, and Ash focused instead on getting Rae ready for bed, despite the protests that she could do it herself. But Ash kept dodging her rebuttals, and eventually, Rae gave in, allowing Ash to tuck her into bed and sing her a quiet song that their mother had sung to them so many years ago - when Ash was still a whole person, and when the weight of the world did not rest on Rae’s slim shoulders.

As they returned to Haven with the news of the mages joining their ranks, Rae was still worn and weary, but lighter than she had been. Rae would need time to recover, and Ash was more than willing to give her that.

How would the Commander take it, she wondered, that they hadn’t simply conscripted the mages, but elevated them to allies - to equals. And why in Mythal’s name was there an excited spark building in her chest at the idea of rubbing it in? Whatever it was, Ash couldn't wait to see the look on the Commander's face when he heard the news.

Next Chapter

A/N: The internet is in disagreement over what colour Varric's eyes are, but the official wiki says brown so that's what I went with.

Just curious, is anyone reading this? I'd love to know!

[tired-truffle]

Something’s Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 2.6k

Part 5 - The Inquisition's Assets

"His dark eyes took me in, and I wondered what they would look like if he fell in love." - F. Scott Fitzgerald

Masterlist

The gravel crunched beneath their feet as they returned from the surrounding forests. The sky, usually shrouded in gloom in Haven, was finally clear and the warm rays of the sun bathed everything in a golden glow. Birds chirped merrily, as happy as Ash was, basking in the heat. Swords clanged together, shouting filling the air as they neared the training grounds. A shock of blonde hair, meticulously styled to stay out of his face, pulled her attention towards the Commander, his back to them as they headed towards the healer’s hut. They needed to stock up on supplies - and had gathered scores of elfroot to pay for it. Ash had been eager to talk to the apothecary about other potions he may have in stock, and had invited Rae along with her. 

“He hasn’t taken any vows of chastity, in case you were wondering,” Rae piped up, following her gaze. 

Ash choked on her own spit, slapping her chest to clear her lungs and shoot her sister a vicious scowl. “What, why would I care?” Her eyes darted towards the Commander, grateful that his back was still turned, before returning to frown further at Rae. “Wait, how do you know that?”

Rae shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corner of her bowed lips. “I asked him.”

Ash blinked twice. “Why?” 

Rae’s smirk grew and Ash regretted her question. “Look at those bags under his haunted eyes, the tortured scowl, and that little scar on his lip - all signs of a traumatic past; he’s a broken man and you like to fix.”

“W-what!” she spluttered, her voice louder and several octaves higher than she’d meant it to be, her ears turning a bright shade of pink before she lowered her volume. “I do not.”

A possessed mage fix an ex-Templar? Rae had to be joking. Besides, Ash had learned the hard way that she couldn’t ’fix’ anyone. 

“Andreas, Emyr, Vander,” Rae listed off on her slender fingers. 

“That’s only a few,” Ash protested, but Rae wasn’t finished. 

“And we can’t forget Mervyn or Iver. And then there was that human who travelled with the clan for a bit, what was his name, Sienna? The one with the weird thing for elves.”

Ash groaned, she was never going to live that one down. “Sennan,” she corrected bitterly, his name leaving a bad taste in her mouth. “And I only found that out after we got together. I left him not much later.”

“Most people would consider a few weeks to be a while later, Ash.”

Ash attempted to shove her but was no match for Rae’s roguish dodging skills as she cackled out of reach. “Shut up,” Ash grumbled, too caught up in her sister’s teasing to notice a the subject of their conversation had turned at the noise, an eyebrow raised and a smile playing faintly on his lips as he watched Ash chase after a still giggling Rae. 

Approaching the apothecary, out of breath and using her staff as a walking stick - Rae had decided to take the long way around, dodging Ash at every turn - Ash saw her moment of retaliation appear in the form of an apostate elvhen mage that stood upon the landing in front of them. It seemed to be his favourite hangout spot, a good view of the Chantry and its comings and goings, but out of the way enough that people wouldn’t come over to bother him. Unless that was their specific goal. 

“What do you see in his shiny scalp, Rae?” Ash said in an aside to her sister as she waved enthusiastically at Solas. He raised an eyebrow, confused by her over-the-top greeting for someone who was not his biggest fan. 

“Say another word and I will slit your throat before you can finish your sentence,” Rae hissed under her breath before meeting Solas’s inquisitive gaze with a small smile meant to reassure. 

Ash laughed. “Touchy.” And managed to dodge a swift kick aimed at her ankles. 

“Good morning, Herald, Ashvalla,” He greeted, inclining his head as they arrived at his spot. 

“A wonderful morning indeed,” Ash agreed, “And doesn’t your Herald look lovely in this fine morning light?”

“Ash!” Rae looked ready to murder her and Ash would have to remember to put more than her usual wards around her tent tonight. Rae turned to Solas, blush darkening her cheeks and an embarrassed smile plastered on her face. “You don’t have to answer that.”

His lips quirked up at the corners, amusement colouring his tone. “I see no harm in agreeing with your sister when she is correct.”

It was Rae’s turn to splutter and Ash considered this mission a success. 

“Well, you two have fun,” Ash winked and Solas rolled his eyes, “I’ll meet you later Rae, if you need anything just holler, I’ll be with the apothecary.”

Rae glowered at her, her ears bright pink and downturned. “You can count on that.”

Yes, extra wards would be necessary. 

With her satchel full of potions and a restful night's sleep thanks to the protective wards she had set up, Ash stepped out into the morning light accompanied by Rae, Varric, and Dorian. Ash had insisted that she accompany Rae to Redcliffe this time been firm that Rae would be taking Ash with her this time, certain that this was a carefully laid trap waiting for them. And from the way Dorian spoke of his former mentor, it seemed like it would be a cunning and dangerous one at that. Thankfully, they had Leliana's skilled scouts to aid in infiltrating Redcliffe, but Ash knew better than to underestimate a crafty bastard. 

Their mission was deemed 'diplomatic,' meaning they had to tread carefully and not draw too much attention. After much debate among Rae's advisors, it was decided that four individuals would be the acceptable number to bring along. Cullen, the typical Templar, wanted to show strength by sending more, but Leliana and Josephine argued for a smaller group to avoid sending the wrong message.

Cullen had been outvoted and he’d had a sour look on his face all morning, shooting her irritable looks as though she had something to do with it. He’d been gracious at accepting Rae’s decision to side with the mages, but when his suggestions kept getting dismissed on how to handle the matter, he began to be suspicious of her ‘magey’ influence. Or at least, that’s what she figured was running through his head as he scowled at her. What he failed to realize was that Ash couldn’t make Rae choose anything if she didn’t want to.

As they gathered their belongings to leave outside the palisades, Cullen’s eyes narrowed as he looked her up and down. Rae’s advisors had come to see them off, and while she was busy talking to the other women, Cullen had taken it upon himself to watch the mage who was up to no good. Arms crossed and legs planted in a power stance, his lips thinned as he pressed them together. Ash held back an eye roll as she leaned on her staff, her backpack slung over her shoulders - she was hoping that they could soon convince Horsemaster Dennett to join them, she didn’t love the idea of walking all over the vast Hinterlands. 

“Have I done something to offend, Ser?” She raised an eyebrow, a cocky smirk resting on her lips. 

He glowered at her - in a bad mood today, Ash would do best not to poke the bear. “Is that all you’re wearing?”

Ash looked down at the mage’s robes that Rae had shoved at her earlier that morning. Soft, tan leather framed her body, a collar protecting her neck, but she’d been unable to button up the vest, leaving her middle exposed in the dark cotton shirt beneath, and her cleavage bountiful. Dark leather greaves and worn boots that reached her knees covering her lower half - Ash was thankful that they fit, she could justify the breasts, but she wasn’t sure she could pull it off if half her ass was hanging out. It was comfortable and flexible, while still covering her body. They were good robes, possibly the best she’d ever had. Did the plunging neckline offend his delicate chantry sensibilities?

“I fail to see what the problem is with a mage wearing mage’s robes.” By this time, all the others around them were pretending with varying degrees of success to not appear as though they were listening in. Nosey brats. 

“You may be a mage, but that doesn’t mean you should be left unprotected. I will commission the blacksmith to have something made, a chest plate, perhaps.” 

She nodded sagely, glancing at her chest and the useless buttons of her vest. “Thinking about my chest were you, Commander?” She lifted her head, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Bright pink suited him, it brought out the hazel of his eyes and brought some life to his colourless complexion. His eyes darted down to her chest before quickly scampering away to just about anywhere else. “No, um, I…I was not thinking about…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, avoiding looking at her directly. “I simply meant…I was concerned about your safety, that is all.”

“Maybe you’re right, I should protect my assets. Someone has to be responsible for giving you soldiers something to fight for.” Ash was mildly concerned her grin was about to split her face, her arm under her breasts pushing them up if only to fluster the Commander just a little bit more. She heard Leliana’s musical giggle from behind her and felt triumph course through her. Cullen threw his hands up in exasperation. “Maker’s Breath, why do I even bother?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that for you, but you have a week to figure it out.”

He shook his head. “Is that all?” 

She smirked, hefting her pack firmly on her shoulder as Rae started saying her goodbyes. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back before you know it.”

Travelling with Rae again felt right, like she was home. She loved her Clan, but her true loyalties had always been with her sister, and it hadn’t been the same without her. The only downside was that she didn’t hear the end of her interaction with the Commander for the entire two-day journey to the Hinterlands, nor the entire day it took for them to reach Redcliffe. Dorian was the first to bring it up, despite his newfound status with the group, he was not shy about, well, anything. 

“So, a mage and the strapping Templar Commander, whoever would have thought the sister of the Herald would be into such prohibited fornications.” Dorian had decided their meandering down a dirt road needed something to spice it up. Ash wished it was anything but that. 

“I can assure you,” she said with a roll of her eyes, best to brush it off and not be bugged by the jab, “there is nothing between the Commander and myself, nor will there ever be.”

“Oh?” Dorian raised an eyebrow. “So teasing him about your ample bosom was nothing more than a joke between friends?”

“Exactly,” Ash said and Rae snickered unhelpfully, earning herself a glare. “What he takes from that is up to him, but I have no interest in a Templar.” 

“Former Templar.” Rae sidled up beside Ash, leaving her spot beside Varric, who - feeling left out - decided to hurry his small legs to flank Dorian. 

Ash groaned, her shoulders sagging. “It doesn’t matter, he’s still a Templar at heart.”

“Forbidden romances are in right now,” Varric pipped up, an author’s gleam in his eyes. 

“Do you need inspiration for a forbidden love, Mage-Templar romance, Mr. Tethras? I would have thought you’d be clever enough to come up with the contents yourself, given the popularity of Swords and Shields.” Ash had seen multiple different people reading the books on her way from the Free Marches, all enraptured by his story-telling prowess. 

“I never said anything about love.” Varric waggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

Before Ash could find a retort, Rae decided to step in for her. “Ash doesn’t do things halfway,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s love or nothing.”

“And it will be nothing with the Commander.” Ash was firm, her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed at her companions, challenging them to continue. Yes, he was attractive in a tortured soldier her heart yearned to fix way, but if Rae’s list from earlier that day was any indication, Ash couldn’t fix anyone. Besides, a Templar seeing a mage as a person capable of being loved? Ash doubted his current respect would carry into a relationship, it never did with men. 

Sweetpea meowed from where she slept atop Ash’s pack, voicing her opinions on the matter.

“If you say so.” Dorian was no help, whatever happened to mage solidarity?

She had hoped that would be the last of it, but her hope had been thoroughly dashed. Rae took no small joy in letting her know that Cullen was eagerly awaiting her return, despite Ash’s disagreement. She’d known the man for a week and tolerated him at best - he was fun to tease and bug. He was clearly being kind and putting up with her, nothing more, that was how she was going to keep it. 

When they recruited a Tranquil mage in the tavern in Redcliffe, she felt sick the her stomach at the reminder of what Templars do to mages like her. She was spirit-possessed, she would do well to remember that. If he ever used any of his Templar abilities on her, he’d know and cut her down or take away her personhood. She’d rather die than be made Tranquil, but death wasn’t an option when she still had to ensure Rae’s safety. 

“This is why I will never become involved with men like the Commander, men like him do this,” Ash pointed discreetly at the Tranquil mage when he was out of earshot, “to us.” She pointed to herself. “He was in Kirkwall, you know how they treated mages there.”

Rae twisted her lips to the side, gaze distant. “From what Varric tells me, he’s changed a lot since then, he even fought against that crazy Knight-Commander in the end.” 

“But how many mages became Tranquil under his watch until then?” 

Rae shrugged, chewing on her bottom lip. “You’d have to ask him, but I have a feeling it all weighs on him. I think he’s trying to do good, he may not be able to make up for everything he’s done, but it’s worth something, right? If someone did a bad thing it doesn’t mean they can never do good again.”

Ash examined Rae, her averted gaze, fidgeting with the hilt of her dagger. She placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder and gave a light squeeze. “Since when did you become so wise?” 

Rae snorted and ducked out of her grasp, shoving her playfully. “Since I wasn’t dragged down by your stupidness all of the time.” 

“Watch yourself,” Ash warned, “you’ll regret that one later.”

Rae stuck out her tongue, and Ash laughed, the tension and worry that had been weighing her down slowly being lifted off her shoulders. She needed to stop thinking about the Commander and focus more on the one she’d almost lost, the one who needed her. Even without Love, Ash would never let harm befall her little sister, the Creators be damned. And damned they would be if anything ever happened to Rae. 

Next Chapter

A/N: Cullen, staring longingly out of the window: When will Ash(’s breasts) return from the war?