#Cullen x Drysi

[mythalsknickers]

“Go with me?” “As long as you hold my hand.” For DA DWC for any pairing you wish! :D :D

Title: In the Darkest HourPairing: Cullen x Drysi AmellRating: TWord Count: 1329Warning/Tags: Not Inquisitor Character, Blood Magic Mention, Hawke does not die, or LoghainCC: @dadrunkwriting

This was honestly very interesting to write, I thought it was going to be sweet and fluffy. But Adamant seemed to be the one that needed to be written. I could not kill off my Hawke or Loghain. I hope you enjoy this.

Adamant. She had never thought she would get to see the fortress. After all, why would she ever need to go to the Western Approach?  Drysi clenched her hands as rocks slammed into the walls of the fortress. Sucking in a breath Drysi outstretched her hands, watching them shake.

“Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and do not falter.” She could feel it as the fade struggled under the assault. Blood Magic. Her hands tensed, she was forcing the shaking to go away. Taking a deep breath she pulled on the magic, willing it to knit this soldier’s skin together.

One by one, sometimes more then she could count the wounded were brought it. This she could handle, killing men she knew though, or knew of that was worse than facing another blight.  Her body ached, craving just a drop from the blue vials on her belt. She had her limit any more, and she ran the risk of her magic depleting too fast. Reaching up to her neck,  her hand wrapped around the amulet. Her eyes closed with worry. Cullen. He was a brilliant tactician, and he and Loghain had both gone over the strategy thousands of times. It didn’t stop the worry that clung to her.

“Commander Amell!” Her heart froze, and as her eyes snapped open, they were as hard as ice. A scout stood at the edge of the tent seeming to try and pick her out. Glancing at the other healers she quickly beckoned one to her wounded.  Grabbing her grimoire from the table she quickly fastened it to her belt, followed by her staff being slung across her back.

Her strides were long as she quickly weaved through the nurses, healers, and surgeons. Reaching the edge of the tent she looked up at the scout. It had been enough time for Drysi Amell, Healer to be replaced with the Commander of the Grey. Taking a breath she met his eyes.

“Report!” it was familiar, a habit that had developed during the blight, and then during the Darkspawn incursions in Amaranthine.

“Commander Rutherford and Inquisitor Lavellan ask for you at the front… Sir! er Ma’am…er Serah…My Lady!” The poor scout, he couldn’t decide on a title. Shaking her head she sighed.

“Sir is fine, Commander is easier. Are you to escort me?” She tilted her head, short dark waves of hair covering one icy eye rather rebelliously. Cullen was alive. Thank Andraste’s Blessed Fire and the Maker.

“No Commander, Commander Rutherford is waiting at the Fortress.” She nodded, slipping her gloves on. As she walked past the scout she patted him on the shoulder.

Each step brought her closer to the inevitable truth. The Order had gone too far.  They had kept secrets from the most senior members, allowed a single vulnerability to the order go unchecked for maker knows how many years, and now this. As Adamant loomed over her little more than smoking ruins. Drysi knew in her heart, she could no longer in good conscious call herself or her men Grey Wardens. Everything they had stood for; gone because they played themselves into this hand.

Soldiers and Scouts alike jogged in and out of the Fortress, many carrying wounded.  Stepping around the siege equipment and the remains of ancient walls.  She spotted him, hand resting on his sword, golden hair well beyond being tamed and his red mantle. Her lips pulled at a slight smile.

“Cullen!” she called walking over to him, it was informal but all of Skyhold knew they well were something more then friends. At her call, he stopped issuing orders and jogged over to her.  There was no hesitation as he pulled her into his arms. Drysi clung to him, it only lasted a moment but it was enough.

“Drysi, the Inquisitor, is asking for a Senior Warden. The surviving Grey Wardens have no one to turn to. She is also asking your recommendation on what to do with the order.” He was apologizing, she could hear it in his tone of voice and see it in his eyes.

“I understand.” she gave a firm nod, so it fell to her. While Loghain held a senior rank here…she was a Commander of the Grey.  She was the only one who could say with definitive authority what to do with these wardens. “Go with me?” she tilted her head hoping he would.“As long as you hold my hand, my lady.”  He offered her hand, and she gave him no hesitation. Taking his hand, she let him lead her through the ruined keep. As they walked a quiet hush fell over the Wardens. They knew she had their fate in her hands, her uniform, her scars told them exactly who she was. The Hero of Ferelden.  Veteran of the Fifth Blight, Vanquisher of the Archdemon Urthemiel. Titles she knew by heart.Letting go of Cullen’s hand she stepped onto the dais with the Inquisitor, gesturing for her to turn away from the crowd. They spoke privately. She needed to address them. They were terrified, they believed they failed, this defeat had shattered their resolve. As they turned back towards the crowd she shook the Inquisitor’s hand with a smile.“In war victory, in peace vigilance, in death sacrifice.” She licked her lips looking over the crowd of mages and the few warriors who had survived. She barely caught Loghain’s reassuring smile. “A wise woman, once told me we are not just standing vigilant against Darkspawn, but the hubris of magic gone astray. The magic we fight against from the moment of our joining, the Blight. Today we have failed.” The crowd began to murmur and shift and she could see some of the mages beginning to reach for their own grimoires and tomes.“I am not here to cast judgment on the ritual done here,” she announced raising her hands. “I am here as your sister, to make you see reason. It was not just one failure that brought you to this defeat, this miscalculation, this terror, and this false calling you now feel!” She screamed her chest heaving. “I live with it every day, and I am here to tell you The Grey Wardens of Ferelden, have no blighted blood or calling. There is a reason a Warden King sits on Ferelden’s throne unaffected by fighting in the last blight!” The crowd fell silent, awe and curiosity replaced doubt and fear. There was no clattering of plate or jangle of scale mail.

“It was not  Weisshaupt that found this cure. It was Wiesshaupt that kept Corypheus a secret, it was Wiesshaupt who fell silent. We were failed by the very order we pledged our lives to!” She turned to the Inquisitor giving a soft smile.  “I humbly recommend Lady Inquisitor, that the Grey Wardens of Orlais be absorbed into the ranks of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden. Under my command to be reformed into a new order to protect against the blight with a modified joining.”The silence hung through the air, and tensions mounted. She could see it in the Wardens, they were worried, some doubted her. However, they wanted to know what the Inquisitor would allow. “I will permit this Commander Amell, however for the time being it will be with Inquisition supervision.” She smiled as the wardens all seemed relieved. 

It was one battle. She turned smiling at Cullen stepping down to him. With him at her side, she could face it all. As she wrapped her arms around Cullen’s neck, the fade tore another rift opened and behind them. A bloodied Carys Hawke stumbled out the rift.“What’d I miss?” She staggered, holding her broken staff in her hand. “Oof! Varric!” the woman cried as the dwarf barreled into. Only her cousin.

“I am never going to escape your Cousin am I?” she smiled at Cullen and shook her head. No, he wouldn’t Amells stuck together through everything.

[mythalsknickers]

Evening lovelies and Cullenites. I come bearing gifts. I have published another chapter. It took all my willpower to not cry writing part of this. I hope you all enjoy the new chapter of Songs like Lyrium. Soon I will have an update for Ma Ghi’lan, Ma Nas, Ma Las.

[mythalsknickers]

For the DADWC: "things you said at 1 am," with your favorite ship!

This is super late for DADWC, but between my monstrosity and Mary Poppins returns, I got distracted. I hope you enjoy this Cullen X Amell. I thought I was done with angst but Drysi had other plans. @dadrunkwriting Per usual no beta for this.  A small warning for Suicidal Thoughts, and PTSD

Bare feet were almost silent on the stone as she pushed open the door to the chantry.  The bitter cold bit at her knees, where her nightshirt stopped. Long dark hair hung over hollow pale grey eyes.  Reaching out with her had lightning zapped around the room, lighting the candles around Blessed Andraste. Kneeling down she closed her eyes.

Dark wings, violent and echoing cries of music pounded her ears. Her eyes snapped open and she sobbed. It wasn’t real, her calling had been cured. Her hand clenched the furs tightly. She stared up at Andraste, the pan of oil burning.

“Your maker did this! Magic should serve men and not rule over them. I have given everything! Let me be! Let me live in peace!” she screamed her body shaking with her anger. The warden commander, the hero of the fifth blight. She had wanted none of it. Another sob tore through her, her hand reaching up to cling to the pendant around her neck. For all their problems Cullen seemed to understand some of it. He was helping her, keeping her from, doing something just as rash as her fellow wardens.

“Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood, the Maker’s will is written.” She tried to sing the words, her voice catching on them, her song turning to sobs.  The last time she sang those words, filled her with pain.  She closed her eyes.

Corrupted flames roaring past her,  magical barriers shattering, burnt lyrium filling the air.  She had picked up a sword, pulling the last of her magic into it. She had charged sliding under Urthemiel, it hadn’t been enough. Alistair was going to be married. She had nothing, she was the best choice. Grabbing her staff she climbed on top of the dragon. “Blessed are the righteous.” she raised her staff, her legs locked behind the dragon’s head. “The lights in the shadow. In their blood…in my blood the Maker’s will is written!” she slammed her staff down pushing all her strength into pushing the blade into the dragon. The roaring in her ears shattered, silence, then a great beam of light and she was thrown back. Her vision faded to black.

She shook and sobbed the fur cape slipping off her shoulders, she was supposed to die that day.  She didn’t hear the door open her mind lost in the past.

“Drysi? Maker’s breath!” She barely felt the fur wrap around her along with a mantle. Her eyes didn’t focus immediately onto him as he leaned down. “Drysi, I know you are there love,” he whispered gently pulling into her arms, he picked her up pressing her close, Andraste as silent as the Maker stood watching as he carried her away.

The first thing to pull her from her memories, Shortbread, and armor polish. She blinked, her eyes still carrying the haunted expression as they entered his office. “Drysi, sweetheart you back with me.” She barely nodded she wasn’t sure if she was with him. She still felt so numb.

She wasn’t sure when he sat down with her on the bed, but he wrapped his arms around her, pulling blankets around her. His hand brushed the hair out of her eyes just holding her.

“You’re in Skyhold, Drysi. The archdemon is ten years dead.” they were words, words whispered to gently bring her back. “You have been cured of the calling nearly as long,” he whispered stroking her hair, peppering her forehead with tender kisses. “None of it is real, and he will pay for doing this to you.” She curled so her head pressed into his chest, another sob shook her tired body.

“It is alright love, let it all out.” he rubbed her back comforting her, mirroring words she had said when he sparred with her burning through anger and pain.  Her hands clenched onto his shirt, she needed him more than she had needed anyone since the blight.

Her tears dried, her body too tired to sleep, Cullen was almost asleep his hand still stroking her hair. He kissed the shell of her ear just barely, whispering.“I love you Drysi Amell, through everything…It will get better, or I will be right there at your side, demanding and fighting for it to get better. You will have a happy ending.” she closed her eyes at his promise her hand tangling with his.

[mythalsknickers]

For DADWC, "things you said through your teeth"?

A little dose of Drysi and Cullen for you @dadrunkwriting

Blood dripped into the dirt with her tears. “How dare you Drysi!” she tightened her hold on her staff. How had she gotten here with him of all people? Her warden armor slowly turning purple. The mage rebellion had decided to deny Inquisition aide. She closed her pale eyes for just a moment. Opening them back up she narrowed them at her former lover.

It was a split second. She disappeared from his view. “How dare I? Cullen, how dare you assume!” she snarled reappearing behind him. “I am no circle mage.” She swung her staff towards his knee. Grimacing as it buckled she shifted her grip on her staff only holding the bone lyrium infused rod with one hand. Moving her right hand like she was reaching into the ground think roots sprang forth wrapping around him. “I am not here because I agree with them.” She circled around him staring into once again angry brown eyes. “I am here because Most Holy asked me. Leliana asked me to get information for her. I needed information for my wardens!” she screamed dropping her staff as ice began to coat the roots holding him in place.

His sword clattered to the ground. “I have and always will love you!” she clenched her teeth to keep from sobbing turning away from him. “Do you think I enjoyed pretending to be a blood mage Cullen? I have never once in ten years strayed from my vow.” She growled it sounded weaker by the moment. As she turned her vision began to go dark. Reaching out with her hand she pulled on the little mana she had releasing him as she crumpled to the mud.

Her confession had shocked him. After everything, she loved him. She didn’t kill him. Rushing forward he removed his mantle from his armor wrapping it around her. He quickly scooped her up. Striding away from the bloody, muddy ground where a sword and staff left laying.

[mythalsknickers]

“Well. Yell, scream, say something. Anything” for a pairing of your choice for DADWC

Title: This is not our FatePairing: Cullen x Drysi Amell-TrevelyanRating: TeenUniverse: Songs Like Lyrium

I am sorry it took so long Nonnie, I did not find the perfect inspiration for this till just recently. I hope this is worth the wait, I certainly feel it is, and please don’t mind the Angst demon. @dadrunkwriting

A rustle of soft satin slippers accompanied the harsh clap of armored boots, it was just a moment before the heavy wooden door echoed shut. Only leaving the war table as the very physical reminder of a chasm between her and her commander, gaping and bleeding it only crippled them. Drysi clenched her hand as the silence fell heavier in the room. Slowly and deliberately she drew out a single blood-red vial, raising her misty blue eyes up to meet his molten amber eyes. Using more care than necessary she laid it down, the aged tag flapping open revealing a faded name almost obscured by a vivid blue ink. It was the opening move in a match to decide how to move forward.

“Well, Cullen?”

Despite how soft and tired her voice was, it shattered the silence if only briefly. Drysi Trevelyan, the well-behaved mage from Ostwick, was a partial lie and charade. One she deliberately kept up for one former Knight Commander.  For just a moment she brought her hand up to the neck of her robe, were a delicate well-worn bronze chain rested. She jerked her hand down sharply; it hurt enough to think about the lost friendship she couldn’t let herself acknowledge the knife that rested firmly in her heart.

As they both stared at each other, and waited, the vial caught a faint light of the sun. It was a sick sort of irony, she had placed it on Haven. A night of desperation had brought it back into play after all these years. Cullen had been the only person she could have given it to, that despite everything, would have found her and saw that she went to the Maker’s side. That had been the night, with no other choice she told him the truth, or rather the vial told him the truth, she let her eyes close, waiting.

She knew what had to be done, there was no escaping it twice.  Her hand tightened around a small glass vial for a moment before she yelled.

“Commander!” He turned, there was no denying the clear command for his attention. She quickly strode the length of the chantry, her griffon pauldron catching the low light briefly “You will have better use for this then I will...just don’t leave me out there.” She took his hand closing it around the vial not wanting to give him a chance to respond she pulled back and pulled the fade around her. It was barely a blink but she was out the door when she reappeared.

One Age,  

Two Ages, 

Three Ages, she had waited long enough.

A single sigh left her lips and she raised her eyes to meet her Commander’s, a wild storm meeting the hardened ripples of amber. As the wind howled around the very room they stood unmovable in, she reached out pushing away from it, squaring her shoulders for just a moment, as she turned away, wrapping her arms around herself and ducking her head, letting the short waves of ink like hair obscure her face. Each breath came quicker than the last as her arms shook, trying to contain the broken pieces of herself together.  It was almost as if she snapped her fingers, the temperature dropped in the room leaving her last breath in a fine mist surrounded by magic.

Where was the reaction?

What had she expected though? The violent tearing as her connection to the fade was momentarily stolen away, the burning grip of claws as she was silenced. There was not even the hint of burnt Lyrium in the air between them, just the cold snap of her magic.  She was a mage who lost control, shown herself to be vulnerable to a demon, and behind her, the burgundy and golden lion had done nothing. Nothing at all...

Her breath caught in her throat, nothing marked him as the deranged Templar she had rescued after Kinloch Hold fell, nothing marked him as the man who had almost followed Meredith into the abyss. Finally, her breath stuttered out with a violent shudder wracking her shoulders. Slowly she turned towards him.

“Well Yell! Scream, Shout, Anything.  Maker be damned Cullen do something!” She sobbed out, fighting against the burning of unshed tears as her fist connected with the table, sending the vial into the air like a ship being tossed about on the Waking Sea. She would not and could not let herself cry. He had to make a move.

For just a moment she thought, the chantry’s ineffective leash on her was going to shatter into a million tiny shards. A short-lived thought murdered as Cullen caught the vial, cradling it in his fingers. His endless amber eyes had never broken from the murderous storm that raged in her eyes.

“Were you ever going to tell me the truth?” It was a simple question and some traitorous part of her wanted to smile at the way his scar tugged at his lip, in a never-ending smug smirk. There was no simple truth to the answer, had she planned to tell him. Yes, would she have acted? Her brows knitted as she watched him. She wasn’t sure.

“Maker’s light!” she swore and for a moment there was a stifled chuckle from him. She rubbed her arms trying to ignore the way that it warmed the deepest part of her soul. A part that had long since gone cold. “I had planned to Cullen.” she whispered quietly letting the silence fall between them both.

The sound of glass cracking under strain didn’t shatter the silence, but she raised a brow at him, her stormy eyes warming ever so slightly. Drysi watched as in a moment, in a single fist clench a leash was shattered into a million tiny pieces. Her lips parted as disbelief filled her, previously unshed tears slipping through cracks created from an unexpected reaction.

Silent tears grew, into sobs and hysterical laughter. She was free, no leash back to the chantry, no way for Templars to track her.  She stumbled forward leaning on the table for support. She didn’t hear him rush over, or at first feel the way his arms settled around her waist, pulling her close but giving her every chance to pull away. Turning into his chest her fingers tangled into the soft fur of his jacket, ten years worth of tears came forth as they held each other. A fragile bandaged closed the gaping wound in both of them.

“I trust you Drysi Amell-Trevelyan...It would be my honor to earn your trust if I am worthy.”

[mythalsknickers]

For the DADWC: "things you said under the stars and in the grass," for the pairing of your choice!

Title: Speak Right to the HeartPairing: Cullen x Drysi Amell-TrevelyanRating: TBDWarnings/Tags: Lyrium AddictionWord Count: 1822For @dadrunkwritingI hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing this, I somehow managed to emerge victorious from the pit of angst I had fallen into.

Cullen stood over his desk, watching the sky turn from blue to a rich purple and gold. Patiently, he waited as the candles created shadows that danced in the waning light. He glanced out the door,  stomach tightening as his heart leapt into his throat. It would be tonight. If he waited, he was not sure he would ever ask her.

Reaching up, his armor shifted, ringing in the silent room he carefully tousled his tamed hair. It had been a chance, the first time he saw her climb the ramparts and began patrolling. Some nights she was out until the very first light of dawn crept through the mountains. A smirk tugged at his lips, for just a moment he had caught the sight of a pale silver gleam of her leather robes.

In a moment it shattered, his brows knitted together as his eyes narrowed. Hunching over his hand fell instinctively to his sword as his head throbbed, and every bone in his body cried out thirst. The all too familiar icy pit of need filled his stomach and his throat tightened. His eyes almost devoid of emotion scanned the room before locking onto a faint blue glow from his desk drawer. He could hear it singing to him. How could he protect her, what she was building without it? He needed it.

Squeezing his eyes closed, his hand clenched his sword. He tensed as he straightened out of his hunch. He forced himself to take a deep breath, before slowly exhaling, he just needed to let go of it. He needed his freedom from the Chantry more then he needed the Lyrium. It seemed like hours, as he just fought against the need to open the kit up.

“Never again.” He promised hoarsely to himself, finally tearing his eyes away from his desk he scanned for the flash of silver leather.  She stood out against the wind as it tore and battered at the argent dyed leather, and her short, almost raven colored hair. He reached up and scratched the back of his neck as he watched her. It was hard to imagine, that this woman he had been taught would need his protection, no longer did. She stood against the icy wind, rather unfazed, in leather and chain armor. She looked like a warrior Teyrna.

He stepped around his desk, eyes flickering to that faint blue glow for a moment. He lifted his hand away from his sword and pulled open a drawer, tearing his attention away from that blue glow, in favor of a small coin and a worn silver ring around a delicate chain. A smile tugged at his scarred lips before he gathered both up. Shoving the drawer closed, he left his office in a few strides, breathing in the night air.

It was now or never.

It was near silent tonight and the cold wind that howled down from the peaks of the mountains wrapped around her like an icy hug.  There was so much from Adamant that needed to be decided. She wrapped her arms around herself and let out a soft sigh, watching it hang in the cold air, turning to fog for just a moment. Her shoulders were drawn tight as her mind raced. Only two things had been made clear at Adamant, leaving so much undecided. She and Loghain were no longer wardens in the sense that those in Adamant were, and Corypheus’ dragon was little more than a familiar. There had been no familiar song, deafening as it attacked them.

She reached up to her neck, long fingers ghosting over the dark ink that shaped mountains into weather-beaten skin before wrapping around the tarnished silver chain, tugging the heavy medallion free from under her collar. Instinctively, her fingers traced over the worn sword of mercy, while her eyes searched the mountains for a sign.

“Bit for your thoughts?” A rich voice spoke.

Her fingers tightened as she fought the instinct of her magic to lash out as he spoke. It was just Cullen. For a moment, her icy eyes stared at the mountains as if to argue with them, before she turned to face him. She let her eyes soften, and gave him the slightest of smiles.

“By Andraste’s pyre Cullen, how are you so quiet!” She laughed as he reached up to rub his neck. “I doubt my worries are even worth a bit.” She offered with a soft shrug and glanced over at him. He always seemed to smell of shortbread cookies, the ones with just a bit of orange zest in them.

“Well if they aren’t worth a bit, how about…” She canted her head as he paused, scratching at his neck. “How about we leave for a few days? I have something I wish to show you.” The way his eyes sparkled sparked nostalgia, a time that felt like a lifetime ago; stolen kisses between the rows of books, soft laughter as they snuck out onto the shore to count the stars, desperate hands as they never wanted to be parted. She could almost feel it all.

“Can we just leave?” She breathed fervently. She glanced over at the mountains where they met the budding night sky. Each beat of her heart hammered her chest. She was afraid to breathe.   It had to be too good to be true. By Koth and the Lady, it sounded like… She didn’t dare hope, did she?

“Cullen…Am I understanding right? Are you wanting to go…” She paused, trying to find the words, her brows furrowing in frustration as nothing came.

“I am wanting to take you away from here…For a moment just to ourselves. I can’t go back in time, but Drysi; I want there to be more than that kiss that Leliana’s poor scout interrupted.” He offered as her breath hitched, catching in her throat before fits of giggles broke loose. The sounds of her mirth loosened something in him, and she was soon met with his rich laughter. A moment just for them was a dream come true. With a breath, she smiled at him, finally finding the words.

“A trip…away with just us.” Her eyes closed as she pictured it; just as they had always talked. Somewhere quiet; just them, away from the world, hiding in a single tent and curled against each other for comfort, the heat of passion coiled into them both in the still of the night, where no one could hear them. “It sounds like a dream Cullen, let me get together a bag.”

It was just a moment as he reached out, catching her hand and giving her a smile before giving a slight tug to bring her in close.

“I will meet you. Outside of the gate.” He whispered under the light of the stars.  He pressed a quick kiss to her hand as he pulled away from her. She stepped back and fumbled, grabbing ahold of the rampart. He had, in a single moment, uprooted the budding plan she had to finish this with Corypheus. Her heart hammered as she tried to recompose her mask, no one would be in the hall, not at this hour she hoped.

It had been ten years ago when the planned this. She turned and looked back at the mountains,  shaking her head with a small smile. A sign from gods that actually listened, a chance for her to find happiness. She pushed away from the rampart and dashed down to the rotunda door. There was no caution as she flung it open and slammed it closed before dashing into the hall, past the silent enigma that was Solas.

There was no race but she wasted no time flying up the countless flights of stairs to her quarters, tossing the door open, the clash of wood and stone echoed through the too large room. Grabbing her bag from the road, she tore open the wardrobe.

“Where did you put it Leliana.” she grumbled, sending clothes and shoes flying out onto the thick furs. Under everything, her fingers found it. A thin golden box that symbolized a trip to a rather specialized boutique in Val Royaeux.  With reverence, she pulled out the package opening it up. She didn’t dare wear them when she left on missions. Pulling out her prize she laid it out on the bed before removing her armor, long enough to conceal it under her armor for tonight.  The remainder of her packing bore no ceremony as her clothes were tossed into the bag with no real care, along with her traveling gear.

As she left the great hall the sky had darkened considerably, a ride down south by the moonlight, she couldn’t help the blush that crept up her cheeks. Carefully she crept through the gates before walking down to where Cullen held a pair of horses as they grazed. She took a moment just to watch him pat the horses and listen to the night. How…how in any god’s name had she gotten this lucky, to have another chance with him. After all bitter hurt, forgiveness, and timid friendship here it was, a chance for them to both be free to love each other finally.

“Shall we Cullen?” she offered walking up to the familiar black Forder who had carried her around Ferelden quite contentedly. Reaching up she stroked the mare’s nose while he watched her with a smile she could feel without looking up at him. It was a moment before she stepped up onto the stirrup and swung over onto the saddle.

“Let’s we aren’t going far tonight, but tomorrow we will be out of range of the guard towers.” he offered as he mounted the almost golden stallion and urged him into a quick canter. Shaking her head in a moment of amusement she gently tapped the mare before she was off after him into the night.

There was no competition, it was just a canter in the moonlight enjoying each other’s company, the laughter, and pure joy of just being able to do this together. The trail wove and dipped following a small stream off the mountain. As Cullen slowed, she slowed her mare following as he passed through a small arch of ancient willows into a mostly secluded grove.

“This is beautiful,” she whispered as the stopped the horses dismounting. She laid out in the tall grass looking up at the stars as Cullen chuckled beginning to set up the one tent. She just laid there watching the night sky whispering the names of the constellations.

“Cullen” she called finally mustering the courage. The only response she had was the rustle of grass as he made his way to her.

“Hm?” he kneeled down before joining her in laying back in the grass and the horses grazed on the grove on a simple tether to the tent.

“I love you.”

[mythalsknickers]

DWC! “Nobody’s seen you in days.” Make it hurt like a mofo.

TITLE: Lights in the ShadowPAIRING: Drysi Amell-Trevelyan x Cullen RutherfordRATING: MatureWARNINGS: Grieving, Guilt

For @dadrunkwriting I hope you all enjoy this.

As the sun crested over the ancient tower, she dipped a single alabaster foot into the clear water. Soft turquoise eyes stared over at the ruined dock. Patches of rusty brown stained the silver scales of her armor. There was no knowing how long she had just sat, staring at the dock, staring at her former home.

“You know, I have some documents too. They say I am the Queen of Antiva, what do you think of that.”

Carroll.

Looking up at the sky, she could feel the words caught in her throat, turning away she closed her eyes as a single tear slipped down.  How many of her old friends would she have to kill? Why was the Maker so cruel?

The battle had been a disaster; the intelligence had hinted at Red Templar activity in the Graves.  At the pavilion, they had run into the commander the reports had told her about. Through every pull of the fade, she had felt the all too familiar sinking of her stomach and the cold chill. Dread and Familiarity. The Behemoth had been familiar. It was only after the battle she fought with the armor, tearing as much off and away from her face. Her heart sank at the sight of wispy blonde hair.

“Isn’t it the Queen Warden...” The words had driven into her heart, even despite the cursed song that echoed into his voice... he was still Carroll.

“A-Amell,  listen to me... Find Noodle Head...” she closed her eyes, feeling the biting, stinging of tears threatening to rush loose. “and... kiss him, tell him...”  By the Maker and the Lady of the Skies, she had tried, reaching out with her magic to heal him as he coughed blood up.

“it’s from... the Queen of Antiva.”  Carroll, the baby faced dirty minded templar. He had survived the blight, and the fall of the circle, for what? To become Corypheus’ puppet. Where was justice? she should have died long before him.

Everything he had ever said, haunted her; joining forces with Jowan, Irving, and Anders. How many would die, how many would she hurt? What purpose did it serve? Did the gods or the Maker even hear them?

Stormy eyes hardening to ice chips she tossed a long empty bottle into the lake with a violent scream, her body shaking.  How many would die, before the Gods and Fate were done with her? How many of her friends would number among the dead? Everyone she got close to wound up dead, it was a curse.

“Blessed are the righteous, lights in the shadows. In their blood the maker’s will is written. What will?” she scoffed watching a flash of lightning crash into the water, her magic sizzled around her. Grabbing a bottle from the stump she paused listening, it sang to her, her blood began to race and the sizzling of her magic fizzled out into a hum. Lyrium enriched alcohol from Tevinter.  Popping the cork loose she tipped the bottle back and took a long swig.

Drysi Amell-Trevelyan, Warden-Commander of Fereldan, Herald of Andraste, and Murder.

She spat out the drink, coughing violently unshed tears bit and clawed at her eyes. Doubling over she clung to her stomach as the bottle shattered on the ground. It was her hands stained in the blood of her friends. She had sacrificed Jowan to save Connor, slitting his throat. She had sacrificed Irving to save Cullen and Anders poor Anders. She had signed his life, his very freedom away.

A black horse lifted his head to nicker a greeting. She didn’t break away from staring at the lake, whoever came to bring her back to Skyhold could do it by force.  Lyrium enriched magic, burned underneath her skin aching to lash out in a spark of lightning, and she listened waiting to see who it was.

There was no crash of armored boots hitting the ground. The grass rustled as if it was brushing against leather. For just a moment there was silence.

“Did he have the papers to prove he was the Queen of Antiva?” She tried to suppress the flinch at the strained laugh. Cullen, it shouldn’t have surprised her. Cullen knew all her secrets, ones she penned down on blood-stained parchment, or ones whispered over heated games of chess.

“No” she managed as sobs she tried to keep from spilling out began to shatter the walls she had, shaking her foundation to little bits of rubble. Her knees hit the lyrium soaked ground, tears running down her face, staring at dark leather gloves or rather the bloodstains only she could see. For a moment she didn’t hear the grass crumple as he took a step closer to her.

“No!” The grass stood stiff with a harsh line silver line of frost cutting through it.

“No Closer, please Cullen.” her heart wretched as the knife twisted further into her heart. “I have already been used to hurt you once. I could not bear to hurt you further!”

His shame, his foolish infatuation.

“No!” there was no malice just enough to get her attention. “You are not, nor were you ever to blame for what happened to me at the Circle.” It seemed each word brought him closer to her until he was on his knees in front of her.

She didn’t back away, as much as she thought it was wise. Her eyes met his as he held out his hands. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she raised her hands lacing her fingers with his and squeezing tightly.

“It’s been days since we got a report from you. You gave everyone a right scare,” he whispered, and it shattered the need to hold his hands into just needing to hold him.

“I...” she couldn’t find the words

“Make the blood go away.” It was no question but a simple understanding as she buried her head into the fur color of his jacket. She wouldn’t forget the promise, but it was not the right time. It hurt too much to think about kissing him.

[mythalsknickers]

TMI Tuesday...er Wednesday

guess who is late starting this hahaha, Welcome to TMI Tuesday!

What is TMI Tuesday er Wednesday?

It is quite simple you send me an ask for a specific character or pairing. The smuttier, the better. The goal is to make blush with these. I do have a masterlist of prompts found here, or #Prompts, #TMI Tuesday

What are your Characters and Pairings?

I am glad you asked, I don’t do game character x game character (Adoribull etc) I do OC x Character. Here is my current list, and ships can be found in the tags of this post as well.

Nealros x Halvune Tabris Zevran x Halvune Tabris Cullen x Drysi Amell Fen’aslan(Evuniala) x Solas

Lets begin this show!