tired-truffle

[tired-truffle]

Something’s Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 5.6k

Part 61: Something Good

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

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

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ash shuddered. “Please don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ash hummed, already half-dreaming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does that mean for you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d allow it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[tired-truffle]

Latest Fanfics - Opening Lines

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[tired-truffle]

Something's Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 4.4k

Part 60: Love, in Fire and in Blood

"No daughters, only soldiers." - Unknown

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

Masterlist

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

Skyhold sprang into action.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When had she started shaking?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A shadow passed overhead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it was also eating her alive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She lived and Love didn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next Chapter

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

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

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

[tired-truffle]

Something's Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 4.3k

Part 59: This is Solas's Fault

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

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

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's different."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And yet you love me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And if she doesn't?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next Chapter

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

[tired-truffle]

Something's Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 3.7k

Part 57: Ma Fen'lin

"Your throat is raw from screaming to a god who isn't listening." - Unknown

Warnings: Rae has been feelings

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

Masterlist

Knock, knock, knock, Ash rapped her fist on Rae’s door. Josephine had sent a runner, and she could practically hear the Ambassador’s fretful tone as her missive stated that Rae had locked herself in her room and was refusing to allow anyone entry.

Ash hadn’t seen her sister, nor had she known that she returned. Usually, there were whispers of the Inquisitor's presence in Skyhold when she came home from a mission. Had Rae snuck in? And for what purpose? Ash’s lip curled back. Rae had only been on her outing to Crestwood with Solas for a few days. What had that bald bastard done to her?

She knocked again. “Rae, it’s me!” she called through the wood. The sound of glass shattering against stone was the only reply she received. She took a deep breath, stealing herself for the mess she was sure to find, and summoned her flames.

Melting a lock was surprisingly easy. Hopefully Josephine - and Rae - would forgive her.

Entering the room, Ash took the few remaining stairs two at a time, pausing on the threshold. Glass lay in shards on the ground, catching the light from the open balcony windows, wind blowing haphazardly strewn papers in billowing circles. Her desk chair was toppled over, clothes tossed about the room. If Ash didn’t know any better, she’d have thought the place had been ransacked.

At the centre of it all was Rae. She sat on the far side of her plush bed, facing away from Ash, curled in on herself with her head between her bent knees, her slender fingers tearing at her hair, body shaking. Ash’s heart squeezed, and she braced herself. Approaching as one would a cornered, feral wolf, Ash came to a stop a foot away, hands palms up.

When Rae didn’t scream at her to get out - likely with some choice expletives - Ash gingerly sat beside her, the mattress dipping under her weight. She didn’t touch her, not yet.

“Ma fen’lin,” Ash said softly. “What happened?”

For a brief, suspended minute, all was silent save for Rae’s ragged breathing. The stillness was broken by a hoarse sob, ripped from her throat and abruptly cut off before it could fully escape.

Solas would be lucky if he survived the night.

“You don’t have to keep it together for me,” Ash shifted, turning her torso to face Rae fully, a leg tucked up. “I came crying to you not that long ago. I owe you one.”

A hiccupping scoff, half-sob, half-disgust made its way from between Rae’s knees to Ash.

She tucked Rae’s hair behind her ear, brushing the tangled strands over her sister’s shoulder and removing them from her grasping fingers. Rae’s hands fell to clutch her calves instead. “Sometimes it helps to get it out. Or punch it out. We can do either.”

“I don’t want to punch you.” Though muffled, Ash was pleased to receive words in reply. “Not yet.”

She could work with that. “Do you want to punch someone else?”

Rae’s shoulders tensed and she growled, low in her throat and dangerous. “Fuck him. He can rot for all I care.”

Tentatively and hopefully in love, to wishing Solas ruin and devastation was an enormous leap. Even for Rae.

“I’ve never been his biggest admirer, and I’m more than happy to support you in this, but I know you cared for him.” Ash gently worked the tangled knots out of Rae’s hair with her fingers. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you quite like this before. Normally I’m the one prone to dramatics.”

“He left me there,” Rae said, a sob stuck in her throat. “He left me alone and embarrassed and he told me I deserve more but all I wanted was him!”

“Rae—”

“He thinks he’s better than me?” Her sister laughed, her shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs, a nearly manic sound that chilled Ash to the bone. “He can’t…he can’t even grow hair! And he’s not as smart as he thinks he is. He talks so much bullshit, and for what? To impress people who don’t give a shit about him? I cared, and look how he treated me! He told me he loved me, called me vhenan once and I was enamoured like a complete idiot. He’s made a fool out of me. If he didn’t know so much about the anchor I’d have banished him already.”

“He’s an idiot to waste a chance with you,” Ash agreed, keeping her tone gentle.

Clicking her tongue against the back of her teeth, Rae sniffled.

“He told me I was beautiful,” she said in a hushed whisper, her voice cracking. “That’s all I wanted. To feel his affection. I’d worked so hard for it, and I thought finally, this is when it all becomes worth it. I danced so carefully, just as he instructed. And he kicked my feet out from beneath me. Was I not beautiful before he took them? What did he see after that changed his mind?”

Ice wrapped around Ash’s lungs, frosting over her ribcage. Love’s simmering rage couldn’t remove the stubborn chill - a sense of foreboding that refused to budge. “What did he take, Rae?”

Rae shook her head, the hair Ash had tucked behind her ear falling to cover her once more. “The clan never accepted me. You were right. They would have kicked me out ages ago if you hadn’t sucked up to Keeper Deshanna. But it was my choice. And now it's gone.”

Those hadn’t been Ash’s exact words, but it was not a good time to dispute them.

“Rae.” Ash hooked her fingers beneath Rae’s chin, gently pulling her from her hiding spot between her knees - careful not to get bitten. “Help me understand.”

Her sister came with little resistance, and—

The unsettling wrongness of Rae’s face struck her with the force of a brick wall, dizziness overtaking her as her mind struggled to comprehend what she was seeing. Impossible, and yet her little sister sat there, eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed, cheeks stained with tears, lips parted around a shaky inhale, and vallaslin absent.

A gasp left Ash’s throat, recoiling back on instinct as Rae averted her gaze.

“Rae, I…how…that’s not…” Never before had Ash been rendered as speechless and discombobulated as she was at that moment. A million questions rushed to her tongue, fighting for space and combining into an unintelligible mess.

“Possible?” Rae finished for her and snorted a humourless laugh. “I’m living proof that it is.”

Now was not the time for Ash’s flabbergast to take over, she needed to get a grip and be present for Rae. Exhaling tremulously, she softened her expression and cupped Rae’s cheek, gently nudging until she returned her gaze.

“How am I supposed to explain this?” Rae whispered, broken and torn, lost like a child in the Brecilian forest. “People are going to notice. I can’t hide in here forever.”

“You don’t owe anyone an explanation about your personal life, but when you’re ready, I’m certain that your Ambassador will be well-equipped to spin a story to your liking.” Ash wiped away a solitary tear that fell down Rae’s cheek.

“He said they were slave markings.” Her eyes held such sorrow - too much for someone so young - the Lavellan curse. “Something he found out in the Fade, apparently. He wouldn’t elaborate any more than that, but then he offered to remove them and I…didn’t want him to look down on me for keeping them if that’s what he believes. I guess it didn’t matter in the end.”

Slave markings…not an easy medicinal tincture to swallow, and without any proof, Ash was reluctant to believe the apostate. It was just too…unreal. Vallaslin were commitments to their gods, they did not need to be forced into servitude when worship was given willingly. “That was unfair and unkind of him.”

Rae shrugged, hollow and lifeless - her spirit shredded beneath his rejection. “It doesn’t matter. He was a distraction from my duty. It won’t happen again.”

Words said in an attempt to convince herself of their truth. But falsehoods could not mend a shattered heart.

“No, he wasn’t.” Ash dropped her hand from Rae’s cheek to slip it beneath hers, squeezing tight to reassure. “You loved him. I know all too well that those feelings don’t just disappear simply because you want them to.”

Rae’s face contorted, twisting as her pain and fury took control, given permission for release. “He didn’t even have the decency to tell me he didn’t care or that I was some casual dalliance.” A ragged breath. “I hate him and yet I still love him and fuck it hurts, Ash! Why couldn’t he just let me hate him? I shoved him and he didn’t fight back. He looked like some fucking kicked puppy and he said he was sorry but all I wanted was him. Why am I not enough? Why does everyone try so fucking hard to leave me?”

Full, body-wracking cries wrenched their way out of Rae’s mouth, and she all but collapsed into Ash’s ready arms. In only a handful of days, she had initiated a second hug. It was unheard of behaviour. She pulled her sister close as she wept. The sobs came in waves, violent and unrelenting, each one shaking Rae's slender body. Ash rocked her gently, the way she had when they were children, when their parents were no longer around to offer comfort. One sister breaking, the other holding the pieces together.

"You can let it all out," Ash said softly. “I’ve got you.”

And Rae did. She cried until her voice grew hoarse, until Ash's shoulder was soaked with tears. She cried with the abandonment of someone who had held herself together for too long, for the sake of too many. The Inquisitor was allowed no weakness, but here, in her sister's arms, Mirae Lavellan could finally crumble.

Minutes stretched long. But eventually, Rae's sobs quieted to hiccups, then to shaky breaths. She remained slumped against Ash, empty.

“You are enough, fen’lin,” Ash said as she ran her nails along Rae’s scalp. “You are capable, strong, intelligent, caring, and honestly the list could go on forever, but the point is, there’s nothing wrong with you. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Rae clutched Ash’s robes a little tighter.

“And I know you may disagree, but I’m trying as hard as I can to stay with you. If that counts for something.”

Sniffling, Rae wiped her snot on the shoulders of Ash’s robes. Had she not been minutes post-breakdown, Ash would have had a few choice words for that. “It does.”

“Good.” They lapsed into silence, Ash content to simply hold her sister, waiting for the signal that she was ready to let go.

“Promise you won’t kill him. Or maim him.” Rae’s voice was almost too hoarse to understand.

Clicking her tongue against the back of her teeth, Ash said, “Not even a little bit? That shiny head is quite the target.”

Her comment received her a quiet chuckle, and Ash smiled, pleased at the turn in her mood. Rae would need time to heal, and Ash was more than willing to give it - but it was promising to hear even a small laugh.

“I’ll think about it.”

The stars had begun to wink into the night sky as Ash left Rae’s room. Her sister had fallen asleep hours ago, sleeping fitfully at first before she settled into a deep sleep. Once Ash had been sure she was gone to the world, she crept from Rae’s bed, removing her arm from beneath her head slowly so as not to disturb her. After all her weeping, Rae had cried herself into exhaustion.

No sooner had Ash's weight lifted from the mattress than a small gray shape darted across the room and leapt onto the bed. Sweetpea, always an opportunist, claimed the warm depression left by Ash's body, settling in with a pleased rumble. The cat kneaded the blankets for a moment before curling into a perfect crescent against Rae's side.

Even in sleep, Rae seemed to sense the Sweetpea's presence. She shifted, mumbling something incoherent, and wrapped her arms around the fur ball at her side, pulling the cat closer until her tear-stained face was buried in soft fur. Sweetpea's purring intensified, vibrating against Rae's chest as if attempting to heal the broken heart within.

Ash paused at the foot of the bed, a soft smile breaking out across her face. The cat's green eyes met hers, narrowed in what could only be described as feline superiority. Sweetpea had the unmistakable look of a creature who had won some unspoken contest.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Ash whispered, pointing a warning finger at the smug cat. "And keep an eye on her for me, will you? She needs someone, and you'll have to do until I get back."

Sweetpea blinked slowly in response, the cat equivalent of a nod, before closing her eyes and settling more firmly against Rae's chest.

Ash would have stayed longer, but she had an apostate to find.

It didn’t take her long. He waited where she had expected; in his rotunda, reading a book at the long wooden desk. The perfect image of serene and unbothered. If that wasn’t a mask, if he’d truly broken her sister’s heart and didn’t care, Ash may have to break her promise. He’d care if he lost a few fingers.

Love wound herself into a tight coil, prepared to spring forth and incinerate the elf the second Ash gave the okay. If Ash didn’t do it herself first. Or Sweetpea, for that matter, when she came across his path. He’d do well to stay away from her sharp claws.

Ash folded her arms over her chest, scowling at him from across the desk as he raised his head. Those sharp, intelligent eyes regarded her with resignation. Ash tapped her foot against the floor.

Solas closed his book with a put-upon sigh, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. “If you must do this, we might as well enjoy the fresh air.” He gestured towards the exit to the battlements while inclining his head towards the upper levels.

Ash had no problem airing his dirty laundry for everyone to see, but not when it included Rae. On this, she would concede. She nodded once, and without waiting for him to lead, she strode across the room, heading for the exit and out into the cold mountain air. Behind her, Solas's steps were irritatingly quiet, as if even his footfalls were trying to avoid giving anything away.

She turned to face him, leaning against the rough stone merlons with forced casualness. The wind whipped loose strands of hair across her face, but she made no move to brush them away. Let him see her unkempt, the tears and snot that stained her robes. Let him see what caring for a broken heart looked like.

The apostate stood several paces away, hands clasped behind his back, perfectly poised as always, his angular face sharp like his gaze.

How could he possibly have done what he did? Ash's mind raced through the possibilities. Slave markings? How convenient that he alone possessed this knowledge. And how cruel to offer removal right before breaking her heart, tying that choice to the painful memory forever. There had to be more to it - Solas wasn't the type to be so transparently manipulative. No, he would have layers upon layers of reasons and justifications, each one more infuriatingly logical than the last.

And the vallaslin…gone. Just like that. Centuries of tradition erased in seconds. What power did he possess that could do such a thing? But worse than all of that was the devastation in Rae's eyes. The loss of identity, of confidence, of ties to a culture she had a tenuous relationship with at best. Of trust.

"Do you plan to light me on fire with your gaze alone?" Solas broke the silence, his voice carrying that familiar hint of amusement that made Ash's blood boil. "If so, I would appreciate you getting on with it. The anticipation is rather uncomfortable."

"Don't tempt me," Ash replied, uncrossing her arms to let her fingers drum against the stone. "Love is particularly eager to be unleashed tonight. You’re lucky I have the level of control that I do or you’d be smoked mage-meat."

Solas inclined his head slightly. "I expected nothing less."

"Why did you do it?" The question burst from her lips before she could stop herself. "You removed her vallaslin and then just…left her there? What kind of cruel game are you playing?"

Something flickered in his eyes - pain, perhaps, or regret - but it was gone so quickly Ash couldn't be sure it was ever there.

"It is complicated," he said, turning his gaze to the mountains. "Some truths cannot be explained in simple terms."

"Try me," Ash challenged, stepping closer. "Because my sister is lying in her bed right now with her heart shattered. She deserves better than 'it's complicated.'"

"What she deserves," Solas said, his tone suddenly hard, "is precisely why I ended our��relationship."

"That's not an answer," Ash bit back a growl, trying to hold good on her promise.

"It's the only one I can give you."

Ash fought the urge to throttle him. That infuriatingly smug tone, the vague non-answers - it was like trying to catch smoke with her bare hands. She pushed off from the wall, closing the distance between them until they stood face to face.

"Do you have any idea what you've done to her?" Ash hissed. "She trusted you. She let you remove her vallaslin because she believed in you. And then you walked away."

Solas's mask slipped, just for a moment. A flash of something so raw and agonized that Ash almost took a step back. His eyes, usually so carefully guarded, showed a depth of sorrow that seemed to stretch back ages.

"I did what I must," he said quietly, heavy and sodden with shame. "But I regret that I have harmed her in doing so. That was never my intention." He swallowed, his eyes dropping briefly to the ground. "But I acknowledge the result of my actions."

His sincerity only infuriated Ash more. How dare he sound so genuinely remorseful while refusing to explain or make amends?

"You know what?" Ash said, jabbing a finger at his chest. "The only reason - the only reason - I haven't tossed you off these battlements is because Rae asked me not to hurt you. She's still protecting you, even now."

A ghost of a smile touched Solas's lips, tinged with melancholy. "She has a kind heart. It will serve her well in the days to come."

Something in his phrasing made the hairs on Ash's neck stand up. Days to come? Why did that sound like a goodbye? Like he was already planning his exit.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" Ash realized aloud, narrowing her eyes. "That's why you ended things with Rae. You're planning to run."

Solas stiffened. "My path is my own to walk."

"Coward," Ash spat. "At least have the decency to tell her the truth. Or are you so afraid that she won’t like what she sees if you do?"

The wind picked up, whistling through the battlements and carrying the distant sounds of Skyhold below. Solas looked past her, toward the mountains, his expression distant.

"There are truths that would bring her no comfort," he finally said. "Sometimes, ignorance is the kinder gift."

Ash laughed bitterly. "Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night? That you're protecting her by keeping her in the dark? By making her think she wasn't enough?"

"What I think matters little." He turned back to her, his composure fully restored. "What matters is that she moves forward. That she leads. The world needs her strength now.”

“Yeah, and she needed you,” Ash shot back, a cruel satisfaction curling in her chest when he flinched almost imperceptibly, “but you couldn’t even try to stick around. I’m not blind, Solas, you clearly still love her. Get off whatever high horse you’ve deluded yourself into thinking is for her own good and tell her. Before it's too late.”

Solas didn't answer her. His jaw tensed, a muscle jumping beneath the skin as he clenched his teeth, his eyes growing distant and cold. The wall between them, invisible but impenetrable, slammed back into place.

Ash waited, her patience thinning with each passing second. When it became clear he had no intention of responding, of offering even the smallest explanation, something inside her snapped. A pitying laugh bubbled up from her throat, harsh and cutting in the night air.

"May the Dread Wolf take you, you miserable felasil [idiot]," she spat, the old Dalish curse coming unbidden to her tongue. If anyone deserved it, it was him.

She turned on her heel, not bothering to look back as she stalked away. Let him stand there alone with his secrets and his pride. Let him taste the bitter dregs of solitude he'd chosen over her sister's love.

Solas remained motionless on the battlements, until Ash’s retreating figure disappeared through the door. Only then did his shoulders slump slightly, his choices settling more heavily upon them. He bore the mountains he had been sent to climb, unable to shake their weight.

The wind shifted and a flutter of movement caught his eye - a butterfly, delicate and improbable in the mountains, flew toward him.

He extended his hand, palm up, and waited. The butterfly hovered for a moment, wings beating in a rhythm that reminded him of something precious - of gentle laughter, of ears that wiggled with delight while emerald eyes crinkled. Of joy unrestrained and unashamed. Stolen by his own doing.

It landed on his outstretched fingers, wings opening and closing slowly. For a bare second, something akin to tenderness crossed his face, a glimpse of the man he might have been in another lifetime, on another path.

"Ir abelas, vhenan," he whispered to the night, words meant for ears that would never hear them.

The butterfly lingered for a heartbeat more, then took flight, carried away by the wind. Solas watched it go, his hand still extended, until it vanished from sight, and he was alone once more. As it should have always been, had he not been weakened by desire.

Next Chapter

A/N: I am so sorry, Rae…but it had to be done! For those who don't remember (cause it has been a long time) fen'lin means little wolf.

[tired-truffle]

I Love You, I’m Sorry

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 4.7k

"We were always going to say goodbye, weren't we?" "Yeah. I think so." "I loved you though. I loved you so much." A pause. "I know. I know.” "I loved you too." - Sue Zhao

Part 2/2

Masterlist

“I was just about to put on tea, would you like some?” A lie to cover the antsiness that crawled up her back like a centipede, its many legs both ticklish and off-putting. 

“That would be much appreciated, thank you.” Polite as ever, though with a layer of cordiality between them she was unused to. It was better that way, to keep some distance. Safer. 

Placing a kettle full of water on the stove, she reached into the oven, and - shielded from his view, though he no doubt knew what she was doing - she used her flames to ignite the wood. She could have simply heated the kettle by hand, but she didn’t want to unsettle him further. He may have freed her from execution, but that didn’t mean he was comfortable around her spirit-fuelled magic. 

He might have fled with her if he wasn’t so afraid of her. 

“You can sit, you know,” Ash said when she turned to find him standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. “The chairs don’t bite.”

Cullen cracked a grin, and followed her gesture to sit at her little dining room table, slinging his cloak over the back of the chair. She took the seat opposite him, careful to keep her limbs tucked in lest they brush against his. 

From awkwardly standing to awkwardly sitting, silence crackled between them. An impassive mask slotted itself into place, blocking out the tumultuous emotions swirling within her chest, Love stirring them into a frenzy. She’d loved him and lost him, her confession arriving too late. And yet there he sat, staring at her from across the table, disbelief and relief written across his face like a poem meant to pluck at her heartstrings. 

“Your hair is longer—“

“Why are you here—?” 

They spoke at the same time, fumbling to a halt as their words clashed. Ash snapped her mouth shut, and Cullen rubbed the back of her neck. 

Her sigh was not heavy enough to convey the extent of her exhaustion. “It’s been two and a half years, Cullen. My hair has grown out and I’ve changed. As have you,” she said with a hollow tone. “And yet you somehow tracked me down and showed up at my front door uninvited and without warning. Why?”

“I suppose that is the natural question.” He avoided eye contact, choosing to focus on her staff where she’d left it at the door. The crease between his brows deepened, and he mulled over his thoughts. It seemed an easy enough question to answer, the whole purpose of his trek out to find her. He had to have a compelling reason. Her leg bounced under the table. 

“Do you regret it?” she blurted out, unable to hold her tongue. Did he regret freeing her from prison, from execution, or did he regret caring for her, being with her in the time that they had? She implied the former with a glance at the sword sheathed on his belt. “Have you come here to rectify your mistake?”

His gaze snapped up to hers, widened with horror. “No,” he said quickly. “No I wouldn’t—do you really think I’d come here to…kill you?” 

Distress curled around his tone like a long exhale of smoke. He leaned forward, his hand resting on the table, fingers twitching with a restrained desire to reach out to her. She watched him, uncertain of her own reaction if he were to touch her now. Would she light them both on fire or throw him onto her bed and lose herself in the feel of him? Either possibility had consequences she wasn’t prepared to deal with. 

She sat back in her chair, her fingers tapping a steady rhythm against the wooden surface. “It’s a possibility. It would be foolish of me not to consider it.”

Cullen scowled. “It’s never been a possibility. Not then, and not now.”

Her fingers ceased their rhythm as she met his intense stare. Conviction, true and unwavering. It was likely unwise of her to trust him so readily, to, as a possessed mage, take a former Templar at his word. She did it anyway. 

But where did that leave them? The table might as well have been the entire continent of Thedas for how far she felt from him. Time had changed them, and yet…he’d sought her out, on his own, for non-violent purposes. And she loved him as fiercely as the day they’d parted ways. 

The shrill, piercing whistle of the kettle reaching a boil sliced through the tension, compelling Ash to rise from her seat and remove it from the stove. The whistle died down as the bubbles stopped, and she reached into the cupboard for two mugs - hers and Dorian’s. Dorian’s mug had been sitting untouched since he’d left. A quick rinse and it was clean of dust. 

“How did you find me? Did Dorian sell me out?” she asked as she filled up the mugs with boiling water and picked out the only tin of tea leaves she owned. Elderflower tea. Did she buy it because it reminded her of him? That would be pathetic and absurd. And Gods was she terribly lonely. 

“The Iron Bull, actually. He was keeping the Inquisitor’s scouts away from you. Though she stopped sending them sometime around a year ago now. It appears he kept track of you still.” 

Ash flinched at the mention of Rae, boiling water spilling over the sides of the mugs and scalding her fingers. On her left, the deep burns scars left by the Archdemon shielded her from the pain - however, she would have much preferred the minor sting of a small burn to the memory of having most of the flesh on her left side nearly melted away. Her right fingers twinged, but it was nothing compared to the gnawing ache that came from news of her sister. She’d have done anything she could to keep Rae safe, and in return, she’d received a failed execution. 

“I apologize,” Cullen said softly, and she brought the mugs over to the table, placing Dorian’s in front of him. If he recognized the smell of the tea, he didn’t comment. “I shouldn’t have brought her up.”

Ash waved him off, resting her elbows on the table and curling over her tea, the steam bringing the scent of elderflower to her nose. “It’s fine.” She pursed her lips. “Is she…well?”

Cullen’s downcast eyes gave her an inkling of her sister’s well-being. “The years have been hard on her. We defeated Corypheus, as I’m sure you know, but Solas vanished shortly after and…she became angrier, more withdrawn. She closed the rifts, but at the Conclave we made some discoveries that deeply affected her. The Inquisitor seemed…stunned, when I left a week after the Inquisition was disbanded. She lives, but the Anchor had to be removed, and along with it, her arm.”

Grim, but Rae was alive, at least. Perhaps their mother wouldn’t hate Ash more than she already had. 

She nodded gravely, her fingers curling around her mug. “Thank you for telling me. I don’t know how to feel about it, but I’m glad that I know.”

Cullen pulled his gloves off and laid them on the table before bringing his tea to his lips and blowing softly through the steam. “Of course.” 

Ash hummed, a vague noise pushed between her teeth. “However, that still doesn’t answer my first question. Why did you come here?” 

After all that time. Why now? 

Nervousness flashed across his face and he took a sip of the hot tea, frowning as the flavour coated his tongue. “Is this elderflower?”

Ash huffed irritably at his blatant attempt to evade her questioning. “Yes. But that also doesn’t answer my question.”

Sighing heavily, Cullen set his mug down on the table with a muted thump. “I’m here for the same reason you have elderflower tea in your cabinet, I presume.”

Her teeth clacked together, her nose wrinkling at the implications of his accusation. “You’re here because you enjoy the taste of elderflower? You know you can get that anywhere in Thedas, right?”

In her attempt to stoke his irritation, she received his patience instead. It cornered her with his soft, understanding eyes and the softening of the crease between his brows. Her hackles raised, and every instinct begged her to bolt. But longing rooted her to the spot, to him. 

“Ashvalla,” he said with a tenderness that had tears pricking at her eyes. She pushed back her chair, the legs scraping noisily against the ground, unable to sit still as jitteriness took over her limbs. Sweetpea chirped as she strode by. 

“No, Cullen,” she spat as she paced the short length of the room. “You don’t get to come into my home after years without a word and ‘Ashvalla’ me.” 

She mimicked his tone as she said her name, and her magic writhed beneath her skin. Love disapproved, and Ash rubbed her sternum to keep the spirit at bay. Cullen’s eyes followed the movement. 

“I was fine without you, you know?” Tears clogged her throat, and her eyes burned, but she refused to let them fall. “I don’t need you to come galloping back into my life like some sort of white knight and sweep me off my feet. We are fundamentally incompatible. It doesn’t matter that I’m still…fond of you, of what we had. So what if I’m holding onto reminders? It doesn’t change anything. It was ridiculous of me to even buy that damn tea but I have always been weak for you and that hasn’t changed. But living in the past will only hurt us further, and by Mythal am I tired of hurting. I don’t know what I was thinking when I invited you inside, I should have shooed you off my porch like the pest that you are. I’m still spirit-possessed, in case you’ve forgotten. I just—I need you to leave me alone. Get out before I say something I can’t take back!”

Facing away from him, she pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes until she saw stars, inhaling a shuddering breath. Let him yell at her for her stubbornness, curse her bitterly for pushing him away, and storm out of her house - out of her life - for the last time. 

“Your tea is getting cold.” He met her with unending, frustrating patience instead. 

Ash stuck out her hand, letting flames flicker across the surface. “I can reheat it.”

“It never tastes the same reheated.” His chair creaked as he shifted. “Will you come back and sit with me? Sweetpea is concerned.”

Ash glanced over to her cat, once resting peacefully on her cushion, now standing, eyes fixed on Ash and tail flicking. The need to flee subsided as Sweetpea meowed, an emphasis to Cullen’s point, and he bent down to gently pat her head. She lifted her chin to press her head against his palm, her sharp canines slipping from beneath her lips as she purred contentedly. 

“Only for Pea,” Ash conceded, “not because you asked me to.”

His chuckle made her both want to dunk him in her pail of water and kiss him senseless. Damn him. “As you wish.”

She made an irritated scoff at the back of her throat and sat herself heavily back onto her chair. Her index finger tapped against the table, a scowl on her lips as she angled herself away from him. 

“If I explain now, do you promise to listen and wait until I’m done?” Cullen asked, removing his hand from Sweetpea to place it palm up on the table, much to the cat’s chagrin. 

Ash narrowed her eyes, her ears pressed flat against her skull. “How are you so calm about all this? The last time I saw you, you were so…”

“Angry,” he finished for her. “I’ve had a lot of time since then to think of what I want and what I should say given the chance. I’m prepared this time. If you wish for me to leave after I explain, then I will without a fight. But please, for both our sakes, allow me this just once.” 

Releasing a sigh filled with decades of exhaustion, Ash relented. “Fine.” She leaned back against her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “Let’s get this over with.”

“How kind of you,” he said with a smirk that had her eyes narrowing further. 

“Don’t push your luck,” she bit out. 

He held up his hands in a display of innocence. “Forgive me, it’s been a long journey and I’m having trouble controlling my tongue.” 

A lie, if she’d ever heard one. He’d always had a cheeky side, but she allowed him the excuse. Ash waved for him to continue, and the mirth that crinkled the skin around his eyes smoothed away. 

“I was a coward.” A promising opener, and Ash didn’t interrupt. “When I first learned of your possession, I allowed my fear to dictate my actions, like I’d fooled myself into believing that I was passed. In doing so, I lost sight of who you’d shown me you are, and I almost permitted—“ he broke off, his voice laden with the burden of guilt and it tugged at her heart. 

He cleared his throat. “I almost permitted the Inquisitor to make a mistake she could never undo. Yet even when I’d convinced myself that you were dangerous, I still tried to defend you. I didn’t realize what I was doing until your sister challenged me on it. She always suspected I had a part in your release, but without any proof…” Cullen shrugged, forlorn and unable to meet her gaze. 

“So you came here to, what? Apologize?” Ash asked in the stillness that followed. 

Hands splayed out on the table, palms down and pressed into the wood, his bottom lip twitched. "I understand if forgiveness is something you never wish to extend to me, and so I won’t ask for it. Yet, it would be a grave oversight on my part if I did not convey the depth of my remorse for my failure to stand by you. You deserved so much more than the anger I showed, and I should have been the steadfast support you needed. Instead, I nearly allowed you to face your death believing that you were alone and uncared for.”

Shaking her head, Ash reached out and curled her fingers around his hand, a subconscious movement, but she found herself unable to pull away. He looked up, meeting her gaze, and the pressure he placed on his palms eased. 

“Nearly, is the keyword there. You freed me when it mattered. Don’t discount that.”

Cullen clicked his tongue on the back of his teeth, and wrapped his hand around hers fully, his thumb swiping over the delicate bones. “Perhaps. But every night when I close my eyes I see what could have happened had I not. It haunts me still. Seeing you so…dejected, hopeless, you weren’t fighting for your freedom, you simply…accepted it. You were so unlike who I knew you to be.” 

His forehead creased, his mug long forgotten and getting cold. She could heat it for him later if he didn’t mind the less-than-ideal taste. 

Ash lowered her head, the ache left by her sister’s reaction squeezing her heart. “I didn’t see a point in living if there was no one to live for. A flawed perspective, I see that now, but I wasn’t exactly in a great space when Rae…well, you know.”

Judging by the tormented depths of his eyes, he knew all too well. 

The need to explain herself stuck in her throat, guilt that had festered in her soul rotting the bars of the cell she’d trapped it in and escaping out of her mouth. “Knowing what little I did about your past, it was unfair of me to pursue a relationship with you while being possessed. I never should have—

“No, no.” He squeezed her hand, desperation cinching around his tone and pulling tight as an Orlesian corset. “Don’t say that. Please. Even knowing how it would end, I would choose to do it all over again. I was willfully ignorant to how your magic felt so different from any other mage's, all just to be with you.”

Ash’s lips parted around a sharp inhale. Sincerity shone through Cullen’s expression and pierced her heart, the ache becoming sharper with each mournful beat. 

“An overdue apology is not the only reason I came to find you,” Cullen said, his voice a low rasp that raised goosebumps on her skin. Below the table, their knees knocked together. “I’ve missed you terribly. You brought a light to my life and lifted a weight from my shoulders that I hadn’t realized was there until your absence left me feeling its burden again. I knew I had to be patient, to allow you to come to me lest I scare you away with the intensity of what I felt for you, but in my quiet waiting, I failed to convey just how deep and boundless my affections for you truly run."

Ash pursed her lips, shaking her head. She attempted to withdraw her hand from his grasp, but he tightened his hold, his fingers interlocking with hers.

“Possibly always, you’d love me.” He leaned forward, drawn to her as she was to him. Her palms began to sweat, and she struggled to breathe around the panic fluttering in her chest, only a heartbeat away from Love. “Is that still true?” 

“Cullen…” she trailed off, choking on a pained noise in the back of her throat, a whine and groan that rose from the depths of her soul. “I can’t—not again. Please don’t make me do this.”

Tears pricked at her eyes, burning like the fire that flared in her chest. Love made her wishes clear, but Ash was the one in control, she had the final say. 

The scrap of his chair against the ground announced his sudden movement. Before she could decipher his intent, he had swiftly maneuvered her chair to face him, dropping to his knees at her feet. His hands clung tightly to the legs of her chair, as if anchoring himself in place, a deliberate attempt to resist the urge to gather her into his arms. 

“I loved you and I love you still.” Kneeling before her, he professed his love with a watery smile, weighed down by years of pain but no less undeniably beautiful. “If I am certain of one thing in my life, it is my love for you. I do not deserve your love in return, perhaps it is selfish of me, but I could not endure another moment without ensuring you knew.”

Her chin quivered, her lips pressed together to hold back the tears that tightened her throat. How long had she yearned to hear him say those three words, to return the love she’d held for him for far longer than she’d ever admit? Her feelings had not dimmed or died in their time apart, but she’d long buried the hope that she’d ever see them reciprocated. Love pulsed in her chest, warm and pleased, and easing the instinct to run that tugged at her limbs. 

Unable to resist, she cupped his face in her trembling hands, bending at the hips to lean closer. She took a shaky inhale, gathering her strength. A love declaration was all well and good, but that didn’t mean anything had to come of it. 

“I’m still possessed. Love cannot be removed without tranquillity, and I would rather die than be made tranquil.”

“I know,” he said quickly, one hand covering hers, the other holding the back of her knee. “I would never allow you to be made tranquil, to even think…” Cullen’s lip curled in a grimace of disgust. “Never. I may not have known about your possession when we first met, but that does not change that I was drawn to you as I’ve never been drawn to anyone else. I don’t wish for you to be different. The woman I fell in love with is you, Ashvalla. I want you exactly as you are.”

She believed him. His conviction was as unyielding as the firm grip on the back of her knee, reflected in the pinch of his brows, not a single waver or second of hesitation. Had she not been seated, her legs would have buckled under the sheer force of her relief. No, relief alone could not fully capture the effect his declaration had on her. Freedom, elation, catharsis, but most of all, a love so powerful it stole the breath from her lungs. 

The crash of her lips against his laid the foundation of her response. Words were insufficient to encapsulate how her heart sang for him, a melody both soothingly gentle and joyously plucked along her ribcage. Her hand wound around his head, fingers tangling in his waves, while the other looped around his neck to hold him against her. A heartbeat after she set upon him, he surged into action. Arms of corded muscle slipped around her waist, pulling her to the precipice as he extended himself to a higher kneel, positioning himself between her legs. Cullen groaned into her mouth as she opened herself for him, his tongue flicking over her lips and further - consumed by the feel of him. 

The scratch of his stubble against her cheek, the smell of elderflower and armour polish filling her senses, how safe she felt wrapped in his tight embrace - Creators she’d missed him more than she’d ever allowed herself to acknowledge. Tears, hot and damp, rolled down her cheeks as she gasped into the kiss, her lungs screaming for oxygen, desperate to stay connected to him - to lose herself in his lips lest she wake up and find it all a dream. She wasn’t sure she’d survive such a revelation. 

With a reluctance that she could feel in the slight shake of his muscles, Cullen pulled back, resting their foreheads together. His hand cupped her cheek tenderly, a gentle barrier to hold her back as she instinctively leaned forward, yearning to remain close, even though it pained him to separate. A soft whine escaped from her throat, a plaintive sound mingling with her laboured, panted breaths as it slipped past her swollen lips. Her arms were heavy and tingling with pins and needles, unable to support themselves, and her fingers clung desperately to the fabric of his cloak, sliding down its length. She couldn’t bear to let go. Not again.

“Ash,” his low murmur, gravely with desire, sent a shiver running to the base of her spine. “I need you to breathe.”

She was breathing, and it was rude of him to suggest otherwise. Even though her head was packed with cotton and her vision blurred—ah, it took her a moment, but she understood his concern. His hand captured hers, prying her fingers gently from his cloak and bringing it to his chest, over the solid metal of his armour. He inhaled and exhaled, slightly faster than his resting rate, one she knew like the lines of her palms, but she found her body automatically copying his. Like it hadn’t been years, like there was no distance between them. 

“Sorry, I-I,” she cursed herself for her stutter, the honour usually reserved for him, “didn’t mean to get so…” 

She waved her hand in a vague motion, but he nodded his head in comprehension. Always cunning, her Commander. 

“There are no apologies needed, my dear.” His sweet smile, the scar pulled taught on his upper lip, had her choking back a sob. She could no longer tell if she cried from joy or sadness. A blend of both, she figured. “I didn’t exactly give you time to prepare for any of this.” 

A watery laugh bubbled out of her throat, delicate and fragile, like a reflection on a rippling pond. But when he gently shifted their positions, allowing her head to rest comfortably on his shoulder, as he petted the back of her head, her laughter was abruptly choked by a wrenching sob. Her body shook as the years of loneliness and longing poured out of her, clutching his cloak in her fingers like she could hold him to her forever. Cullen remained silent, simply allowing the release, providing soothing comfort through his touch and presence. 

Time ticked by slowly, the seconds stretching into eternity until her sobs gradually transformed into shaky, uneven breaths. Soon after, those breaths gave way to sniffling as she tried to recollect herself. Cullen shifted slightly and from his pocket, he retrieved a handkerchief, holding it back where she could see it, an awkward angle for his arm when she refused to let go. She accepted, and used it to blow her nose, clearing away the snot that had accumulated during her tears. 

Placing the handkerchief somewhere off to the side - dropping it on the ground - she wiped her tear stains with her sleeve. Not that she could hide she’d been crying, but the dried crust left behind would quickly become uncomfortable. 

Cullen shifted again, but this time, she felt him wince. She was off of him within the span of a beat of her heart, holding his shoulders, and staring at him as though she could see right through his skin and muscle and bone to whatever ailed him. He smiled, lopsided, tired, and beautiful as the sunrise on a clear morning. 

“The floor is hard on my knees,” he said apologetically, a light blush covering his cheeks. “I can pull the other chair over?” 

Ash nodded, her lips pursed and her red-tipped ears flicking with embarrassment. She released his shoulders, folding her hands in her lap and fidgeting with her skirt. “Of course, yes, that works.”

A comforting pat on her thigh, and Cullen pushed himself to stand, stifling a groan as his knees cracked and popped. He dragged his abandoned chair back over, positioning it in front of her, making sure not to accidentally bump into Sweetpea as he passed. Once seated, he nestled himself close enough so that her legs fit snugly between his. Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his thighs and took her hands in his. The calluses on his palms scratched lightly against her skin, his heat engulfing hers. 

He was silent for a beat, but before Ash could spew her jumbled mess of thoughts to fill the void, Cullen spoke. “I am no longer duty bound to serve the Inquisition and I am free to live my life how I chose. If you’d have me, I wish to spend my freedom in service of you.”

“No,” Ash said, a knee-jerk reaction to his offer. But upon his crestfallen face - though he made a valiant attempt to hide his disappointment, she was much too close and attentive to miss it - she was quick to correct herself. “I don’t want your service, I want…I just want you, Cullen. Whatever wrongdoings you believe you must atone for with service we can work through, but we can do so as equals.”

His brows lifted and his lips parted, hope overtaking his momentary heartbreak. “Are you certain? After what I did—“

She cut him off with a kiss, and he sighed against her lips, the release of tension music to her ears. When she parted for air, her mouth remained only inches from his. “I love you. Still. Always. My heart is yours, vhenan. I know we have much to discuss, but it would break me irreparably to part from you again.”

He smiled as he closed the distance between them, kissing her with a ferocity that promised a lifetime of love and devotion. 

“Then I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

“Forever, preferably.” Ash’s reply was punctuated by an enthusiastic meow from the floor. Sweetpea had given her blessing, pleased to have her beloved Cullen returned. She was tired of the salty tears she had so often licked from her fur in his absence. Now, she was eager to display her diligent efforts in maintaining the cabin as a mouse-free haven. Her tiny chest puffed with pride, confident that Cullen would be impressed by her vigilant guardianship. 

Though the future was uncertain, her sister still out there somewhere and her feelings towards Ash unresolved, nothing could diminish the happiness she felt. Safe in Cullen’s arms, she could face all the horrors in the world - it would all be worthwhile as long as she had him by her side in the end. 

A/N: I couldn't decide on which quote I wanted, but I think this one fits best at the end anyway!

"Whether you come as a lover or an executioner, I am ready to receive you." - The Carnivorous Lamb, Agustin Gómez-Arcos, tr. William Rodarmor

Thank you for reading!

[tired-truffle]

Something's Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 3.7k

Part 57: My Body, Your Weapon

"And know for the love of god, you need to suffer, because there is a god who demands to be bled for." - Unknown

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

Masterlist

Rae rounded on the woman, Mythal in human form - her daggers raised and teeth bared. “I don’t give a shit if you’re Mythal or just some powerful fucking asshole. Release my sister or I will cut you down.”

Morrigan’s mother - Mythal, supposedly - clucked her tongue in distaste. “I’d say my daughter’s lack of manners must have influenced you, but from what I hear, the Inquisitor has always had a violent streak.”

Before Rae could make good on her promise, however, the woman released her hold over Ash, and she stumbled away from Morrigan, shaking out her limbs like it could rid her of the phantom puppet strings. Rae angled herself between Ash and the goddess, standing a step behind Morrigan.

As though nothing was amiss, as though she hadn’t just stolen Ash’s autonomy and forced her to attack an ally, Mythal patted Kieran’s back, urging him towards his mother with an incline of her head. Keiran ran, leaping into Morrigan’s arm and holding her tightly, his eyes squeezed shut.

Morrigan put her son down, crouching so she was at his height.

“I’m sorry, mother,” he said with genuine regret. “I heard her calling to me. She said now was the time.”

Shaking her head, Morrigan watched helplessly as Keiran returned to Mythal’s side. “I do not understand.”

Her mother - the new owner of Ash’s body - replied, “Once I was but a woman, crying out in the lonely darkness for justice. And she came to me, a wisp of an ancient being, and she granted me all I wanted and more. I have carried Mythal through the ages ever since, seeking the justice denied to her.”

Rae stepped forward, up to Morrigan’s side. “That could have been a demon, lying to you.”

“As it could have been a demon possessing your sister.” The woman’s gaze drifted to Ash. “What do the voices tell you, girl?”

Silent, up until that very moment, the voices whispered in her ears, knowledge trickling down her spine like water from a glacier. Love remained silent, but Ash understood their meaning intrinsically. She’d been learning.

“You’re telling the truth, supposedly.”

The woman nodded. “Skepticism may have served you well, but if you wish to defeat your enemy, you should heed my words. Tell me, what was Mythal? A legend given name and called a god, or something more? Truth is not the end, but a beginning.” She tilted her head to the side, a cat hunting a field mouse. “So young and vibrant. You both do the People proud and have come far.”

Did she make her people proud? Rae had, as far as Ash was concerned, but as for herself, she wasn’t certain. Possessed by a spirit and influenced by an ancient deity were a potent mix, bound to cause trouble.

The woman continued, “As for me, I have had many names. But you…may call me Flemeth.”

Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds, a myth turned real - housing an ancient deity that all had thought long lost.

Ash couldn’t hide behind Rae forever, and someone as powerful as the mage before her wasn't going to be stopped by some sharp knives and her irritable daughter. Ash came to stand beside Rae - a united front.

“If Mythal is a part of you, why haven’t you helped us?” Rae scoffed, disbelief and distrust in the downwards tilt of her mouth. “We’ve called to you, prayed to you, and you abandoned us.”

“What was could not be changed.”

What a load of nugshit. Of course the powerful goddess wouldn’t be willing to help meaningless ants like them.

“What about now? Hm? Since you know so much.”

“You know not what you ask, child.”

Rae bristled at the condescending title. “So you lured us here, to what? Make Ash your servant because she drank from the Well?”

“Is that how you see her? A servant?” A tease wrapped in fears both new and old. “I have no commands for her. Not yet.”

“Then what is it you want?” Morrigan spoke up, tension vibrating in her voice.

“One thing, and one thing only.” Ominous, and nerves fluttered in Ash’s stomach. Whatever the Witch of the Wilds wanted, Ash prayed that it had nothing to do with her - though not to Mythal, of course.

Kieran lowered his head, unable to meet Morrigan’s gaze. “I have to go now, Mother.”

Shock morphed into anger, and Morrigan’s lips twisted into a sneer aimed at her own mother. “No, I will not allow it.”

“He carries a piece of what once was, snatched from the jaws of darkness. You know this.” Even more ominous, though this time Ash was certain that it wasn’t about her.

“He is not your pawn, Mother. I will not let you use him!” Morrigan trembled with raw fear, the widened eyes of a scared little girl turned into a mother who’d do anything to protect her son - except how does one protect their child from a goddess?

“Have you not used him?” Flemeth shot back. “Was that not your purpose, the reason you agreed to his creation?”

Ash was missing multiple pieces to this puzzle. Yet, a deeper fear gnawed at her, a fear that kept her from fully engaging with the clues before her: her body manipulated like a marionette. And she only had herself to blame.

“That was then. Now he…” A quivering breath, as close to a sob as the witch could get around company. “He is my son.”

Morrigan stepped back when Flemeth didn’t budge.

“Flemeth extends her life by possessing the bodies of her daughters. That was the fate she intended for me. I thwarted her, and now she intends to have Kieran instead.” A hopeless lilt tore at the ends of her words, powerless to stop the theft of her child. There was no use in Ash trying to help, Flemeth had complete control over her, more than Love had ever had. She’d made her choice, now, she faced the consequences. How could Cullen react, she wondered. Judging by how he took the news at the war table, he was bound to be displeased.

“If Kieran is so special, why did you wait until now to come for him?” Rae asked, dagger twirling in her hands, itching to strike.

“I did not know where he was,” Flemeth answered coolly. “Morrigan cleverly hid him from me…until now.”

Morrigan grimaced. “‘Twas the Well.”

A grin like that of a satisfied predator licking its paws of blood and sinew curved Flemeth’s lips. “Be thankful you did not drink. Imagine, bound to your dear mother for all eternity.” She laughed, more of a humourless cackle that sent a chill down Ash’s spine.

For all eternity…the words rang in her ears. Was there truly nothing she could do to rid herself of Mythal’s influence? Was she forever trapped by the ancient god she had not believed in? It was difficult to remain agnostic when a goddess stood before her, trapped in a witch’s body. Flemeth had said she didn’t have need of Ash, not yet. But when would the time come where her body was stolen from her yet again? Ripped from those she loved and used against her will for Creators only know what purposes. Her stomach roiled, begging to empty the contents onto the rocky Fade ground, but she swallowed it down. Any weakness shown to the woman who owned her soul would do her no favours.

She forced herself to focus.

“Do whatever you wish,” Morrigan said, fierce protectiveness overtaking her fear. “Take over my body now, if you must, but Kieran will be free of your clutches. I am many things, but I will not be the mother you were to me.”

Flemeth turned to Kieran, taking his hands in her and from his chest she extracted a glowing ball of light. Even from their distance, Ash could feel the pure magic that flowed from it as it passed between the two and disappeared into Flemeth.

“No more dreams?” Kieran asked.

“No more dreams,” Flemeth confirmed.

Keiran smiled, and left his grandmother’s side, taking his place with Morrigan, her hand resting on his back protectively.

“A soul is not forced upon the unwilling, Morrigan.” Mother addressed daughter, the son returned. “You were never in danger from me.”

A truth, the voices whispered to Ash, but she didn’t voice it. Morrigan was unlikely to believe it when Ash was still so easily controlled by Flemeth.

Flemeth turned to Ash, her grey eyes piercing straight through her, hollowing her out and spreading the pieces across the Fade. “As for you, Ashvalla, take this.” She pulled a rolled-up parchment out of thin air, tossing it to Ash’s waiting hands. “A spell strong enough to defeat Corypheus’s Archdemon that you are uniquely suited to cast. You may perform it once and the cost is steep. Fail to master it, and you shall perish.”

Ash stared at the parchment in her hands, weighed down unnaturally for a simple paper. The spell thrummed with a power, like a heartbeat against her fingertips. A spell that could defeat Corypheus. A spell that could kill her. The voices of the Well whispered confirmation of its power - ancient magic, older than the Veil itself. Mythal gift, or perhaps her cruellest joke.

Flemeth turned without another word, striding toward the swirling portal of dust and magic behind her.

"Wait!" Morrigan called out, but Flemeth didn't hesitate, didn't look back, didn't acknowledge her daughter's plea. She stepped into the portal and vanished, the magic collapsing in on itself seconds after.

They stood in the eerie quiet for a moment before the witch rolled her shoulders back and raised her chin. All her feelings shoved into a little vial deep inside her. Ash knew this, as she so often did it too.

"My mother does not give gifts without purpose," Morrigan said, moving ever onward, her golden eyes fixed on the scroll. "If she believes this spell will defeat the Archdemon, then it will. But her purposes are rarely as straightforward as they seem."

"She owns me now," Ash said, the words tasting like dirt in her mouth. "My body, my will…they're hers to command. For eternity. What if this spell is just another way for her to use me? What if I'm just a tool to her, a vessel for whatever she wants to accomplish?"

Rae stepped closer to her sister, lowering her voice. "We need to discuss this, but not here." Her eyes darted around. "Somewhere safer. I don't trust that we're alone."

Ash nodded, clutching the parchment tighter. "You're right. Let's get back to Skyhold first."

Morrigan placed an arm around Kieran's shoulders. "The eluvian remains active. We may exit there."

They moved quickly across the barren terrain, the whispers of the Well growing quieter as they approached the mirror's shimmering surface. One by one, they stepped through the eluvian, the magic rippling around them and sucking them through. She followed her sister through the portal, leaving the Fade and its secrets behind - hopefully for the last time. 

The scroll lay on Cullen’s desk, Ash’s hip perched on the edge as she watched his stormy expression. Rae had briefed her council on their run-in with Flemeth, and after only a few hours of avoiding him - which was a large step for Ash, only mere hours instead of days - she’d sought him out. Though not before she’d wrangled Dorian into aiding her in conversing with Love.

Cullen wasn’t her keeper, but he was her lover, and he deserved her honesty. Ash reminded herself that this wasn’t some mandated report, a mage seeking permission from a templar, but rather an equal partnership. Her core remained pleasantly sore from their encounter the day before, and it soothed a base part of her that begged her to flee.

"This…this is…" He pushed away from the desk abruptly, pacing to the window and back. "You're telling me some ancient elven goddess can just…take control of you? Whenever she wants?"

His voice cracked on the last word, and a pang of guilt pulsed in her chest for bringing him this burden. But there was nowhere else to put it.

"Essentially, yes." She kept her tone even, though the admission felt like swallowing broken glass. "I made my choice at the Well. This is the consequence. I didn’t think I’d find it so soon, but there’s no changing it now."

Cullen stopped pacing, his gaze meeting hers and stealing her breath. The pain she saw reflected in his eyes tore at her heart. "And what's to stop her from…from making you hurt yourself? Or others? What's to stop her from turning you against us?"

That was the question she'd been asking herself since the moment Flemeth had puppeteered her body.

"Nothing," she whispered. "There's nothing to stop her. That we know of. Rae is going to consult Solas, but she isn’t hopeful."

A sound escaped him then, something between a growl and a moan of anguish. He braced his hands on the desk, head bowed as though physically struck by her words.

"Maker's breath." He clenched his jaw. "We need to find a way to break this bond."

"I don't think—"

"There has to be a way," he interrupted, volume rising. "We've faced impossible odds before. This is just another obstacle to overcome."

Ash slid off the desk, moving to stand beside him. "Cullen, I appreciate your optimism, but this is ancient magic, older than the Veil itself."

"So is the mark on your sister's hand, and it was stabilized," he countered, turning to face her fully. "So were the eluvians. So is half of what we've encountered since this all began, and yet here we stand."

His fingers brushed her scarred cheek, feather-soft. "I won't lose you to this."

Ash had no rebuttal or words to soothe, her response lay in the turn of her head into his palm and a soft kiss to the leather of his glove.

“You’re certain that Love was unable to decipher the scroll?” His eyebrows bunched together, and the wrinkles around his mouth deepened as he scowled. He dropped his hand, and she mourned the loss of his touch.

Ash glanced at the parchment. “Other than teaching me how to recite it, no, she doesn’t know the meaning. The language is ancient. But she’ll keep trying. Dorian is looking into it as well, though he isn’t optimistic that he’ll find anything.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled a weary sigh. “She has protected you before, I must trust that she will do so again.”

Love trilled happily, pleased at his acknowledgement and trust. Cullen looked up, eyes darting to the low cut of her robes that revealed her sternum - the spot where Love typically resided. With a gentle smile, Ash placed her hand on his arm, pulling his gaze to meet hers. “Can you sense her?”

“Now that I know she’s there, yes.” He brought his hand to rest between her breasts, knuckles curled softly, the leather of his gloves light against her skin. Love trilled again, reaching for him. “Just as I can still sense all magic with whatever remains of lyrium in my blood, I can feel her specific energy. I’d thought it was simply a part of your magic, and she is, in a way, but when I focus and know what I’m looking for, she’s distinct.”

Scooting off the desk, she slipped into his arms, resting her chin on his chest as he gazed down at her, a soft affection glowing in his eyes. He lowered his head, placing a light kiss upon her lips, a barely there brush that sent tingles over her limbs.

“You are exceedingly distracting,” he said, smiling against her mouth, “but I find myself unable to ask you to leave.”

Ash giggled, pressing up on her toes to kiss him properly, her tongue licking at the seam of his lips. He granted her entry, and what had started as chaste quickly became heady, intoxicating. She could lose herself in the feel of his lips against hers for hours, if she allowed herself, but it was the middle of the day, and she’d have better luck dragging him to bed at night if he completed the bulk of his work before evening.

Reluctantly, she pulled back. “Will I see you tonight?” she asked, unable to resist kissing him once more before he could answer.

“You know where to find me.” A non-committal response, but she could accept it, for now. She was sure to entice him to bed with how tight he gripped her waist as she stepped away, putting space between them.

One final loving glance and a squeeze of his hand, and Ash departed his office, ensuring to sway her hips as she did - to leave him something to think about in her absence. Descending the stairs of the battlements towards the merchants' courtyard, her eyes caught a glimpse of a shaggy blonde head ducking into the stables. She’d found her next target.

That damn bog unicorn Rae was so attached to never failed to unnerve her. The beast's dead eyes and the bar that ran through its mouth…her fingers traced the scars around her lips, a shiver of disgust running through her. Yet Rae, the mighty Inquisitor and Herald of Andraste, dutifully brushed its scraggly mane, cooing soft words of affection as she did.

Ash leaned against a post behind Rae, certain her sister was aware of her presence. “Taking that creature somewhere?”

Rae was never one to sit still for long. She tossed a cool look over her shoulder, pausing for a moment in her brushing. “If you must know, Solas is taking me to Crestwood to spend time together. Just the two of us.”

A sly grin split Ash’s cheeks, her eyes glinting with delight, both genuine and mischievous. “How romantic.”

All Ash received in response was a derisive huff. She pushed off the post, walking around to Rae’s line of sight, careful to avoid touching the creepy beast.

“I meant that sincerely,” Ash began, but Rae’s glare amended her statement. “Fine, I was teasing, but only partially! Crestwood isn’t exactly an idyllic location, but Cullen took me to a swamp, and we still had a great time. It’s what you make of it, and he's clearly smitten with you. I’m sure you’ll have a ton of sexy, romantic fun.”

Smiling tentatively, a subtle curl to the edges of her lips, Rae shook her head, her hair falling in front of her face and obscuring her from view. “Is it ridiculous of me to be so excited? It's just an outing together, but he’s been so…tentative. I hope that this means that he…I don’t know, wants something more?”

“He’d be a fool not to,” Ash said, glancing warily at the bog unicorn as it whinnied its assent - or at least, she assumed it did. It seemed like the type of creature to understand language. Gods, she hated it.

“Becoming involved with the Inquisitor is asking a lot. The scrutiny, the eyes of the entire continent. He’s an apostate, he may not want to risk the danger that comes with me.”

Pursing her lips, Ash watched as Rae hung her head, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “I won’t pretend to know what it feels like to be a figurehead or in charge of such a large organization. You keep saying that I’m the one taking on too much burden, but from the way I see it, you take on the most.”

Ash placed her hand on Rae’s shoulder, squeezing lightly, and Rae glanced up through the curtain of her hair. “You’re a person beneath all that responsibility. My sister, a friend, a wild Dalish elf who should be proud of everything she has accomplished.” A light flickered in Rae’s eyes, and for once, Ash didn’t think of their mother when she stared into their emerald depths. “You deserve to have some happiness, to let yourself be swept off your feet in some passionate romance with a man you care deeply about. Love is rooting for you, and so am I. And if you asked our friends, I’m sure they would share the sentiment.”

Love spread heat through Ash’s hand, a gentle warmth that radiated from one sister to the other. Rae’s eyes flickered anxiously, scanning the surroundings with apprehensiveness in the pinch of her forehead. Before Ash could puzzle over her sister's sudden unease, Rae flung herself into Ash’s arms.

Ash stumbled back, her feet slipping slightly on the hay. She caught herself against the bog unicorn, much to her dismay - though surprisingly, it made no fuss. She stood in shock for a beat, her mind reeling. Their hugs were rare occurrences, and Rae, in particular, was seldom the one to initiate. Typically, she was a reluctant recipient. But now, she buried her face in Ash’s shoulder, her diminutive body pressed tight against Ash’s larger form. Her stature may be small, but her resilience and perseverance made up for her size. Rae was not one to be underestimated if one valued their life.

Recovering from her shock, Ash wrapped her arms around Rae, holding her close and petting the back of her head. They stayed knit together for countless seconds, a moment of comfort they stole from a world void-bent on tearing it from them.

Rae released her hold, pulling back, and reluctantly, Ash let her go. Rae cleared her throat, kicking at the ground.

“Thanks,” she said, a hoarse quality to her voice that Ash had the decency not to comment on. “I appreciate it.”

Ash smiled, genuine and full of warmth. “Anytime.”

Straightening her spine, Rae schooled her features into an aloof mask. “I was going to seek you out to inform you, but since you’re here, I’ll be judging Sampson before I depart.”

A cold bucket of water used as a conversation change, Ash’s smile melted from her face. Cullen had voiced his thoughts regarding Sampson, but to stand before the man and witness his trial would be an entirely different experience - one Cullen would see as an alternate version of what he could have become.

“Ah, I see.” Ash sighed. One day, she’d like to live peacefully, maybe in a cottage in a small village, a barn for Sweetpea to hunt in. Somewhere on the main roads so travel was easy, but out of the way enough that they wouldn’t be sought out too frequently. She’d grown tired of war. “Thank you for letting me know.”

Rae nodded curtly, gently stroking the bog unicorn’s muzzle. Later that evening, they would be spending time with their respective lovers that night, though Ash imagined the settings and activities would be drastically different.

“Sampson’s handler,” Ash mulled over the new role, her back leaning against the headrest of his bed. “How are you feeling about it?”

They hadn’t spoken a single word as Ash arrived in his office, taking his hand and leading him to his loft. They’d stripped, Cullen following along without even a gentle nudge - proof of his exhaustion - and slipped into bed. Ash carded her fingers through his hair, loosening it from its careful style, his head resting in her lap.

He grunted, eyes closed, the scar on his lip twitching as he held back a frown. “It’s one of many duties. I don’t see why it should occupy more of my thoughts than the rest.”

“Cullen,” Ash chided gently, identifying that for the load of nugshit that it was. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t make you, but we both know it’s weighing on you. You didn’t even try to fight me when I pulled you away from your work.”

The frown won out, and the crease between his brows deepened, though Ash was quick to smooth it out with the press of her cooled thumb. “Perhaps I simply enjoy your company,” he grumbled, his arms tightening around her thighs.

Ash laughed softly, tucking a curl behind his ear. “I love you too, vhenan.” The affection she held for that man nearly cut through her sternum, spilling her heart into his palm. “My company is quite enjoyable, but that’s not the sole reason why.”

Exhaling a long, weary sigh, Cullen turned his head and opened his eyes. “No, it’s not. But I find myself unable to articulate what bothers me.”

She trailed her fingers down his jawline, scratching through the stubble with her nails. “There's no rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

Capturing her scarred hand in his, he brought her palm to his lips, placing a kiss on her skin. “I will hold you to that promise.”

Damn. He’d caught her. With war on the horizon, Corypheus’s plans unknown, and an Archdemon they had yet to slay, Ash would need a tight grip to follow through on her declaration. If it was even possible to begin with.

Next Chapter

A/N: Yay!! Solas and Rae get to go on a date!! So much fun <3

[tired-truffle]

OC Wardrobe

RULES: Post pictures of your character's wardrobe and put your OC in the center. It can be other people wearing the clothing, it's just a moodboard.

———

Thank you for the tag @sweetjulieapples ❤️

Ashvalla (Ash) Lavellan

(I think I’m funny 😎)

Tagging @acquiredpond @celestialteapot @dragonagedorks and anyone else who would like to participate!

[tired-truffle]

Something's Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 4.7k

Part 56: Oh No! The Consequences of My Own Actions

"How womanly you are and how sweet and torturous it is to imagine your body along mine. I love you with fury today." - Albert Camus

Warning: NSFW in this chapter

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

Masterlist

Ash sucked her teeth. “Out with it already. Yell at me and tell me how much of an idiot I am.”

Cullen pursed his lips, skin wrinkling around the pink flesh. “What were you thinking, drinking from that Well without any idea what it could do to you? What in the Void possessed you, literally or figuratively, to go through with that?”

Surely he was not…anger flared white-hot in her stomach. “Are you implying that Love had something to do with it?” Ash hissed through clenched teeth, the spirit squirming in her chest. She rubbed her sternum, and Cullen’s eyes tracked the movement.

“I can’t see any reason she would encourage it. I’m well aware that this decision was all yours,” he said tartly, stinging more than if he’d believed Love had influenced her. “Who’s to say what damage that Well could do to you both? What if you’d become possessed by something worse?”

The table between them may as well have been the Waking Sea for how vast the space was that separated them. Yet he crossed the divide, as he always did, rounding the uneven edge and coming to a stop in front of her. Instinctively, she angled her body away from him, a defensive stance taken on instinct.

“You’d know by now if I was an abomination.”

“That’s not the point!” Cullen snapped. “You should have never given that Maker damned Well a second glance, considering you already have a spirit inside of you. I cannot keep you safe against what I can’t reach!”

“Everyone is risking themselves, I am not any different,” Ash shot back, her ears pinned to the sides of her head. “That’s the whole point of war. Rae couldn’t trust Morrigan after she left us behind, and who knows what the Well would have done to Rae with that elven artifact in her hand. You need her more than you need me. Without her, you don’t stand a chance at defeating Corypheus and we’re all fucked!”

Was this the last straw? Would this reach the end of his tolerance for her?

“There are always other options!” Fire burned in Cullen’s gaze, heating Ash from the inside out. She couldn’t tell if she wanted to

lash out or pull him close and kiss him. Maybe both.

Ash scoffed, splaying her hands to the sides. “Enlighten me, then. ‘Cause I didn’t see any, and neither did anyone else.”

“You could have—“ Cullen faltered, pressing his lips into a thin line and exhaling sharply through his nose. He’d been so ready to offer rebuttals and counterarguments, the words on the tip of his tongue, but all that restless energy had nowhere to go. She’d poked a gaping hole in his argument. It was a bitter realization, no matter how much he disliked it, she was undeniably correct.

“Could have what, Cullen?” Ash prompted, tapping her foot impatiently. “Let Corypheus drink from it instead?”

“No!” He raised his voice, turning to pace away from her, shaking his hand like it could rid the world of her ridiculous suggestion. “Of course not.”

“Then what? We’ve already gone over why the other options were a bad idea. Solas refused. I was the only one able and willing that could be trusted.”

Silence was the only response to her question, and frustration boiled within her as she glared at his turned back. He hadn’t been there, he hadn’t felt the urgency of the decision. A few more seconds of hesitation, and Corypheus would have seized the Well’s knowledge and ended them all. How could he be so blind as to—

“Why?” Cullen asked, his voice cracking and sending a sharp pain running through her chest. He sounded…afraid.

“What?” Her tongue sat like lead in her mouth, all her retorts falling away like grains of sand between spread fingers.

He turned, facing her, but his gaze was trained on the floor. “Why did it have to be you?” He glanced up, anger still evident in the wrinkle of his forehead and the curve of his lips, but fear bloomed in the widening of his eyes. “Why does it always have to be you?”

To witness him so forlorn, so helpless, pulled at her heartstrings. She swallowed around a lump in her throat. “We all make sacrifices. You would have resumed your use of lyrium had Rae told you to, if it would have made you a better Commander. We both know that would have destroyed you, but you would have done it if it was needed.”

“Don’t pull that on me.” He closed the distance between them in a few quick strides, towering over her. Ash raised her chin defiantly. “We’re at least aware of what the effects of lyrium would be. The Well is a mystery. Did you even stop to consider the consequences you took upon yourself? It could have killed you!”

“Of course I did!” Ash’s ears lowered, trembling slightly. Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes, burning but unable to fall. “I don’t want to die! I want that future together you spoke of, I want time together where we don’t have to worry about if we’ll survive until tomorrow. But I can’t have that if we don’t win this. I’m not doing this to be a martyr, I’m doing this for everyone I care about, everyone I love. I’m doing this for that future, for us, so if you’d please stop berating me like I’m some insolent, stupid, little—“

Cullen’s lips crashed against hers in a bruising kiss that abruptly silenced her rambling. His arms encircled her body, drawing her firmly against his chest, the cold, metal plate digging into her flesh. Fury and relief, reassurance of life itself poured from his mouth to hers. She gasped as she leaned into him, her finger weaving through the soft strands of his hair as she surrendered herself to him.

He backed her up against the war table, the edges pressing into her backside, but all she could focus on was the heat of his touch as his hands roamed possessively, gripping her hips and down her thighs. A potent, heady mix of uncertainty and anger that made her head spin. She needed him desperately, inside her, on top of her, she burned for him. Love ignited within her, warming her skin and trilling in her chest.

Ash lifted her hips, sliding herself onto the war table, indifferent to the markers she scattered. Her legs snaked around his waist and she tugged him closer, his hands moving to brace himself on the table’s edge as he stumbled. His muted grunt was swallowed by her fervent lips as she ground her aching cunt against his half-hard length confined within his breeches.

Cullen growled against her mouth, his hands finding the slits of her robes and curling around the band of her smalls. Fabric tore, but Ash couldn't bring herself to care. Let him ruin her clothes; she needed to feel his skin against hers more than she needed to worry about appearances. She’d survive without smalls, but she may perish on the spot if he didn’t fill her soon.

"You drive me mad," he hissed, teeth grazing her ear and making her moan. "Every time you rush headlong into danger—"

His lips descended upon her neck, biting down hard enough to make her cry out, pleasure-pain sending heat straight to her core. Love fluttered wildly beneath her skin, amplifying every touch until Ash felt she might combust.

"Cullen," she moaned, her fingers fumbling with his armour. So many buckles, so many layers between them. "Need you—now. Too many clothes."

Cullen pushed her hands away as she fumbled with the fastenings of his armour. But before she could voice a protest, he’d swiftly undid his breeches, freeing his cock while the rest of his adornments remained in place. The metal of his breastplate pressed against the soft, exposed skin of her breasts, visible through the low cut of her robes. He hiked her skirt up around her waist, his hands grasping her hips and pulled her back to where she belonged, pressed up against him. His rigid length found its place between her folds, sliding smoothly until it passed over her clit, eliciting a gasp.

His hand tangled in her hair, gripping it tightly and pulling her head back to reveal the delicate curve of her throat. His teeth grazed the junction between her neck and shoulder, latching onto her skin and sucking it into his mouth. Marking her. Claiming her. The thought made her wetter, her body clenching around nothing.

"Please," she whimpered, wiggling her hips against his cock, willing him to move, to rut against her and use her. He twitched, resisting, but barely.

His eyes locked with hers, dark with desire and lingering fury. "Is this what you want? For me to take you on this table, where anyone could walk through those doors and see you full of my cock."

"Yes," she gasped, digging her nails into his clothed shoulders, wishing for skin. "Creators, yes."

"Then tell me you're mine," Cullen demanded, voice rough as his fingers pressed into her thighs hard enough to bruise. "Tell me you won't throw yourself into danger again without thinking."

"I can't promise that." Ash whimpered as he nipped at her neck. "But I'm yours. Always yours."

A growl rumbled through his chest, but her ardent declaration was all Cullen needed to align himself with her entrance and plunge inside with a powerful thrust. The markers on the war table skittered and scattered even further, some clattering to the floor as Ash arched her back, a cry escaping her lips at the delightful stretch.

"Maker's breath," he groaned, pausing for only a moment before setting a punishing pace that had her gasping breathy whines.

Ash wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, heels digging into his lower back as she urged him deeper. She angled herself, leaning back and propping herself up with her arm, one hand remaining on his chest. He aided her, holding her up at the waist. Their eyes locked, half-lidded and glazed with lust.

Cullen dipped his head, bringing himself closer, towering over her. His teeth scraped along her throat before latching onto the soft flesh above her collarbone. He sucked hard, drawing blood to the surface as his hips never faltered in their rhythm.

"Mine," he growled against her skin, moving to create another mark just below the first.

"Yes," she panted, head thrown back, her hand knocking over the figurine representing Halamshiral. Her fingers scrambled for purchase, finding none, and grasping his chestplate instead. "Yours, Cullen. Only yours."

His teeth grazed the swell of her breast before he bit down, drawing a sharp cry from her throat. The pain bloomed into pleasure as he soothed the mark with his tongue.

"What if I'd lost you?" he murmured against her breasts, his voice breaking even as his hips continued their relentless pace. "What if that Well had taken you from me?"

Ash couldn't answer, couldn't form coherent thoughts as he shifted, hitting that perfect spot inside her that made the breath seize in her lungs.

"I'm here," she finally managed, her voice thin and strained. "I'm right here."

He claimed her mouth once more, savouring the sweet sound of her moans as one hand moved between their bodies to circle her clit. His other hand gripped her waist as he pistoned his hips, the obscene wet sounds of their joining music to her ears.

When they both needed to breathe, he broke the kiss, leaving her lips parted slightly and trembling. Their foreheads pressed together, sharing the same breath, the same heartbeat. Pressure built within her like a storm gathering force, drawing tighter with each thrust of his hips, each circle of his thumb - until her release crashed through her like a star shooting across a midnight sky, radiating outward from her core to the tips of her fingers and toes. Her inner walls clenched around him as she cried out his name, her vision blurring at the edges, her cunt continuing to pulse and quiver around his length.

Cullen groaned at the feel of her, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release. "Ash," he breathed, reverent and desperate all at once. "My Ashvalla."

He thrust once, twice more before burying himself to the hilt, his body shuddering as he spilled inside her. Gradually, his thrusts lost their urgency, slowing to a stop, sweat slicked to his forehead, and she collapsed backward, utterly spent.

Panting, Ash stared up at the vaulted ceilings of the war room, the reflections from the stained glass windows creating beautiful shadows along the stone. The restless anger and fear that had buzzed about her ribcage settled to a low simmer. She’d drank from a well of unknown power, one that could have changed her forever, and all she’d been able to think about was if Cullen would still want her. If that made her pathetic, she was too far gone to care.

He placed soft kisses across the many bruises he’d left, soothing the ache with his lips and tongue. When they’d come down from their high, and all the marks had been attended to, he pulled out of her, his spend leaking out of her and onto the table, though he remained above her, lifting his head to lock eyes. Ash would never tire of gazing into those honeyed depths, purpled exhaustion clinging to the skin beneath, though a healthy flush infused his cheeks from their activity. A gloved hand brushed her hair from her forehead, and a tenderness overtook his expression, tinged with a defeated sadness she wished she could fix. But there was no fixing what she’d done, nor what she’d have to do.

Sighing, he lifted himself off of her, tucking himself back into his trousers before pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. He wiped his spend from the table, folded the cloth over, and held it on her entrance. She had no time to voice her confusion as he offered her his hand, helping her sit, the handkerchief catching the rest of the cum that leaked out as gravity took hold.

A sweet gesture, though he pursed his lips with mild exasperation as he realized he would have to transport the handkerchief to be cleaned. Folding it as best as he could to keep the cum contained - Ash suppressing her giggles at the sight of the fearsome commander who had just taken her hard and fast on the war table mildly disgusted by the result of their coupling - he stuffed it back into his pocket.

Ash slipped off the table, and he didn’t step back, her body pressed against his as her robes fell into place. Her smalls had been torn, if she recalled correctly, but she didn’t much care. She was much more interested in soothing the ever-deepening furrow between his brows as he averted his gaze, silence reigning between them once more.

“Do you know where these pieces go?” Ash gestured to the markers strewn over the ground and across the table.

He chuckled, his frown easing ever so slightly. A small win that she would covet. “Yes, I’ve mostly memorized which piece goes where by now.”

He stepped back and the absence of his weight upon her nearly pulled a whimper from her throat. Ash set about gathering the scattered pieces and Cullen placed them in their proper spots. He adjusted them carefully, meticulous in his task, as he was in all things. Cullen was not the sort to do anything halfway. It was all or nothing, and more often than not it was all, even if it wore him to the bone.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he remarked as he started placing the final pieces, casting her a sidelong look. “That’s unlike you.”

Ash plastered a lopsided grin across her face. “You fucked the witty remarks right out of me. Congratulations.”

His eyes narrowed, and he abandoned the pieces, some still on their sides, moving immediately to her side. He held her chin in his fingers, coaxing her to meet his searching gaze.

“I don’t think that’s where they go,” Ash said, looking towards the discarded markers.

“I don’t care, they can wait.” Cullen didn’t so much as glance over his shoulder, entirely trained on her. “Talk to me. I know that face, you’re hiding something.”

Ash tilted her head, her forehead wrinkling in confusion. “If you know me so well, you tell me because I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re on about.”

He released her chin and cupped her cheek instead, realization raising his brows when he saw the truth of her words. “You’re afraid I’m still upset with you, aren’t you? That my feelings for you have changed.”

Oh. It struck a chord within her, a constant fear stemming back as far as she could remember - an off-key note that sang in the back of her skull. She opened her mouth to argue, but shut it when she found no rebuttal.

He sighed. “No matter how upset I am, I will always love you. I thought you’d know this by now.”

Ash shook her head, not a rejection of his statement, but an expression of her confusion. “Cullen—“ Ash began, but he spoke over her, holding her biceps and squeezing hard enough to shut her up, but not enough to hurt.

“When you…” he took a deep breath, a muscle ticking over his jaw, “drank from the Well, or I presume it was then, your phylactery went cold. I thought—Maker’s breath, Ashvalla, I thought I’d lost you. It was seconds, and then it returned and I could breathe again, but those seconds were pure torture. I don’t—I can’t lose you.”

Sorrow seeped into his tone, edging it in frayed but lovingly crafted lace. Her heart squeezed, Love wrapping around her lungs and stealing her breath.

“I…” Ash turned her face away, coughing through the discomfort. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. But I can handle a little whispering. It isn’t that bad.”

“I know, dear, but you can handle much more than you should.”

“We still don’t know exactly what I will need to do.”

“That’s not comforting.”

Ash snorted, and though Cullen’s worry remained clear in the tightness of his jaw, his lips ticked up at the sides.

"I love you," Ash said, the words tumbling from her lips with an ease that still surprised her. She could say it a hundred times, and it would never cease to amaze her that she had the chance to say it to him. "Even when I do things that make your handsome face all pinched with worry."

Cullen's face softened, and he leaned his forehead against hers. "I love you, too, Ashvalla. Which is why I worry when you make reckless decisions."

"I know." She leaned into his touch, cherishing the warmth of his hand against her cheek. "But we're going to defeat Corypheus, and then we can argue about my recklessness for years to come."

"I look forward to it," he said, placing a gentle kiss on her lips before pulling away. "Though I'd prefer fewer near-death experiences to argue about."

She would try her best, but with what was sure to be another large-scale battle to defeat Corypheus once and for all, she made no promises.

“My war table, really?” Rae drawled as she caught up to Ash, heading towards the gardens to check on her plants. Unimpressed was an understatement when it came to the glare Rae shot her way.

Ash shrugged, a self-satisfied smirk curling her lips. She’d never found her torn smalls, evidence at the scene of the crime. “You left it there.”

Rae's responding scoff made Ash giggle, but any further retorts were abruptly silenced as they stumbled upon an unexpected scene. A gaggle of visiting nobles and Skyhold staff alike crowded around the room that housed Morrigan’s eluvian. At the forefront, Leliana held the group off. The Spymaster hawk-like vision scanned the crowd until they landed on Rae, and relief filled her sharp features.

“Inquisitor!” she called over the tittering. “Thank the Maker you’re here! Morrigan chased after her son into the eluvian. She was terrified.”

Rae jogged over, straightening her spine and shouldering the mantle of Inquisitor - gone was the girl teasing her sister over her lover. “What? Why is the eluvian open?”

“It was open when I arrived. Morrigan said only that Kieran did it, then she ran into the mirror.” Leliana shook her head. “I’ve never seen Morrigan like that. You must go after her! I will find help, Inquisitor.”

Rae nodded, and Ash grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop before she could charge ahead. Rae’s ears flattened to her skull, and before she could snap at her, Ash said, “I’m coming with you.”

They didn’t have time to argue, and even Rae could admit it was foolhardy to charge into the unknown without support. Rae grunted in confirmation, and clasped her hand in Ash’s.

The sisters stepped into the eluvian together, and came out in the—

“Wait.” Rae wrinkled her nose. “This isn’t the Crossroads.”

Mist wrapped around their ankles, the hair on the nape of Ash’s neck standing on end. Love swooped in her chest, the strength nearly knocking her off her feet.

Rae spun around, daggers in hand in seconds, hackles raised. “Fuck, this is the Fade. How did the eluvian lead here? Can it go anywhere?”

Love dimmed, a sense of wrongness permeating Ash’s bones. “Love doesn’t seem to think so.”

Rae raised an eyebrow, glancing at Ash’s chest and back up to her face, a question poised on her lips that faltered when her gaze was drawn to a figure in the distance.

“Morrigan!” Rae yelled at the witch, already charging forward, Ash following in her wake.

“Go back!” Morrigan called to them. “I must find Kieran before it’s too late!”

Rae didn’t listen to her plea.

The normally cool, collected witch was anything but. Her face contorted with worry, her eyes darting about as her hands trembled. Ash would have thought she’d attempt to hide it, but in the face of losing her son, Morrigan no longer cared to maintain her aloof facade.

“Why would Kieran do this? How could he do this? We stand in the Fade. To direct the eluvian here would require immense power. If he is lost to me, now after all I have sacrificed…” Though she rebuffed their help on instinct, Morrigan was folding quickly.

“So this isn’t what you intended when you asked Ash to come speak with you?” Rae asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“I was just going to the gardens,” Ash said, having needed to tend to her elfroot, though Morrigan’s humourless laugh drowned her out.

“Yes, cleverly lure her into the Fade to steal her away from you. My masterstroke.”

“Enough. This isn’t helping,” Ash cut in, speaking louder.

Morrigan turned her striking gaze to Ash. “You drank from the Well, Ashvalla. What do the voices tell you now.”

Her mind was quiet, Love’s presence steady but lacking commentary. “Nothing. If they know where Kieran is they aren’t saying.”

Morrigan’s gaze slipped to the horizon, lost, like her son. She pushed past Rae, striding into the mist before pausing. “Whatever happens to him now, ’tis my doing. I set him on this path. Please help me look. Just a little longer.”

To have such a proud and fiercely independent woman asking for their aid, how could they not accept?

Rae, Ash, and Morrigan pressed forward through the shifting mists of the Fade. As the minutes ticked by in their fruitless search, Love fluttered anxiously in Ash's chest, sensing something powerful nearby.

Ash squinted through the swirling fog. There, standing down a long pathway, was a young boy - Kieran, unmistakably - but he wasn't alone. A tall figure leaned over him, her silhouette glowing from the portal that pulsed behind them. As Ash drew closer, she could make out an elderly woman with striking white hair styled in an elaborate headdress that resembled dragon horns. She wore strange, form-fitting armour, and her eyes, when fixed upon them, were the same golden hue as the witch. “There he is!” Morrigan cried, starting towards him before rocking back, the excitement she’d held faltering under fear.

Rae frowned, holding her daggers tighter, adopting a defensive stance. “Who’s he with?”

Morrigan blanched as the woman straightened, her hand placed on the boy's shoulders. “That’s…no, it can’t be.”

Even though her terror permeated the misty air, Morrigan took off after her son. Ash exchanged a worried glance with Rae, and they followed after her.

“Mother!” Kieran exclaimed happily when Morrigan drew closer.

But she wasn’t looking at him, instead, she addressed the older woman. “Mother.”

Love squirmed in Ash’s chest, the sheer spiritual energy radiating off of…Morrigan‘s supposed mother making her spirit antsy.

“Now, isn’t this a surprise,” the woman drawled, her voice low and gravelly, a cocky tilt to her grin.

“What a touching family reunion.” Rae folded her arms over her chest, her face set in an impassive stare.

The woman’s cutting gaze flickered to her, and Ash inched closer to her sister. She knew too much, how or what remained a mystery, but those eyes…unnerving was an understatement.

“Mother, daughter, grandson. It rather warms the heart, does it not?”

Ash was skeptical that Morrigan’s mother even understood what it meant to have a warm heart. Still, she decided that insulting her before assessing the level of threat they were confronting was unwise. Rae’s lips curled back in a snarl, but the woman paid her no mind.

“Kieran is not your grandson. Let him go!”

“As if I were holding the boy hostage.” The woman rolled her eyes, addressing Rae. “She’s always been ungrateful, you see.”

“Ungrateful?” Morrigan scoffed. “I know how you plan to extend your life, wicked crone! You will not have me, and you will not have my son!”

Mothers. Why could none of them have functioning relationships with their mothers? Is that why Cullen was so stable? As far as he’d told her, he’d loved his parents as they had him.

Morrigan, having enough of their back and forth, lifted her hand, poised to attack, but her mother merely sighed.

“Be a good lass and restrain her.” The woman raised her arm, white and blue wisps of light swirling around her hand.

A command that Ash’s body obeyed of its own accord - a golem under the control of its master. Except there was no control rod to break, no freedom to be earned. An ancient, unfamiliar sigil of fiery light broke out across her face, and her legs propelled her towards the witch. Two physically weak mages may have been on even ground, but Morrigan was willowy and slight, and she didn’t stand a chance against Ash’s bulk. Her arms wrapped around Morrigan, and the witch struggled against them.

“What are you doing?” Morrigan snarled. “What…are you doing?”

“I don’t know!” Ash cried in panic, begging Rae for help with the wide cast of her eyes.

Rae took a step forward, but all she had was her daggers, and reluctance turned her legs to stone at the thought of stabbing her sister - when they weren’t even bickering.

“Ash, let her go!” she demanded, her voice pitched just a bit too high to hide her worry.

Ash’s arms tightened. “I can’t!”

“Don’t be foolish, girl,” Morrigan’s mother said. “You drank from the Well, did you not?”

A stone cast into a bottomless pond, sinking down into her gut. Ash had been warned of the consequences, but she’d charged ahead anyway. Her body had never been solely her own, but never before had it belonged entirely to another. A puppet to play with and then discard after its usefulness was fulfilled.

Morrigan stopped struggling, futile against the creature she faced. “You…are Mythal.”

Her lungs seized, lips tingling, and Love bounced around her ribcage but she was unable to change their fate. Ash had bound herself into the service of an Ancient God who was not as false as she’d once thought.

Fenedhis. Could Cullen fuck her hard enough to soothe this burn? If she survived, she hoped he’d try.

Next Chapter

A/N: Possibly my most unhinged chapter closing yet. Sorry for the double cliffhanger, but there may be a few more of those to come!

[tired-truffle]

Wanted to share this lovely commission I got of Ash's sister (the Inquisitor) Rae Lavellan!! I adore it <3

done by @emolagana on Vgen - link below the cut

[tired-truffle]

I love this so so so much 🥰🥰🥰 thank you for running such a wonderful exchange and for this beautiful art of my sweethearts ❤️❤️

Another Templartations'25 entry: Cullen x Ashvalla (Ash) Lavellan for @tiredtruffle 💖 Uncensored version below the cut

[tired-truffle]

Lux is such a cutie!! I love the sunshine external and sunshine internal pairing that they make 🥰

Everyone needs to see, NEEDS to see these amazing gifts I got in a recent exchange. Edit: The gifters identities HAVE BEEN REVEALED

Fanart of Lux, Cullen and Alistair by @knuttydraws and I'm IN MY FEELINGS thinking about them as young'uns, really wanting to do good.

This amazingly atmospheric art piece of Samson and Cullen by @theluckywizard that has me on the FLOOR. Oh these men. The way they reflect each other, the way they've been warped.

A VERY cute Alistair/Lux AU fic by @tired-truffle that's got my brain spinning with more Lux and Alistair thoughts.

[tired-truffle]

Something's Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 3.4k

Part 55: Another Step Towards the End

“The seats are empty. The theatre is dark. Why do you keep acting?” - Charles Bukowski

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

Masterlist

The white-hot pain receded, and a flickering flame hovering beside her lit up her surroundings. Even before it morphed into a fiery replica of herself, she recognized it. Love, her constant companion, had joined her on her ill-thought-out endeavour. If she died, at least she wouldn’t have to face it alone. Yet, there lingered another possibility - was she already dead, and had Love come to guide her into the afterlife?

A swirling haze of dense fog enveloped her surroundings, obscuring her view of the endless void she had stumbled into. Just as she hesitated to step forward, a hissing voice echoed around her.

“Garas quenathra?”

Why have you come? To save her sister the burden - stuck at the tip of her tongue. She doubted that this mysterious voice speaking in the ancient tongue would care for familial sentiment.

“I must learn how to stop Corypheus, a magister who will rip the Veil open and destroy our entire world if we don’t stop him.”

Indistinct whispers fluttered around her - moths floating in the dark growing ever nearer. Ash spun around, her heart beating in her throat. A warm, comforting hand placed on her back halted her abruptly, and she was met with Love’s serene face, adorned with a soft, reassuring smile.

“I can’t understand them,” Ash gritted out from between clenched teeth. “I don’t know what they want.”

Love’s unblinking eyes scanned their surroundings. “They test your readiness, your will to succeed. They whisper to me, beseeching. I will aid you in this, my Ashvalla.”

Cryptic, but Ash was able to grasp the overall gist.

“So?” She raised her voice to call to the whispers, straightening her spine and raising her chin. She would not be cowed by those who refused to show themselves. “Have I met your exacting standards? Am I strong enough for your wisdom?”

The whispers stopped, silence ringing in her ears.

“Vir mythal’enaste [Go the way of Mythal’s favour].”

Ash had no time to request clarification on which way that was exactly before the void seized her limbs with an invisible grip and thrust her from its grasp. Her back slammed against solid stone, the impact jarring her senses as a blinding light momentarily overwhelmed her vision, forcing her to squint until her eyes adjusted.

Her robe, drenched from the waist down, clung to her skin with an unwelcome chill - but Love returned to the comfort of Ash’s chest, and heat blossomed where chill had once reigned.

Thank the Creators she’d lived through the ordeal.

The fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled upright, as if a cold breath had whispered across her skin. When she turned her head slightly, the feeling remained, hovering just out of sight. It was an ominous presence, looming quietly in the background, a shadow without form. But there was no malice that she could detect, only a strange, unsettling heaviness that lingered in the air.

“Ash!” Rae’s cry had her cringing from the sudden noise. Arms wrapped around Ash’s shoulders, pulling her to sit, and she managed to open her eyes. Rae’s forehead wrinkled as she scanned her sister for any signs of injury. “Are you alright?”

The water was gone from the Well, and something profound had changed inside her mind. Or outside her mind, hitching a ride to her destination: to kill Corypheus.

It would take time to sort through the rambling whispers that permeated her thoughts, too many too soon. But it wouldn’t happen in the temple ruins; they had run out of time.

As Ash waved Rae off and she helped her to her feet, a gravelly scream, filled with fury and desperation, turned their attention toward the entrance of the Well. Corypheus in all his mangled, twisted red lyrium glory seethed as he surveyed the scene, realizing his meticulously laid plans had failed. A wolfish grin spread across her face, her lips curving into a defiant smirk as his gaze locked onto her, instantly recognizing her as the primary thief. Good. That was his just reward for unleashing his Archdemon to scorch half her body.

“The Eluvian!” Morrigan cried, pointing to the mirror on the far side of the Well.

Corypheus, seeing their imminent escape, flew towards them with predatory grace. His hand stretched out, fingers splayed like talons as the party frantically scrambled to make a quick exit.

“Everyone through the mirror,” Rae ordered, though it wasn’t necessary. None of them were particularly willing to subject themselves to the ancient Magister’s wrath.

The prickling at the base of her neck increased to a low buzz as she passed through the mirror. In the split second Ash had to glance over her shoulder, she caught sight of a ghostly figure, indistinguishable features, floating after them. A product of the Well, her instincts told her.

They passed through the mirror, and it hardened behind them. The figure did not follow. Nor did Corypheus. They were safe, for the moment.

Ash glanced around, recognizing the familiar surroundings of the small stone room nestled within Skyhold's gardens. Morrigan’s eluvian had connected with the one in Mythal’s temple and had led them home.

Away from Corypheus, and away from the rest of the Inquisition - leaving them at his mercy. Her stomach flopped, churning at the thought of the Archdemon bearing down on their troops, her friends, Cullen.

“It is done,” Morrigan said, her tone flat and detached. The witch turned, and without further ado, departed. Would she go in search of her son? Her loved one had remained safely within Skyhold, but no one else left in the small room could say the same.

Ash had to place her faith in those she cared for, that they possessed the strength and resilience to manage on their own. She could only hope that after the loss of the Well, Corypheus would retreat. It didn’t stop the bitter taste of bile from burning in the back of her throat.

The whispers intensified, unintelligible, but floating at the edges of her consciousness, a trickling stream she could not locate. In some ways, it was good that she had a brief respite before confronting Cullen. Fuck, he was going to be absolutely furious.

“You can tell Cullen yourself when he arrives. I’ve told my advisors that we stopped Corypheus from taking the Well, and that we now have the knowledge that it possessed. I gave no details as to how.” Rae clasped her hands behind her back. She’d sent a runner to bring Ash to her room the following morning, in need of a private conversation.

“I almost wished you had told him, let him blow off some steam before they return.” Ash kicked at the ground, her lips pulled into a frown. How was she supposed to tell him she’d put her life on the line to prioritize Rae, again? His anger she could bear, but his disappointment may shred her soul. But the world needed its Inquisitor, and Ash needed her sister. Morrigan couldn’t be trusted, and Ash had made her choice. He would have to figure out how to live with it. Or leave, though the thought made her eyes burn and she pushed it to the side.

Rae snorted, relaxing her posture. “You can tell him in the war room, you’ll have witnesses.”

At least one of them was amused.

“Have you had any luck deciphering the, uh, whispers?” Rae asked, gesturing vaguely to the space around Ash’s ears.

Gods, the ceaseless chatter was aggravating, never a moment of quiet. She missed her solitude.

“I haven’t, not exactly.” Ash shuffled her feet. “But Love visited my dreams last night, and she seems to comprehend them without issue. It was…strange. I don’t know how to describe it, or even how to relay what she discovered. It was more like she knew, and then so did I. But deciphering their messages is different than simply understanding their words.”

Rae wrinkled her lips in a pucker. “I was hoping for a little more than that.”

“There may come more with time. The rest of your forces will be here in a few weeks, correct? Your advisors and the rest of your companions will return sooner, I’d imagine.” As long as there was anything left of them to return. It had been a miracle she’d been able to sleep at all the past few nights, strung out worrying for those they’d left in the Arbor Wilds. But the exhaustion from battle had pulled her into the murky depths of restless sleep.

“I received a raven from Leliana this morning. It will take them a week to travel to Skyhold ahead of the army once they’ve wrapped up.” Rae tilted her head, a teasing grin on her lips. “She didn’t mention anything had happened to Cullen, in case you were wondering.”

Ash didn’t have the energy to be embarrassed. Her feelings were well known, of course she’d be concerned for him.

“I gave him a phylactery,” Ash blurted out, nearly tripping as the confession ripped itself from her mouth.

Rae blinked, once, twice, three times. Ash shifted on her feet.

“Is that like…some kind of fucked up marriage proposal?”

“What?” Ash wasn’t sure how the conversation had transitioned so quickly to whatever this was, but her mind was struggling to catch up. “No, that’s not—it wasn’t like that. I gave it to him so he’d know that I was alright and he wouldn’t be distracted worrying about me. But I don’t have anything like that from him, so I appreciate you informing me he survived unharmed, to your knowledge.”

One of Rae’s ears ticked up as she tilted her head in thought. She was silent for several beats. “Huh.”

Ash stood there, waiting for her to continue, but Rae merely offered a thoughtful gaze, her eyes lingering for a moment before she moved to her desk. The wooden surface was cluttered with a disorganized stack of letters, and she sat in her chair, beginning to methodically sort through the correspondence that had accumulated during her absence.

“That’s it?” Ash followed, propping herself up on the edge of Rae’s desk. A reflex. “Nothing else to say?”

Rae sighed, putting the letters down and steepling her fingers, her elbows on the wooden surface. “What do you want me to say? That I’m surprised you had to guts to grant him that kind of power over you? ‘Cause I am, but I’m also pleased that you feel secure enough to trust that he would never wield it against you. If someone had told me you’d take this step a few months ago, I would have laughed in their faces. But you’ve changed, and I can see how deeply he loves you in return. It’s nauseating, honestly. But also reassuring. This is a good change, Ash. I’m happy for you.”

“Oh.” A light blush crept over her cheeks. Ash could discuss the dirtiest sex, the most lewd noises and the wildest intimate fantasies without so much as batting an eye. But as soon as the conversation shifted to emotions, she turned into a ripe tomato. “Uh, thanks.”

Rae nodded. “Are we done with the heart to heart or do you want to wax poetic about Cullen’s lip scar?”

Ash snorted, falling easily into a smirk. “Has Solas let you rub his head yet? Looks pretty smooth to me. Though I was wondering, does the carpet match the drapes?”

A paperweight sailed past Ash’s head, clattering on the floor behind her. Ash laughed at Rae’s scowl. Wise enough not to press her luck, Ash gave her sister a half-hearted salute, further deepening her glower, and scampered away. She had some time before Cullen arrived, best to use the lull to prepare for his inevitable displeasure.

The advisors and a small contingent of soldiers made their way back home to a hero's welcome, greeted by fanfare and celebration from those who had stayed behind. Except for Ash, who snuck around to the war room. Rae had informed her they would convene there as soon as possible to deliver the news in private. It provided Ash time to pace around the room and frazzle her nerves, perfect for a serious, emotionally charged conversation.

Earlier that morning, Morrigan had found her, badgering her on what she’d discovered. She’d brushed the mage off, she could wait and receive her information along with the others.

The doors to the war room opened, and Rae stepped in, followed closely by Morrigan, Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen bringing up the rear. His stormy expression lightened when he saw her, pulling up short, before confusion took its place.

“Ashvalla? What are you doing here?” Creators, how she’d missed his voice, the soft undertone he reserved just for her - typically in private, but her unexpected appearance must have caught him off guard, causing a lapse in his professional demeanour. Ash longed to run into his arms, to feel the warmth of his body against hers and kiss him until she was breathless, but she couldn’t make her legs move.

Rae answered for her. “I invited her. Now get out of the doorway, you’re letting in a draft.”

A blush spread across his cheeks and over his ears and he was quick to step fully into the room, closing the door behind him. “Of course, Inquisitor.”

They took up their spots around the table, the advisors on one side, and Rae, Morrigan, and Ash on the other. Ash stood beside her sister - their inquisitor - and across from Cullen. As much as she’d wanted to hide from him, she kept up a brave face.

Cullen cleared his throat. “I’m pleased to report we won the battle, Inquisitor. When you went through that mirror, Corypheus and his archdemon fled. I’m not sure why.”

“What he wanted was no longer within the temple,” Morrigan said with a tilt of her head, not unlike a cat watching its prey.

Cullen’s eyes narrowed, glancing between Morrigan and Ash’s guilty face. “And what did he want, exactly?”

“The temple held the Well of Sorrows,” Rae interjected before Morrigan could make the situation worse with her blitheness. “Corypheus wanted the knowledge it was said to contain, but we got it first. Or Ash did, I guess.”

All eyes turned to her, and Ash remained impassive, shouldering the weight like it wasn’t a mountain’s worth of pressure.

“Yup,” she rocked on her heels, “I did that.”

Cullen pinched the bridge of her nose, and she fought back a sheepish grin. Could humour bandage the choices she’d made? A bitter pill made easier to swallow by the honey of her smile.

Rae, ever helpful, provided clarification. “In exchange for the knowledge on how to defeat Corypheus, Ash bound herself forever to the will of Mythal.”

“You what?” Cullen barked, hand dropped to stare at her as though she had grown mandibles and a hard exoskeleton. Josie’s gasp did nothing to help the drama.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. Face blank, she swallowed her tears.

Rae held up her hand. “Enough. Have your couples spat later. We have more important tasks at hand.”

Cullen gritted his teeth, lowering his head to burn holes into the table with his eyes. “Yes, Inquisitor.”

If only Rae had explained in her letter to them a week ago, let him sort himself out on his own.

“If Corypheus is wise,” Leliana started as though the man to her right wasn’t as tightly wound as a spindle of thread, “he will hide and rebuild his strength before he attacks again.”

Since drinking from the Well, Ash had become accustomed to the eerie whisperings that followed her around. With Love’s help in her dreams, she could discern their ramblings, though much of the meaning was lost. During the day, it was…difficult. Some came out clear, whereas others were garbled, grating messes.

They built, joining together to be loud enough for her to hear. In a rare moment, she understood.

“He won’t hide,” Ash spoke before she could fully comprehend, the words flowing out of her as though they weren’t entirely her own.

“You hear it,” Morrigan said. “The Well speaks to you.”

“I thought that was already established,” Ash shot back. “I hear it, though mostly unintelligible when I’m awake. Love helps me understand it in the Fade when I sleep.”

Cullen - wisely - kept his gaze fixed on the table, hands clasped tightly behind his back and shoulder tensed in a rigid line.

Morrigan clucked her tongue on the back of her teeth. “If only one who understood such voices without having to rely on a spirit in dreams had used the Well’s power instead.”

“Then we’d have to rely on her,” Leliana shot Morrigan a pointed glare, “interpretation of them and whatever she chose to tell us.”

There was a deeper meaning to Leliana’s cutting remark, but Ash was not privy to it. Something had happened between them, perhaps during their travels together during the Blight. Ash, nosey as she was, itched to know.

“Have I not been forthcoming enough for you, spymaster? I told you what the Well could have done, Inquisitor. You should be hearing shouts from the heavens, not whispers in dreams.”

“What’s done is done,” Ash interjected. “If you wish to help I am open to it, but I will not tolerate being berated.”

Morrigan huffed, folding her long arms over her chest. “Earlier you said you knew Corypheus’s weakness. Would you care to share with the group?”

It had taken time for Love to decipher the meanings of the whispers, for them to piece together their riddles, but she understood now what they must do to defeat him once and for all. How to do it remained to be seen.

Ash sighed, resisting the urge to resume pacing. “The dragon isn’t an Archdemon. It’s a dragon in which Corypheus has invested part of his power. Kill it, and his ability to jump to other bodies is disrupted for a time. He can be killed.”

Silence met her declaration, and she dared not meet Cullen’s piercing gaze.

“That’s…” Leliana trailed off as she gathered her thoughts. “No simple task. Corypheus alone is powerful, but with his dragon…”

Ash nodded. Yes, she knew this. It wouldn’t be easy. It never was. “There is a way. But I’ll need Morrigan’s help, if she’d deign to give it.”

A muscle in the witch’s jaw ticked. “The voices from the Well tell you that, do they? Very well, Miss Lavellan. Speak to me when you are ready to begin this ‘plan’ of yours.”

“I appreciate your vote of confidence,” Ash drawled as Morrigan strode from the room. The witch didn’t so much as glance over her shoulder.

“Are you sure you need her help?” Rae asked, staring at the door with suspicion crinkling the skin around her eyes.

“Unfortunately. She did prepare to take on the Well’s knowledge, even if she didn’t tell you. We may as well put it to good use.”

Unable to restrain himself any further, Cullen slammed his hands onto the war table, the sharp sound echoing through the room and drawing all eyes to him. His brow furrowed and irritation curled his upper lip in a snarl. “Then why not allow her to take on the burden? Why did it have to be you?”

Ash squared her shoulders, her lips set in a frown and her eyes sharp. She didn’t have an answer he would enjoy.

“Morrigan can’t be trusted to serve the Inquisition.” Rae glanced at Leliana, who nodded. Did Rae know the reason the spymaster and witch were at odds? “Ash offered and I accepted. If anything happens as a result it will be my fault, Commander. Don’t forget you are not the only one who cares for my sister.”

Cullen had the good sense to dip his head in shame, though he ground his teeth to keep his derisive remark at bay.

“We’ll leave you two to sort this out. But Commander, when you’re done, see to Skyhold’s defences as we prepare for our final battle.”

Cullen nodded stiffly. “It shall be done.”

Rae caught Ash’s eye, seeking reassurance that her sister was comfortable with the plan. Ash confirmed with a subtle nod. They may as well get this over with now. Waiting wasn’t likely to change the outcome, and she was much too impatient.

Click, and the door closed behind Rae and her female advisors, plunging Ash and Cullen into tense silence. Teeth clacking together as he shut his mouth, a vein at his temple pulsed with the strain. His nostrils flared, and his leather gloves, hands still planted firmly on the war table, creaked from the pressure he exerted.

If a fight was what he wanted, then a fight is what he would get. 

Next Chapter

A/N: Hehe...sorry for the second cliffhanger in a row, I didn't mean to do this, it just worked out like that for chapter length! I promise to make it up to you with smut <3

[tired-truffle]

But All Will Be Well

Alistair x Female Tabris

Complete!

Summary: A series of glimpses into the married life of King Alistair Theirin and Queen Vyria Cousland for the Templartations exchange (Vyria belongs to the lovely @dragonagedorks)

NSFW in chapters 1, 3, and 5 - chapters can be read solo or out of order.

Word Count: 11.9k

Posted: May 24th, 2025

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(Links lead to AO3)

[tired-truffle]

I Love You, I’m Sorry

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 2.7k

Part 1/2

Summary: Ash's secret was out. She was spirit-possessed. The punishment: execution.

AU of my main fic 'Something's Gotta Give' - can be read on its own, but it does contain spoilers (Or AU what if Rae was an asshole?)

“I will not mention the last time I saw you.

My mouth, so far from yours, I said I am afraid I will spend entire years trying not to need you.

As if I wasn't certain.

As if this wasn't my confession.” - Clementine Von Radics

Title from I Love You, I'm Sorry by Gracie Abrams

Warnings: Heavy emotional themes and discussions of death

Masterlist

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

The knock was unexpected. Dorian had long since returned to Tevinter, and while a surprise visit would be the sort of dramatic flare he’d enjoy, he wouldn’t have just let himself in. He was the only one from the inquisition that she’d spoken with since…well, since everything had gone to shit. An ache had buried itself in her chest, a poisoned thorn embedded in her heart that she could not shake.

The villagers in the nearby town would stop by now and again for heat rune stones or various other services she could provide - mages weren’t widely accepted still, but since Leliana had been raised to Divine, they were no longer hunted outright as apostates. Should anyone decide to take her on…Ash was more than capable of defending herself. But that knock did not belong to any of the villagers she’d grown accustomed to in the six months since she’d settled there.

Inside her chest, the spirit of love that possessed her squirmed, drumming against her ribcage and sending sparks of heat to her fingertips. Ash dropped the book with a start, she’d never hear the end of it if she returned it singed. Unease writhed in her gut at Love’s reaction. The spirit was fickle at the best of times, but to react so strongly to a simple knock was unusual.

The knock came a second time, and her cat, Sweetpea, lifted her little grey head from the cushion she lounged on at Ash’s feet, blinking sleepily as her ears flicked towards the door. No one spoke from the other side to announce themselves or inquire if she was in residence. Eerie silence curled around her pointed ears and lunged down her throat.

Rising from her seat at the kitchen table like a ghost summoned to its haunting grounds, she crossed the cabin - a single room with a partition to hide her bed. Love pulsed in time with Ash’s rapid heartbeat as she reached for her staff from where it leaned beside the door. Her hand, shaking with nerves, closed around the door handle.

“Who is it?” she called, the tremor in her voice betraying her poor attempt at casualness.

No reply, and before she had a moment to reconsider, she wrenched open the door, flames swirling like fiery serpents around the tip of her staff and—

The dungeons were dark and damp, and though she could have solved both those issues with the summoning of her fire, she didn’t. Couldn’t. Her sister knew this, could see Ash’s penchant for self-punishment in the defeat behind her eyes. A torch lit up the space, shadows flickering against the wall as footsteps descended towards her. She knew who it was even before she saw him. Cullen stood in front of her cell, and she remained in her shackles.

A frown bisected by a scar on his upper lip, anger and frustration and sadness weighed on his shoulders, hunching his proud posture. The bags beneath his eyes purpled like bruises. When was the last time he slept? She couldn’t remember sleeping either. Not since she’d awoken and her little sister - the Inquisitor, with all the powers that title bestowed - had ordered her execution.

“Why?” Cullen’s voice, cold and distant, punctured the silence.

Wasn’t that the question? The word rattled around her skull, a demand that she couldn’t answer. Her inscrutable mask fell into place, even as her exhaustion cracked it down the middle, leaving it half hanging from her face.

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” she drawled, fixing him with a deadpan stare.

A muscle ticked over his jaw, and his teeth clenched around a growl. “You know what I’m asking.”

Ash shrugged, the metal bars of her jail cell pressed against her shoulder, which only aggravated him more. “Maybe.”

The leather of his gloves creaked as he curled his hands into fists, one resting on the pommel of his sword - the same one he’d almost pulled on her at Adamant. The reveal of her spirit possession had created an impassable rift between them. Ash had known it was inevitable, yet she’d been unable to stop herself from gravitating towards her destruction - towards the man who’d stolen her heart. Vhenan, she’d called him when the endearment had slipped past her defences. Did he know what that meant? Would he care?

“Why did you keep your possession a secret?” he clarified reluctantly, wanting answers more than he cared to be stubborn.

Over the years, she’d found every single conceivable justification to guard her secret. Each reason, however, inevitably converged on a singular truth - she couldn’t protect her sister if she was dead. Ironic now that her sister had scheduled her for execution come sunrise.

She swept her hand out, gesturing to the cell and the shackles on her limbs as they rattled with the movement. Her expression remained the same, the light behind her eyes extinguished, sparkling emerald turned dull.

His lips pressed into a firm line, the crease between his brows deepening.

“If you’re asking about you specifically,” Ash pointed towards his wrists, “I’d say it has something to do with why you still wear those vambraces. Former-templar, was it?”

The templar insignia emblazoned on his vambraces mocked her. The sword set aflame, moulded into leather, marked him as dangerous. Yet she’d courted that danger anyway, knowing the risks. And now she was slated to die. She’d brought this upon herself.

“I’m not a Templar anymore.” Irritation snapped his jaw.

“But you were, and clearly you still hold some of that identity. You’re wearing the proof. And I’ve been in your room, if you recall. I’ve seen that templar shield you keep, too.”

Biting the hand that feeds her. If only her mother could see her now, she’d be so…vindicated. Her daughter was everything she’d believed her to be; selfish, a fuck up, wholly unworthy of love.

“You’ve killed possessed mages before,” she continued upon his lack of response. “That’s what templars are bred to do. Why would I be any different? Or are there other rules when you’ve fucked them first?”

Cullen recoiled as if she had stretched her hand through the bars and struck him squarely across the face. She felt no remorse, as if all her reserves of empathy had been sucked dry. It was almost freeing, knowing that nothing mattered anymore. For so long she’d had to fight to exist, and now…she was tired.

“That’s not—“ he cut himself off with a grimace. “You know that’s not all we shared.”

Ash hummed vaguely and her eyes shifted to the damp walls of her cell. She did, didn’t she? Before she’d revealed her possession and charged in to pull the Inquisitor - Fen’lin, Rae, her little sister, her executioner - from the Fade, she’d wanted to tell him how deeply she cared for him. The time hadn’t been right, or so she’d convinced herself. Ash doubted that the time would ever have been perfectly right. Excuses would have piled up until the inevitable happened; he found out she was possessed and she suffered the consequences. But she was free now.

“You’re right,” she said softly, the acquiescence flowing from her lips and startling them both. “It was more than that. I loved you.” She paused, her brow furrowing. “No, that’s not right. I love you. Still. Possibly always. A pity, isn’t it? That it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Seconds or perhaps minutes of silence drifted by, though Ash couldn't be certain which, as her mind settled into an unprecedented state of peace. From within her chest, Love stirred, roused by her confession, but smothered under her apathy. She cared too much, and it had broken her.

“Are you confessing in the hopes that I will free you?” Had she been in her right mind, the accusation would have stung. Ash lifted her gaze, taking in the way his face switched rapidly between anger and despair. Torn between what he wanted and what he was duty-bound to complete. “And how do I know that what you say is true and not that…spirit’s influence?”

Ash snorted humourlessly, and his expression settled on aggravation. “I have no way to prove that my feelings are my own, you’ll have to take my word for it.” She sighed, leaning her face against the bars of her cell as she stared up at him. “And I’m not naive enough to think confessing my love would sway you, nor would it matter if it did. Rae’s made up her mind, you won’t change it.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Cullen grumbled under his breath, so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. “I’m aware.”

Aware of…seconds ticked by as the gears turned in Ash’s mind, her ears flicking subconsciously. It clicked, and she sucked in a sharp breath. At the sound, Cullen released his grip on his nose, and their eyes locked, understanding dawning in hers as his widened a fraction.

“You tried to convince Rae to stop my execution.” The words felt foreign in her mouth, coloured by disbelief. “Why would you…?”

She trailed off as she searched his face for an answer. Cullen may try to hide his emotions beneath a grumbly facade, but when he felt strongly, no amount of frowns or furrowed brows could conceal his true feelings. He was tired, that much had been clear from the moment she met him, but this weight upon his shoulders, this heaviness that pulled at his limbs was different. Though exhaustion clung to him, his eyes held an endless sorrow. A deep, aching pain, that mirrored the one that resided deep inside her, buried beneath her mask and her protective indifference. The ache that bloomed when she dwelled on the harsh reality of how no matter how intensely she loved him, they could never be—

“Oh.” A hollowness opened up in the pit of her stomach. Wasn’t that just cruel? He loved her, and she would take their love to the grave. She inhaled a shuddering breath. “I see.”

How was she supposed to respond when he hadn’t said a word? All it had taken was one heartbreaking look and every ounce of apathy she’d amassed came tumbling away. Ash gripped the bars as her world spun around her. A scream built in her throat as panic seized her lungs. Backed into a corner with no way out, trapped by her own choices. Her inscrutable mask fell to the damp ground, and her chin began to quiver.

“Will you—“ She choked on a sob, biting her bottom lip to keep it at bay. “Will you look after Sweetpea for me?”

A beat, and then he scoffed, shaking his head. A stone sunk into her stomach.

“Look after her yourself.”

Ash blinked once, twice, tears blurring her vision. “What?”

He gave her one final, lingering gaze, his expression impassive yet laced with a devotion she could have embraced if only she had allowed herself. Without explanation, he turned on his heel and strode for the stairs leading out of the dungeon and into Skyhold - confused and terrified, a chill seeped into her bones.

Her death was coming, and she loved him and he loved her too and it wasn’t enough. But Cullen proved her wrong.

A few hours later she was free, Dorian urging her along as she clutched a purring Sweetpea in her arms. She hadn’t needed to ask who had set up her escape. Dorian may have taken the blame and had to flee alongside her lest Rae decide he should take her place, but the plan had Cullen’s name written all over it. Dorian had confirmed it unprompted days later as they trekked through the mountains as fast as they could.

He must have had Leliana’s aid. No scouts found their tracks.

The memory of that night would play over and over again in her mind, both awake and asleep, seared into the backs of her eyelids whenever she blinked. That look, haunted and yet so deeply in love it tore through the clouds of his exhaustion, kept her awake into the early morning hours. Two and a half years later, and the memory was just as vivid. And now—

The flames swirling around her staff spluttered to a halt, her scalp prickling with pins and needles and her lips parting around a gasp. For years she’d kept an ear out for any word on the Inquisition, and more specifically its Commander. There was plenty of gossip, of course, noble ladies claiming they’d win his hand in marriage, but she knew him better than that. He’d marry for love or not at all.

The Inquisition was headed for a Conclave to decide its fate, a non-partisan organization that amassed as much power as they had was a threat to all royal rulers. It would never be allowed to stand. She’d heard nothing since, nor had she expected any for some time, and yet…

Cullen stood on her doorstep, his signature mantle nowhere to be seen, though beneath his traveller's cloak, she spied the armour she’d grown so familiar with - her fingers twitching against the urge to undo buckles and straps. His eyes - those beautiful, amber eyes - widened upon meeting hers, completely unphased that seconds ago she’d been prepared to blast him into the next region via fireball. Jaw slackened, he exhaled tremulously, and Ash’s veins lit with the fire of her spirit, coursing through her body and charring her from the inside out - love, excitement, fear, longing, all coalescing into a potent potion.

“Ashvalla.” Her name pulled from between his full lips, hoarse like he couldn’t believe she truly stood before him.

He took a step forward in a near daze, and she stepped back, halting him as she half hid her body behind the door. A shield that would not keep him out if he really wanted to push past her. His warrior's frame had not diminished over the years.

“Cullen,” she said, equally as hoarse, feeling like she was floating in a dream.

He shifted in his feet. “I, uh…” His hand came up to rub the back of his neck, a nervous habit she’d found more endearing than she’d ever cared to admit.

Like the patron saint of preventing awkward conversations between ex-lovers, Sweetpea twisted past Ash’s legs, head tilted as she chirped at Cullen in greeting.

Cullen blinked, tearing his gaze off Ash to glance down at the little cat who would not tolerate his lack of attention, already trotting over to wrap herself around his ankles, her purring loud enough to wake a small village. His face softened and Ash’s heart melted as a small grin tugged at his lips.

“Hello, Pea.” He bent down to pat her head, and she pushed her forehead into his hand, her purring growing even louder.

Whatever his intentions for seeking her out, he didn’t appear to mean her any harm. He must have travelled for weeks to reach her on the far side of the continent. It would be rude to turn him away now, wouldn’t it?

As he straightened, Ash opened the door fully, stepping aside. “Would you like to come in?”

Surprise shot across his face - no doubt accustomed to how difficult she tended to be - but it was buried beneath a gentle smile. “If that’s alright with you. I realize my visit is…unexpected.”

“I wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t.” She motioned for him to step inside, a gesture of invitation that he eagerly took. “Though if you’re being used as bait for Rae to lure me out of hiding, I won’t be going down without a fight.”

His smile turned into a lopsided smirk - much too dashingly handsome for his own good. “I wouldn’t expect any less.”

The door shut behind them, Sweetpea darting past Cullen to her plush cushion by Ash’s kitchen table, kneading the soft fabric. But even her beloved cat couldn’t dispel the knot of tension coiling tighter in Ash's stomach - after all these years, why had he decided to reappear now? She wasn’t sure she was ready to find out.

Next Chapter

[tired-truffle]

Pick your tropes

Thank you @sweetjulieapples @bibutterflies, and @the-arcane-archivist for tagging me 😍

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coffee shop or flower girl | au or fix-it | enemies to lovers or childhood friends | angst or fluff | love at first sight or pining | modern au or historical au | break up & make up or proposal & wedding | get together or established relationship | soulmates or unrequited | fake dating or secret dating | obvious pining or domestic fluff | hurt/comfort or crack | meet the parents or meet cute

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Tagging @acquiredpond and @morganaofcamelot and anyone else who’d like to do it!

[tired-truffle]

Something's Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 5.6k

Part 54: A Pocket Full of Sorrow

"My little sister is small and silly. I'll always hold the umbrella more over her head even if my shoulder gets soaked. In other words, I'd carry her up to heaven on my back, or hold her hand all the way down to hell." - Unknown

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

Masterlist

Similarly to Adamant, Cullen was kept occupied with his troops and preparations for the impending battle in the Arbor Wilds. However, unlike the events at Adamant, there would be no spirit possession revealed, and journeys through the Fade. Hopefully. Months had elapsed since they’d confronted the Grey Wardens, since Ash and Cullen had parted ways only to find themselves irresistibly drawn back together once more. Now, their relationship stood on solid ground, feelings laid bare in honesty.

But the war wouldn’t simply cease to allow them some time to be together. They had to make their relationship work through hardship and pain, coupled with the looming terror of the inevitable carnage that lay ahead. She caught fleeting glimpses of him as they rode from Skyhold, and late at night, usually long after she’d fallen asleep, he would slip into her tent and curl himself around her - gone before daybreak.

Sweetpea had been left behind for her safety, but Ash was rarely alone. Dorian rode with her most often, more than happy to chat - or rather complain - about any topic he could pull from his arsenal.

So," Dorian drawled, sidling his mount closer to hers as they traversed a particularly muddy stretch of forest path. "I couldn't help but notice Cullen slipping from your tent this morning. His hair was particularly dishevelled. Most becoming, actually."

Ash rolled her eyes. "Do you ever sleep, or do you just lie in wait for gossip opportunities?"

"Sleep is for those without ambition, my dear." Dorian had a wicked gleam in his eyes that made Ash wary. “Now tell me, has our handsome Commander taught you any new sword techniques lately?"

Ash shot him a withering look. "Really? That's the best innuendo you could come up with?"

"It's early, and I haven't had nearly enough wine." Dorian adjusted his riding gloves with a smirk. "You haven't answered the question, though."

"And I won't be," Ash replied, though she couldn't quite suppress the smile tugging at her lips. The memory of Cullen's arms around her the night before, his breath warm against her neck, was still fresh in her mind.

Varric urged his pony forward to join them, a good few feet lower than where Dorian and Ash sat. "You know, Sparkler, you're approaching this all wrong. Subtlety is key."

"There's nothing subtle about those two," Dorian scoffed. "Have you seen the way he looks at her when he thinks no one's watching? It's positively indecent."

Ash lifted her nose indignantly. “Like you and Bull are any better. You can hardly go a few seconds without eye fucking each other.”

“Such is romance, darling.” Dorian shrugged, unperturbed.

Varric chuckled, shaking his head. "At least Tiny and Sparkler are honest about it. You and Curly, though - there's a story there I haven't quite figured out yet."

"There's no story," Ash insisted, guiding her horse around a fallen log. "We're together. End of tale."

"See, that's where you're wrong," Varric said. "The best stories are never that simple. The Commander of the Inquisition falling for the Inquisitor's older sister? There's depth there."

Ash was relatively certain they’d been over this, and Varric had promised he wouldn’t write about them. But perhaps he’d changed his mind. "What's your angle, Varric?"

"No angle," he replied, and she almost believed him. "I just want to see you happy, Frosty. You've changed him, there’s something lighter about Curly than there used to be."

Something in his tone made Ash pause. This wasn't just idle curiosity or material for his next book. There was genuine concern there.

"There's nothing to tell. We're…happy. That's all."

"Happy?" Dorian scoffed. "I don’t believe 'happy' begins to cover it."

"And what about the way you look at him?" Varric added, leaning forward. "Like he hung the moon and stars just for you. It's all very romantic, especially in war times."

"I do not—" Ash began, then stopped herself. What was the point in denying it? "Fine. Yes. I love him. Deeply. Are you satisfied?"

"Not remotely," Dorian replied. "But it's a start."

The conversation only deteriorated from there.

The night before they were set to arrive in the Arbor Wilds, Ash had practically carried Cullen away from his reports and battle plans, insisting he would be doing everyone a favour by getting a proper night's sleep before the gruelling days of combat that lay ahead. Cullen, like a stubborn old bear, had initially bristled at her suggestion, muttering about the crucial need to be thoroughly prepared for any ambush the enemy might devise. But in the end, he’d been unable to resist her pout and large, watery eyes. He didn’t need to know that her eyes glistened only because she had intentionally avoided blinking. The lengths she went to for him were boundless.

They lay down together on his cot, her leg slung over his, her head resting on his chest as she dragged her fingers through the coarse hair that was scattered down his abdomen.

His hand covered hers as a puff of laughter blew against the top of her head. “That tickles,” he said, moving her hand to his shoulder. As much as she loved his shoulders - broad and muscular - they weren’t quite as entertaining in texture.

Propping herself up on her elbows, she stared down at him. She’d debated when would be the best time to reveal the surprise she had for him. And before she could second guess herself, she said, “I have something for you.”

Ash needed to do it now before she chickened out.

Cullen tilted his head to the side, a crease forming between his brows. “You do?”

“Mhm.” Ash picked up the belt she’d left beside the cot, within arms reach - she was reticent to leave his side, even for a second. Opening a pouch she’d kept securely with her every second since leaving Skyhold, she removed the tiny vial attached to the leather strand of a necklace. Bright red liquid shimmered inside, and she placed it on his chest, unsure what else to do.

For a change that Ash was not keen on, a warm, rosy blush spread from her cheeks and crept over her ears. His eyes widened, and his lips parted slightly as he picked up the item, the realization of its significance dawning on him with startling clarity.

“Ash, you…this is…”He held it so carefully, the vial cradled in his palm and he glanced back and forth between her and the vial. “Is this your phylactery? How…?”

Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, Ash nodded. “Basically. Cassandra helped me make it.”

Cullen exhaled a shaky breath, opening and closing his mouth as he struggled to find the right words to express his thoughts. Had she gone too far, crossed an unseen line? Pushed a boundary she hadn't realized was there, acting impulsively without considering the consequences? He was no longer a Templar, and she was uncertain if he still had the ability to track her using the phylactery, but he could still hold it and feel that it was warm and pulsed with life. But maybe he didn’t want any reminders of his time with the Order, or that…she was a mage. Possessed. He loved her undeniably, but did he want to?

“Sorry, I should have asked first. You don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to. I can destroy it and we never have to think about this again.” She made to reach for it - to hide it away where it could never be found, unwilling to find the answers to the questions that stuck on the tip of her tongue - but Cullen jerked it out of her grasp.

“Wait,” he intercepted her hand with his free one as she made to grab it again. Bringing her fingers to his mouth, he placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. “I am not rejecting your gift, I’m merely surprised. I only wish to understand.”

Her ears tilted down, but she ceased her attempts to reclaim the phylactery. His lips brushed against her knuckles once more, and he swiped his thumb over the thin bones on the back of her hand. “Why make this?”

“For you,” she replied simply. His eyebrows raised with incredulity.

“You created a phylactery for me? Ash, this is…you've bound yourself to this, and if it were to end up in the wrong hands…you didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I wanted to. And it’s in your hands.” She brushed her fingers over his cheek, his rough stubble scratching her skin. “When I follow Rae out on missions and I…leave you behind, I don’t want you to stew in your worry for me and get distracted. Especially not tomorrow when you need to be focusing on keeping yourself alive. I thought that maybe with this, you can feel that I’m alright and find some reassurance.”

For a few long seconds, he said nothing, his eyes roaming her face, searching for clarity that could part the clouds of his disbelief.

Ash kissed the indent of his chin. “I trust you,” she whispered. “I know you’ll keep it safe.”

Cullen opened his mouth, stunned beyond words, and closed it again. He cleared his throat, curling his fingers around the little vial and holding it to his chest.

“Thank you, my love. I hardly know what to say.”

Ash folded herself against his side, the lucky coin he’d given her at the lake lay safely tucked in her belt - with plans to turn it into a necklace when they returned home. They would both carry a piece of each other, a token of affection. Never again would she be entirely without him, nor he without her.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

He placed a kiss on the top of her head, and no words followed. It was simply the two of them, content to bask in each other’s arms before the battle descended upon them and they were once more torn apart by duty. If anything happened to him…Creators, she couldn’t think about it. They would both survive. They had to.

To lose him now would destroy a part of herself she would never regain.

“How was the farewell lovemaking? Did your Commander get on his knees and beg you to come back in one piece before showing you all the reasons why you should?” Dorian tossed her a shiny red apple, and Ash caught it with a roll of her eyes. Breakfast hadn’t been her priority, but the mage had taken it upon himself to ensure she was fed.

Ash took a bite, speaking around the apple piece in her cheek. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Yes, dear,” Dorian drawled. “That's why I’m asking.”

“She’s walking alright,” Sera interjected, poking Ash in the hip and earning herself a scowl. “Maybe Cully-Wully has lost his touch. He was all growly when I offered to show him the best techniques on a peach. Must have something against peaches.”

Choking on the bite of apple she’d inhaled, Ash smacked her chest to dislodge the fruit from her airway.

Dorian barked a laugh, patting Sera on the back approvingly. “I would have paid good money to see the look on his face!”

Sera grinned, already scheming. “Yeah? How much?”

Before Dorian could respond, Cassandra cut in, striding up to their little group with a stern look permanently etched onto her face. She addressed Ash without acknowledging the two mischief makers.

“The Inquisitor is ready to depart if you are finished with your…” She glanced at Dorian and Sera with an exasperated curl of her lips. “gossip.”

“Spoiling all our fun, Seeker,” Dorian tutted, though he was already steering Sera away before the rogue could say something scandalous to truly piss Cassandra off. “Make sure our Ashvalla returns in one piece so we may finish our gossip, as you put it.”

Cassandra sucked her teeth in and returned her attention to Ash, her eyes sparking with a knowing look. Though the Seeker was a stern woman, Ash had learned of her hidden romantic side, one that Varric loved to tease her about. Cassandra waited until Dorian and Sera were out of earshot before speaking up.

“Did you give it to him?” She kept her voice low, though even if she hadn’t, no one would have known what she was asking except for her. And Cullen most likely.

“Yes, I did. Thank you for your help, Cassandra.”

The Seeker nodded, a silent acknowledgment. Just as swiftly as their conversation had started, it came to an abrupt halt when Rae approached. Her gait was confident, her steps smooth and unhurried, as if she were merely taking a leisurely stroll rather, far too casual given the impending battle.

“You ready to go?” Rae asked, her lips curling into a wide grin that revealed her sharp canines a grin on her face, bloodlust in her eyes. Ash gave her a matching grin.

“Let’s go kill some red templars.”

Corypheus couldn’t be killed, an ancient and supposedly powerful well in the ancient temple guarded by even more ancient elves, Morrigan had flown off and abandoned them, and red templars crawled through the bowels of the temple, void-bent on annihilating Rae’s party at any cost. Ash was frankly sick of it. Her muscles ached, her magic dwindled, and she was exhausted.

At least Rae had listened to Solas’s counsel and solved the puzzles to allow them peaceful entry. Based on Abelas’s cryptic statements - the leader of the ancient elves - the only reason they hadn’t fought the Inquisitor’s party upon entry had been their respect for their customs. Ash dutifully pretended like she hadn’t suggested charging ahead and ignoring the puzzles.

Abelas’ people led them to the Well of Sorrows - an ominous name, but if it could help them defeat Corypheus, Ash didn’t care what it was called. Nor did she have the energy to.

They arrived in a large room, moss and vegetation growing over broken stone stairs. A fight had already broken out further down, red templars slaughtering the elven protectors. And behind them, stood the Well they were all after.

“So, Mythal endures.” Solas stared out at the large, crumbling room, a far-away look in his eyes. Rae squeezed his arm, bringing him back to her, and he offered her a small smile.

Rae continued on.

“Andraste guide us,” Cassandra said under her breath as they descended the stairs. Ash wasn’t sure if Andraste would be able to help them now - did human and elven gods get along?

They reached the bottom of the long stairs, and a templar - one of the only without the spikes of red lyrium growing from his body - caught sight of their party.

“Sampson! Ser—watch out!”

Sampson’s bulky armour glinted in the low light, the jagged spikes of red lyrium jutting from the metal as he turned to face them. Ash stood at Rae’s shoulder as she came to a halt, Cassandra at her other side, and Solas taking up the rear.

“Inquisitor,” he spat her title like a curse. “You and those elf-things don’t know when to stop. You’ve hunted us half across Thedas. I should’ve guessed you’d follow us into this hole.”

Rae’s lips curved into a ruthless grin. “Leading the Inquisition takes me to all sorts of interesting places. Including old, dusty holes. Just like yours, I’d imagine.”

“You came too far this time.” Sampson gripped the pommel of his sword, his eyes darkening in a warning that Rae ignored. “Corypheus chose me twice. First as his general, now as the Vessel for the Well of Sorrows. You know what’s inside the Well? Wisdom. The kind of wisdom that can scour a world. I give it to Corypheus, and he can walk into the Fade without your precious Anchor.”

Ash didn’t like the sound of that at all. If he could walk the Fade, there was no predicting where he’d go or what kind of havoc he’d unleash. They would be powerless against him.

Rae’s hands tightened around her blood-soaked daggers. “I’ll see Corypheus dead before I let him wield that power.”

“How are you going to stop him?” A baiting taunt. Ash shook her head, signalling for Rae to disengage as her sister’s short-tempered fury growled in her throat. Rae’s muscles tensed, but she swallowed her sharp retort.

Sampson's eyes darted to Ash, racking up and down her body. “Will you use your sister to secure power like you have already? The Knight-Captain’s whore. He didn’t seem like the elf-fucker type when I knew him in Kirkwall, but I suppose everyone has their secrets.”

Before Rae could explode in a murderous rage, Ash took matters into her own hands. “Sounds like someone’s jealous. Does Corypheus not appreciate it when you suck his mangled cock?”

Sampson’s teeth barred in a snarl, and for a moment, Ash thought he might attack outright, but he managed to real himself in. “You’ll pay for your insolence, and I will enjoy gloating in Rutherford’s face as I parade your dead body through the remnants of his precious Inquisition’s ranks.” Ash wouldn’t let that happen. If she was going out, she would ensure she took that asshole with her. “You’re no match for Corypheus. Even if you drink from the Well, you’ll never master its wisdom as he could. This is the strength the Chantry tried to bind. But it’s a new world now. With a new god.”

Red shimmering lights built around his armour, his face twisted in a smug grin. “So, Inquisitor.” He pointed at Rae, a challenge. “How will this go?”

Sheathing a dagger, Rae buried her anger beneath a mask of smug indifference. “Power’s all well and good.” With her free hand, Rae fished Dayna’s rune from her pocket, holding it up and letting its powers grow. “Until it’s taken away.”

Ash watched with sick satisfaction as his armour was drained of energy, dimming until snuffed out completely, his cries of pain and horror music to her ears. He fell to his knees. That sad, pathetic man grasping for power was who Cullen was so afraid he could have become. For the life of her, she couldn’t fathom a single similarity in their personhoods. Sampson was contorted by his seething hatred, transforming into a creature almost beyond recognition. Whereas Cullen had resolved to confront and unravel his hate, to free himself from the burden and work to better the world. “What did you do? What did you do?” Sampson roared as he struggled to his feet. “My armour. It's gone. The lyrium—I need it! Kill them all!”

The remaining templars charged forward, their movements jerky and uncoordinated as the red lyrium consumed them from within.

A fireball to the chest took one out as it ran towards Ash. Cassandra pressed forward, shield out to block Rae from harm as she darted out to stab their enemies.

"I'll take Sampson," Ash called to her sister.

Rae didn't spare her a glance. "Be careful!"

Sampson's eyes locked on Ash, hatred burning in them like the lyrium that had once powered his armour. "Rutherford's pet mage," he sneered, advancing towards her. "Let's see if you're as special as he thinks you are."

Ash rolled her shoulders, her flames begging to be released.

"Come and find out," she taunted, planting her feet firmly on the ancient stone.

Sampson charged, sword raised. Even without his enchanted armour, he was formidable - a templar trained to kill mages just like her. Ash sidestepped his first swing, sending a bolt of fire that clipped his shoulder.

"Is that all?" he laughed, recovering quickly. "No wonder Rutherford keeps you around. It certainly isn't for your magic."

Ash gritted her teeth, her jaw clenching as she forced herself to focus. He was trying to provoke her anger, to stir her emotions and make her lose her edge, but she refused to give him the satisfaction.

Sampson lunged, assaults growing more frenzied and uncontrolled as his withdrawal from the red lyrium intensified. But Ash fought back, dodging and blocking blow after blow. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead, mixing with the grime and dirt, while his movements became more erratic, like a puppet with its strings tangled. "When I'm done with you, I'll make sure he watches as Corypheus tears those pretty little eyes from your skull."

"You talk too much," she hissed, slamming her staff into the ground.

A ring of fire erupted around them, cutting them off from the rest of the fight. Sampson faltered, momentarily startled by the sudden blaze.

That moment was all she needed.

Ash thrust her hands forward, and flames shot from her palms, hitting Sampson square in the chest. He stumbled backward, the smell of burning leather and flesh hitting her nose. It was pungent, but it was necessary.

"Not so confident now, are you?" Ash advanced, each step she took, the fire around them grew higher, hotter.

Sampson's eyes bulged with rage. He charged again, but his movements were growing increasingly sluggish. The tremor in his hands, the way his skin had gone sallow and slick with sweat. He wasn’t well. Like a sick dog, she would put him down.

The ground beneath him erupted in a geyser of flame. Sampson howled, stumbling backward into the ring of fire she'd created. The heat singed his hair and blistered his skin, but he fought through it, lunging at her like a wild animal.

His sword caught her sleeve, slicing through fabric and grazing her arm. She hissed in pain but didn't falter, channelling the sharp sting into her magic. The fire around them pulsed in response to her anger.

A witty retort was poised on his tongue, but Ash did not allow it to come to fruition. She drove the bladed end of her staff into his knee - the crack of bone shattering sounding above the roar of the fire.

Sampson collapsed with a cry of agony, his sword clattering against the stone floor.

"You bitch!" he snarled, clutching at his ruined knee. "You'll pay for—"

Ash silenced him with a boot to his chest, knocking him flat on his back and pinning him to the ground. She placed the sharp end of her staff against his throat, just hard enough to break the skin.

"I could end you right now," she said, voice eerily calm even as her heart raced. "Save everyone the trouble of dragging your sorry carcass back to Skyhold for judgment."

His eyes widened, a flicker of genuine fear breaking through his mask of hatred. Good. Let him know what it felt like.

"Do it then," he challenged, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

She scoffed, easing the pressure slightly. “And give you the easy way out? I don’t think so.”

Picking her boot up from his chest, she stepped back. His head fell back against the stone floor, utterly spent.

The ring of fire around them guttered out as she released her hold. Beyond it, the other templars lay dead, Rae wiping blood from her daggers while Cassandra helped Solas to his feet.

"Finished showing off?" Rae asked as she arrived at her sister’s side.

Ash shrugged, wincing as the movement pulled at her wounded arm. "He had opinions about my relationship."

"So naturally, you set him on fire."

"Naturally."

Sampson lay sprawled on the ground, armourless and defeated. “Not the Well, you wretch. You can’t take it from Corypheus. You mustn’t…” A final grunt, and he went limp.

Cassandra took his pulse. “He’s still breathing.” She sounded mildly disappointed, and Ash couldn’t blame her.

Rae nodded. “We can take him back to Skyhold for judgment.”

Tact had never been Ash’s strong suit, but even she had better timing than Abelas as he sprinted into the room, Morrigan giving chase in her raven form. Seconds after Sampson’s defeat, leaving them no time to process their victory, Rae had another squabble to solve.

“Abelas!” Rae called, already starting towards him as he raced for the Well.

The transformation from bird to human shouldn’t have been as smooth as it was, but Morrigan wasn’t the type to do anything without class. She darted ahead of the elf, positioning herself between him and the Well, her face set in an impassive glare.

Her eyes darted to Rae. “You heard his parting words, Inquisitor. The elf seeks to destroy the Well of Sorrows!”

Abelas was quick with a retort, scowling at the witch. “So the sanctum is despoiled at last.”

“You would have destroyed the Well yourself, given the chance.”

Ash had been exhausted and drained even before the fight with Sampson, but after the battle and all the shit they'd slogged through to reach that point, her remaining shreds of patience were rapidly unravelling as they bickered like children with overly large vocabularies.

“To keep it from your grasping fingers! Better it be lost than bestowed upon the undeserving!”

“Fool!” Morrigan spat. “You’d let your people’s legacy rot in the shadows!”

Rae, similarly to her sister, was seconds away from losing her composure. “Enough!” she barked, sounding more like the Commander than ever.

Morrigan turned her glare on Rae. “You cannot honestly—“

But Rae was not one to wither under a hard stare. “I said, enough.”

Morrigan sucked her teeth. “The Well clearly offers power, Inquisitor. If that power can be turned against Corypheus, can you afford not to use it?”

Hesitation flashed across Rae’s face, and Abelas caught it, his brow furrowing and his canines glinting in the reflected light from the Well as he sneered in disgust.

“Do you even know what you ask? As each servant of Mythal reached the end of their years, they would pass their knowledge on…through this. All that we were. All that we knew. It would be lost forever.”

Ash had observed Rae over the years, witnessing her gradual shunning from their clan. Rae was reluctantly kept around, her presence tolerated only because of Ash’s influential position. Perhaps they should have departed long ago, to spare Rae the burden of isolation she must have felt. Yet, Ash had believed it was safest to stay. Then, tragedy struck, and the clan was wiped out before Ash could complete her training as First. The stories she’d hoped to share with Rae on her own had gone with their people. Rae had already endured the fate that Abelas feared.

“Look around you.” Rae swept her arm out, gesturing to the crumbling ruins of the once mighty temple. “Everything your people were…it’s already gone.”

Abelas nodded, a deep sorrow carved into his features by years of hardship. “It is.”

Stepping forward from the small group of companions, Solas took his spot at Rae’s back. “There are other places, friend.” Solas addressed the other elf softly. “Other duties. Your people yet linger.”

Abelas tilted his head to the side. “Elvhen such as you?”

Ash didn’t fully understand the question, there were three elves in their party. Why had he specifically singled out Solas? Was it because he’d posed the question? Or perhaps his study of their history and knowledge of the Fade.

“Yes. Such as I.”

Whatever significance that exchange held for Abelas softened the ridged line of his shoulders. He regarded Rae once more, tired and weary. “You have shown respect to Mythal, and there is a righteousness in you I cannot deny. Is that your desire? To partake of the vir’abelasan as best you can, to fight your enemy?”

Ever suspicious, Rae said, “Gifts like this don’t come freely.”

“No boon of Mythal was ever granted without cost.”

A sinking feeling took up residence in her gut, a stone of foreboding swallowed and stuck. When would the world stop demanding sacrifices of her sister?

“The vir’abelasan may be too much for a mortal to comprehend. Brave it if you must, but know you this: you shall be bound forever to the will of Mythal.”

“Bound?” Morrigan inquired. “To a goddess who no longer exists, if she ever did?”

Abelas kept his gaze on Rae, unmoving and solemn. “Bound, as we are bound. The choice is yours.”

Another leash, another self-proclaimed god to take what little autonomy Rae had left. But Rae had always taken whatever mantle was thrown at her and done her utmost to accomplish her goals.

“You could come with us.” The offer that left Rae’s lips surprised Ash, but she couldn’t deny that they would benefit from allies as strong as him. “Fight Corypheus. He killed your people.”

But Abelas shook his head. “We killed ourselves, long ago.”

As the elf took his leave, Solas spoke up. “Malas amelin ne halam, Abelas.”

Abelas looked up, a flicker of hope in his eyes, before he continued, the remaining elves trailing after him.

It was kind of Solas, to offer them hope when she wasn’t sure they still knew what that words meant. Ash hoped he found a new name as well, to let him remove the mantle of sorrow.

Morrigan turned towards the Well, walking along the edge, and Rae’s hands clenched at her sides, quick to follow the witch.

“Don’t go any closer Morrigan!” Rae warned before she lowered her voice to a conversational volume, pulling up beside Morrigan.

Ash exchanged a glance with Solas as he turned to her, a deep concern weighing down his face. Ash stepped to his side.

“It is imperative that Rae does not drink from the Well,” Solas said lowly. “It…she has already lost too much of herself. I fear what this will do.”

“You don’t have to tell me that. I heard what Abelas said about price. But there's no way she’s going to let Morrigan be the one.” Ash narrowed her eyes. “Would you take the burden for the woman you claim to care for?”

His lips twisted in a frown and he shook his head with what looked suspiciously like shame. “I cannot. Do not ask me this again.”

Cassandra wasn’t likely to be willing to subject herself to ancient Elvhen magic - if she was even able to - which only left…Creators, Cullen was going to be so pissed.

Ash stepped around Solas, exchanging a look of understanding. They both knew what she must do.

“I’ll do it,” Rae said as Ash approached, and her heart leaped into her throat.

Morrigan beat her to a rebuttal. “You lead the Inquisition. This is not a risk you can take. I have the best chance of making use of the Well…for everyone. Let me drink.”

“Fen—Rae, please, listen to her.” Rae whirled around as Ash spoke, gentle and beseeching. “You’ve taken on far more than one person should and you’ve done beautifully. But you don’t have to bear this burden as well.”

Through gritted teeth, ears tilted down and pressed tight to her head, Rae pointed at Morrigan. “I’m not letting her take it. She’s proven herself to be untrustworthy and I can’t afford the risk.”

Morrigan rolled her eyes, which Ash would have pointed out wasn’t helpful had she not been so focused on her sister.

“You have other options than just you and Morrigan.”

Rae’s face slackened, taking a step back from Ash in horror. “No. I won’t risk you like that.”

“If something happens to you, we’re all dead.” Ash wanted nothing more than to be gentle, but Corypheus was hot on their tail, and Rae wouldn’t have listened to softness either way. Love, having been eerily silent throughout the entire conversation, swept her presence over Ash like a wave. Soft yet insistent, granting her approval. “Love can help guide me, and it was my job as First to ensure the safety of our people’s history. Allow me to complete my role.”

Rae’s shoulders curled inward, seeing her sister’s reasoning and hating it all the same. “Fine. But know that I don’t like this, and you have to deal with Cullen’s temper tantrum when he finds out.”

Nervousness plucked at her ribcage, and she rubbed the heel of her palm against her sternum. “He’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Lips puckered in a sour grimace, Morrigan waved her hand in distaste. “I am forever balked by those who believe they know better than I. Drink if you will, for the sake of us all. But steel your will to do it.”

Not a problem. Ash had enough stubbornness to feed a small village, lack of willpower wouldn’t hold her back.

She stepped towards the Well but paused when Rae grabbed her arm.

“Be safe and come back to me.” Rae squeezed lightly. “That’s an order.”

Smiling, Ash placed her hand over Rae’s. “Yes, Inquisitor.”

Rae reluctantly released her, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Ash waded into the cool waters of the cool Well, soaking through her robes and tingling at her skin.

She scooped a handful of water, bringing it to her lips.

This had to be the most ill-conceived plan she had ever concocted. She was meddling with ancient Elvhen deities whose existence she didn't fully believe in. She’d been so confident that they didn’t linger in their world; if they had, why hadn’t they helped their people when they were mercilessly slaughtered?

Thoughts of Cullen came to her mind. If it killed her…the anguish he would feel if her phylactery went dim and cold would destroy him - another poorly thought-out idea. She loved him, cherished him, longed to share her life with him. But Rae had drank from the well and it had taken it, there wouldn’t be anything left of Ash for him to love in return.

It was undoubtedly the best course of action, yet that realization did little to diminish the heart-pounding fear that accompanied it.

She tilted her hands, the water slipping past her lips, and a bright flash of light obscured her vision. Agony, pure, unadulterated agony wracked her body and she cried out.

The light vanished, and her vision went black. 

Next Chapter

A/N: Bringing the stakes back up! I couldn't let them be happy forever...yet.