#neria x cullen

[inquisimer]

happy Friday! sending you “his actions speak for themselves” for Neria 👀

happy dadwc friday and ty for the prompt! Some surana & anders circa da2 for this one :3

for @dadrunkwriting

-

“He’s here, you know.”

Neria didn’t even look up from where she was braiding elfroot, tongue poked out in concentration. “Who is?”

“Your pretty boy Templar, of course.”

That gave her pause and her finger froze on the twisted herb stems as she stared over at Anders. His feigned nonchalance confused her; she puzzled over it as she waited for him to look at her, but he kept his head bent over whatever new draft or plan he was sketching out.

In the meantime, Neria’s heart and mind caught up to what he’d said. Cullen was here, in Kirkwall, probably no more than an hour’s walk from the clinic. Did he remember her? Did he want to see her? Did he miss her, miss their chats and company? Perhaps she could—

“He’s at the Gallows.”

Reality slammed into Neria like a cold wave off the Waking Sea. It washed over her idealistic hopes and carried away the pleasant, comfortable memories she liked to reminisce. If Cullen was here, of course he was in the Gallows. Because he was a Templar, and Templars guarded the mages. And if he was here, that meant he was complicit in all that Anders was fighting against. He was complicit in Karl’s death, and so many others. All of the small, frightened faces that she and Anders ushered out through the Underground, Cullen would see imprisoned, slaughtered, Tranquil.

But—there was hope. Slowly, she resumed her braiding and, in a carefully measured voice, she asked, “Do you know if he’s with Thrask?”

Her heart sank at Anders’ answering scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s the Knight Commanders little lapdog, from everything I’ve heard and seen. You should have heard what he said to Hawke, when she barely defended her sister to him—harsher than Greagoir ever was with us, to say the least.”

Neria frowned. It didn’t seem right. She’d known Cullen, as well as a mage could know any Templar that guarded them, enough to know his name, at least. To know of his family and his fears and his wishes for the future. She could not imagine his soft face and gentle curls twisted in such cruelty, lashing out with such animosity.

“‘Mages aren’t people like you and me, Hawke’,” Anders quoted, sourly dunking his quill back into the inkpot. “‘They cannot be trusted.’”

“Maker that’s…something’s not right, then.” Neria shook her head, somewhat unable to reconcile what Anders was telling her with what she remembered. Not that she thought Anders would lie to her, but her own memory was hardly so fallible either.

Anders cocked his head. “Didn’t Solona write you?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

He swore under his breath, pushing greasy hair out of his eyes as he shook his head. “She was supposed to write you. To tell you,” he muttered. “Of all the things to chicken out on.”

“Tell me what?”

“Well—it’s—I can’t explain as well as she could. Which is why she was supposed to tell you.”

“But you know.” Neria fastened a piece of twine around her elfroot braid and set it on the stack. She folded her arms across her chest and waited.

Anders bit his lip. “Well. You know how Uldred was when we escaped?”

“Batshit and loony?”

“Yeah. So apparently someone ticked him off at Ostagar and he made a deal with Loghain—that idiot believed the Teryn would free them if the Circle helped him take over Ferelden.”

“As if.”

“Exactly. But, so, he decided the thing to do was, once he got back from Ostagar, summon a fuck load of demons and take over the tower with blood magic.”

On instinct, Neria went very still. The scars on her forearms, long healed, blazed as though they were fresh wounds. Anders’ gaze didn’t even flick toward them, but she felt the inexplicable, undeserved guilt just the same.

But—she’d heard no news about Kinloch Hold being destroyed. No annulment, no major catastrophe. And surely the Chantry would have blared any major success far and wide as propaganda.

“So what happened?”

“Solona, of course. What else?” Anders snorted. “She showed up with her Warden treaties, as angelic as if she’d never been gone in the first place. Greagoir was already wrapped around her finger and he fell right back into that. She did right by as many as she could. Of course—“ he swallowed hard, voice and face falling, “—she didn’t get there right away. Things were already…chaotic and out of control. Not everyone made it. Either Uldred or the demons got…far too many of them.”

It was like the world had fallen out from under Neria. She couldn’t stop herself imagining her home—not quite beloved, but comfortable, familiar, all she’d known for almost two decades—strewn with the blood of those she’d loved, her comrades and companions.

How easily it could have been her, if Anders hadn’t dragged her up out of complacency.

A shudder wracked through her and she reached for more elfroot to busy her hands.

“Hey, she saved a lot of them,” Anders said softly. “More than Greagoir would have, at any rate.”

“Of course she did. That’s what Sol does. She saves people.” Neria flicked her wrist against the once-enchanted bracelet, wished she had enough talent to will it back to life. She missed her friend. “So what does this all have to do with Cullen? He was there, I assume?”

“He was unlucky, to hear Solona tell it.” Anders scowled. “I don’t wonder if he was more than unlucky, if this maliciousness was just waiting to be unlocked. It’s not as if the handful of other survivors were nearly as vicious as he was—“

“Get to the point,” Neria cut him off tersely. If this shit-talking was deserved, well, she would let him ramble on and tune him out. But she’d rather know for sure, to sate the growing anxiety in her chest.

“They found him tortured, bloody and beaten, teased by a demon for days, maybe weeks.” Anders tapped his quill on the edge of the pot, dripping the excess away. “He asked them to kill every mage there, just in case. And even after the tower was cleared and Uldred dead, he asked them the same, again. Irving was whole and well, everyone else battered but sound of mind, and he would have killed them all, just in case.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Neria whispered. These feelings coursing through her, she didn’t know them. What was she supposed to feel? Horror? Sorrow? Anger? She felt all of them at once, just in case she chose wrong. Clearly, Anders wanted her to disavow Cullen, to throw herself headlong into their work and forget whatever connection they had before. But—how could she?

“Because if I just told you that he was a twat, you wouldn’t believe me. You wouldn’t change about him. His actions speak for themselves, Ria—he’s everything we’re fighting against.”

Neria shook her head, even as Anders’ gaze hardened with anger, frustration. “No. It’s just—it’s a defense, or something. He went through trauma as well! He was so kind and open, and not just with me. It can’t all have gone away. It’s there, somewhere.”

“Does it matter?” Anders challenged. “If he’s putting mages to the brand and the blade left and write, does it matter if there’s something good underneath?”

Neria tossed another elfroot braid onto the stack. “Careful, wisp. People have said the same about mages, before.”

“Without anything to back it up! I have proof, with him.”

“And the Chantry has blood mages!” Neria cried. “You’re looking for proof, because you don’t want to think there’s anything good left in him. But what if there is? What then?”

“If the proof wasn’t there, I wouldn’t have found anything while I was looking.”

“People change,” Neria said stubbornly. “And I’m not having this debate with you, wisp. What were you trying to achieve? I’m not going near the Gallows, anyway. I’m helping with the underground, anyway. Were you just trying to make me as angry as you are?”

Anders’ eyes flashed blue and she knew she’d hit the nail on the head.

“Sorry to disappoint,” she bit out, tying the elfroot a bit too tight; the bundle snapped in half and the shreds of it fluttered to the floor around her shaking hands. “I don’t get angry. I just leave.”

She threw the remnants of the ruined braid in his direction, shoved her muddled thoughts aside, and did just that.

She left.

#my writing #dadwc #dragon age fanfic #anders #oc: neria surana lavellan #surana & anders #neria & anders #neria x cullen #da2 #dao #dragon age #ws: the ties we choose

[nagarashi]

Well... Here's some crooked art)

#dragon age #cullen rutherford #neria surana #cullen × neria #cullen x warden

[nirikeehan]

first lines

rules:  share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able to and see if there are any patterns!

I got tagged by @rowanisawriter! Thank you for the tag, this is always a delight to do.

IDK if recently updated fics technically count but I'mma do it anyway bc I am lazy.

Upon reviewing them: I really love starting out with a setting detail. I'm gonna blame Inquisition for being fucking gorgeous for that one. Also I am impressed only two start out with dialogue – so often that has been my go-to way to start a scene lol. I am most impressed with the lines that put you right into the action... I should maybe work on doing that more.

Tagging, if interested: @theluckywizard | @oxygenforthewicked | @exalted-dawn-drabbles | @melisusthewee | @bluewren

---

These are all Dragon Age btw, the brainrot that keeps on going since 2020

Kingdom Come; Thalia x Thom Rainier

He has imagined her return a thousand times and a thousand times more.

2. Two Songs; Truth, Sadness, Sacrifice; Cullen & Samson

“Staring at the cards all night won’t change ‘em, kid,” Samson said.

3. World-Weary Assholes; Garrett Hawke & Thalia

“Where did that damned Inquisitor go?” Hawke asked Varric.

4. The Wingman at Griffon Wing; Rylen & Thalia

The blazing sun hung low on the horizon, washing the forbidding landscape in hues of blood red.

5. The Greater Good; Cullen & Samson

Cullen stood in the Gallows courtyard, sweating into his armor. 

6. Desert, Dragon, Soldier, Spy; Rylen x non-Inquisitor OC (exchange fic)

His first impression of her is a flash of white in a sea of orange.

7. But Never a Key; Cullen x Thalia, Cullen & Pravin

The Hinterlands were ablaze with autumn color.

8. An Unquenchable Flame; Cullen x Thalia, Cullen & Pravin

The wind howls through the night.

9. Things my heart used to know (things it yearns to remember); Cullen x Neria Surana Lavellan (exchange fic)

The argument in Josephine’s office was significant, from the sound of it.

10. Through a Glass, Darkly; Cullen x Thalia, Samson x Thalia

The sky hung low like a threat.

#first lines game #writing nonsense

[rosexknight]

To Running Away and Moping - Chapter One

(( Another year another fic. This one is a plot bunny that wouldn’t let me go for Cullen Rutherford and my warden Neria Surana. Spoilers for all games. Trespasser spoilers. Smut to come in later chapters. An attempt will be made to update weekly. ))

A time after the events of the Exalted Council, Warden Commander Neria Surana has returned with a cure for the Taint, and an heir is born to King Alistair and Queen Anora. Denerim is extremely crowded with the festivities of the Royal Christening. Commander Cullen Rutherford, stifled by the palace, nobles, and too many feelings attempts to find lodging elsewhere. The only place with open rooms is the Pearl. It seems he and Neria Surana had similar ideas. But there is only one decent room. And of course only one bed. Both of them probably needed to stop moping. But in truth it was more alluring an idea to have someone to mope with.

Available on AO3~!

“No need to look at me like that, Commander Rutherford. I assure you I’m here of my own free will.”

Cullen blinked. He hadn’t realized he was staring, with what must have been an incredibly scandalized look. The last thing he had expected when he entered the Pearl in search of any sort of lodging for the night was Neria Suranna, sitting at the bar with an air as if she owned the place.

Denerim was crowded. Far too crowded. The whole of Ferelden must have been pouring in for the festival being held for the newly-born heir to the throne. Anora’s pregnancy had been the talk of every noble’s tongue from here to the Free Marches, and it was no surprise at all when King Alistair announced that celebrations would be in order. Their child, a healthy son, had been born only a week ago, and now Denerim’s streets were crowded with decorations, games for children, merchants, food, Chantry members giving thanks, and people. Elves, Dwarves, Qunari, and Humans alike covered the streets. Reportedly, the Divine herself would make an appearance. It was a marvel, but it left few rooms at any Inn or Tavern in the city.

The Inquisition had been graciously invited and offered practically an entire wing of the castle to stay in. The same wing that a few Wardens from Amaranthine and Hawke’s crew had been offered. Cullen didn’t dislike the company, but it was very loud. Only one room in the entire wing was vacant, though he suspected now who it belonged to. The other wing of the castle, the one not belonging to the King and Queen themselves, was filled with nobility from Orlais, Starkhaven, Nevarra, Orzammar, likely Tevinter, and a few places Cullen had never thought to associate with nobility. After a single night of restless sleep and running into too many familiar faces and handsy nobes as he tried to find somewhere quiet to linger and focus, Cullen decided that it would be best to find other accommodations. Only, there were no other accommodations. Not in any of the inns, no matter how expensive they seemed to be. Only one place with free beds was on everyone’s lips, and he was assured that someone of his calibur simply didn’t want to stay there. The Pearl was not run-down or in bad condition by any means, but it was no place for the Commander of the Inquisition.

And now he was here. With Neria Maker-damned Surana.

“I gathered you were.” He ventured, if cautiously. His eyes darted around the lounge of the brothel. It was warm and cozy, with the smell of vanilla and honey lingering in the air. Although there were several clients sitting on the laps of nobility and common folk alike, he was grateful to find that it wasn’t too scandalous. Or, wasn’t if he didn’t pay attention too closely. He shifted his weight from one foot to another as he fought back a blush. His attention went back to the elven woman, who tilted her head at him. His stomach churned at how familiar the gesture was. Too familiar. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you the same.” She turned in her seat to face him fully. She wore a blue robe that was meant for travel, but was perhaps a little too ornate. Silver trim, embroidered gryphons, leather shoulder plates with the Grey Warden insignia, clearly expensive leather gloves and matching boots. It reminded him more of something the Viscount or nobility of Kirkwall would wear than anyone actually on the road. “You look very out of place.”

Cullen’s cheeks warmed. “As do you.”

He found himself sitting beside her, his hastily packed luggage landing on the floor with a soft thud. He hadn’t seen Neria since…A few unwelcome images flashed in his mind. He decided not to dwell on that. She was a familiar face in a place that made him incredibly uncomfortable. Her posture was tense, though he imagined his was as well. He’d thought he could handle a night in the Pearl if he could slip in, grab a room, and lock the door. Surely it couldn’t be any worse than the Blooming Rose.

Why had he thought coming here was a good idea?

“I thought Alistair was putting the Inquisition up in the castle.” She waved at the bartender, and that was apparently enough for him to leave her two glasses and an expensive looking bottle of Antivan brandy. Was she a regular here? “I assume you’re not here for…” She paused as she poured them both a drink, trying to decide on the word. “Services.”

“It wasn’t for me.” Cullen said simply. He took the glass of brandy in hand, though made no move to drink it. “I thought I’d find other arrangements for a room but…”

“But everyone is in Denerim for the Royal Christening, and the Pearl was the only place with free beds.” Neria finished. She frowned, her brows furrowed in confusion. “I thought you and the Inquisitor were…?”

Cullen’s eyes narrowed at the auburn liquid in his glass. Immediately, Neria leaned a little further from him. He wished she wouldn’t do that. He hated that Neria could see right through him. Right through everyone, he remembered. She was an expert in discerning a Templar’s mood with a glance. He knew well of the rumors that surrounded he and Inquisitor Lavellan. Rumors he had WANTED to surround them at one point. But she had preferred the company of Solas. He didn’t resent her for it, but it stung now, with the elf gone and his dear friend so hurt and forlorn.

“Ah.” She took a sip of her brandy. “That I understand…It seems we both had the same idea.”

Neria’s eyes turned sad, her mouth forming a thin line. Now that he looked closer, he could see the dark circles under her eyes. The crow’s feet forming at their corners. Her eyes were the same bright brown that sparked with a hint of her youth, but there was an age to her. Cullen’s mind went to all the tales of the Blight. He knew that changed her. Still, her being here made no sense. She and King Alistair were close. On a first-name basis. Lovers, if the rumors were…

Ah.

“The rumors about you and his highness are also untrue?” Cullen ventured.

Neria gave a smile and a snort. She drained her brandy glass with ease, setting it on back the bar with a sharp tunk. “Alistair and I parted at the Landsmeet. It was mutual.” The words were in an even, if bitter tone. It was as if she’d had to recite them many times before. When she spoke next, her words were lighter. “Still, I am very happy for him and Anora. Knowing this is possible means the Cure worked wonders and everything I did was worth it.”

Cullen blinked “The Cure? For the Taint? You found it?!”

When she smiled next it was bright and sincere and familiar. Cullen couldn’t help but give a soft smile in return. Stroud had mentioned to the Inquisitor that the Hero of Fereldan was looking for a cure. She’d sent them a letter when she was chasing a promising lead. It must have been promising indeed if within a few years she was back and Fereldan had a royal heir as proof of her success.

“I’m playing security here.” She said, pouring herself another glass. “Plus, apparently, it’s good for business. Once word gets out the Hero of Fereldan is anywhere, Nobles appear in droves.”

She nodded to a group of finely dressed individuals in the corner, with an equally large group of men and women around them. Some sat beside them, some in their lap. Was one under the table? Cullen flushed at the sight.

“Handy.” Cullen said, clearing his throat. “Gets you a discount, I’m sure.”

“I wish. But it got me the suite.” She paused. “What are you going to do?”

Cullen shrugged. “Find a room, I suppose.”

“I could talk to Teagan and Eamon about putting you up in their estate here, but I’m afraid you won’t escape the nobles. I learned that the hard way. Castle really too stuffy for you?”

“Too stuffy. Nobility is too handsy, especially the Orlesians. The others are very loud. Lavellan is…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Already he could feel the tightening behind his eyes. “It gives me a headache.”

Neria hummed, draining her second glass too quickly. She fished around in her pocket, setting a small but ornate key between them. “Here.”

“What’s…?”

“The suite has a balcony overlooking the castle, it’s a good view, and a private entrance around back. No one will see you coming or going too much. I imagine it’d be complicated if the Commander of the Inquisition was staying at a brothel, no matter how much work Leliana has done to make the Chantry less...” She shook her head, “Just give me a bit to pack and it’s all yours.”

“You’re giving me your room?”

“Cullen, you look like you’re about to have a heart attack just sitting here. Your face has already turned three shades of red.” She said.

He opened his mouth to protest, but then a very loud, very obvious moan floated through the lounge. Neria laughed as Cullen felt the heat of his blush reach his ears, though whether it was from embarrassment from the obvious noises in the corner or her laughing at him, he didn’t know.

“See? You’ll never survive a night down here with the noises there are. Plus, you’re liable to get jumped by at least three women. And perhaps one man. Not in the way you’d prefer, either. A lot of apostates, or I guess just mages now, work here. You wouldn’t believe how popular mage-templar play is. And this innocent soldier boy look you have? You’re a perfect target.”

Cullen, truly, didn’t know quite what to say. He had thought, assumed, Neria was furious with him. Thought less of him than the dirt on her boots for what he had said all those years ago as she worked to save him from the Circle. Something he still needed to apologize for. Yet here she was, looking out for his reputation and sanity both, even if she was keeping him at arm’s length.

As if nothing had changed.

“What about you?” He asked.

Neria shrugged. Her eyes turned sad again. She suddenly looked very defeated. “I suppose eventually I’ll have to face the inevitable. Or I could run back to Amaranthine. I should have let Nathaniel handle this anyway, but I’ve been told I have to ‘stop moping eventually’ and ‘finally act like an adult about this.’”

Cullen raised a brow. “I thought you said it was mutual.”

“It was.” Neria admitted. “Mutually infuriating.”

“Are either of you happy?”

“He is. It’s taken him a while. He’s over the moon to finally have a child, and he and Anora are an excellent match. She’s admitted to me she prefers him to Cailan any day. She has real affection for him, and him for her.” The admission seemed to make Neria’s eyes turn darker. “But anyway, you take that. You need it more than me. It’s already paid for.”

She shifted the key closer to him, and Cullen felt as if it weighed as much as his shield ever did when he picked it up.

They were both here for the same reason. Running from nobles and familiar faces and past relationships that should have ended differently. Ended happily. And yet they had run into each other, finding exactly what they were running from. “How many beds?” He found himself asking.

“Just one.” Neria was emptying the rest of the bottle of brandy into her glass. “But it has a couch. And a private bath. And a large screen.”

Cullen paused. The idea had been forming in his head since she’d offered him the key. He wasn’t sure how comfortable he was with it. Already he was having to remind himself this was real, she was real. Not a dream that will turn nightmare. But he didn’t want to be alone here, and he could guess she didn’t want to be either. Both of them probably needed to stop moping. But in truth it was more alluring an idea to have someone to mope with.

“So, how have you been? I missed the excitement with Corypheus. Dealing with my own Tevinter Magister Darkspawn. Or I think he is. I was gone longer than I thought, chasing the cure. I slipped away after the chaos of Kirkwall started, and when I come back Leliana is the Divine! How were things after—"

“Neria.”

She stopped talking immediately, likely without meaning to. His tone was perhaps too firm. Old habits were hard to break. She was babbling to distract him, he knew. An expert tactic that Josephine had employed in and out of the War Table meetings. Obviously, the elven woman knew how to handle nobility more than he.

He scratched the back of his neck, taking a breath to not fumble his words. “We’re…Comfortable enough with each other to share a room, surely?” He cleared his throat, “It wouldn’t be much different than…”

Than the Circle.

He didn’t want to say that out loud. Instead, he let the words hang between them. Neria frowned, her brows furrowed again. She tilted her head as those eyes of hers searched him. He wasn’t sure what she found.

“Are…You sure? It wouldn’t be too much for you?”

Cullen blinked, her words suddenly confusing him. “What?”

“Nevermind. I…I’m not opposed to it. I guess. If you’re sure.” She gave a smile. “This will be a hell of a way to catch up.”

“I imagine we both have stories to tell each other.” He grinned, finally taking a sip of the brandy. It burned, but it was surprisingly smooth, and left a pleasant aftertaste of different Antivan spices.

She lifted her glass to him, and he clinked his to hers lightly. “To running away and moping.”

Cullen chuckled, and that seemed to make Neria relax. “Yes. To that.”

#dragon age #dragon age fic #cullen rutherford #cullen x surana #neria surana

[platoniccereal]

hello there! i'm eldritch!

i'm an artist mainly, but like to rumble a lot and shitpost. a nonbinary queer possum, go by he/him and they/them.

please note that english isn't my first language.

i use full stops but it means nothing. i'm ok with anyone liking a big amount of posts in a row (and sure as hell do that myself). i'm also ok with mature tags to my posts/artworks.

main brain rot:

dragon age (very pro-mage and pro-elven, someone who really likes cullen won't be happy here, anders was right, main romances are alistair+leliana+morrigan, anders+isabela+fenris, the iron bull; also enjoy isabela x merrill and adoribull and various other ships);

detroit: become human (i used to be a very active creator for it, not much now, but i'm always happy to see dbh content. i ship reed900, reed1800, gavnor, hanvin, i'm really into trash possums, i guess);

genshin impact (started playing at 3.5, scaraether brain rot is so strong it revived me, i'm ok with most of the popular pairings).

i also appear sometimes in the our flag means death fandom (everyone from the revenge crew are my little blorbos) and arcane (same here, tbh. really like studying jinx and silco's family relationships, also passively ship timebomb (and caitvi, but why are they not my girlfriends *sigh*)).

i'm over eighteen and can touch on mature topics, but not in detail. my twitter account is not family friendly, tho, and explicit content may occur there, so i ask you to beware of that.

twitter art account: @pcerealart

tags:

[#scaraether] for scaraether brainrot,

[#oc: neria surana] or [#warden surana] for my warden,

[#oc: garrett hawke] or [#hawke] for, surprise, my hawke,

[#oc: allaros lavellan] or [#inquisitor lavellan] for my inquisitor,

[#rn9] or [#reed1800] or [#rk1800] for polyamorous ship of gavin reed and two rk900.

[#my reed900] for my headcanons and art regarding reed900.

[#platoniccereal art] for my art,

[#my post] for everything i write or create that is not art,

[#%game name% playthrough] for my notes whenever i play something.

different character tags for every character and ship, here it's pretty basic.

[tabriscadash]

I was asked this on my old blog right as I set about transitioning to this one, so...

The first character I ever fell in love with: for DA:O, dare I say Daveth? What can I say -- I irrationally got incredibly attached to him. otherwise, DEFINITELY Morrigan, and I have crystal clear memories of my first run through Lothering and looking at Morrigan like 😍 the whole time. For DA:2/E, Carver -- unless you count Anders & Justice since I knew of them from Awakening beforehand, in which case probably Justice. For DA:I, it’s a toss-up between Vivienne or Cole -- I technically liked Cole first but SPECIFICALLY in the supporting material (Asunder), and didn’t vibe with him anywhere near as much in the game, AND I got him as a companion after I got Vivienne, so probably Vivienne.

A character that I used to love/like, but now do not: for DA:O, I guess Oghren? I never loved him, but I liked the idea of him because I really liked the dwarves/Orzammar side of DA’s worldbuilding -- but he’s such an unlikeable character that I just.. don’t vibe with him at all. I debate recruiting him every single time now, and I don’t think I ever do his personal quest (in the base game OR Awakening). for DA:2/E, I don’t really have anyone that fits -- but I REALLY wanted to like Merrill and Aveline more than I did, and especially in Aveline’s case, I can’t stand her and genuinely think she’s the unintended, secret Big Bad of the whole game. for DA:I, probably Cole, bc I was really into the idea of a little walking-corpse serial killer animated by a spirit as per the book, but that’s not really the vibe in DA:I, and combined with the somewhat patronising/ableist language and how significantly he is infantilised (including by the fandom) I just got put off him. I do still like him, but not as much.

A ship that I used to love/like, but now do not: for DA:O, I don’t really have one? I guess see my DA:I answer, lol... for DA:2/E, has to be Anders - I don’t think he’s OOC in 2, but I think his writing does so little with him and he feels v. reductive. Where his relationship could be SO interesting and angsty, it instead is written in a really dull and/or cringey way. It would have been nice to see Anders more like the Anders of Awakening near the beginning of the game (rather than random, infrequent and questionably rare snippets), and then see the progression of his relationship with Justice as the game went on -- I want more interesting abominations, PLEASE. for DA:I, listen I cannot express to you HOW EXCITED I was for my planned Lavellan to romance Sera… also I used to be way more tolerant of Cullen x Amell/Surana ships because, like, hey dark ships are fun, right? But since Cullen’s ~wholesome whitewash~ in DA:I, and his fandom clamouring to absolve him of any wrongdoing ever.. it’s boring to me.

My ultimate favourite character™: for DA:O, probably Sten? or Morrigan. They’re both fantastic, and also are significant comfort chars for me. for DA:2/3, honestly, probably my own Hawke -- I feel so hugely proud of her, and can’t imagine I’d enjoy the game anywhere near as much had I not played it as my Hawke. If not her, maybe Sebastian or Carver? for DA:I, I really love Vivienne, as well as Blackwall, and Solas is a great character even if I probably would not say I liked him.

Prettiest character: for DA:O, we all know it’s Zevran. for DA:2/E, I think Aveline -- although her aggressively bland colour-scheme lets her down in a major way (although I respect her dedication to all orange all day every day). There’s just something about her arms -- very Abby from TLOU:2. for DA:I, maybe Josephine? Ser Barris is very pretty, too...

My most hated character: for DA:O, I really didn’t like Alistair, Wynne and Oghren, and of my companions - Oghren is probably my least favourite. He’s vulgar and also profoundly uninteresting. for DA:2/E, it has to be Aveline. There’s just something about ineptitude and a complete, wilful refusal to take accountability for your actions that I can’t stand. It would be okay if it was an intentional character flaw, but the game/narrative treats her like she’s lawful good and it really annoys me. for DA:I, maybe Iron Bull? He was a huge disappointment for me. I also really dislike Sera, Cassandra, and Varric. I’m so sick of Varric - I never want to see him again.

My OTP: for DA:O, I really loved Zevran’s romance -- but I am also very amused by the fact that Leliana got to ‘love’ status with Kallian accidentally, AND I got the ‘love’ glitch for Justice (👀) and Velanna. I do sometimes wonder about an AU where Kallian is forced to make a politically expedient marriage with Nathaniel Howe for diplomatic reasons in order to consolidate her position as Arlessa, and it being an entirely platonic arrangement (it’s not like anyone expects an heir from an infertile Grey Warden) -- and maybe Zev and Nate kiss sometimes, who knows? I also LOVE my Darkspawn Chronicles AU where Kallian and Nelaros are a happy, married couple each hiding their skills with weapons from each other like dumb, cute sweethearts. They shelter Zevran when he fails to kill Alistair and a poly couple evolves. for DA:2/E, I love the IDEA of a Seb romance that isn’t so strictly conditional around the structures that abused him -- he should be allowed to love, chastely or otherwise, but free from the Chantry OR his position as prince/heir. I’d LOVE to actually have a romance with him where you can actually challenge the abuse he’s experienced. for DA:I, Malika doesn’t have a canon romance (although I think when I replay, I’m going to romance Josephine!) but I think Blackwall has an amazing romance. Solas’ is also iconic, it must be said. 

My NOTP: for DA:O, I really dislike Alistair in a shipping capacity; he’s immature and says a lot of misogynistic shit and I don’t think he’s the worst for it, but I don’t really vibe with shipping him, having played the game as a female city elf. for DA:2/E, I wouldn’t say I have one, particularly? although I really dislike Aveline’s relationship with her husband simply because it seems incredibly inappropriate, given that they work together and she has power over him -- and because I dislike her, generally, I don’t feel inclined to do something nice for her. for DA:I, I suppose Sera/Lavellan -- although I’m not AGAINST it, it just really isn’t for me, having attempted it. I also don’t really vibe with Dorian x Iron Bull. Something abt the way the game handled BDSM and their relationship banter specifically I don’t really like.

Favourite episode quest: for DA:O, probs Orzammar/the Deep Roads. I really love the dwarven lore! and, of course, Fort Drakon is really funny, even though it’s not canon in my game iirc. for DA:2/E, maybe the murder mystery with the serial killer, where ultimately Leandra dies? I also really enjoyed all the companion quests. for DA:I, The Descent (just, all of it, lmao) and everything to do with the Avvar. Crestwood also BANGED.

Saddest death: for DA:O, it’s frankly a fucking INJUSTICE that Shianni gets murdered if you make her Bann of the Alienage -- the idea of that happening whilst Kallian is in Amaranthine and unable to protect her :( genuinely very upsetting. I go back and forth on who is made Bann, tbf, so idk how canonical it is: I think maybe Cyrion would get it, but I’m also endeared to Soris holding the position, with Shianni as Hahren. for DA:2/E, Bethany. I wish both twins had had the chance to reach Kirkwall :(. Let Leandra die instead. for DA:I, maybe not the saddest death, but the most memorable for me was that one sleeping dragon in the Hissing Wastes.. leave her alone. Stay out of a womans’ business.

Favourite season game: DA:O!

Least favourite season game: DA:I.

Character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but I hate: for DA:O, Alistair. I cannot deal with his complacency and hypocrisy. for DA:2, I really disliked Merrill but I honestly cannot remember why. DEFINITELY Varric -- I hated how the game forces you to be his best friend, and if you’re low approval, you have to endure these pointless pissy little comments with this little anti-dwarf centrist pissant. After the expedition, I literally have no reason to put up with him, and I NEVER take him out. I hate that he plays the same role in DA:I, too. for DA:I, the Iron Bull was hugely disappointing, and I also really don’t vibe with Cassandra. She just seems very wishy-washy and complacent and hypocritical, and many of her comments about other cultures seem snide for literally no reason other than bigotry. 

My ‘you’re a piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave: for DA:O, lbr probably Sten. Mans is gonna launch a HORRIFYING invasion in the next game iirc and frankly, I’m ok with it. Just wanna see that big bastard again ❤🥵. for DA:2/E, I LOVE Gamlen, ok? for DA:I, I am not sure if I have one.

My ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave: for DA:O, if any of you so much as LOOK at Velanna wrong, it’s hands. That includes Bioware. I also feel incredibly protective of and sad for Morrigan. for DA:2/E, probably Sebastian -- I feel so sad for him, and so frustrated by the limitations with the game. for DA:I, I’m honestly not sure.. maybe Josephine? I don’t really feel this way about Sera, but I do think she deserves better from the game and its writing, and also from fandom: there are valid criticisms of her, but the hate she gets is not proportional to any valid issues with her -- and gee, I wonder why that is.

My ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship: for DA:O, I did use to find Cullen x Surana/Amell intriguing as a dark ship -- I actually hc that Neria Surana is actually Nelaros’ sister, and have dabbled with it as a dark ship. I also am interested in Loghain/Alistair - which each pretends the other is someone else. Alistair is wooby, hate ships are, in general, fun -- so long as we acknowledge that they are, indeed, unhealthy ships. for DA:2/E, I kind of feel like Sebastian romances are, invariably, kind of dark... and, similarly, Anders romances -- especially with certain red Hawkes, The way it ends is, invariably, bordering on fucked up. ALSO Hawkecest is weird and wonderful: GET WITH IT. 

My ‘they’re kind of cute, and I lowkey ship them, but I’m not too invested’ ship: for DA:O, I joked about Velanna x Leliana once and I’ve not been able to stop thinking about it ever since… Velanna x Sigrun is also something that can be so personal. Ariane x Finn is adorable and are paid DUST by Bioware AND fandom. I actually am really into Anora x Nathaniel & NO I will NOT explain myself; it’s a crackship but it’s MY crackship. for DA:2/E, Isabela x Fenris is super cute, but I don’t pay enough attention to them to really have super committed thoughts & feelings on them. for DA:I, Blackwall x Josephine is cute as a background ship; I also think Maryden x Cole is sweet.

#meta #mun

[roguelioness]

first line meme

Tagged by the lovely @ejunkiet - thank you so much! ♥

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag some of your favourite authors!

I’m going to go by AO3′s order of newest to oldest here; if a pairing has a  “main story” it’s marked as multi-chapter.

1. Deja vu \\ Jamais vu [amy x thane / multi-chapter] “It’s not fair,” Amy breathed out, tears streaking down her face.

2. Five hundred courses of the sun [bailey x nate]

She gasps into the darkness, lethargy coating her limbs, and the weight atop her has her struggling for several seconds before she dimly registers that she’s tangled up in her sheets.

3. Good behavior [aveline x mason]

Ava stands beneath the showerhead, scowling at the tiled wall.

4. Voiced desires [ amy x thane]

The bed is soft, cozier than it usually is, and there’s a warm body pressed up against her back.

5. Beyond us [neria x solas]

It is raining in the Nahasin Marshes, something that should not surprise Neria as much as it does.

6. Sweet tidings [ elise x cullen]

It’s the sound of a heavy sigh that has her rousing from the sleep she’d inadvertently slipped into.

7. Distractions [gwen x benji]

Gwen takes a step away from the canvas and stares at it with a critical eye.

8. Addictive [aveline x mason]

It’s close to midnight, and Ava is still in her office, blinking blearily at the computer screen.

9. Unspoken emotions [nikita x adam]

It is hard watching Nikita- no, the Detective, it must be the Detective now, and nothing else- trying to not shift on the examination table as Elidor inspects her injuries.

10. Stir up [thalia x solas]

Thalia loves the kitchen in Solas’ home.

11. Moonlight [rasha x solas]

She’s sitting on a rock, pants rolled up to the knees, feet splashing lazily in the water.

12. Coping mechanisms [aveline x mason]

The sudden drop in noise is telling.

13. For goodness bakes [thalia x solas / multi-chapter]

The morning rush is over, the early morning commuters having hurriedly stopped by for a muffin or two to go with their cups of caffeine, all the more needed when the day is as grey and gloomy as it is.

14. A whole new world [samarra x solas] / multi-chapter]

She lifted her fingers from the laptop and stretched her fingers, letting out a sigh as she worked them from their stiffness.

15. Eidolon [neria x solas]

She hunts.

16. Succumbing [rasha x solas / multi-chapter]

Rasha stands over the body, her pen and pad in hand as she examines the body.

17. DAI: NPC ficlets [general, multi-chapter]

He’s lived in the Hinterlands all his life - like his father, and his father’s father, and all the men before him - content enough to till and tend to the land, to coax it to grow the food they need.

18. The inquisition job [elise x cullen / multi-chapter]

She unloads the last of her groceries from her little sporty hatchback, double checking to make sure the garage door is fully closed and properly locked.

19. Farmer’s market Solas [neria x solas / multi-chapter]

It is mid-morning by the time Lavellan finishes setting up her stall at the Skyhold Farmer’s Market.

20. What could have been [neria x solas]

Her heart’s going to fly clean out of her chest any second.

Tagging: @ma-sulevin, @kagetsukai, @thevikingwoman, @shannaraisles, @galadrieljones, @redinkofshame, @noire-pandora, @luzial, @out-of-the-embers, @laraslandlockedblues, @wickedwitchofthewilds, @idrelle, @wardenari

#wip meme #ask meme #this was really interesting #i guess i like to start off with setting the scene first? #definitely can see a difference between the one-shots and the multi-chapters #feels like i'd have written more if it weren't for my need to write stories with multiple chapters #apparently i can only do one-shots for challenges? #[cough lets ignore fuckuary hmm?]

[findsarahh]

It’s a Family Affair

Sequel to As the Moon Rises.

Summary: With the Inquisition now disbanded, Isera sets her goals on stopping Solas by showing him a different way to change the world. The former Inquisitor, Banreas, has taken a smaller role to defeat Solas, if necessary, with little interest in other political affairs. Isera, with new found political influence, is using her power to collate elven associates who seek to better the elves without destroying the world. But will they be successful?

F!Lavellan x Solas

It has been over two years since her discovery of Solas’s true identity. Isera had sent ravens to every Dalish Clan she could remember. Leliana gave her contacts of elven associates, and Varric stated that he “knew of people” that could be helpful. Of those elven members within the Inquisition, if they hadn’t already disappeared, Isera called upon them to come with her. Almost all of them agreed.

Briala met her at the entrance of the Citadelle du Corbeau, the old fortress that housed the Empress’s troops during the height of the civil war in the Exalted Plains. While the Veil is not torn here, it is fragile.

Isera is sitting on her hart in the shade, staring up at the impressive gate of the keep. “We are waiting on the contacts.” She informs the Marquise. Briala traveled from the Emerald Graves, where she made her home to assist with obtaining the keep.

Briala turns to look at her. “Do you know who it is?” Isera only informed her that she had chosen two people that could be potential advisors. It is likely Briala’s contacts did not know whom she called upon.

Isera nods. “I know of one. She gave up everything to discover the old ways. And the other is a formidable warrior with strange abilities, I hear. Both associates of the Viscount in Kirkwall.” Isera turns looks at Briala who is mounted on a hart. “How is the political climate?” She asks.

There has been a surge of elven associations rising across Thedas. One of the first to join with Isera was Keeper Lanaya from Clan Alarahel who has had a settlement in southern Ferelden for almost 15 years. The Denerim associate, Shianni, the Hahren for the cities and elven advocate for King Alistair also contacted her.

First Neria of Clan Ralaferin helped settle Llomerryn in Rivain a year ago. Clan Lavellan in Wycome has established a strong political presence there thanks to Varric and the will of Keeper Deshanna. Briala had been granted a title, land, and a position within Orlais where she advocated for elves. Banreas, given his title as Herald of Andraste and his actions during the last few years, left him as an idol and hero in almost all elven eyes.

Briala rolls her eyes. “Stormy, as always. Nervous at the new found power of the elves in Orlais, crying at Celene to retract her offer, to you in particular.”

Isera chuckles at the idea. “And her response?”

Briala laughs. “Reminds them that they would be dead if it were not for the Herald of Andraste, who is elven and your brother. How she would be dead, and Oralis would have fallen if he and I didn’t come together to save Orlais.”

Isera chuckles, but both knew that Briala had been plotting against Celene. Banreas had discovered the plot and chose to show Briala in a positive light. He never shared with Isera why he elected to reunite the couple. But alas, his actions lead to their new position of power.

Isera, like most of the Inner Circle of the Inquisition, had been granted noble titles in Ferelden and Orlais. Isera was given land around the Citadelle du Corbeau in the Exalted Plains as a reward from the Empress and King Alistair…well, he said he’d give her just about anything barring illegal acts.

Briala glances around. The bodies of the fallen soldiers have long since been removed, but the land around them is struggling to live again. “Have you thought of what you will do with this place?” Briala wonders. The fortress is in ruin and disrepair in light of recent events.

“Yes.” Isera shares. “I want this to be many things. But for now, a refuge, a place of learning and a place that will be protected.”

“Would you seek to isolate?” Briala asks.

Isera shakes her head. “The Fall of the Dales showed that we cannot isolate. Learning and understanding our differences is imperative.” Isera states. During her time in the Inquisition, Isera studied the Fall of the Dales through the lens of humans who had defeated them and compared the literature to Dalish tales.

One thing stood out—the elves have no allies to call upon when the Exalted March began. There were no avenue of political power. That, in turn, assisted in their defeat once more.

Briala grins at the idea. “And, as a place of learning, what will you teach?” She teases.

Isera smiles with a sly grin. “Everything.” She knows Briala is aware of the plans for the fortress.

Briala believed her when Isera visited, about the impending doom upon the world from Solas—Fen’harel. In fact, Briala shared she met an elf that she now suspects was an agent of Fen’harel.

Isera will appoint Briala is set to be her spymaster and liaison to Orlais. Briala has greater skill in the Great Game and has been corresponding with Charter, one of the Divine’s best spies for months now. She would ensure the political power of the elves.

“And what of your General?”

“My reports say he has been hunting Tevinter magister, long before Corypheus recruited them. Former slave. Has his been leading a platoon.”

Briala frowns. “A platoon is nothing compared to leading a legion of armies.”

“No, but what elf do you know has to lead a charge with the masses?” Isera challenges. The only elf that has lead a large force would have been Banreas, yet he had Cullen as his Commander. No elf would have been raised to a stature such has led a massive army—the idea is unheard of.

“Point taken,” Briala confirms. “Would the Inquisition’s former Commander be willing to train him?”

Isera shakes her head. The idea is a good one; however, Cullen had just settled down in Honneleath with his family and begun a place for Templar who are seeking to be off of lyrium. She would not ask him to leave. “No.”

Briala frowns. “I will see what strings I can pull.”

“By the Creators! Will someone help me with this?” A voice, high and sweet calls from the bottom of the hill. “This is the right fortress, right?” The small figure looks around. She is surrounded by elven guards still wearing the Inquisition armor. They look unsure of the elf.

Isera turns, demounting her hart and walks to the woman. “Are you Merrill of Sabrea Clan?” She asks.

“Oh yes! That is me.” She beams as she turns to face Isera. “Oh my, your eyes—Varric said not to say anything…and there I go saying something.” She babbles. “Anyway, I am Merrill, former First of Clan Sabrea.” She turns to look at the caravan behind her. “I have brought everything that I have collected over the years that could be relevant.”

Isera nods with a smile. “I am Isera Lavellan, and I am the one who requested you here.”

“My goodness! You are the sister of Banreas Lavellan? Didn’t we meet before…?” Merrill hums, still staring at Isera. Merrill frowns. “Why is he called the Herald of Andraste? Did he convert?”

Isera blinks at the rapid questioning. “Let us discuss after we take control of the fortress’s defenses,” Isera asks, as she motions Merrill to follow her. “I was here when the humans had activated the defensive, causing a massacre. I believe I know how to control them, but it is a lot of magic to expel.” She explains.

Merrill smiles, staff in hand as together they open the doors. Isera motions for Briala to stay with the guards. The Marquise frowns as she watches the two disappear into the keep.

Merrill looks around the desolate fortress. “This place is quite big—are we going to get lost?”

“Ah, no. We won’t.”

The worry is evident on her face “Is it dangerous? The Veil is thin here, don’t you feel it?” Merrill states.

“Yes, I do.”

“Hm. Well, we should tread carefully. Don’t want the Dread Wolf to catch our scent.”

Isera snorts, choking back a chuckle. She now believes that Varric did not inform Merrill of exactly the reasons behind the call to the fortress. That Isera will be asking her to join her forces to prevent and save the Dread Wolf if they can.

“Up this way.” Isera points as they head up a derelict staircase. The runes of the defenses are still active and have the potential to attack at any moment due to the tampering by unskilled rune smiths and mages.

When they approach the defenses, Merrill studies the runes. “I have never seen runes like this before. How exciting!” She exclaims as she claps her hands. “Isn’t it?”

“I guess,” Isera responds as she watches Merrill. Isera is not used to the unbridled level of positivity and enthusiasm that Merrill is exhibiting. “Ah, I think to regain control of the defenses, we need to perform…” Isera begins pulling a paper out of a small bag on her back. “…this…” she passes the paper to the other mage.

Merrill studies the paper. “Oh! This is a good spell! Did you create it?” She asks, her large, bright green eyes stare up at her. “If you created it, you are quite a clever mage.”

Isera smiles tightly. “No, I found it in a book. I can show you sometime.” Isera offers.

Merrill beams at the idea as she begins preparing for the ritual.

---

The two mages walk down the steps of the fortress. There is screaming below. They glance at each other as the rush down to see an elven man with…lyrium tattooed on him yelling at one of Isera’s guards.

“Fenris!” Merrill shouts with glee as she rushes down to greet the man without hesitation. Isera falters before following. Briala is standing to the side attempting to calm the elven guards.

“What is going on?” Isera calls as she stands between the elven who is glowing blue with anger and her guard.

The glowing man glares at her. “Do you encourage your men to insult those you call for assistance?” He demands. Merrill is standing to the side of him looking concern.

“I’m sorry?” Isera says as she looks at him before looking down at her soldier. The soldier stands to his feet, his face is marked with the vallaslin, and he is glaring at the man who continues to glow blue with magic.

“He is imitating Dalish without being Dalish!” The soldier cries with a snarl. Isera stares at him—he’s young and apparently has not left the clan before now.  The man is tattooed with what is lyrium and typical elven patterns.

Isera sighs the bad blood between the Dalish and City elves run deep in some Clans. “That is unworthy of you.” She turns to stand in front of the soldier, her shoulder pulled back, in control of the situation. “Our People are one, no matter the path they took.”

The boy shakes his head in denial. “He’s not our people!” The boy cries.

Isera doesn’t flinch as her face hardens. “And who are the Dalish, boy?” She asks as her eyes narrow.

The boy is quick to answer as he stares up at her in defiance. “Those who did not live in the cities, who refused to submit!”

“No. Who are the Dalish?” She asks again

He pauses glaring at Isera. “Elves!” he replies with bitterness.

“And who are the elves who live in the cities?”

“Elves who have lost their spirit! They are no better than the humans!” He tries to argue.

“Yet, here they stand—city elves and Dalish elves standing side by side, as one, because there was a call for them. Do you see a loss of spirit, now, boy?” Isera challenges his belief.

He glances around, a sea of faces around him, some marked with the vallaslin and some not all staring at him.

A seed of doubt is sown as he glances down. “I..I..don't know.” He hesitates.

Isera shakes her head. “That is not the answer, boy. You know this to be true.” She informs him.

She pauses, looking around. “Back in formation!” Isera orders her guardsmen. “Your first task to help remove the rubble of the fortress. Now go.” Isera orders as she watches her guard march into Citadelle du Corbeau.

Isera takes a deep breath as she turns to face the injured party. “I sincerely apologize on behalf on my men. What has the ability to divide will be mended.” She tells the man. “Briala, please see to it that you create teams of four to help remove the rubble. Two Dalish per two city elves. Let’s start teaming building exercises now.”

Briala’s eyes narrow at the order, apparently wanting to observe the political interaction between Isera and the two potentials, but she departs to pass on the orders.

Isera turns to the man who is no longer glowing blue. “My name is Isera. Thank you for coming.” She introduces herself, tilting her head slightly with the greeting.

He nods. “Fenris.” He glances behind Isera. “Merrill.” He greets the other woman.

Merrill perks up at the greet, stepping forward with a smile. “How have you been? I heard you were killing the Tevinters!” She asks with a little too much enthusiasm.

Isera turns to look at Merrill in surprise. “You two know each other?”

“Yes! We met in Kirkwall!” Merrill shares still smiling. “He isn’t fond of me though.”

Isera blinks slowly at Merrill a small but tight smile forming on her face at the statement before she turns to look at Fenris in confusion. He is frowning but does not say anything.

“Ah, okay.” Isera hums awkwardly. “I am sure you are wondering what you are doing here.”

“Oh, Varric asked us to be!” Merrill replies cheerfully.

Fenris glances at Merrill. “Varric requested that we meet, to hear your request.”

Isera nods, leading them into the fortress and to a large room. There is a chill in the air. This argument is going to be hard to sell, asking two elves who know nothing of her to join her force to stop the Dread Wolf of all things.

“Merrill, as the former First, I am sure you are aware of the tales of the Dread Wolf?” Isera asks, pulling her hands behind her back to mask her nerves.

“Of course.”

Isera turns to Fenris and poses him the question as well.“And you, Fenris? Do you know the tales?”

“I have been…aquainted with them.” He answers. His level of suspicious against her is clear as day. He does not know what to make of her.

Merrill smiles. “I shared him the stories of the Dalish!”

Isera nods, dropping a cloth bag onto a dusky table with broken maps. She pauses, thinking about her words. “What if I told you, that legends and stories as we know are wrong?”

Merrill frowns at the idea. “What do you mean?” She asks.

Isera pulls out texts and papers laying them flat on the desk as she waits to answer. “What if I told you that our stories of the trickster Dread Wolf, who locked away our Gods for enjoyment, are wrong?”

Merrill scowls. “The Dalish may have forgotten parts, but they wouldn’t forget that!”

“What if only parts of the legend are true?” Isera taps the old text. A book she found in the broken library in the Crossroads a year ago with the last accounts of the ancient elvhen.

Isera can see the conflict in Merrill’s face about the idea. But Varric suggested her for a reason. Merrill, as he said, is passionate about the elves and history. She may be resistant, but she will be open-minded.

“Why do the stories matter?” Fenris questions as his level of impatience increases. “How does that relate to why we are here?”

“Fenris, you and Merrill were there when Hawke siblings fought against Corypheus, the first time, no? Could the idea that the Elvhen Gods could still exist as well?”

“The Dread Wolf is…here?” Merrill asks, her voice is small and worried at the idea.

“The Dread Wolf was once and is known by the name of Solas. He assisted with the defeat of Corypheus with Inquisition.” Isera paces back and forth. “He also helped with the discovery of the failed qunari invasion two years ago during the Exalted Council.”

The two watch her pace in silence.

“Solas did seal away the people we claimed as our Gods and crafted the Veil as we know it today. He claims we were warring amongst each other and someone murdered Mythal.” Isera briefly looks at them. “As punishment, he sealed them away for eternity. A side effect of sealing the gods away was the creation of the Veil. We began to age because we lost our connection to magic.”

“You’re lying.” Merrill accuses, her hands resting on her face in surprise.

“I wish I was.” Isera grimaces. “I am theorizing, at this point, after the separation by the Veil, that Tevinter took advance of the chaos and enslaved the elves, thus began our continued subjugation.”

“Continued?.” Fenris asks glancing at Merrill. There are no stories of the elves being enslaved before the involvement of Tevinter.

“Yes…” Isera confirms. “We were…no different than humans. We enslaved our own. Our stories of the vallaslin are right and wrong. Right in the sense that the markings did honor the Gods…but only on slaves owned by nobles.”

Merrill’s eyes narrow. “If this is what this Solas told you, who are also claiming is Fen’harel, he could be lying.”

Isera sighs. “He is not. I found reports of his actions during that time…” Isera points to the papers that she collected and saved two years ago.

“You said Mythal was murdered,” Merrill asks, her eyes still narrow as she glares at Isera.

“Yes. I do not know the details, but she yet lives.”

“You are telling me, Mythal the Protector, the All-Mother, was murdered, but is alive?” Merrill asks.

“In one sense. The Evanuris aren’t killed so easily. Mythal, after her murdered, came to a woman by the name of Flemeth—“

Merrill jumps up, her eyes wide in awe. “Asha'bellanar!” Merrill gasps in surprise. She begins pacing about the room clearly in thought at the name.

Fenris scowls, looking at Merrill. “That witch we freed all those years ago?” He asks, vaguely remembering what the witch was called.

Isera looks between them. “You’ve met her?” Isera asks with confusion.

Merrill nods. “It is a long story. Yes. I believe you.” She begins pulling at a piece of her robes.

Isera shakes her head. “Please, do not take my word. Read these,” she waves to the books. “And decide on your own.” This step is imperative for Isera—she wants them to know what she does about the Solas and the elven history.

“But why call us here?” Fenris asks once more.

Isera glances down. “Solas…seeks to renew what once was. But his belief is that, in order to restore the world as it was, would destroy what we know today—humans, dwarves,…possibly even modern day elves.”

She takes a deep breath. “I seek to stop him, show him that we can lower the Veil safety without destroying our friends.”

“It sounds simpler if we would simply kill him,” Fenris suggests. “What happens if we lower the Veil?”

She debates on sharing her relationship with them. “The easier method may not be the best method. I…want to save him…he is important to me.” She explains. “As for lowering the Veil…,I’m not sure. We were once a part of the Veil, our lives were longer, and it is said we all had magic…”

Merrill frowns in thought before bursting out, “You two were lovers!”

Isera grimaces at the announcement. She takes another deep breath. “Wouldn’t you do anything to save the one you love?” Isera presses.

Merrill sighs looking longingly at Fenris. “I would do anything for Carver. I miss him dearly.” She pauses. “You would do anything for Marian, wouldn’t you?”

Fenris roughly sighs but does not say anything. “What would you have us do?” He asks.

“I not only seek to prevent Solas from destroying this world, but I also strive to make this place a haven for elves. We have Clan Lavellan in Wycome, Briala in the Dales, the Dalish establishment in Rivain, and a settlement and representatives in Ferelden.” Isera shares.

“We will train, education, open our doors to the People. War is coming, I do not know when, but it is. We will need to prepare the elves to fight like times of old.”

Isera pauses, turning to Merrill. “Merrill, you have given up much to further your studies of our history. It is time that our People gave back to you; I want you to be the Magical Advisor for me. You would assist with newly discovered elves to practice magic safely and learn as much as you can about our history and magic of old.”

She looks to Fenris. “And Fenris, you have skills in commanding a platoon. You are a former slave rising to power—you inspire those around you. You would help train the recruits, be in charge of the army.”

“What if I do not agree with your methods?” Fenris challenges.

“I may be the face of this organization, but I do not solely lead or have the power. We will represent the People. I have called for the leaders of both the cities and the Dalish to come and be a part of a senate.”

“The People’s weakness lies in the fracturing and separation of our traditions and beliefs when more things tie us together. We will vote on the path that best represents our People as much as possible.”

“You have put a lot of thought into this.” He sighs as he glances at the old books on the table.

“I had to.”

“Let me read your books. But I feel that I should help you lead the People.” Merrill states as she moves to sit at the table.

Fenris frowns. “I’ll let you know.”

#solas x lavellan #solavellan #solas x oc #solavellen hell #solavellan fic #dragon age solas #vir writes

[kadaransmuggler]

Self-Rec Challenge

@orangeflavoryawp tagged me in this, so here it is! (Thank you so much!!) Fic authors’ self-rec!  When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass it on to at least 5 other writers.  These are in no particular order- I’m just pulling stuff off of my ao3 1. my empire of dirt- Dragon Age. Morrigan, Flemeth/Mythal.

Summary- “She is proud that her daughter is not her.” 

Why I Love It- I’ve always been interested in how Flemeth was so emotionally (and maybe physically) abusive to Morrigan when Mythal was the goddess of motherhood. This was also one of my most popular works so you best believe I thrived off of that attention lmao  2. in her tomb by the sea- Mass Effect. Thane Krios/Female Shepard.

Summary- “’He had already asked for his forgiveness, Commander. His prayer was for you.’ She feels like she is drowning in the ocean she had tried to hold back before.” 

Why I Love It- Shrios will always wreck me, man, it’s one of my top video game romances ever of all time and I guess I’m just a glutton for angst. I loved this fic (and this romance, ngl) so much that I’ve got a long-fic planned to start after I finish the fic I’m writing for the MEBB.  3. mosaic broken hearts- Dragon Age. Anders/Female Hawke 

Summary- “It is the kind of salvation he finds in the sway of her hips and the curve of her smile.” 

Why I Love It- Listen, I’ll be the first one to admit that the Anders romance is kind of too much at times, but damn, I love Anders as a character, and there’s so much potential there. Plus, I gave Anders a cat, and I’m always here for Anders getting a cat. 

4. you can’t take me (i’m free)- Dragon Age. Female Surana/Zevran, Female Lavellan. 

Summary- Neria Surana, the Hero of Ferelden, will never be able to take back what the Circle took from her, or the years she lost because of them, but she thinks that there are worse ways it might have ended. 

Why I Love It- The idea of Surana having a daughter in the Circle and then that kid growing up to become the Inquisitor will probably always wreck me. Besides, I’m always here for a Surana/Amell that’s bitter as hell about Cullen. Anyway, this story was one of the most fun timelines to play around with, and if I can think of something else, I am definitely writing more for it. 

5. Big in Vegas- Fallout: New Vegas. Currently Craig Boone/Female OC, but god do I have a lot planned (and by that I mean it’s going to be a huge fuckin’ mess of open relationships and polyarmory and Gay Things but you know what? I’ve accepted that)

Summary- It wasn’t that long ago that Katie Flynn was your average twenty year old college student, but all of that changed with a flash of light and an earthquake. Now, she’s woken up in a different world two hundred and sixty-seven years into the future in a time where nuclear warfare has long since destroyed the world. It doesn’t take her long to learn that all this shit is weird, Rad-X tastes like shit, and there’s no sunscreen in the Mojave Desert. She thinks she might have been better off if she had stayed in bed. 

Why I Love It- So this was one of this fics that’s taken over my life and I’m devoting at least 30% of my brain capacity to it at any given time. These characters are my favorite to write, and I’ve been trying out a different narration style that is (so far) really working. I’ve sort of put it on hold until I get more progress made on the MEBB fic I’m working on (I get nervous about deadlines) but I actually miss it. A lot.  I’m tagging @iseektheholygrail @nyenke and anyone else who writes fic (seriously if you follow me and you write fic you’re tagged) (also there’s no obligation or w/e to do this at all)  i’m bad at remembering who does and who doesn’t write fic, I’m sorry!

#tag meme

[aalyrion]

Josephine X f!Trevelyan: 2, 5, 17; Merrill X f!Hawke: 6, 20, 25; and Cullen X f!Amell: 25, 29, 30? 💙 💙 💙

Josephine xf !Trevelyan

2. Evelyn is usually big spoon and Josephine is little spoon, and it works out nicely because Josephine is somewhat shorter than Evelyn.

5. Evelyn usually carries Josephine, because Evelyn is somewhat taller and a lot stronger, since she is a warrior. Besides both of them kind of enjoy the “lady and her knight” dynamic going on and it would be a bit surprising for a “lady” to carry the “knight”.

17. Evelyn again. She’s not used to concealing her feelings, besides Josephine is her first real love so she just kind of said it without even realizing she did, and then just went with it.

F!Hawke x Merrill

6. Marian loves Merrill’s beautiful green eyes, her small, slender fingers and her elegant wrists. Merrill loves Marian’s bright-blue eyes and her beautiful cheekbones and jawline.

20. Well, Marian’s mother is initially not too fond of the idea, since she saw her daughter marrying a nobleman, but she starts to get around to accepting Merrill shortly before her death. Bethany is extremely happy for both her sister and Merrill. Isabela, Varric, and Aveline support the relationship. Sebastian and Fenris might have their own opinions on whether Hawke should be with a bloodmage, but out of respect and seeing how happy it makes Hawke keep it to themselves. (And we all know what he who shall not be named thinks, but he is not a friend, so no one cares.) I also headcanon that f!Mahariel, who initially hated humans and pre-origins dated Merrill, while initially disapproving of the relationship, soon comes around realizing how great Hawke is for Merrill.

25. Merrill, at least on the surface. Hawke has doubts too but she’s learned to mask them, but Merrill often openly asks for reassurance. She also says that she loves Hawke quite often because it makes her feel more safe and secure.

Cullen x f!Amell.

25. Cullen, especially after they get back together, since Neria learned that self-doubt is very dangerous, especially in the fade, and learned to quash any feelings of self doubt almost immediately after they rear their head. But also, since they get back together around 9:37 Dragon, Cullen is having a lot of doubts in general about his life, so he needs reassurance.

29. Ah, almost everything about this ship breaks my heart. But one in particular is that in about a year after the Kniloch hold incident Neria writes Cullen a letter - he never responds even though her receives it because he cannot bring himself to read it, he does not feel worthy to do that. He keeps this letter with him all the time as a constant reminder of his perceived failures - he couldn’t protect the mages, he couldn’t tell part the bloodmages, he couldn’t protect her, he shouldn’t have said those things to her, and the list goes on… Meanwhile Neria never dares to write to him again thinking that he is so repulsed with her and her magic now that he probably threw away or burned her letter.

30. Well, I headcanon that they get back together and it always mends my heart. I realize that sometimes love is not enough, but in this case it was. They both had a lot of growing up to do in the six years apart and they’ve changed a lot, but some things do not change apparently - they realized they were still in love after all that time. Of course it is a log way before the “happily ever after” but it’s a start.

Thanks for the ask 💜💜💜💙💙💙

[inquisimer]

I'M COMING BACK FOR MORE with a poetry prompt for Cullen x Neria pls: "For stones, opening / is not easy / Staying closed is / less pain but / your anger finally / is more dangerous." (Margaret Atwood)

niri niri niri happy dadwc!! some WEWH Neria/Cullen for this week uwu

for @dadrunkwriting

wc: 776

~~~

Neria’s bare feet whispered across the tile of the Winter Palace, the soft pad of her footwraps contrasting sharply with the click of heels. No one was looking at her and yet she felt the weight of more than a dozen gazes prickling the back of her neck as she made yet another circuit about the ballroom.

At her elbow, Josephine fluttered with anxious pleasure. It was certainly something to see the ambassador in her element, even as she nagged and pleaded in murmurs hidden behind smiles. She was on about the Dowager now, and the precise correct moment for Neria to approach her, but as they rounded the banister near Lady Mantillilon, something else entirely caught Neria’s attention.

Cullen, absolutely dashing in his dark uniform and fur-lined half-cape, but increasingly uncomfortable as he edged away from the flock of frilly skirts who pressed into his space. His back hit the wall and a spike of anger pinned Neria’s ears flat against her head.

Orlais was a country of masks, of secrets and intrigue. They’d drilled this into her back at Skyhold, that nothing forthright or blatant would gain traction at the Winter Palace. It was only that knowledge that kept her lips from pulling back to bare her teeth in a snarl.

“Mind your dress, Inquisitor,” Josephine murmured, melting into the shadows with a furrowed brow as Neria stalked forward.

These vultures were not mages, but the force of Neria’s anger was palpable and it thinned the Veil enough to set them on edge. Their fans fluttered faster and their titters pitched higher as they pretended not to notice the Inquisitor’s approach.

Cullen had noticed, though, and he was too Fereldan to try and pretend otherwise. He undoubtedly felt the Fade warping to her anger, even without fresh lyrium in his veins, and his frantic eyes found purchase on her fearsome visage.

She was dressed as a taunt, a reminder, a threat. Leaves and vines in various metals twisted up her bodice in an unmistakably elven design and her skirts were but constructs of the Fade, energy from the Rifts and beyond the Veil, bent to swoop and flutter as she walked. She wore a half-cape of her own, a blood-red reminder of her allegiance with a decorative pauldron—dragon bone bent to powerful runes and Dalish imagery—capping her shoulder

She wanted to draw a fist of stone across the Veil and pummel these imbeciles to pieces. Wanted to pull the dagger from the small of her back and slash their ridiculous outfits to shreds, slice the foolish masks from their pathetic faces. But she felt the stares from her ambassador and spymaster, just paces away, and knew she could not, for the night was not yet through and to lose their access here would be to lose the world.

Instead she pushed her fury outward like a shield and the force of it pressed the foolish lords and ladies away from her commander. She walked across their absence, chin jutted out, and clasped her hands behind her back.

“Commander, if you would?” She inclined her head toward the balcony.

“As you say, Inquisitor.” His relief was a bit more obvious than Sister Nightingale might have liked, but preferable to, say, drawing his sword on any of the Orlesians. With a fierce glare to discourage any of his hazers from following, they passed out into the cool night air.

They were barely free of the ballroom when Cullen’s hand unclenched from the pommel at his hip and found the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I—thank you,” he said, sagging ever so slightly. “I am sorry to have pulled you from your more important duties.”

Neria turned on one bare heel and held her hands out for him to take, if he wished. He did so and she laced their fingers together, pressing gentle kisses across his knuckles.

“You did not pull me anywhere,” she told him. “I chose to walk away.”

She gestured toward the palace with their joined hands. “I cannot burn it down without condemning the world we’re trying to save. But I can—and will—let it smolder, because you are far more important than any secrets I could glean, any favors I could earn.”

She looked out across the gardens, suddenly conscious of how serious his gaze on her had grown. Mindful of her dress, her hair, Cullen tugged her to his side and brushed a kiss across the shaved skin behind her ear.

“I can endure.”

“I know you can,” Neria said. “But you already are—so many things. This does not have to be another.”

#dadwc #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fic #dai #cullen rutherford #cullavellan #oc: neria surana lavellan #ws: the ties we choose #neria x cullen

[steampoweredstrawberry]

Random Headcanons about my Wardens:

(I play with mods and my Wardens all exist and lived in the same worldstate, BTW).

Lyna Mahariel gave Anders Pounce. She never warned him against cleaning up after him or having to get rid of him down the line. Being a Warden is grim work, even more so when it’s considered an escape from institutionalized abuse. If the cat brought Anders a moment of peace, she was happy to have him around.

Pounce became sort of a mascot for the Amaranthine Wardens. He kept them company, slept in their beds, offered them a moment’s escape from their grim fates in the form of snuggles or playfully batting around a length of string he was given.

Besides Anders, Pounce was especially fond of Lyna’s mabari, Ser Bacon, and Rhyann Tabris.

Rhyann, being so far away from Denerim (and both her family and the love of her life), grew increasingly unhappy with her life as a Warden. The death sentence, she could handle, given she almost died a year previous at the hands of Vaughan Urien. The Darkspawn, she could handle; they gave her an outlet to work through the anger she still felt for what Vaughan and his friends did to her and her friends. But, being so far away from the most important people in her life was torture.

Her and Anders latch onto one another for companionship (strictly platonic). They form a bond close to those of siblings. Rhyann would protect Anders with every ounce of strength in her tiny body. And he would never let it come to that point for her.

Rhyann is eventually called to Denerim in order to be at Alistair’s side (I play with mods, remember, so I modded it so anyone could marry Alistair and be his King/Queen).

During this time, Anders and Rhyann are in correspondence with one another. That is, until Lyna leaves her post as Warden-Commander and the Orlesian Wardens take over. Rhyann becomes increasingly worried for Anders’ (and the others’, but mostly Anders’) safety, and considers on more than one occasion leaving Denerim to check in on them.

That is, until one night, Anders shows up at the castle. He bestows Pounce onto her, and tells her he has to leave Ferelden. He refuses to tell her why, but she manages to goad out of him that he’s going to the Free Marches. Anders promises to write, which he does frequently.

During the events of 2, Rhyann becomes pregnant several times over (let me have my Alistair x Warden happiness). Pounce is excellent with the children, but he clearly misses Anders. And, by the letters she’s receiving, things are bad in Kirkwall. Rhyann and Lyna (as well as Neria Surana and Solona Amell) visit Kirkwall several times during the six years Anders is there. There isn’t much any of them can do for the Templar situation, especially when neither Meredith nor Elthina will listen to reason. Rhyann tells Alistair about this, and he begins trying to do what he can for Ferelden’s mages, and even trying to talk sense into Meredith and Elthina, but it’s not enough.

Anders’ attack is not met with hatred by his former friends in the Gray Wardens. They all speak out against the injustices mages had suffered, the injustices they continue to suffer, and how it’s the Chantry’s job to reform and give them rights.

When war finally hits, all four are staunch allies to the southern mages. They are seen on the battlefield, donned in their blue and silver with the griffin on the chest and feathers laced in their hair to show that Ferelden’s Wardens stand with the mages. And more importantly, Anders. Rhyann accompanies Alistair to meetings with foreign dignitaries, speaking of the injustices the Chantry is guilty of in hopes of garnering support for the mages.

Lyna follows her love, Leliana, to Skyhold, where she desguises herself as a kitchen maid to remain anonymous. She still takes up daggers in the name of the Inquisition and the mages they have chosen to show their support for.

Neria and Solona work together to find a cure for the Taint. Neria is pretending to be Lyna, and meets with Dalish mages frequently to find out if any of them know of a cure. Meanwhile, Solona is based in the Imperium with Jowan (again, mods) to see if Tevinter mages may have uncovered a cure that the southern mages didn’t have access to.

After Corypheus is defeated and Leliana is named Divine (and the subsequent freeing of the mages), the four return Pounce to Anders as a celebratory ‘gift’ to him. They then find out that he’s living happily in Kirkwall with Hawke and their daughter, and with another two on the way.

Lyna and Leliana officially marry in Val Royeaux. All of their friends attend. Some Andrastians object, on the grounds that they are both women and refuse to acknowledge the decree that people of the cloth are now permitted to marry. Leliana has them silenced.

Solona and Jowan uncover the cure for the taint together, and marry privately. They run a small apothecary and help teach young mages to control their powers.

(Neria still needs to be decided, but she was the one that openly flirted with Cullen in her play through, so maybe she’s helping to show him that mages deserve rights and he was wrong to ever think otherwise).

#long post #my wardens #headcanon

[inquisimer]

Feeling a bit soft for the Cullenmance. Cullen x Neria Surana Lavellan. Random Ship Dynamics: Consistently cold x A very cuddly person who just happens to be warm

this prompt was SO my brand, thank you Wren🥰🥰

some somft established relationship for @dadrunkwriting tonight

~~~

“Why do you wear this…thing?”

Neria padded around Cullen’s desk, the report she was meant to be reviewing forgotten on a side table. She plucked a stray thread and some fuzz off his mantle and threaded her fingers in the ridiculous fluff of the garment, sliding her arms around his neck and tucking her chin over one shoulder.

His attention hardly wavered. “Hmm?”

With a smooth snap of her wrists, Neria jerked the mantle from his shoulders, stepping back so she came well out of his reach with her prize. Faced with the sudden chill of his office across his shoulders, Cullen’s head finally snapped up. An annoyed grimace twisted his face.

“Why do you wear this monstrosity?” Neria repeated, swinging it around her own shoulders. It dwarfed her comically, like a child playing dress-up with their parents’ clothes. It fell to her thighs and practically doubled her girth with floof alone. Cullen’s frustration melted into soft amusement and he rubbed one hand across his tired, half-shaved expression.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’ve made our headquarters in the upper reaches of the Frostback Mountains.” His chair screeched against the stone as he joined her near the bookshelves.

“You don’t know if I’ve noticed?” Neria leaned back and jerked her chin up to where a beam of late-afternoon sun was sneaking down from his loft. “I’m not the one with a hole in my roof.”

“Well that’s why I need the fur,” Cullen plucked the mantle from her shoulders and returned it to his, tucking his chin deep in the fur so only his eyes peeked over the edge. “It saves Inquisition resources and keeps me warm.”

“And what of visitors to this decrepit office of yours?”

Cullen scoffed, settling back into his chair. “You’re like a furnace, love. If you weren’t so functional I’d be carting you off to the healers to treat your fever.”

“Think of your poor scouts,” Neria insisted, even as she slipped back to his side, sidling alongside the chair he hadn’t quite pulled in and tossing her legs across his lap so she could stretch like a cat up around his neck. Her face found purchase under his chin and she made a contented sound. “They can’t be expected to give proper reports if their teeth are chattering.”

“Believe me, the scouts are the last thing on my mind right now,” Cullen murmured. He tucked his chin slightly to press a kiss to the top of her head, then hooked his ankles around one leg of his desk and pulled them close enough that he could catch the half-read report in one hand. His other hand stroked down Neria’s braid almost absentmindedly, but soothing in a way that made her eyes drift shut and a sub-audible hum vibrate her throat.

Her own report stayed forgotten across the room, as she clung to the comfort of his consistent embrace and Cullen held her like the most precious heating rune that ever existed. Neria sighed.

The spat between noble houses in eastern Orlais would hold for a few hours. Someone would need the Inquisitor before long, but for now, she was content to drift, warm and loved, in this space between waking and sleeping.

#dadwc #my writing #dragon age fanfic #dragon age #dai #cullavellan #cullen x inquisitor #cullen x lavellan #oc: neria surana lavellan #neria x cullen #cullen rutherford

[inquisimer]

a dangerous game of trust and love

some Cullavellan for @febuwhump day 8 (why won't it stop): Neria takes increasingly desperate measures to stop the anchor during Trespasser ;-;

read it on ao3 here

Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford | Rated M | 1206 words | CW: self harm, injury, chronic pain, spell purge, mage-templar dynamics

-

The Inquisitor was not missing. That was the Inquisition’s formal stance and the Ambassador held all of their agents strictly to that line. The Inquisitor was not missing.

But…her absence stretched long enough that Cullen started looking. He checked their quarters, and Dorian’s suite, and Varric’s. Nothing. Finally, after he’d circled the estate a few times, one of the servants took pity.

“She’s off by the healers, ser,” they told him, wincing slightly. “Didn’t seem like they were much help.”

With hurried thanks, Cullen rushed in that direction. He berated himself silently for not thinking of it sooner.

The healers confirmed she had been there, but nothing they did helped her and she’d already left. They pointed him toward a hallway of unoccupied rooms. As he drew nearer, the prickle of active casting crept over his skin, the familiar taste of Neria’s magic on his tongue.

“There you are,” he said, pushing through the door. But his relief quickly veered into sharp concern. “What are you—Maker’s breath, stop—“

Cross-legged under the window, Neria wore only her undershirt, the stiff blue uniform cast aside. Sweat poured down her face and mixed with the tears on her cheeks, her eyes a clouded haze.

Ice encased her entire left arm.

Ice she’d put there, he realized as he rushed forward. Layers and layers of magical ice, cast and recast, numbing the anchor at the cost of her arm. He fell to his knees and grasped her unmarked hand between both of his.

“Please, love,” he begged. “Stop.”

“It hurts,” she ground out. More crystals formed over the frozen sleeve, but underneath the sickly green tendrils of the anchor still cracked and popped. Neria cried out and Cullen pulled her head against his chest.

“We’ll go back to the healers, someone will know something, please just—your arm—“

“No one knows anything,” she hissed. “Only Solas could ever help and you know it.”

Her free hand clenched against his tunic. “Maybe—maybe he’s surfaced somewhere. Maybe Lana can find him, now—or Lace—“

A choked sob cut off her delirious pleas. Cullen held her closer, even as her icy cast melted against his tunic. Held her stable as she shook from the force of holding her body together. If only he could heal the broken pieces of their good intentions.

“Please, find him,” she whispered. They couldn’t. She knew they couldn’t. “Please I—I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not going to die.” Cullen spoke firmly, resolute, but only on the surface. Underneath, behind eyes squeezed shut, his fear mirrored her own.

Without warning, the ice vanished. His relief lasted but a moment, for as he ran his fingers down the pale, numb skin of her arm, he realized just how far the anchor’s corruption had progressed.

Long, spidery veins spread across her entire palm, creeping out to her fingertips and darkening her nails. Like a gruesome shackle, it looped around her wrist and up over her elbow. Around its intrusion, the skin blistered red. A magical burn, Cullen recognized, as bad as he’d ever seen in the Circle.

“Maker’s bloody—why didn’t you say something?”

Neria pressed her lips together. “Why? Solas isn’t here. Short of cutting it off, the only other thing I can imagine helping…I can’t ask for that. I can’t do that to you.”

“To me?” Cullen sputtered, incredulous. He pulled her forehead to his lips and chased the kiss with his brow against hers.

“Ask,” he said raggedly. “You can always ask.”

But she didn’t get the chance. Like a crack of lightning, the anchor snapped and spit, swallowing her hand whole in its effort to break free. Neria clenched her teeth and her whole frame—so slight in his arms—shook with the effort of silence. Still, tiny whimpers escaped.

Just when Cullen thought it had passed, Neria pushed against his chest and slid away from him. She clutched her arm to her stomach and doubled over it. Fresh tears splattered against the tile and he could do nothing but watch, and fret, and despair.

He crawled across the floor and caught her down-turned face between his hands.

“Please,” he begged. “Please, if there’s something I can do—anything—“

“Purge it, then!” she cried, flinging her arm flat in the space between them. “Purge the magic—make it stop!”

“I don’t—I can’t—“ Cullen stopped short. Such a plea rang dissonant in his brain; years of instinct clashed with new morality and love. H dragged a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “I don’t have the control for a localized Purge any longer. If I do as you ask, all of your mana will be Purged.”

“I know.” She shook her head. Through her clenched teeth, he heard the wry laugh she swallowed back. “I know, and I don’t care. But you—you don’t have to do that. To me. I don’t want to give you any more bad memories.”

Oh. It was just like her, to be thinking about that as her body literally tore itself apart. Absurd, really.

For a beat, he just stared. Despite the impossibility of their situation, despite the danger, his heart spilled over and he surged up to kiss her.

I love you, he thought wildly.

Even if such a maneuver worked, even suffered knowingly, it would hurt her. Far more than any memory could ever torture him. Purges were not meant to be a pleasant experience. For mages, their very being so intricately tied to their mana and the Fade, it was like—well, it was like cutting off a limb.

Then again, it looked increasingly like that would be the end result of this no matter what.

She gasped against his lips, pushing weakly on his chest. “It’s starting again.”

Drawing her back close, Cullen cradled her head in his hands and gently brushed the still-flowing tears from her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. For so many things. He closed his eyes and tapped the font of faith and willpower within. It was a stretch—he was out of practice and free of lyrium. But he had been a Templar for a long time; he was not yet fully clean.

He Purged the area.

Instantly, Neria went slack in his arms. He felt the puff of air as her lungs constricted and her pulse thundered under his hands. Gooseflesh raised her skin and he knew that the blood was rushing to her core, her heart, fighting the battle of keeping her alive.

Maker, please, he prayed. Andraste, please. Help her. Help me, help her.

Neria’s eyes stayed open, but a haze clouded them. Cullen ran his hand down her left arm, his calloused palm covering where the anchor still popped and crackled.

“Did it help?” he asked hoarsely. Neria managed half a smile and the corner of it quirked as it always did when she lied.

“Of course,” she whispered. She tucked her face into the damp fabric of his tunic, shaking from the sobs she couldn’t hide. Cullen dropped his forehead against her braided crown.

She was going to die. And his prayers were useless. The Maker’s seat was empty.

There was nothing he could do to stop it.

#febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday8 #my writing #whump #hurt no comfort #self harm #injury #chronic pain #oc: neria surana lavellan #neria x cullen #cullavellan #ws: the ties we choose #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dai #dragon age fanfic

[inquisimer]

Hello and happy DADWC!! For a prompt, how about: Cullen/Lavellan, ugly boots?

hellooooo happy friday!! a bit of post-IYHSB fluff for these two tonight🥰

for @dadrunkwriting

“Put them on.”

“No.”

“You must.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You must,” Cullen repeated, squatting next to her cot. Neria refused to meet his eyes, crossing her arms and staring petulantly at the canvas tent over his shoulder.

He pushed the boots toward her once more. “We have nothing else.”

“Then I’ll go barefoot.”

“In the Frostbacks? We have no idea how long we’ll be here or how far we’ll have to walk once we find somewhere to go.”

He nudged the boots forward again. Neria regarded them as one might a pile of nug shit.

They were well made, though larger and more obtuse than the soft pair she’d been skating by on since coming to Haven. She longed for the footwraps she’d had to give up upon reaching Ferelden. She missed their soft comfort against her arches and how they still smelled faintly of elfroot and aravels.

But the colors.

Despite the fading of time, the majority of the boots still glowed like a torchbug in the dead of night. There were stripes and swoops of neon pink and blue, dusty and grimy but unmistakable. The cuff between the upper and lower parts was still yet another blue, more like the sky in the midst of a clear day, but one which clashed horribly with the already mismatched shades.

She refused to wear such a hideous visage.

“Solas does it,” she countered. “I’m sure he can teach me whatever spell he’s using.”

Cullen sighed, a weary sound from deep in his throat. “You need to preserve your strength. Or have you already forgotten that a whole mountain fell upon you?”

“Hardly.” Her eyes snapped to his, fierce and glaring. Her arms and legs were littered with scrapes and tiny wounds left from the splinters she’d fallen through in the wake of her confrontation with Corypheus. Healing magic had left a sting in her extremities, better than frostbite, but still unpleasant in its own right. And of course her mark, though stabilized once more, had spiraled out to cover her entire palm. The lines closer to the center of her hand were a darker green, almost black, while those that stretched toward her wrist and fingertips now mirrored the Breach. 

“It’s not something one forgets so easily, if at all.”

“Then you know that you don’t have the mana to spare when there are perfectly decent boots here!”

“I’m perfectly capable of judging my own magical limits, thank you.”

Cullen ignored her snipe. “These are all we have left. Any few pairs we managed to collect in the retreat have already been passed out to villagers. We—the people need to see you on your feet.”

“The people should have raised up a profit who cared what they thought,” Neria muttered. But her words lacked all bite and Cullen knew it.

Of course she cared. But that didn’t make her any more keen on the boots.

“Is the idea of keeping all ten toes and rejoining this” —he gestured toward where she assumed the remainder of the camp stretched— “chaos truly so unappealing?”

Neria pressed her lips together.

“Please, Neria.” His voice dropped and Neria could hear the utter exhaustion that weighed him down. Usually held back by his immense willpower, the fall of Haven and their retreat into the Frostbacks, and his subsequent responsibility for dozens of citizens in a frozen wasteland—real or perceived—had worn it away.

“We’ve talked and fought in circles. We need a fresh perspective—or at least someone who can stem the arguments when they stop having purpose. You are that person” —he held up a hand at her noise of protest— “you are. That’s how we got this far.”

He offered her the boots once more. “Please.”

“Fine.” Neria pulled the boots toward her and began loosening the laces with a grumble. “But don’t expect any miracles. And don’t be surprised if everyone assumes Andraste’s withdrawn her favor when they see these.”

“Ah, but how could She withdraw what you never had?” said Cullen cheekily, turning her own insistence back on her. With a chuckle, he ducked out of the tent.

Neria shook her head. “Touché, Commander, touché.”

#my writing #dadwc #dragon age fanfic #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #cullavellan #oc: neria surana lavellan #neria x cullen

[inquisimer]

Hi Mer! Since it's Friday (hi), I have a prompt for you! For the pairing of your choice, "Very physically affectionate x Didn’t realize how touch starved they were until they met their partner" (from random ship dynamics prompts)?

hello friend!! thank you so much for the prompt🥰💜 this friday I bring some touch-starved Neria to the plate, because...yeah. She's touch-starved lmao.

for @dadrunkwriting

~~~

She flinched away from touch.

He didn’t realize it at first. A million other things demanded his attention in the aftermath of the Breach—the Inquisition hadn’t really been prepared to launch a full-scale military presence and he had a great deal of catching up to do. And then there were all the mages, roaming unchecked through Haven with the raw Fade right there. And then there was the magister and his maybe-false-archdemon and then he thought Neria dead and—

It was a lot. For once, Cullen gave himself a pass on missing this detail.

She didn’t report properly on the dark future until they’d reached Skyhold and she named the Inquisitor. Her armor, polished, her hair, neatly braided, her report, impeccable; but the Tevinter mage at her side wasn’t in on the facade.

He tugged at her hair and clasped her shoulder and snaked his arm around her waist and never seemed to notice that she tensed and shied from every contact. Cullen gritted his teeth as long as he could; was it proper for him to notice? Would she be offended by his interjection?

The last straw snapped when Dorian caught Neria in the circle of his arms under the pretense of reaching for the red marker they’d placed over Tevinter. She tensed like a cat about to pounce and Cullen could see the clench of her jaw, could almost taste the blood from her teeth digging into her tongue. An untraceable outrage swelled in his chest and overpowered any good sense or deference he had for decorum.

“Step back, serrah,” he snapped. His thighs pressed against the edge of the table where he stepped forward and he reached, though he couldn’t reach, to shoo the mage away from Neria like a very insistent gnat. Dorian’s monologue sputtered out like a snuffed candle, leaving threads of tension in the silence. He could feel the Ambassador’s aghast reprieve and Leliana’s knowing gaze and he simply folded his hands over the pommel of his sword and glared at Dorian.

The Tevinter seemed to finally clue in to the effect he was having on the Inquisitor and released her, neatly sidestepping her clenched grip on the table to set himself near the Tevinter marker. His eyes skated between the Commander and Neria, who was pointedly not looking at anyone. He opened his mouth once, twice, then seemed to think better of it and resumed his report, albeit somewhat more subdued than before.

There was no objection from the Inquisitor, but no correction either, and they simply didn’t acknowledge the interaction. Council meeting and reports and orders went on as normal.

But he couldn’t help himself—once he’d caught a detail he couldn’t let it go. And if he wasn’t prone to watching Neria before (he was), he certainly did now.

When she sparred, she never did so bare-handed. Gloved and protected by her staff, when felled she rolled away from her opponent as soon as feasibly possible. Sera liked to grab her wrist and pull her about the keep—onto roofs and through once-locked doors. Suddenly, he couldn’t unsee how the rogue’s touch turned the Inquisitor to stone, how her breathing turned shallow and her steps fell like wood until freed from Sera’s grip. Just like he couldn’t unsee her reluctance to submit to Madame de Fer’s tailors, or each hesitation before surrendering her hand to visiting nobility.

It could be any number of things, he reasoned. Many mages in the Circles hesitated at physical touch—either because they’d been raised so clinically by the elder mages and Templars, or because they’d experienced the cruel bite of Templar discipline. And she’d been on the run for years. Even in Kirkwall she was still running in place. Who knew if anyone during that period had taken the time to ease her back to the comfort of human touch?

Well, he knew. No one, based on how she shied from the Chargers’ congratulatory hoisting on their shoulders when she bested Bull in hand-to-hand.

It made him nervous, even when their fragile peace cracked and a tentative relationship forged from the heat of anger and pining and desperate hoping. He let her set the pace, even when it killed him to hold back from intertwining their fingers or tangling his hands in her loosed hair. She’d lean on his desk so only their lips touched in a kiss or swathe herself in a blanket, so his embrace was muffled by the fabric.

When his heart caught on a spike of rejection or hurt, he remembered how he’d been at Greenfell, fresh from Uldred’s onslaught. The sisters and Templars there treated him like a feral cat, lured out with hand pies and water skins until he re-associated other people with positive rewards rather than violence. And even then he skittered from sudden noises and unexpected gestures.

“Ma’esha?” Neria’s eyes peered out at him from the depths of her hood. Winter’s chill seeped through even Skyhold’s magic now and Neria’s low cold-tolerance had her bundling a clock over her nightshirt. Wisps of hair fell over her cheekbones and there was such a fondness in her gaze, even heavy as it was with sleep. Endearment surged in Cullen’s throat and he couldn’t shape it into words as much as he wanted to; admire and pride and need and love came out like a gasp and a chuckle as he tightened his arms over the blanket she wore like a shield.

“Sleep, darling.” He pressed the words against the fabric over her crown and reveled, for she relaxed into his embrace even as she surrendered the last of her control to the Fade.

#dadwc #my writing #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfic #oc: neria surana lavellan #cullavellan #cullen x lavellan #cullen x inquisitor #surana lavellan au #neria x cullen #she is so touch starved because circle trauma and then apostate and then BAM the dalish hit her with the community touching #she's still processing okay