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anneapocalypse · 2 years

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On Dragon Age II's Ending

The ending of Dragon Age 2 has always felt to me like the least morally ambiguous of any of the games' mage-templar decisions and frankly one of the least ambiguous "big" decisions in the series.

DA2 makes it extremely obvious that the Circle mages are about to be executed for something that absolutely none of them had any part in and no one, not even the Knight-Commander, is arguing that that isn't the case. You can feel whatever kind of way about what Anders did, and still recognize the staggering injustice of killing all the Circle mages for something that everyone, including the Knight-Commander calling for their deaths, is fully aware they did not do.

And just in case that wasn't clear, someone made a point of dropping in that bit of ambient dialogue telling us that Meredith is already trying to get clearance for the Right of Annulment before the explosion; she's just looking for an excuse. The game is pretty clear about the injustice of this situation, regardless of how many demons and blood mages there may or may not be in Kirkwall.

I'm a chronic replayer who enjoys making up new characters every time to see things I haven't seen before and I didn't have a particularly difficult time coming up with in-character, circumstantial reasons why a character might annul the Circle in DAO or recruit the templars in DAI and believe they're doing the right thing. For the former: dwarven noble who knows little about magic and believes what the Knight-Commander tells her, and chooses the wrong dialogue option with Morrigan in the party so Wynne attacks and therefore is not present in the party as an emotional anchor and a voice for the mages, and listens to Cullen when he says it's too dangerous to let any of the mages live. For the latter: non-mage human noble from a Chantry-connected family who just implicitly trusts templars, as he was raised to. Or Dalish elf who walks into Redcliffe, sees a magister stinking up the place and says "Well, the Dread Wolf take the lot of you then" and turns around and marches straight to Therinfal, conscripts the templars, disbanding the Order in the process. Just a couple of easy examples I've actually played.

But the ending of DA2 is a choice between "Yes, I will help to execute these people for something everyone knows they didn't do" or "No, I will not do that and I will help them defend themselves and escape." Of course it's possible to come up with in-character reasons to make the former choice, and I have! But it's much less of a choice a character could just stumble into, and you have to do a lot more ideological contortions for a character to do that and believe they're doing the right thing.

Yes, there are a lot of blood mages and demons in Kirkwall. While we don't get a lot of opportunities to treat blood mage NPCs with much nuance apart from Merrill as most blood mages are programmed to attack on sight (and this is likely a product of the game's tight development deadline), the game itself offers an explanation for this in the writings of the Band of Three, the Enigma of Kirkwall codex entry that you can collect throughout the story. While you have to look to find it, this history does make it clear that Kirkwall is meant to be an outlier, for reasons both political and historical (which is another post for another day). And Merrill herself, whether you agree with her viewpoints or not, does offer an important counterpoint: a character designed to be sympathetic while giving a more nuanced perspective to the player on why a mage might choose to use blood magic.

And yeah, even with the fact that the game makes you fight Orsino in the mage ending, I still think this. It's clumsily executed, yes, but Orsino going all blood magic harvester abomination is just one more example of what the game has been showing us all along: that mages (like most people) turn to extreme measures when they're backed into corners with no sense of hope, and the templars then use those extreme actions to justify further abuses of mages. I don't think it was strictly necessary (and for what it's worth, Mark Darrah agrees with that; it's a decision that was made out of concern for gameplay balance more than narrative and in hindsight he's said that he thinks it was a mistake), and I definitely think it could have been executed better, but as it stands it does fit an ongoing theme, and Orsino's actions still do not justify the murder of every other mage in the Circle.

And then there's that thing where Hawke can only receive the support of the nobility and become Viscount if they side with the templars, thereby agreeing to uphold the existing power structures in Kirkwall. It's easy to miss if you've never played through the templar ending (and also because Hawke doesn't hold the position for long and Inquisition doesn't really acknowledge that they ever did Correction: It is actually mentioned in the Champion of Kirkwall codex entry, and possibly other places as well, my memory just failed me), but to me that outcomes is absolutely inspired. It serves to highlight how deeply intertwined the nobility are with the Chantry. The nobles of Kirkwall want Meredith deposed because they feel she's overstepped her bounds by denying them a proper viscount, but they are not anti-Chantry or anti-Circle; they still want mages locked up, and they probably also remember what happened the last time Kirkwall's nobility decided to try and contest the Chantry's power in their city (see: Perrin Threnhold).

I find the templar ending genuinely interesting to play through in terms of seeing the story from that angle, and in terms of what it has to say about power structures and politics in Thedas generally and in Kirkwall in specific, which I also wrote about recently. (To say nothing of how differently it frames Varric in Inquisition when the Hawke he idolizes is the Hawke who slaughtered Kirkwall's mages to a one.) I would honestly recommend playing it at least once for lore reasons if you're into that sort of thing. But I would hardly say that you as a player come out of that ending feeling like you're playing the good guy.

And I'm not even arguing that all choices in the games should be this in-your-face. On the contrary, I don't think they all should. I like it when it's possible for a character to make a choice with unintended outcomes, or get accidentally locked into a worse choice because of previous decisions (like annulling the Circle and then being forced to kill Connor or Isolde). Those are some of my favorite kind of choices in these games. In this particular case, I do think the extreme nature of the choice is important to the story, both as the catalyst for the mage rebellion and to underscore why Anders did what he did.

So when people tell me that DA2 "both sideses" the mage-templar conflict... I respect that it's possible to feel that way about it, but I just don't see it. The game allows the player to role-play a character who might make various choices within its narrative; that is not the same thing as presenting all choices as morally equivalent in-universe, and it has never been the same thing, in any of these games.

If you're looking for one mage-templar choice that puts the injustice squarely in your face, I think the ending of DA2 is very much that.

#dragon age 2 #dragon age #blunders of thedas #dragon age meta #chantry explosion #i've had this unfinished in my drafts for a while but today's the day i guess!#lmk if there's anything else i should tag this #i realize this is stuff we all have very strong feelings about #if you disagree with me that's fine #i just ask that you be civil please #there's some very gentle criticism of the game in here but mostly re: the rushed development

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vigilskeep · 1 year

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Okay the Cassandra and Inquisitor divorce arc has me LOSING IT. what do you think the other companions would do?

because this divorce arc is set largely after cassandra becomes divine, i would imagine most of the companions aren’t even around anymore, which is part of the hell because i always think that there must be a specific kind of depression for video game characters right after the big quest ends and the party starts peeling away

sera is the main one i was thinking abt bc i was imagining this inquisitor as a red jenny and i think it’s so funny for schemes with sera to be, like, right in the middle of your divorce. especially when it’s sooooo the antithesis of cassandra’s restoration of order. also because one of my favourite Scenes In My Head for my inquisitor was the bit where sera drags you along to do a meaningless tiny prank on cullen and my poor guy starts verging on having a panic attack as they move cullen’s desk two (2) inches to the left because his brain gets stuck on screaming that this is a kid messing with a fucking knight-commander’s office and he’s going hey sera please could you stand behind me and let me do it yes i want to stand between you and the door yes i know this is an empty room yes i know it’s just cullen yes i know my hands are shaking— because he is, ahem, not well. and she’s like ooooooookay you freak (bemused, affectionate), baby steps i guess. i give you leave to imagine what this man’s reaction might be to getting templar silenced by the woman he’s in love with even after actively goading her into it, and also slightly less depressing leave to imagine sera seeing a little bit of the delayed reaction and being like nope okay we’re out of here and just, sort of, i imagine her absconding with him out of a window with no further thought as to planning ahead. she doesn’t rlly get the mages thing but she knows what power looks like and that he has less now. also if you can’t treat her friends nice then they’re hers now and she’s not sharing bye cassandra be normaller or fuck off i guess

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siribear · 1 month

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her party is still just as chatty on the way back to base camp from the shrine of dumat. varric, dorian, and bull keep themselves entertained well enough without her input.

which works just fine for her - she's sore down to her bones. it wasn't enough that she was singled out and carried deeper into the red templar encampment via a charging templar brute. no - she absent-mindedly rubs at her neck - carol smited her and would have drowned her if not for her mark.

she could have saved herself with blood magic. but it's already the reason why she's lost the trust of most of her companions. the ones with her are all she has left of those who trust her.

even cullen, paces ahead of her, has barely spoken to her even while going after samson. but she deserves it. she lied to him.

annwn.

a chill runs down her spine.

'did you need something?' she asks, turning in her saddle to face varric.

he looks away from laughing at a joke. 'didn't say anything, cousin.' and neither did the others. she doubts cullen said anything. he doesn't address her as anything less than inquisitor, now.

just the wind, then? or she's hallucinating. but she could have sworn -

help me.

this time, a child's voice, low and scared.

again, it seems no one noticed.

the same shiver washes over her as they pass by a large, empty mansion. the first time they came through it gave her an uneasy feeling, but she wasn't hearing voices then.

without a word, she directs her horse toward the mansion. the air beyond the gates hold a chill despite the bright sun shining overhead. the yard is lush and green - but overgrown.

her horse whickers and throws its head up when she tries to urge it closer.

'another home no doubt abandoned during the civil war,' dorian says, pulling up beside her. 'someone ought to tell them they can come back. this place looks awful.'

near the rim of a distant fountain, a skeleton lays collapsed in the overgrown grass.

'i don't think it was the war that emptied this place, dorian.'

'what are you doing?' he asks as she dismounts. 'shouldn't we get that rune back to skyhold?'

'well, yes, but - ' she chews her bottom lip. 'there's something here. and it's the inquisition's job to bring stability to the area, right? so - '

'alright, alright. let me get the others, though.'

she hadn't even noticed she was already halfway through the front door.

and when it shuts on the five of them, it's with an echoing finality before all the light goes out.

'boss, i think the door just locked.'

from the shadows, cullen appears with a torch, and she only jumps slightly (she swears) when he asks for her to light it.

the iron bull tugs at the door. pushes. rams his shoulder into it. but the solid wood doesn't give. through the glow of cullen's torch light (what she can see now is just a borrowed sconce), they can see that all the curtains were drawn the moment they entered.

'why did we come here again?' the sound of varric drawing bianca echoes through the main hall.

all eyes turn to her. 'i thought i heard - i don't know. someone calling out for help?' and her name. very clearly her name.

a door creaks open at the end of the hall. light spills through the doorway, only partially illuminating their path.

'that's not creepy at all,' bull grouses. dorian murmurs a soft, 'i'll watch out for you.'

amell leads the way. inside the chateau is worse than outside. they step across broken glass and toppled furniture. scattered parchment whispers at their ankles. amell doesn't hear any more voices besides her companions.

'at the risk of sounding like solas,' dorian begins, 'the veil here is incredibly thin.'

he isn't wrong. it's gossamer thin, like walking through endless cobwebs. somehow it makes walking through a lit hallway unnerving in a way that has nothing to do with the fact that they watched each sconce flare to life just before they reached it.

as they step through the door at the other end of the hall, the next room looks nothing like the rest of the mansion. it's warm and lit, but small, and doesn't match what they saw outside. to their left, a hearth is blazing. the shadow of the stairs beyond it angles upward to the loft, so dark they can't see past. when amell turns to look behind her, the door is gone.

'hey, wait a minute. this place looks familiar,' varric says. 'it looks like - '

'annwn, what is the meaning of this?'

a woman, dressed in noble finery of a make she doesn't recognize and her blonde hair done up in a tight bun, points sharply at the burning hearth.

'mamae?' she whispers to herself, and then the woman stomps her way.

the sting of the slap makes her eyes water. amell touches her fingers to her cheek, and when she looks back to the woman, she's at least two feet taller.

'do not call me that word. i am your mother. now tell me why the fireplace is lit.'

'i-i was cold!' she stutters, her voice high and childlike. 'i was cold. we - ' there is an elven man standing in the shadows, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but there. the one who referred to lady amell as her mamae. ' - we couldn't find your matches. so - look!' little amell holds a mote of conjured flame suspended between her hands, then claps it away. 'i can do it myself!'

her mother grabs her by the wrist and squeezes hard. she feels the bones start to give. 'come with me. now, annwn.'

tears pour freely and her mother glares, unmoving. 'i'm sorry! i'm sorry, i won't do it again. please, mother - '

'come. you're going with the templars. bad enough that my sister ran away with one, but now my only child...'

she digs her heels into the carpet and tries her best to pull back. 'no, no, please, mother. i'm sorry! i don't want to go, please, please, i'll be good, please - '

something - someone - pulls her back before she can be dragged through the door. into inky blackness and a cluster of glowing eyes that wait. varric slams the door shut.

'inquisitor.' cullen holds her by her shoulders. 'you aren't going anywhere. was that...?'

the tears carried over from the illusion of the memory, and fresh ones join the tracks already there. 'the moment i was sent off to the circle. i was eight.'

she composes herself away from the others. what's going on? why would the fade show her that memory, out of all of them? later, after she rejoins her party, no longer visibly shaken, she learns.

as they're lead through the mansion, papers fly up to greet them, caught on sourceless gusts of wind. a note from a father, who locked up his child who began to show an affinity for magic. more worried about his family name than his daughter's well being. a note from the girl, so lonely and all she wanted to do was leave her room and make friends. and then one found her.

scraps from foolish books: ways to ensure your child isn't born a mage. amell briefly wonders if her mother had tried any of them.

led up to the final room upstairs, past a large, hanging sculpture of a dragon that bull moons over, amell hesitates at the door. she knows - they all know - what they'll find on the other side. a demon possessed child. connor all over again.

she pushes through.

in the middle of the large room, surrounded by a ring of toys, sits a little girl, perhaps a few years older than amell was when she was taken, in a floral day dress and wild brown hair. she sits up when she sees them and drops her dolls to the floor. 'hello! are you new friends?'

amell shares a look with the others before stepping forward. 'actually, we're looking for a way out. can you help us? what's your name?'

the - girl? - frowns. 'my name is nanette. my other friend told me you were here to be friends with me, though. there's no one else here to play with.'

amell kneels before the girl, who blinks up at her innocently. 'nanette, do you know what's happening? do you know... what your friend is?'

nanette hangs her head. 'i think everyone's gone. but i still have my friend.'

'how long have you known your friend?'

'um. a few months?' the girl tilts her head to the side and nods as if listening to someone whispering in her ear. 'yes, a few months.'

behind her, bull grumbles. 'okay. i'm going to talk to my companions here for a moment.' when she makes to stand, nanette reaches out to grab her hand.

'you can't leave me though. i've been so lonely.' the girl yawns. 'no one else has been... here... '

amell cuts off the spell and catches the girl before she can collapse to the ground. the air is silent.

'is she okay?' asks cullen, of the possessed child.

'sleeping. but with the demon so close, i'm not sure how long it'll hold.'

dorian strokes his chin. 'months like this? i'd be surprised if it wasn't just the demon toying with us. there's no girl there at all.'

'so, what, we just make the demon come out and kill it? then we can go home?' varric hopes aloud.

'doesn't feel right.' bull sniffs. 'killing a kid.'

'i agree,' says, surprisingly, cullen.

'what do you think, boss?'

she led them here. it's her decision to make. kill a child - if it is one - to free them. or - 'arl eamon's kid was possessed in redcliffe during the blight. some time between... between when i left for ostagar and when we arrived after the battle. less than a month, but... connor was still in there.'

she looks to nanette, slumbering softly, little hands opening and closing like a kitten kneading the air. 'there's a... very small chance she could be, as well.'

it would make killing her harder, though necessary.

'what do we need to do then?' cullen steps forward. 'how did you save connor?'

she blinks, drops her hand away from the dagger at her belt. 'more mages than we have here. no offense, dorian.' he shrugs. 'if you remember, we took a handful from the tower when we left.'

'so, what, we - we murder nanette to free ourselves?'

'i - ' i kill her, amell thinks. i brought us here. it's my fault. she exhales heavily. 'there is one other option.'

jowan taught me how to perform the ritual. i can do it without - without the mages or the extra lyrium. but it would require me to use blood magic.'

and a sacrifice, but she could probably make do without...

'i would need everyone's help, though.'

'our blood, you mean.'

she looks cullen straight in the eye when she says, 'it's that or i sacrifice myself so dorian can exorcise the demon in the fade.'

'could you not... open a rift? draw the demon out that way and slay it?'

amell shakes her head. 'not without killing nanette. or risking more demons pouring through in the interim.'

varric steps forward, one hand tugging up his sleeve. 'what's a little blood between friends, right? come on, let's save this kid.'

'i'm sorry,' amell whispers. blood beads and spills from the shallow cut on cullen's arm. he holds out his arm like the rest of them and lets the blood drip to the floor.

amell stands between cullen and varric, completing the circle, and slices deep into her palm. cullen shouts in alarm, but she raises her bloody hand to silence him. her blood spills and travels through the grooves in the wooden floor to meet the others. when it all connects, power erupts beneath her.

last time she did this, she was the one being sent into the fade. to be the caster and the one to go under - it's taking more out of her already than she imagined.

the girl stirs in the center of the spell, but when she rises its with jerky and inhuman movements. her eyes glow the sickly green of the fade.

'come on,' she taunts. 'it isn't the girl you need anymore. that's why you called out to me, isn't it? why you showed me that memory?'

'what are you doing?' cullen hisses.

'drawing it out,' she explains through gritted teeth. 'it has to let her go before i can - '

a dark chuckle. sweat beads on her temple. she feels the first tremor in her arm.

'she isn't strong enough, and you know it! you want more power.' there's an echo she can hear to her own voice. more demons than the one she wants closing in. she's drawn too much attention to herself. the mark flares, and the voices subside. 'nanette can't do that, now can she?'

nanette's body falls to the ground hard, but the glowing eyes stay in the center of the circle. if she squints, she can see the outline of the demon beginning to take shape.

it's enough.

amell closes her fist, and at the last drop of blood to hit the floor, the world goes white.

amell once again finds nanette playing with her dolls, though the room is only half formed in the fade.

'oh! my friend said he wanted to see you. come on, this way.'

she follows behind as broken rocks and landscape coalesce into the halls of chateau d'onterre. a roar rumbles in the distance.

when nanette finally sees the true form of her friend - a tall, spindly limbed terror demon - she shouts and makes to hide.

amell turns quickly and takes the girl by the shoulders. 'nanette, you have to wake up. wake up from this. my friends will be there to help you, okay? but you have to go now.'

thankfully, the girl nods and leaves, running back from where they came until she quite literally disappears. awake. amell sighs with relief.

'we all know who you are, now, mage,' says the demon with no mouth. 'we've seen you.'

'good for you.' her staff appears in her hand. 'i'm not here to listen to you, though.'

impossibly black eyes narrow. 'you offered yourself. you and your terror. you fear all of your friends will leave you. that you'll die alone.'

'you don't know me at all.'

with barely a thought, her staff is wreathed in lightning, and, at another, arcing across the distance between them. the demon might have held onto nanette for as long as it did, but with the girl's abilities barely honed the demon's powers have stagnated, and it shows.

in what feels like only a moment, amell has the demon trapped in a cage of lightning. it shrieks every time it throws itself against the walls, but they hold steadfast. she brings her hands together. the demon's flesh sizzles and pops as the lightning closes in. it ends with a crack of thunder that echoes across the limitless fade, and then the demon is nothing but ash.

amell allows herself a weary sigh. she's more exhausted than she thought she'd be. when she turns to follow nanette back across the veil, she stumbles.

in front of her is that avatar of fear, hundreds of eyes trained on her. it opens its maw, lined with an infinite number of teeth.

i know your fear.

amell screams.

she comes to, with that scream tearing out of her throat and something holding her, stopping her from retreating. she beats her fists against it and tries to push away.

'it's me. it's me!' says cullen, and then she realizes it's his arms around her. her back propped up against his knee, she's laid across his lap. she lowers her fists. her right, with the deep gash still bleeding, stings when she opens her hand. 'it's safe. the demon is gone.'

'nanette?'

'safe. the others brought her to a different room... just in case.'

she closes her eyes and sighs. 'good idea.' she opens them again, and cullen is looking down at her, worried. 'is everyone else okay? are you?'

'yes.' he tries to help her to her feet, but her limbs feel leaden. he lowers her to sit next to him. 'your hand...'

'right.' she raises the other over it, but before she can cast the spell to heal it, cullen pulls it over to him. he rests it on his knee as he twists to dig something out of his pack. 'what are you doing?'

he turns back with bandages, a poultice, and his canteen in hand. 'you're drained. and while the demon is gone, i don't think it safe to prod at the veil still.'

she watches him curiously as he gently splays her fingers. he wets the end of the bandage with his canteen and sets to cleaning her palm. she winces when he brushes too close to the wound.

'i'm sorry,' he murmurs, and the next brush is so soft she barely feels it.

when her hand is clean, he applies the poultice with that same gentleness. her fingers twitch every time he runs his own across her palm. next, he wraps the bandage around her hand, one thumb holding it in place at her wrist. when he's done tying off the excess bandage, the tingling in her hand has nothing to do with the numbing properties of the poultice.

she doesn't know when she rested her head on his shoulder, but even when he's finished he doesn't push her away.

'thank you.' she doesn't know where they are now - if she should call him cullen or commander, so she leaves it off.

'were you serious about sacrificing yourself?'

she lifts her head and looks at him then. 'i - ' her gaze drops to her hand, the one with the anchor embedded in her palm. a contrast to her self-inflicted wound on the other. 'mostly.' after witnessing the future in redcliffe, she knows she's more useful alive if only for the anchor. 'the other option was to sacrifice someone else, and i wouldn't do that.'

cullen hums in thought. 'can you stand?'

'yes, i think so.' she stands without his help, only to end up reaching out for him to steady herself. 'i'm fine, i'm fine. just - sitting for too long.'

before they can reach the door, varric opens it and waltzes through. 'ah, good to see you're okay, cousin. when dorian said you were taking too long we were starting to get worried.'

'it took a little bit longer to recover than i anticipated.' out of the corner of her eye, she sees cullen shift and duck his head. she can almost feel him blushing. 'is everyone - ?'

'ready to get the hell out of this creepy mansion? yes. i can't believe i'm actually excited to get back out into the humidity of the emerald graves.' he groans.

varric takes over in helping her across the balcony of the second floor and down the stairs. by the time they reach the main entrance she can walk by herself, at least.

with nanette on his shoulders, iron bull opens the door with ease and leads them back out into the light.

as she stands in the sunlight and promises herself she isn't seeing eyes in the eaves of sundappled trees, cullen brings her her horse. though they still aren't talking, he rides next to her. occasionally she catches him checking on her.

which is fine. because if she closes her eyes for a second too long, the avatar of fear stares back.

#siri drabbles #cullen x amell #a lil bit #cullen rutherford #oc: annwn amell #i've been daydreaming about this scenario for 2 days so i had to get it out #part 2 if i can stop hating my writing long enough insert thumbs up emoji

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attractthecrows · 8 hours

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Inquisitor Amell would be a beautiful, beautiful thing, largely because of how obnoxiously hypercompetent they would be by that point, but also

Amell: *DEEP SIGH* Okay. So the Temple blew up. What's the rest of the situation, Leli?

Cassandra: Commander Cullen's forces are in the valley, we should back them up, it's the quickest route

Leliana: But not the safest. We should take the mountain pass-

Amell, was only barely listening: Wait, wait, commander who did you say?

Cassandra: Cullen?

Amell: ...Cullen.

Cassandra: yes, formerly of the Templar order-

Amell: CHUCKLEFUCK???

Cassandra: what ?

Amell: YOU PUT CULLEN STANTON CHUCKLEFUCK IN CHARGE OF YOUR TROOPS??????

[Varric losing his shit in the background]

Leliana: Amell, baby, please, the demons

Amell: LELIANA IS THIS TRUE

Leliana: yes, but

Amell: HAAAAHAHAHAHAHA Okay, okay, wait. Does he know I'm involved at all?

Leliana: I don't think so.

Amell: GREAT LET'S GO RUIN HIS WHOLE WEEK

#dragon age inquisition #warden amell #inquisitor amell #cullen rutherford

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eggiesins · 4 days

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See Me As I Am

Taking a stab at a Dragon Age drabble. The sad tired templar war criminal has consumed me. Feel free to check it out below the cut or on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59049958

As always, let me know what you think, and I hope y'all enjoy!

“Lace and taffeta?” Leliana asked, incredulous as she took a step toward Josephine. “Are we to send her to the court of Orlais wrapped up like festival candy? What if action is necessary?” She hit her palm with a fist to emphasize the statement.

Josephine nodded smoothly before replying. “The dress restricts movement, yes, but it is in line with current Orlesian fashion and gives us an advantage with the court as soon as she steps inside the Winter Palace. Not to mention, the silhouette of the red uniform would only heighten her short stature and,” Josephine paused, struggling to find the right words. The Inquisitor was already uncomfortable with the conversation, and she would prefer to not further aggravate the situation. “her...distinct curvature. If she is to pass as fully human to play the Game, a properly fitted dress with heels for height would be the best way to mask the more Dwarven features.”

Leoric had long since gone quiet while her two advisors bickered. To be honest, she wasn’t really even listening anymore. Either way, attending a masquerade ball at the Winter Palace to solve an assassination attempt wouldn’t be fun at all. There was no use letting herself get worked up about something as simple as what she would wear, but the loud arguing between Leiliana and Josephine combined with her grumbling stomach and that damned fly that kept buzzing around the council room had her growing ever more agitated. Whether anyone noticed the rapid bouncing of her leg, the way she had chewed her lip to the point of nearly bursting, they said nothing about it. The tension coiled inside her chest, a familiar anxiety and agitation, a build up of nervous energy threatening to overwhelm her any minute now.

“Okay!” Leoric finally shouted as she stood. Leliana and Josephine immediately turned to face her with wide eyes. Even Cullen, who up until this point had started nodding off in a corner, having finished detailing his security plan for the event, jerked back to attention at the sound of Leoric’s shout. She cast him an accusatory glance for his inaction.

Leoric sighed heavily before she continued in a monotone voice. “Look. However you want to dress me for this thing, I’m sure I’ll hate it either way so why not pick something that does both? Is there a way for me to dress ‘prettily’ enough while still having the mobility to defend myself if necessary? Bonus points if the dress comes with a hidden sleeve for a dagger or two.

“Actually, while we’re on the subject, let me clarify. I hate the Great Game, I hate the idea of being stuck in a room full of back-stabbing, stuffy nobles who are all wearing masks, and, oh yeah, might be assassins.” Leoric let the emphasis on the last word hang in the air before continuing. “Either way, it’s going to be miserable. Either way, how I feel about the situation won’t change a damn thing. I didn’t ask to become the Herald of Andraste, didn’t ask for the title of Inquisitor. I didn’t choose to become a symbol for the Inquisition. The person that I am, the real half-human being that I will be after this Breach is closed, none of it matters anymore.”

She watched as her advisors’ faces fell, feeling a little guilty, and more than a little mortified at how vulnerable she was making herself. She had struggled with her loss of identity since the moment she woke up in Haven, suddenly a hero and beacon of hope. It didn’t matter who she was, what she liked, or what she wanted anymore. Leoric no longer mattered, only the Inquisitor, Andraste’s Chosen. But not once had she shared those thoughts with anyone in her inner circle. Even Varric, skeptical snarky Varric, was starting to believe in her divine patronage more than her. It was nerve-wracking, revealing so much, allowing herself to be so afraid and so hollow in front of people she had only known for a few months.

The room was silent now, the fly’s buzzing long since ceased. Leoric only felt the rapid beating of her heart as she turned her gaze around the room, steadfastly refusing to make eye contact with anyone present. She knew if she looked, she would only find concern, pity, possibly even doubt. It was too much.

Leoric’s voice was low and empty when she finally broke the silence. “Who I was, who I am, and who I will be are all null and void as long as the Inquisition exists. History will not remember Leoric. It will remember the Inquisitor. Find a compromise for the dress. I don’t care.” Her tone finally admitted her defeat, her resignation to her role. Leoric turned on her heel and left.

As soon as she heard the heavy thud of the door closing behind her, Leoric picked up her pace. Moving as quickly as she could without seeming manic - wouldn’t want anyone else in Skyhold to start worrying about her -she made her way out to the courtyard. Ignoring the calls of “Inquisitor!” as she rushed, only focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, Leoric finally found herself at the stables.

------------------------------------

Back in the war room, the advisors sat in tense silence. This was the first time Leoric had so openly expressed any resentment toward her duties as Inquisitor.

“Damn it all,” Cullen cursed, shaking his head. How did it take him this long to realize something was wrong? Even Josephine was shocked by the outburst. Was Leoric truly concealing her feelings the entire time? Or had they all fallen into the same trap as the stray pilgrims who wandered into Skyhold, so blinded by the idea of the Inquisitor, that they completely failed to even recognize the person?

“Perhaps a dress with less structure, greater mobility. Yet long enough to wear pants underneath. Orlesian silk might work, though without a bodice and petticoat it wouldn’t exactly be en vogue for the court. But it could convey the necessary decorum without being too upsetting. We might even turn it to our advantage and start a trend.”

“Leliana!” Josephine’s reprimand echoed in the silent chamber. Leliana shot the ambassador a look.

“I understand the Inquisitor’s upset, and it is unfortunate. But, she is also correct. The Inquisition doesn’t need another person to lend it humanity. If the Inquisition is to succeed, if we are to survive this and defeat Corypheus, she must fulfill her duty as Andraste’s Chosen. I care for her the same as you,” Leliana’s tone turned icy and cold. “But I will not let Divine Justinia’s death be in vain. I will not let the sacrifices of everyone here go to waste, all to spare one woman’s feelings. The Inquisitor knows this and accepts it. She does not like it, but she doesn’t need to. As long as Corypheus is defeated and the world stabilized, that is all that matters. For now, our role is to find her suitable attire to play the Game. We do not need to enjoy it, but we must do it because it must be done.”

Josephine’s expression returned to its normal composed neutrality as she heeded Leliana’s words. “We can’t forget the hidden daggers for her...”

Cullen sighed and left to find Leoric.

Leoric struggled to blink back tears of frustration as she saddled her mare. The buckles slipped from her shaky hands, and the stable boys were too terrified to step up and offer their help. Instead, they pretended not to see their Inquisitor’s tear streaked face and resumed their duties in silence.

“They don’t see me. I am not real. They see their symbol of hope and ignore the rest. They won’t remember me when all is said and done, only what I pretend to be. I’m not real. But if I’m not real, how do I still feel so much? Why does it still hurt?” a soft voice, almost a whisper, right over Leoric’s shoulder.

“Damnit Cole!” Leoric nearly jumped out of her skin as the man appeared next to her. She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath before turning to face him. “Cole, please. Leave my thoughts to me. I need some time to calm down, and I really can’t trust myself to be nice right now.”

Cole placed a gentle hand on her cheek and bent down to kiss her forehead. “I know what it is to not be real, and what it is to be in between. I remember you, Leoric. The writer, daydreamer, the free soul chained down. You are not lost, and, by someone else who remembers, you are found. Healing the hurt will come, and we will remember.”

Just as Leoric reached up to take Cole’s hand, he disappeared. Her hurt turned dull, and tears streamed freely down her cheeks. It was comforting, having someone she could call a friend. Cole lived outside the hierarchy of the Inquisition, outside the culture that had isolated her. Unlike the others, she knew that he, at least, could follow her and not the Inquisitor.

She turned back to finish saddling the mare. The knot of anxiety in her chest calmed somewhat, but all the pent-up energy still demanded release.

-------------------------------

It didn’t take Cullen long to figure out where Leoric had gone. Cursing under his breath, he moved quickly toward the stables, hoping to catch Leoric before she disappeared somewhere alone. When he finally spotted her, he saw the saddle fall from her horse’s back, watched as she kicked the stable door with everything she had. The sunlight drifted through an open slat in the roof, and even from a distance, he could see the wet shine of tears across her cheeks. His chest clenched at the sight and his feet began to carry him toward her. Until Cole appeared, that is.

Cullen quickly pulled himself to a stop as something sickly green twisted in his stomach. She jumped and Cullen’s eye twitched, his hand clenched. Her furrowed brows and tense jaw melted into something softer, closing her eyes as Cole pressed the kiss to her forehead. The green knotted itself more tightly within him, and Cullen was frustrated. He knew he cared for Leoric. By the Maker, she was all he ever thought about these days. He could be in the middle of paperwork, or training fresh recruits and would find himself wondering about her in the field. If she was eating well, getting enough sleep, if she might be cold during those chilly mountain nights. Sometimes his mind would wander further, though he’d never admit it. How prettily she smiled after winning an argument against Dorian, the way her brows furrowed as she worked on a poem, the afternoon light soaking her hair, her hazel eyes glowing like an emerald dipped in honey. He could kiss the tension away from her, just the same as Cole. Better, even. He would kiss her with all the passion he was capable of, hold her tightly to him as he lavished her with his lips and tongue, let her ride him until she couldn’t think well enough to worry at all. He would call her name like a Chant all its own, make sure she always knew that come what may, she was seen and she was loved.

But those were not thoughts a knight should have about his superior officer. There was still a war to be won, and she wasn’t looking, he was sure. There had been light-hearted flirtations here and there, the occasional blush dashing across her features as they spoke. But she already held the weight of the world on her shoulders. The last thing she needed was the additional burden of his heart, his issues on top. Maybe once things were over, there could be something more, but Cullen didn’t give that idea much attention. From what he understood, she intended to return to travelling with her family. She would finish her novel and live her life free of this Inquisition. Free of him.

Free of Cole, too. Cullen allowed himself to indulge in that small comfort at least.

Then, she was alone, turning back to try and saddle her horse again. Cullen approached cautiously, his mind already churning through how he could say what he should say, and none of it seemed good enough.

“Would you like a hand with that, Leoric?” Leoric’s brain froze hearing the commander call her by name. The tenderness in his voice, the worry and concern, she shouldn’t get her hopes up. She took a deep breath, refusing to turn around and let him see her like this. It was unbecoming of the Inquisitor. Her voice went hoarse as she spoke, doing her best to sound calm and collected.

“This...organization lives or dies by the Inquisitor who guides it. Should I ask for help pulling my boots on in the morning too, Commander?” Leoric winced at her tone, harsher than she meant it to be. She knew Cullen meant well, but that didn’t change the fact that, for the time being, she was his boss. He was just another among the many who expected, needed her to be a strong leader, the demigod they had all prayed for. She had acted out of line in the war room. Her emotions got the better of her and she had failed in her role. It had felt so good! But no matter how it felt to finally explode, it had done no real good for the people who needed her to be more.

Leoric gently pressed her knee into the mare’s side as she pulled the saddle belt tight. Large, gloved hands reached around her, holding the buckle steady and giving an extra yank on the belt. Wordlessly, Cullen finished cinching the saddle in place and gave it an experimental tug. Leoric sighed, trying to ignore just how warm he felt wrapped around her, the security of his solidly armored chest against her back. On a good day, the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. Today, she was tiny, wrapped in the smell of fur and leather, sharpening oil and sweat, the closest she had ever been to him. It was both comforting and infuriating. His attention only felt like pity now.

As soon as the saddle was secure, Leoric swiftly mounted the horse. She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead as she spoke.

“I’m going for a ride, Commander. I will be back. Whatever report you have can wait until then. I’d rather review it with a clear head anyway.” Cullen took hold of the horse’s bridle before she could make good on her escape. It hurt, seeing the woman who had once been so animated and full of mirth turned cold and hollow. Had he truly been so blinded by faith to not notice Leoric’s quiet death? Her slow transformation into this empty shell, the face of the Inquisition?

“I, um, well,” Cullen sighed and let go of her horse. Pretty words were not his gift. He steeled himself and spoke with sincerity. “I’d like to join you, if you’ll have me. Been quite some time since I enjoyed a ride myself.”

Leoric made the mistake of looking down at him, his hopeful expression sending a pang of guilt through her chest. She swallowed and dipped her chin in a low nod. “Try and keep up,” she murmured before urging the horse to take off. As she rode toward the main gate her heart raced and her cheeks grew warm. Leoric chastised herself.

---------------------------------

Leoric slowly picked her way down the steep path into the forest, guiding her mount carefully around the sharp rocks and steep drop-offs down the mountainside. Once they made it into the forest and the road flattened back out, Leoric urged the horse into a brisk gallop. The wind raced through her short hair and her thighs were beginning to burn from how tightly she clung to the saddle. It was amazing. She let her mare choose their direction as she basked in how numb the world began to feel. She could hear only the wind rushing past her, could only feel the cold mountain air chilling her lungs and the warm mount beneath her. The trees zipping by them began to blur and fade into the background.

Cullen, for his part, struggled to catch up to her. He was able to prepare a mount of his own quickly enough, but he was far heavier than Leoric and could never hope to outpace her on horseback. He caught up enough to catch sight of her riding ahead of him, almost losing his grip on the reins in the process. Even from this angle, she looked happy, free. She was beautiful. Cullen could spend the rest of the day happily riding behind her just like this.

Leoric’s smile quickly turned to panic as her mare pulled up short at a sudden log in the path, sending her flying over the horse’s head and tumbling across the ground. Her bare arms scraped across the pebbles, she sucked in a tight breath as a branch tore across the back of her thigh, drawing blood. Her shoulders bruised with the impact, and she muttered a quick word of thanks to the Maker that she remembered to secure her head and neck with her hands. As her rolling slowed to a halt, Leoric let out a low groan of pain. She’d been injured far worse during her time with the Inquisition, but now her pride was bruised as well.

“Herald of Andraste,” she wheezed to herself as she struggled to draw breath. “Dead by tumbling from her horse like an idiot.” She coughed and groaned again, curling into herself for a moment, trying to focus on feeling what parts of her had been hurt.

”-ic! Leoric!” Cullen’s worried voice called out.

“Fuck!” Leoric hissed, utterly humiliated. She didn’t think he would actually follow her. Why would anyone go so far out of sheer pity? At some point, the cost outweighed the benefit, right? The approaching hoofbeats grew louder and Leoric struggled to slowly sit up. She could still hear the hoofbeats even as Cullen’s boots hit the ground with a heavy thud, as his armor clinked and clanged against itself in his hurry toward her. He easily swung himself over the log and dropped to his knees by her side.

At once, he was checking her over, his hands running along her arms and torso before cupping her face gently and checking her eyes for any sign of concussion.

“Are you alright?” he asked in a panic. Before Leoric could respond, he pulled her in close and cradled her head into the fur mantle on his chest. “Maker’s Mercy, I saw you get thrown,” his voice began to shake. “You weren’t moving Leoric. If we los-” Cullen cleared his throat and pressed his cheek to the top of her head. “If I lost you, Leoric I don’t- I-“ “Cullen,” Leoric grumbled through a mouth full of fur. As much as she wanted to know how that thought ended, the gash on her thigh was giving her no reprieve. She gently pushed away from his chest and twisted in his lap so he could see the injury. “Fuckin’ tree got me. Sliced open by dead fucking wood.”

Cullen’s heart dropped. Blood poured steadily from the wound, it’s only blockage an array of dirt and pebbles stuck to the surrounding area. Tearing the sash from his waist, he gently lifted her leg to begin wrapping it tightly around her thigh. With every sweep of his hand between her legs, Leoric tensed and her cheeks warmed. Cullen pushed back the excited thoughts that leapt forward with each brush of his fingers across her thigh. Maker have mercy, what is wrong with me? Here he was, patching up the woman he had grown to love, the woman he feared he might have lost for good, and somehow he could not let go of the softness of her thighs despite the strength he knew was there. The pair breathed a sigh of relief as the sash was finally tied off and Cullen stood to retrieve the meager supplies he kept in his saddle.

Leoric couldn’t believe herself. First, she blows up in the war council. Then she fell off her horse in front of the infuriatingly handsome commander and had to be patched up. And now! Now, she wondered what it might be like if said commander’s hand had lingered on her thighs a bit longer or touched her in a whole host of other places. She had a bit of an idea from his pat down, when his fingertips danced along her torso and she couldn’t help but flinch at his touch. He was gentle as he tested for broken bones and bruises, and that gentle touch sent shivers down her spine. She wanted more, and it was terrifying. Cullen had already rejected her back at Haven. He saw a dwarf when he looked at her, and she knew the human blood she did carry would never be enough. She had moved on, mostly, enough to consider him as much of a friend as her subordinate could be. He trusted her as a friend and leader, and she wouldn’t betray that trust.

Cullen returned to her side, medicine kit in hand. He knelt down and passed it to her gingerly, all too aware of the shameful heat rising in his cheeks. Leoric refused to make eye contact, muttering a quick “thank you” as she opened the kit. The tools inside were rudimentary, a needle and spool of gossamer thread, a small flask of fire whiskey, bandages, and shears. She lay down on her side, propped up on an elbow, trying to find a comfortable position to stitch herself up.

“Here,” Cullen murmured, removing his cloak and mantle to prop her up on. “I, um, well, I -can help. With the stitches, I mean. Patched up more than a few soldiers in the field before, and with a mortality rate of only 80 percent.” He laughed weakly at the joke, kicking himself internally. Leoric raised an eyebrow at him and began to laugh, softly at first and then louder until there was almost an edge to it. She calmed herself down and wiped a grimy tear from her eye. She took a long swig from the flask before she sighed in resignation.

“Help yourself, Commander,” her tone was teasing. After the day she had, Leoric didn’t have it in her to give a fuck anymore. This may as well happen now. “Try not to kill me in the process.”

Cullen chucked nervously and tried to force his background thoughts into submission as he began working. The sash had done its job, thank the Maker, and the bleeding had slowed considerably. He wouldn’t have to cauterize the wound after all. He gently picked off any of the larger stones still crusted at the edges, rinsing the rest off with his water skin. Leoric’s brain began to stutter when he slowly removed his belt, chastising herself again when he told her to bite down on it. She did so just in time for Cullen to rinse the gash with whiskey and quickly set to work on the stitches. He worked with care, deft and quick hands guiding the flesh back into place with each tug of the thread, but Leoric still wished he would hurry up and be done. The pain had long since replaced any distractions of pleasure, and she was ready to go home and be done with this awful, humiliating day.

Once she was all patched up, Cullen helped her to stand, catching her when she almost collapsed from dizziness.

“You’ve lost a good bit of blood,” he comforted. “It’ll be safest if you ride back with me. The mare wasn’t injured; she can follow.” Leoric nodded, long past caring about appearances at this point. She let Cullen lift her into the saddle, feeling his familiar warmth against her as he climbed up behind her. His sturdy arms held her up, and she couldn’t help but sink back into him, utterly exhausted.

“Thank you, Cullen,” Leoric broke the comfortable silence as they rode back to the stronghold. “For everything today. I’ve been a complete ass, and you helped me anyway. I’m sorry too. Skyhold shouldn’t see me weak like this. How inspiring is an Inquisitor who falls from her horse and has to be carried back home?”

Cullen took the reins in one hand and held her tighter to him with the other. “You were right, though. We’ve all treated you like just a symbol of Andraste, and idea of a hero. I mean, that’s not to say...” He sighed. “You, Leoric, are very much a hero in your own right. Whether you’re blessed by Andraste or not, it is still you closing the rifts, securing alliances, and fighting against Corypheus. History may not remember Leoric, but I certainly will. I’m sorry, for not realizing sooner how we were making you feel.” His voice softened. “How I was making you feel. Leoric, you are amazing, witty and funny, smart and compassionate. You deserve to be happy, content, wherever that path may take you.”

Leoric did not reply, already lulled to sleep by the gentle rhythm of the horse and Cullen’s warm embrace.

“I may serve the Inquisitor, but it’s Leoric I care for, and that won’t change,” he murmured.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #cullen rutherford #cullen x inquisitor #cullen x cadash #dragon age fanfiction #cadash is half-dwarven #of all the characters to get brainrot about #why is it the blonde cop #im jewish #blonde cops and jews don't generally get along #dragon age veilguard #dragon age the veilguard

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daitranscripts · 1 month

Text

Cassandra Deleted Dialogue

Cassandra Masterpost

—

Cassandra: Leliana mentioned a Grey Warden in the Storm Coast, did she not? I have my doubts their disappearance is related to our troubles, but she is not often wrong. I would look into it.

—

PC: I was hoping we could spend some time together.

Cassandra: I suppose there is nothing pressing right this second.

Cassandra: If you like, certainly.

Cassandra: Are you not heading out of Skyhold? As you wish.

Cassandra: I’d enjoy that. ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Cassandra: I’ve never understood this game.

Cassandra: Ha! Can you believe it? I’ll win this round yet.

Cassandra: How often must Varric play this to become as good as he is? It boggles the mind.

Cassandra: You’re cheating, aren’t you? Can you cheat at this?

Cassandra: Madness. I only draw a card once I no longer need it.

Cassandra: Andraste’s tits! Why do I keep playing this?

Cassandra: I’ll play my hand! Just… give me a moment. It will come to me. ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Cassandra: I’ll go easy on you this time. Three bruises is enough, I think?

Cassandra: (Chuckles.) You almost had me that last time. One more bout!

Cassandra: Now then, a little practice bout, yes?

Cassandra: Take me down if you can, Inquisitor. Do your best.

Cassandra: Let’s see how you fare in one-on-one combat.

Cassandra: …years of practice under my mentor, Seeker Byron. The man was a warrior without peer.

Cassandra: Maker’s breath! Fine. One more bout, and then I give up. ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Cassandra: The uniforms were Josephine’s doing. It’s still a mystery to me.

Cassandra: …and there I stood at the monastery’s gates, the apostates staring at me as if my hair were on fire.

Cassandra: The Lord Seeker never let any argument go. He was like a dog who refused to let go of a bone.

Cassandra: …so I opened the chest only to find an entire cache of lyrium vials. “Just some rags,” ha!

Cassandra: …twelve templars in one Circle. I never saw the like before or since. The knight-commander was beside himself.

Cassandra: You notice how they look at you? There are many who would give anything for such reverence. ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Cassandra: Interesting that this ruin stood empty all this time. I wonder how Solas knew of it?

Cassandra: Majestic, isn’t it? Of all the spots in Skyhold, I think this is my favorite.

Cassandra: …and then twice again before the battle was through. It took me weeks to recover.

Cassandra: …and so I said to the man: “is this a jest? Put your trousers back on, you fool”

Cassandra: …and they would look at me with such fear in their eyes. I could never stand that part of it.

Cassandra: …nine times out of ten, it was nothing. Just fears and useless superstition. (Sighs.) ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Cassandra: I never said I was frightened of horses. They just… have such large teeth.

Cassandra: Can we ride fast? I prefer galloping, and I suspect the horses do as well.

Cassandra: Do we have any apples? I can’t believe I forgot to bring even one.

Cassandra: …and the chevalier’s horse threw him, on cue. I could not stop laughing.

Cassandra: No, nobody solely speaks Orlesian any longer. Well, perhaps the marsh-folk.

Cassandra: I always wanted to visit Minrathous. Someday I’ll see the twin guardians for myself.

—

[Part of the jealousy dialogue. These lines are not technically deleted and can be heard in-game using the bi-Cullen mod. (ask me how I know)]

Cassandra: It’s probably nothing, but it claims that you and Commander Cullen are…

Cassandra: Ah. Is Commander Cullen aware of that?

—

[Low approval scene. It may still be in the game, but I cannot find the plot trigger for it.]

Cassandra: Honeyed words. Liar’s tongue. And I fell for it all.

#dragon age inquisition #dai transcripts #dragon age #dragon age transcripts #dragon age dialogue #dai #dai dialogue #long post #cassandra pentaghast #cassandra #deleted dialogue

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notebooks-and-laptops · 2 years

Text

Once again want to remind people that the reason Anders blew up the Chantry and not the Gallows is:

A) The Circle is directly tied to the Andrastian chantry. It exists because the chantry exists and is monitored by the chantry

B) his people were in the gallows. Yes, the templars were there too, but so we're 99% of the mages living in Kirkwall. If Anders blew up the gallows, then yes he would be getting the templars, but he'd also be performing the Right of Annulment for them, really

C) we still canonically don't know how High Town was affected by the chantry explosion, and how many of the surrounding buildings were affected and thus created casualties. However, Aveline manages to get the guardsmen/Donic to protect the city while she goes off with Hawke so presumably the explosion was somewhat contained (via magic?) as it didn't hit the guard barracks literally one block over in the Viscounts Keep. So, by Anders attacking the chantry at night he manages to keep the casualties to a minimum compared to the hundreds? Thousands? Of people living in the Gallows

D) going off the above point about casualties being minimised via targeting the chantry; there are literal children, mage children, living in the Gallows. Anders probably wanted to avoid killing children where he could help it

E) people in Thedas...don't actually care much if a circle is lost so it's not actually a great target? I mean, the Ferelden Circle wasn't just going to have the Right of Annulment carried out on it, they were going to lock the doors and leave the templars like Cullen to their fate at the hands of the demons inside. So? Pretty crappy target tactically to get attention/spark a rebellion that people will pay attention to even IF you get all the templars. They'll just ship new templars in. The chantry doesn't care if it loses a circle it DOES care if it loses one of its major cathedrals + a grand cleric

Like just. Regardless of how you feel about Anders actions, please understand that there are very legitimate reasons he didn't attack the Gallows but went for the Chantry instead, and that those reasons are actually very logical from his POV

#dragon age #da2 #anders

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seigephoenix · 2 months

Note

Welcome to DADWC!! How about “Knowing someone else can hear” from the smut prompts for anyone you’d like?

Happy Friday!! For @dadrunkwriting I chose Briar Amell and Cullen for this one. It also got away from me a lot. XD I simply can't seem to write smut without feeling or some buildup.

Content Warning: dirty talk, face sitting, p in v, fingering, old feelings come up again Length: ~2.6k words

The first thing she saw upon entering Skyhold was a familiar head of curly hair. Her lips dropped open in a perfect O as she spotted him, older than the last time they’d met. She couldn’t help but note how well he carried himself but was he still a Templar? She remembered seeing him get so flustered when she flirted with him. He’d turn such a brilliant shade of red and stumble over himself with excuses. Then that one passionate night where he’d caught her reading all alone after midnight. Words were exchanged as were deep, drugging kisses that led to fumbling around in the dark to prevent anyone else from overhearing them.

Briar had left the Circle not long after that. She’d been heartbroken to see the hatred in his eyes when she’d returned and saved them from Uldren. The ice in his eyes had cut her like a physical injury when he’d turned away from her. She hoped he’d gotten somewhat less bitter towards mages in the last ten years. Especially if she was going to help this Inquisition. She’d even gotten a letter from Alistair and Zevran about the organization. Morrigan had written that she was advising them, and Leliana was always in contact with her.

“Briar?” She paused at the familiar voice. Leliana seemed stunned to see her standing in front of her. “I didn’t think my letter reached you! It’s so good to see you again!” She rushed forward and embraced Briar, pulling her tight. Briar laughed and returned the hug just as fiercely.

“I wasn’t sure if my response would get here before I did, so I chose to come instead.” Leliana agreed it would be a toss up given how correspondence went these days. “Is Morrigan here?”

“Oh yes! She’s in the garden. Come, let’s go see her.” Briar followed along behind Leliana, ignoring the eyes boring a hole in her back. She’d find him later.

In the Gardens

“By the stars, it truly is you.” Morrigan whispered as the two women approached. “It is good to see you old friend.”

“Likewise Morrigan. I’m happy to see you’ve remained safe in these troubled times.” Morrigan nodded and motioned for Kieran to come out. “Oh my! You’ve grown up so much! The last time I saw you, you were just a wee baby.” Kieran bowed and greeted Briar. “He looks so much like you Morrigan. Thank the Maker for that right?” Morrigan choked on her laugh at Briar’s quip. They knew Alistair was likely sneezing at that point in time as well.

“Let’s get you settled in a room Briar. I’m sure you’ll be meeting a lot of people soon.”

“I can’t begin to fathom why anyone would want to meet me. I’m no one special,” Briar said with a twinkle in her eyes as Leliana sent her a warning glare. Briar simply tucked her hands behind her head and followed Leliana to the guest quarters. Once she saw her room she set her travel bag down and then went to explore Skyhold.

Battlements

“I thought I recognized you.” Briar turned at his voice and grinned broadly at him. “You’re still making waves.”

“Ten years later I still remain a thorn in the side of the Chantry.” Briar grinned as he joined her side watching the courtyard.

“Thankfully they’ve more pressing matters to deal with than the woman who threatened to shake their entire existence.” Briar laughed at the cutting remark.

“I didn’t have quite that much influence. Though, I will say, whoever said the Wardens don’t involve themselves with politics needs to be shot.” Briar propped her hands on her hips as she looked up at him. “What’s this really about Commander?”

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?” Briar grinned and shook her head. “I didn’t think so.” Cullen paused as he felt the weight of his next words on his tongue. “I’m sorry.”

“For?” Briar asked as he hesitated. Cullen was stunned.

“For my words to you back at the Circle.” She turned her head back towards the courtyard, and he studied her profile. Briar Amell was always beautiful, he’d long thought that. Since the first day he’d met her when they’d both been new to the Circle. Her face held a serene beauty that reminded Cullen of the moon at times.

“Oh. I was hurt but I couldn’t find it in my heart to really resent you for them. Not after what you’d been through.” His eyes widened at the quiet words. “Do you still think that about me?” They both left the words he spoke to her years ago hang between them. Maleficarum.

“No. I didn’t really think that in my heart either. I lashed out due to fear.” Briar nodded; she understood that feeling too well. She dug her fingers in her upper arms as she fought the longing in her heart. He’d often been on her mind the past ten years, but she hadn’t been able to spare any time to reach out. Not after the Circle incident. Briar dared glance up at him and saw he was looking at her. Heat flushed her cheeks, and she turned her attention back to the courtyard.

“I’m. I’m glad you didn’t think that about me. I’d never turn to blood magic myself.” Briar tensed for a fraction of a second when he stepped closer to her, she suppressed the shudder. Just being next to him was excoriating, her body craved his touch even after ten years. They were both vastly different people than they were in the Circle. No more an apprentice and a recruit sneaking away for secret rendezvous. There was much more at stake in their lives now. His fingers brushed the back of her hand and Briar swore she felt the touch in the very core of her. Her heart was beating so hard she was worried it would come out of her chest. Yet anticipation tingled along her nerves, the air was heavy with the tension between them.

They jolted at the raucous from the tavern shattered the tension. Briar wanted to laugh at how she was acting, like that first time she flirted with Cullen. She glanced down and saw Hawke stepping out of the tavern, holding the Inquisitor in a vise-like grip as she yelled something at the open door. She heard Cullen groan next to her and couldn’t stop her laugh.

“I take it that is the Lady Trevelyan I’ve heard so much about?” Cullen looked at her in surprise.

“How did?”

“Turns out Hawke and I are distant cousins. Our mothers were cousins back in Kirkwall.” Cullen was surprised but then he thought about it. There wasn’t much of a surprise there. “He wrote to me when he discovered the connection years ago. I’ve visited him while he was on the run in Ferelden.”

“That’s where Hawke was?” Briar simply shrugged as if to say her lips were sealed and he heaved an exasperated sigh. Things were never boring in Skyhold since Hawke joined Alissa Trevelyan’s side, which was for sure. “I’m sorry.” Briar burst out laughing at his deadpan delivery. Her hand grasped onto his forearm as she doubled over in amusement.

“Don’t be sorry for me.” She straightened and wiped the tears from her eyes as she wound down. “Be sorry for Thedas.” Cullen was about to respond when he truly thought about it. The Hero of Ferelden and Champion of Kirkwall were family, no matter how distantly connected, and the Inquisitor was related by marriage. Cullen chuckled to himself at the thought of that tangle of political connections. The silence followed held weight between them.

Briar looked up at his face and decided to throw everything to the wind. Why should she resist when there was so much tension between them? So long as he agreed, there was no harm. “Cullen.” He turned to face her fully and she paused at the heat burst low in her belly. He’d always been taller than her, but he was so much broader now. Her mouth went dry at how much bigger he was than she was. “You feel it too, don’t you?” His eyes widened and she saw the same hunger in his eyes that she knew was in hers. “Want to throw caution to the wind and be stupid again?”

Briar let out a startled sound when his arms came around her waist and pulled her against him. His lips settled against her pulse point in a move that had her fingers digging into his shoulders. His name came out as a moan. His hands slid down her body, squeezing her ass through the soft armor before lifting her up by her thighs. She wrapped her arms around his neck as this put them eye to eye.

“Are you certain?” Briar nodded and leaned in to cover his lips with hers. Her hands cupped his cheeks as her teeth tugged at his bottom lip. His fingers tightened on her thighs, and she wanted to moan.

“Cullen, I’ve waited ten years to feel your hands on me again.” The admission startled them both, but Briar realized she meant it. There had felt like something was missing, maybe not something vital to her survival as she did that just fine in the past ten years, but something she ached for was missing. She realized it was him and everything that came with him. She squealed when he turned towards his office and room.

Briar giggled as the scouts were ordered to leave, she buried her face in his shoulder to quell the amusement, but she’d never forget their expressions of shock. “We’ll have to climb up the ladder to my bed.”

“Aww, no fun on the desk?” Briar teased and sucked in a breath when he backed her against it. He leaned down and brushed his lips across her ear.

“I’d never be able to do any work without thinking about fucking you on this.” Her knees went weak and she grabbed his forearms to steady herself. “And I’ve waited too long to see you in my bed to fuck you here.” His teeth nibbled the shell of her ear and the soft sound she let out had his hands tensing on her hips. He stepped back and swept his arm towards the ladder and Briar thought he had more confidence in her legs than she did at the moment.

Briar cleared the ladder and her fingers tugged and pulled until her armor pooled at her feet. She glanced down at her body and grimaced. She had more scars than she did at the Circle. Ten years of fighting darkspawn would do that to you. Briar jumped slightly when his hands slid around her pulling her back against him, and she noticed he wasn’t wearing any clothing either. His lips trailed over her ear down to her neck. She moaned when his teeth pressed down on her pulse point and his fingers dipped between her legs to find her wet and aching for him.

“Maker’s breath but you are beautiful.” The words had her body clenching around his fingers and her hands reached up for him. She arched her hips against his hand and Cullen pressed his palm against her aching clit. His fingers toyed with her as more cries fell from her lips. “People can hear us you know.”

“Haha, as if that’s stopped us before.” Cullen groaned as he remembered that night they’d done it beside the First Enchanter’s office. He hadn’t been able to look the man in the face for a solid week after that.

“Minx,” he whispered against her shoulder as he curled his fingers in her body. He wanted to taste her, to possess her. He needed her like he needed his next breath. Cullen eased his way back towards the bed, taking Briar with him. He wanted to smile when he moved his hand to her hip and the quiet curse as he left her wanting.

“You’re being a tease.” Briar huffed as she turned to face him. Cullen merely gave her a warm smile before he sat down on the bed and grasped her fingers. He tugged her until her stomach was flush with his lips. Her fingers dove into his hair when his teeth nibbled along her skin.

“As much as I want to feel you around my fingers, I’d rather have you on my tongue.” Heat pulsed between her legs as the image his words brought up. She was startled when he leaned back and took her with him. Her knees pressed on both sides of his waist and her palm splayed across his chest. Briar didn’t have a chance to protest before he easily lifted her and settled her over his face.

Briar hesitated for a second and yelped when his hands wrapped around her thighs and pulled her right against his mouth. Her fingers dug into his scalp as his tongue pressed right against her clit. His name spilled from her lips as the heat coiled tight in her belly. One hand covered her mouth as she heard the door open downstairs. Cullen paused for only a second before his attention returned to her.

“Have you seen Cullen?” Briar recognized the voice of Alissa Trevelyan downstairs. “I have a report for him.”

“Looks like he finally took a night off.” Cullen dipped his tongue inside of her hot core as he heard Hawke downstairs.

“Well, he deserves one. I’ll leave this for him then.” Briar covered her mouth and tightened her fingers in Cullen’s hair as her orgasm broke. She couldn’t stop the moans completely and she just prayed the two downstairs didn’t come to investigate. The waves rolled over her languidly, helped along by his tongue and lips.

“Let’s go. I don’t like leaving Zephyr for too long.” Briar’s eyes rolled up in her head as the stars practically exploded behind her eyelids. She heard the door close and dropped her hand to dig her fingers into the bed by Cullen’s head.

“Fuck, fuck.” Briar hissed out as he shifted until she was on her stomach. His weight pressed her down into the bed and she wanted to beg. His cock touched the inside of her thigh and Briar was this close to losing it. She arched her hips against him, hinting at him to take the hint. Cullen’s teeth latched onto her shoulder as he slid his cock inside her welcoming heat. “Maker’s breath.” Briar whined as he rolled his hips slowly against hers. Her nails bit into the sheets by her head as she bucked her hips against him.

“Now, now. Patience is a virtue Briar,” Cullen whispered in her ear as he continued that torturous pace to her growing frustration. She’d appreciate slow later but her body wanted him to make her forget her own fucking name.

“Of which I don’t possess.” She reached up and grasped his hair in her hands as she gently tugged on it. “Fuck me.” That dark chuckle was all she heard before he angled his hips and had her body clenching tight around him. He groaned as he slammed against her hips. “Yes.” He rose up and pressed a hand between her shoulder blades. She groaned as she couldn’t move beneath his hand. She felt herself tightening around his cock with each thrust.

“Damn it. I’m.” Cullen groaned as she felt his cock spasming inside of her. Briar almost screamed when his hand reached underneath and gently pinched her clit. She buried her face in the sheets as she came apart underneath him.

They were both panting heavily as the fog of desire cleared in their heads. Cullen jerked upright as if just realizing what he’d been doing. Briar grabbed his shoulder before he could say anything. She shifted until she was out from under him and pulled him down towards her. “We’ll talk tomorrow. I don’t think I can string more than a few words together right now.” Cullen relaxed and pulled her against him resting his head on the top of her head. They could talk tomorrow.

#dadwc #cullen rutherford x f amell #oc: briar amell #dragon age smut

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