warpedlegacywrites

[warpedlegacywrites]

Chapter 29: Choice (Reprise)

Theresa and her forces enact their plan to rescue the captured mages.

“Quiet down!” a guard shouted, making me jump. I’d been so focused on the mages I hadn’t noticed his proximity. The boy’s bravery quickly evaporated, and he ducked his head. But I, who’d spent too many years cowering beneath steel-edged scrutiny, stared him down. A mistake. I didn’t match the cowed and beaten expressions surrounding me. The guard stepped closer, studying me through the narrow visor of his helm. Shit, I thought. Shit, shit, shit, shit. Too late, I averted my gaze and tried to look meek. I both heard and felt his approach until his looming frame filled my vision. A hand roughly took hold of my chin to lift my face. Panic and revulsion swelled in me like a cresting wave, and it took every ounce of my willpower not to violently shove him away. I held myself still, enduring the violation of his hand on me. My shudder was involuntary, and soon became shivering, my entire body so tightly wound that it began to vibrate. My breathing caught up with my pulse. My vision swam. Hatred seethed beneath the surface as I tried not to wonder what cruelties that hand had inflicted. How many of my peers’ lives stained it. Which verses of the Chant he’d recited to justify them. My palm ignited, threatening to betray me. Behind me, Solas gripped my hand in his, trying to cover it. But the guard had seen, realization slowly dawning. Time slowed to a crawl, as if I was trapped in one of Alexius’ time rifts, as the Templar drew in breath to shout. I had failed. I’d given us away, and now all of these mages would be sacrificed. And I along with them. But before he could voice the warning on his tongue, a shrieking cry filled the night air. I looked up, following the sound to a winged shadow streaking across the sky. A hawk in flight. Taeris’ hawk. Our signal. “Now!” Solas shouted.

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[warpedlegacywrites]

Your Ship and How They Sleep

Thanks for the tag @p0lkadotdotdot! Tagging @crackinglamb and @rakshadow!

Theresa x Cullen

(I don't have any images or art of them sleeping together, but here's a lovely piece by @neonteeth of them at their second wedding!)

How often do they sleep together?

Once they're comfortable enough to actually sleep together, as often as they can! Which, unfortunately while Theresa is Inquisitor, isn't nearly often enough. The nights when Theresa is in Skyhold, and their schedules actually allow them a designated rest period that lines up, are few and far between.

Where do they sleep?

Most often in Cullen's loft, especially early on. It's more convenient, and by the time they're both ready for bed they're likely too exhausted to make the climb all the way up to her quarters. When they really want privacy though, they'll arrange for time in her room instead.

How do they prepare to sleep?

Prepare? Usually it's "work until you're too exhausted to stay awake, then stumble into the nearest bed and collapse". These two are notorious workaholics, and tend to fuel each other more than balance. Cassandra may have assigned aides to check in on them routinely to make sure they do actually sleep.

What do they wear to sleep?

During the Inquisition, Cullen always wears at least a pair of trousers to bed, just in case something urgent comes up in the middle of the night that requires his attention (it's rare but it happens... okay it happened once but you never know...). After the Inquisition is disbanded and they finally have a place of their own though, he sleeps naked or just his smalls. He's a hot sleeper lol.

While in Skyhold or their home, Theresa usually has some sort of shift or undershirt on, no trousers or smalls. Rarely will she sleep fully naked unless the sleep is post-coital. She has been known to steal one of Cullen's shirts on occasion.

Do they cuddle?

Oh absolutely. Touch is a love language they both share, and especially during Inquisition this is one of the few times they can actually do so without prying eyes. Most often, Cullen is on his back and Theresa is curled up against his chest. Though they do also swap big spoon and little spoon. Or sleep facing each other, his chin on her head and her face nuzzled into his shoulder.

What are their preferred sleep positions?

They're both restless sleepers, so will tend to move around a lot before they find their comfy place. Most often, Cullen winds up on his back and Theresa on her side, and they'll be tangled up in each other somehow.

How easy do they fall asleep?

LOL no.

Do they toss and turn a lot?

Absolutely. See above. By morning, it often looks like a whirlwind came and took their sheets.

Do they snore?

Not really. Theresa drools sometimes, though, and Cullen talks in his sleep.

Who hogs the blanket?

They both do. It's like a tug of war with cuddling.

What do they dream about?

About their past and their anxieties, normally. For Cullen, it's all wrapped up in his guilt about Kirkwall, or the torture he endured in Ferelden's Circle. He also has a fear of forgetfulness (a byproduct of his years of taking lyrium). A lot of his dreams involve either being confined in small spaces, watching helplessly as someone he loves dies or leaves, or being lost and not knowing where or who he is.

For Theresa, it's either about the night she escaped from the Circle, or her ongoing fear that the legend of the Herald of Andraste will erase the person that is Theresa Trevelyan. She has a lot of dreams of being burned at the pyre while a crowd of worshippers watches and sings. Or of falling, or drowning.

How easily do they wake up?

They're both wound up tighter than a bow string, so it usually doesn't take much. Usually they wake themselves up -- or each other. Then there's a period of comfort offered by one to the other, since they're both well familiar with the tortures of the mind, before eventually falling back asleep.

How awake they are afterwards?

It depends on the night, but Cullen is more of a morning person than Theresa. He's up with the sunrise no matter what kind of night's sleep he's had. Unfortunately, if it was a bad night, he'll be in for a day of muscle aches and exhaustion, but he's become pretty good at powering through it (no he hasn't). Theresa's usually awake whenever others are, so once Cullen's up, so is she. She tends to be quieter in the mornings, though, while he will fill the silence with a running monologue of the day's task list.

Clean version under the cut!

How often do they sleep together?

Where do they sleep?

How do they prepare to sleep?

What do they wear to sleep?

Do they cuddle?

What are their preferred sleep positions?

How easy do they fall asleep?

Do they toss and turn a lot?

Do they snore?

Who hogs the blanket?

What do they dream about?

How easily do they wake up?

How awake they are afterwards?

[warpedlegacywrites]

Chapter 28: Unfinished Business

Theresa arrives in the Hinterlands, intent on saving the last remaining mages still left out in the wilderness. But there are a few complications.

“‘Theresa the Heretic’ does have a nice ring to it,” Dorian reflected. I eyed him long enough that he erupted into a grin and offered me an innocent shrug. “They’re going to keep calling you that regardless. Might as well own it.” “How did they even find these mages?” Fiona despaired, eyes wide with impatience. Her fists were braced on her hips, but she couldn’t fully hide the faint tremble in them. Some might mistake that for fear, or weakness of the body. I knew it was anger. I knew it, because I felt it just as deeply. Sketch shrugged. “They’re Templars. Isn’t that their job?” “How they found them is irrelevant,” I interjected, surprised at how cold I still sounded. It contrasted so sharply with the cauldron of rage stewing inside that I wondered how no one saw it. Or perhaps they did, because something in my tone had caused them all to stop and consider me warily, as if I might combust at any moment. I thought of Mattrin’s twisted, broken body, lying inches from me, eyes open and unseeing. I thought of the emaciated state of the rescued soldiers as they were led out of the cramped cell the Avvar had kept them in. And I remembered, with a sickened heart, the song of the Chant accompanied by the wet slash of steel through tender, innocent flesh. I crumpled the note in my hands, and let the burning rage within me out, just enough. The dry parchment caught quickly, and was soon nothing more than ash. A prelude. A promise. Looking at Fiona, but speaking for everyone’s benefit, I answered, “I’m going to rescue them. And I’m going to make an example of these Templars. Large enough that no one will dare to try this again.” And a crater to match.

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[warpedlegacywrites]

Chapter 27: Wisdom's Mirror

Still reeling from Cullen's confession, Theresa seeks comfort. She doesn't get it, but she does receive something just as important.

“Have you ever…” I began delicately, “…learned something you wished you could unlearn?” His brows rose a fraction at the unexpected question, but otherwise his face was a mask of impassivity. “No,” he answered, simply. “Never?” “In my experience, it is always better to know than to remain in ignorance.” He gave a shallow, helpless shrug. “That is not to say the knowledge is always easy to bear. It is, more often than not, a heavy burden.” “But you’ve never regretted knowing?” “Ah.” The hard line of his mouth softened into the saddened wisp of a smile. “I did not say I don’t regret. But that is what it costs to learn. They are a pair. Regret is wisdom’s mirror.” Something passed over his eyes, then. A nigh-imperceptible change that in a face as subtle as his made a world of difference. He looked… older. It occurred to me I did not know his true age. He had none of the usual signs of aging — his face was smooth of worry or laughter lines, and the shadow of stubble on his clean-shaven head was dark, without any hint of white or silver. Yet he carried a burden of experience and patience that could only come with age. Is this what it meant to be a Dreamer? The prize and the price of all that knowledge and history guarded by the Fade? To carry the weight of years, of lives, that were not your own?

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[warpedlegacywrites]

OC Looks: Theresa Trevelyan

Thanks for the tag @theluckywizard!

Here she is! The gathering storm herself, Theresa Trevelyan. I have two main ongoing series for her - Reprises and Reprisals, which is set during the Inquisition timeline, and While Time Remains, my post-Trespasser series that will eventually build up to Veilguard.

More on her aesthetics below the cut!

Hair

When she's at rest or not out traveling, she will leave it down. I imagine it's longer during Inquisition, similar to the first two pics, but afterward she cuts it shorter to make it easier to deal with after the loss of her arm.

When traveling or fighting, she will pull it back out of her face to some degree, but rarely wears it fully restricted.

Casual

For casual clothes, she likes loose-fitting and free-flowing fabric. And pants. She couldn't stand the Circle robes, finding them cumbersome and ridiculous. So she tends to dress simply. If she needs to look stately, she will trade the loose robe for a brocade or embroidered and tailored jacket or overcoat instead.

For armor, she tends to be more heavily-armored than mages usually are, because she is a trained Knight-Enchanter, and goes where the fighting is thickest. Full plate and chain mail, but with enough flexibility and movement that she can easily maneuver around the battle.

Undergarments

If Theresa needs support for fighting, or a structured look for a fancier outfit, she will employ something like a breast band or this 1800s era wrap-around style stay from the Kyoto Museum. Otherwise, she just free-balls it, so to speak, lol.

Tagging @crackinglamb @dreadfutures and @lykegenia

[warpedlegacywrites]

Chapter 26: The Commander's Confession

Cullen has something important to tell Theresa.

He resumed his search, and in short order he held up a folded piece of vellum, handing it over to me. “Here you are. This was updated just last night.” But when I reached out to take it, he didn’t relinquish his grip. I frowned at him, questioning, noting the amber tones of his eyes were duller than usual. Not as warm. “I wish you weren’t going,” he confessed suddenly, the worry plain on his face. It was such an unexpectedly vulnerable admission that my breath caught in my throat. I swallowed, and made my expression harden. “You’re not going to dissuade me.” “Believe me, I’m well aware.” Worry melted into helpless exasperation. “But I had to try.” Maker, are we really doing this again? We’d had this argument already. Several times. He didn’t like that I was going to meet — or attempt to meet — an unknown number of refugee mages. He, of course, wanted me to take Templars, and I, of course, flatly refused. Diplomacy versus safety. Deescalation versus the likelihood of abomination. Back and forth, the same arguments, over and over. Always ending the same way. He hadn’t let go of the map. Neither had I. We were locked in a tug of war neither of us wanted to lose. Or win. Still the same stalemate. “This won’t be like the Fallow Mire,” I said, willing it to be true. It occurred to me I was staring, but I couldn’t look away. He had me caught, hanging on the hope of what he might say next. “I’ve learned from my mistakes.” “Have you?” His eyes searched mine, pleadingly, looking for reassurance. I lifted my chin and willed myself to be like stone. Cold and solid. Immovable. “I have.” The muscles in his jaw worked as he ground his teeth. But that seemed to be the reassurance he needed. He nodded and, to my dismay, let go of the map.

[warpedlegacywrites]

Chapter 25: Way of the Knight Enchanter

Theresa has her first training session as a Knight Enchanter. Afterward, she begins to finally face some of the demons of her past.

“You will address me as ‘Commander’, recruit.” I imagined Cullen’s wry eyeroll, and bit back a smile. “Is that really necessary? This isn’t exactly an official rank.” “That is what it requires and deserves, recruit.” Her insistent repetition of that address was beginning to feel deliberate. “I teach the skills of the Knight Enchanter. It is a rank, it is a life. Understanding its hierarchy is the first step. You already know this. You were not made Inquisitor, and then taught to lead.” I wisely held my tongue on a snide remark that this is, in fact, precisely what happened. “I will teach you how to rise to your place. How to join your warriors, spectral blade in hand. How to command the ranks while standing beside them.” She fixed me with a hard stare. “Are you ready?” I remembered Cillian’s blade, infused with lightning, darting around the battlefield, too fast for the eye to follow. I remembered Lysette, sword in hand, standing between Corypheus and me. Mattrin, charging forward to avenge his comrades. Brycen and his men forming a shield wall around me. And Cullen, invoking the Herald of Andraste to rally the fighters around him. Every one of them stepping forward, toward certain death. In my name. I wanted to be worthy of such courage, such sacrifice. And to honor it. But more than that, I wanted to atone. I should have been the one protecting. Shielding. Rallying. It should have been me. It will be me. I bowed my head. “I am ready to learn, Commander.”

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[warpedlegacywrites]

Swept Away - Masterpost

A03 Link 18 chapters/75,162 words M rating Romance/Action/Mystery Think Pirates of the Caribbean meets Pride and Prejudice

All artwork by @theluckywizard Beta'd by @rakshadow

"Since the moment they met, she and Isabela had been stuck on each other. A stone in the currents of each others' lives. But now they were the current. Josephine was being swept away, and for once she didn’t fight it."

Isabela has found herself in a spot of trouble (as she does), and needs to lay low for a while. Lucky for her, Varric knows an Antivan friend who needs a security escort for her new trade venture. Meanwhile, Josephine is facing down an arranged marriage and coping with her disappointment at missing her chance for her one great love - all while trying to manage her family's newly recovered trade status.

What happens when a force as unstoppable as Isabela meets an object as immovable as Josephine? Or is it perhaps the other way around?

[warpedlegacywrites]

Chapter 24: Out of Reach

A productive meeting with Theresa's advisers leaves her exhausted, and lonely.

Finally, I gave up and simply asked. “And what’s the catch?” “The catch?” Josephine asked, just a touch too innocently. “You’re all watching me like foxes listening for the hound’s alert. What is it you’re expecting me to disapprove of?” This time, the exchanged glances were directed at Cullen. That didn’t bode well. He looked trapped, not entirely comfortable at having to take the lead. But to his credit, he faced me squarely, saying, “We know you intend to pursue training as a Knight Enchanter.” And there was the confirmation. The final log on the pyre that confirmed my suspicions. Aloud, I said, “And you disapprove?” “No,” Cullen said honestly, surprised that I would think so. “Knight Enchanters are highly respected, and their training is well-regarded as producing skilled and tactful warriors.” “But…” I prompted. “But… ” he acknowledged with wry exasperation, “they are often at the front lines. In the thickest of the fighting. If you insist on this path, we insist you be appropriately outfitted.” I arched an eyebrow. “You insist?” “Yes.” He was like a pillar facing me. Rigid. Immovable. “Much as I’d like to, I know we can’t talk you out of this. But this is the bargain.” More like an ultimatum. One that would, I knew, only further elevate me over those who followed me. I could refuse, but it would be foolish and pointless. It was obvious they were all in agreement, and would not back down. They had ways of enforcing my compliance, if it came to it. But they knew it wouldn’t.

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[warpedlegacywrites]

Chapter 23: Gambit in the Gardens

Theresa enjoys a lovely game of chess, but not with the opponent she thought.

“I’m pleased you accepted the challenge,” he said at last, clearly fishing for something to say. With attempted humor, he added, “I was starting to worry you resented me.” An incredulous laugh escaped before I could stop it. Maker, I wished I could resent him. It would make things so much simpler. “Whatever gave you that impression?” He fixed me with a dubious stare. “You literally fled the room after our last council meeting.” “Not literally!”   His stare turned sardonic at my indignance. “Are you really arguing that you only fled figuratively?” A traitorous warmth began to spread across my face. “Merely objecting to the implication that I would cower from my own advisers.” “Only me, it would seem.” The flicker in his eyes belied the lighthearted jest, hinting at a deeper wound. “Well, I’m sorry to have given that impression,” I told him as earnestly as I could manage. “I assure you, that’s not the case.” But I must not have been very convincing, because he smiled sadly. “You’re doing it now.” “Doing what?” “Retreating.” With that one word, he laid me bare, and I was struck speechless. Watching him watching me, a light flutter started low in my stomach. The effect was dizzying. Like falling. Everything else fell away too. For a time, the whole world seemed to stop and hold its breath with us.

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[warpedlegacywrites]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33242416/chapters/165025093

Theresa leads her party back to Skyhold at last, but the toll of their arduous journey is beginning to show.

Hunger woke me some time later. I was delighted and a little embarrassed to see a tray of pastries and coffee had been laid out for me while I’d slept—at the serving table and couch, which were new additions I hadn’t even noticed before falling into unconsciousness. A modest stack of letters was included, and I recognized Josephine’s elegant hand at the top of the pile. ‘Inquisitor, I had all your letters forwarded to my office while you were abroad. I’ve included only the most urgent here. Your guards have been instructed not to allow any visitors until morning. Rest, and replenish. Toward that end, I’ve taken the liberty of commissioning a coffee service for you, with some creative additions from our new arcanist. Note the heat runes engraved in the underside of the pitcher and mugs, and the lovely filigree accents. The gooseberry in the pastries are from a grand bush one of our scouts discovered growing wild down by the lake. Enjoy! —Josephine’ I devoured one of the pastries in three bites. It was divine, flaky and light with just the right amount of tartness. I consumed the next more slowly while I poured the coffee and perused the other letters. They were fairly standard, but time-sensitive. At least two that I recall were proposals, which amused me somewhat. Leliana had warned me such bold offers would soon be forthcoming. But then I encountered one that made me drop it and jump back, as though it were a viper. A name I knew, written in careful calligraphy I recognized intimately. ‘To the Inquisitor Theresa Trevelyan From Dowager-Lady Esme Trevelyan’ It was from my mother.

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[warpedlegacywrites]

The Inquisition's time in the Fallow Mire draws to a close, but not without more hardships.

As glad as I was that they’d all decided to stay, packing my gear beneath the shadow of Solas’ disapproval lessened the feeling somewhat. “I would insist on waiting before rushing headlong into more battle,” he said to me eventually, hands clasped behind his back, “if I thought it would do any good.” “I cannot afford to sit idle.” “The rifts will still be there tomorrow.” “And how many more demons will they have spat out in the meantime?” I shoved the last healing potion into my pack and stood with a huff. “I’ve wasted too much time already.” “Surely the soldiers you rescued would argue otherwise.” “That Bull rescued,” I countered. “And their own fellow templars. I did little but humiliate myself with my own ineptitude and take advantage of the opportunities they created.” One of Solas’ eyebrows rose a fraction in surprise at my sudden bitterness. I pursed my lips, feeling my face grow hot at how much I’d just unintentionally revealed. And that only made me angrier. “Nevermind.” I shouldered my bag and pushed past him. “We should get moving. At least I can still prove to be of some use.” Solas said nothing further as he followed after me. But his silence was as loud as a battle horn.

Theresa's portrait in the banner is the work of the amazingly talented @theluckywizard

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[warpedlegacywrites]

Lace Harding hears from Rook Thorne that there's very likely to be an archdemon at Weisshaupt. Lead Scout Harding, formerly of the Inquisition, who was there at Adamant Fortress. Who spent enough time with what remained of the Grey Wardens after to read between the lines.

She knows.

She knows why it has to be specifically a Grey Wardens who kills an archdemon. She knows what happens to them after.

"It doesn't have to be you, though. Right?" She tries to catch Rook's eye but Rook is refusing to look at her. "I mean, we'll be at Weisshaupt. There'll be hundreds of other Wardens."

But Rook's hand twitches at her hip, and Lace understands. The dagger that hangs there, that never leaves Rook's side for long. The dagger that drew the singular attention and wrath of Ghilan'nain directly down on her head during the dragon attack. It saved a city, and maybe it'll save an ancient fortress.

But at what cost?

"No." Lace grabs Rook's hand, forces her to at least face her, even if she won't meet her eye. "It can't be you. The fight's nowhere near over and we need you."

She cannot lose another friend to this mess. She can't. If she has to move every stone in that fortress, she is not losing another friend to this mess. Not with so much still unsaid between them.

"We need you," she repeats.

Rook's eyes carry the faintest shimmer as she smiles brightly. "What for, if not for this?"

Lace isn't sure which is worse - that Rook doesn't expect an answer, or that Lace has one, but can't seem to force it past the lump in her throat.

[warpedlegacywrites]

Hi! 2 or 12 for the Rook Story Time prompts, if you want!

Hi! Thanks for the ask!

2. How Rook got their most prominent scar.

Her most prominent scar is the three claw marks dragged down across her right eye. She got it, ironically enough, from a darkspawn when she was a teenager. It was pure luck that she wasn't tainted from it. But it left her with clouded vision in that eye. If you look closely, you can see the cataract.

[warpedlegacywrites]

Rook Story Time Prompts

Tell a story or draw something based on the prompt you are sent/choose. You can try writing in character, as Rook, if you want! Have fun!

1. The first time Rook killed someone.

2. How Rook got their most prominent scar.

3. A time Rook got incredibly drunk.

4. A time Rook made a personal enemy.

5. Rook being seriously ill.

6. A time Rook was severely injured.

7. Rook being taught an important skill.

8. A time Rook argued with someone they care about.

9. Rook saying goodbye to a friend.

10. Rook attending a funeral.

11. Rook being recognized for an accomplishment.

12. Rook making a new friend.

13. Rook visiting a place they love.

14. Rook attending a celebration.

15. Rook breaking the law.

16. Rook falling in love for the first time.

17. Rook teaching someone else a skill.

18. Rook trying to impress someone.

19. A time Rook did something embarrassing.

20. A time Rook faced an overwhelming enemy.

FACTION SPECIFIC PROMPTS

21. GW!Rook undergoing the Joining.

22. GW!Rook encountering their first Darkspawn.

23. GW!Rook having a nightmare of the Archdemons.

24. VJ!Rook disarming their first artifact.

25. VJ!Rook being attacked by the sentinels of Arlathan.

26. VJ!Rook exploring new Elvhen ruins.

27. MW!Rook tending to the gardens.

28. MW!Rook being inducted into the Watch.

29. MW!Rook exploring a new part of the Necropolis.

30. LoF!Rook escorting an adventuring party.

31. LoF!Rook disarming a trap or solving a puzzle.

32. LoF!Rook fighting an aquatic enemy.

33. Crow!Rook’s most dangerous contract.

34. Crow!Rook on an undercover mission.

35. Crow!Rook’s graduation from Fledgling to Assassin.

36. SD!Rook smuggling people out of Minrathous.

37. SD!Rook participating in a large-scale act of civil disruption against the Magisterium.

38. SD!Rook breaking in somewhere to acquire vital information.

[warpedlegacywrites]

Rook, eyeing the wrecked ship floating just off the walkway in the Crossroads: I bet I could make that jump.

Harding: Rook, no.

Rook, already jumping: Rook YES!

[warpedlegacywrites]

Imagine Rook Thorne learning that there are two Archdemons that must be killed in order to defeat the Evanuris. Two. They meet Davrin's eye. They're both doing the math. An unspoken exchange of grim acceptance coupled with determination passes between them that no one else notices.

In death, sacrifice.

They both assume that neither of them will live to see the Evanuris actually defeated. But that's okay by them. They trust their team to get it done after they're gone.

In war, victory.

Imagine them both fighting over who's going to land the final blow at Weisshaupt. Literally fighting. Tooth and nail, fists and fury. Clint and Nat at the cliff's edge on Vormir levels of "no you fucking don't!" Only for them both to still be standing at the end of it all.

What now? What are they for, now? It's like they've pushed through the thorny brambles only to find a gaping chasm on the other side.

Imagine them slowly making that climb down together. Step by step, learning who they are after war and death. What is left?

And then Tearstone Island. And it's sacrifice after all. But only for one of them. And when it's all over, and Rook is standing over the rubble of Minrathous, listening to the victorious shouts, imagine they hear Assan's call in them. Imagine they see Davrin's sly smile on a stranger's face.

He will be the last Warden to make that sacrifice. This is Rook's vow. And with that, they vow also to fulfill the promise they forged together. To live.

In peace, vigilance.