#ambiguous inquisitor

[raptorofire]

This is a little thing inspired by the DLC of course. I’ll tag it as best I can. 

[Edit: fixed the formatting and added more t it :3]

It will take her some time. She still feels the tingling, the prickling of what used to be there. There used to be fingers she could curl, run through her hair. An arm that fit perfectly in a shirt, no loose material hanging. Green flashes past her eyes, and she can swear it’s still there. Sometimes it still hurts, a sting, a throb that causes tears to prickle at the back of her eyes. The pain too much at times.

There are things one can never unsee, things that would traumatize a normal person. But, she wasn’t normal anymore was she? She stopped being normal the day she first fell out of the fade.

She sighs, one of those melancholy sighs one does when all has fallen around them.

And then like a swift breeze his arms wrap around her, gentle, tender caresses of his fingertips on her skin, on what was left of her arm. It’s his way of telling her everything will be alright, that there was nothing to fear. And how could she? She was finally happy. Her whole life was spent giving. Giving to the Inquisition, giving to the people of Thedas, and now, after everything; she was finally given something back.

Peace.

She was finally given peace.

And she got him. Cullen. Her husband. She chuckles softly to herself and his nose buries in her hair. She’s finally happy, and she gets to be happy with him and 3 Mabari puppies and a raven with a little white feather on its chest.

This world is far from perfect, but right now it is. There are things that press in the back of her mind, but they are washed away as Cullen scoops her in his arms, held tight to his chest as his leg dangles off the swing seat, rocking them back and forth. This is perfect.

[dgcakes]

Old Wagers

“Here.” 

Hawke turned, blinking furious as Cullen deposited a sack of coin into his hand. The Champion was no stranger to being given ambiguous sums of money by random people, but usually it was after having done something of note or killing something.

“Did I kill somebody I was supposed to and forget about it?” Hawke asked, cocking a brow at the curly-haired Commander. Getting money out of Cullen usually involved doing something nice for Templars, and that was not something that Hawke had done recently, as far as could be recalled.

A smirk formed on Cullen’s lips, “Just settling a wager.” and he strode off with an amused whistle towards the War Room.

Hawke turned to Varric, blinking a bit, “I don’t remember making any bets with him recently, do you?”

The dwarf shrugged, “Maybe it was something from back in Kirkwall? You did do a lot of odd jobs for just about everyone.” Varric leaned against the wall, enjoying getting to spend a few minutes with his best friend before they’d be off to siege a fortress or something else grand and heroic of that sort. He couldn’t help be amused watching the wonder at which Hawke emptied the gold from the pouch.

“There’s got to be at least 100 sovereigns here. What in Andraste’s name did I do and how do I make it happen again?” money wasn’t a severe issue for Hawke these days, but getting handed that much by Cullen of all people and not remembering why, that was pretty rare.

That was when the human’s eyes turned and spotted the Inquisitor darting up the hall past them, going catching the Commander just outside the War Room door and sliding an arm in to hold onto his. That’s when it hit, just what this was all about, and realization dawned on Hawke’s face.

“With your luck, Knight-Captain, you’ll end up falling for a mage. A bloody mage. Bet you 100 royals it’ll be a damn apostate too.”

A wolfish grin took over the Champion’s features, “Tell you what, Varric, before we leave, let’s grab drinks and do some planning. I feel like we’re going to need to arrange a congratulatory gift for Cullen. The man might actually get laid sometime in the near future.” 

Varric glanced at the door the couple had just vanished through, “I might know a few tricks to help that along.” there was a glint in his eye. “We’ve got a very skilled Antivan here who plays a mean hand of Wicked Grace.” 

[eeveevie]

18 for Blackwall and a Trevelyan Knight-Enchanter Inkie with a hot temper :) - pretty please

Sorry this is so short- but I’m not all too familiar with this pairing! 

He was watching her, moving her arms above her head in large arcs as she twirled her staff, green energy surrounding her as she formed another barrier. Maker, she was beautiful—in the heat of battle, in the quiet comfort of Skyhold, in the strong grasp of his arms as he held her at night.

“Blackwall!” She cried and he blinked, cursing the way he became momentarily distracted.

The giant swept at him and he rolled at the last minute, landing right at her feet. He stared up at her, blinking at the way the tree line and the bright sky above her head formed a perfect halo. She truly was his Lady Herald. She smiled pointing towards the hillside.

“Come on, if we cause enough commotion the giants will follow us!” She reached down to offer him a helping hand. “Maybe they’ll help us kill the dragon!”

Blackwall could only laugh, allowing her to help him stand up once more.

“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had.” He teased, watching as her face knitted into a pout. He leaned in fast to quickly kiss it away.  “Of course I’m in.”

[sillyda]

Memories - Dorian/Inquisitor

Based on this prompt: "Person B making a deal to save Person A’s life at the cost of all their memories together."

Warnings include: bloodmagic bleeding, coma, and despair.

Dorian sat staring at the book before him, eyes focusingon the same word over and over again, unable to go on to the next word, sentence or paragraph.  His moustache wasn’t curled, and it needed a trim.  Black stubble stood out stark against his tanned skin and itched his fingers and palm cradling his cheek.  His posture was slouched from hours of insubstantial reading—legs splayed and face slack, elbow propped on the armrest the only thing keeping his head directed at the book in his other hand. 

The Inquisitor was in his room, as he had been for the past week and a half.  Dorian had visited him every day thus far.  He would touch his warm, unmoving hand, the line of his jaw, the scar from their first dragon battle together.  Then he would cry.

He hadn’t moved for a week, and it was beginning to pull Dorian down.  He’d done research on healing spells, poultices and procedures from every country that Josephine and Leliana could acquire.  Cullen and Iron Bull’s men gathered herbs and relics and whatever else could be found with the promise of restoring their leader, but nothing worked. 

Nothing.  Ever.  Worked.

Dorian’s back ached from his position, his stomach begged to be filled and his neck was stiff.  He licked his lips and caught the beginning of the sentence again, finally reading it through and then the next, the next paragraph, the next page.  He had to find something; he owed the Inquisitor more than this.

Dorian didn’t have the presence of mind to be startled when a voice suddenly invaded his corner of the library.  In fact, it took him more than a few seconds to react to the ominous statement, “An unsound body will only bring about an unsound mind.”

Dorian’s brow furrowed, and he looked up from his focus on the book to see one of the Inquisitor’s advisors, Morrigan, standing before him.  He blinked at her owlishly, his mind too much of a fog to even comment on her abysmal taste in robes. 

Just because she’s a witch of the wilds doesn’t mean that she has to dress like one, came to his mind in the middle of her follow up statement:

“As a courtesy to the Inquisition, I am offering my more… arcane services in the hopes of reviving the Inquisitor.  I will, however, need your help to do it.”

“ ‘More arcane?’ “ Dorian asked after a moment of silence, slowly straightening in his chair and rubbing the back of his neck.  “This sounds suspiciously like blood magic.”  It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought of it before, he just hadn’t actually considered it.  It was a hope that came to him in the dead of night, when he remembered that he was alone and cold and that he might never see his lover’s eyes tender with affection ever again.  It was why he had begun sleeping in the library.  If he didn’t have empty time to think before sleep, he could ignore how dismal his situation truly was.

Morrigan didn’t smile or shrug or anything else that might have lessened Dorian’s judgement of her suggestion.  She just continued speaking in her eerie, roundabout way of getting to the point.  “Blood magic can either enslave or restore a mind.  It is not all death and corruption, as the Circles would have their mages believe.” 

Dorian marked his place in the book and set it to the side, on a growing stack of unhelpful tinder to the left of his chair.  “And what need can I satisfy?”  Dorian asked, his pulse throbbing in his ears.  Would she ask him to give his life? Was he even willing to go so far?

“A mind cannot be brought back without a catalyst, something to guide it back into place.  I have need of your memories of the Inquisitor, your relationship with him creates a strong bond, and it may lead the Inquisitor back to himself,”  Morrigan explained.  Her voice was surprisingly gentle when she talked of his love for their savior.

“Blood magic does not perform without a cost.”  Dorian pointed out, crossing his legs and his arms and willing the woman to just get it over with.  He didn’t like this conversation, knowing that he was going to have to lose something to regain what was already missing.

“That is correct,” Morrigan agreed, her eyes fixated on Dorian’s own.  “After your bond guides the Inquisitor back to us and anchors him in his body once again, your memories will no longer be your own.  You will have your lover back, but will remember nothing of him.”

Dorian scoffed at the ceiling and threw out his arms.  “Oh?  Is that all?  Shall I become tranquil as well?”

“Would you rather?  Such a sacrifice—“

“No.”  Dorian clutched at his head and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward to regain his bearing.  “I…” he took a deep breath and rubbed his tired eyes.  They were slightly damp and he wiped them before asking, “is this the only way?”

“Before Corypheus’s plan consumes us all?  Yes.  I did as your advisors asked, and gave you almost a fortnight of trial and error.  I can hold my tongue no more.  This is your option, reject it and I shall not offer it again.”

Dorian could feel Morrigan’s eyes watch him sink lower, and he dearly wished that he could simply fold in on himself until he was no more.

“I would… add that it is not impossible to remake your memories.  The sacrifice of something so effortlessly formed—“

“Do not continue that line of thought, Witch.”  Dorian snapped, unfurling and coming to his feet.  His entire body protested the motion, but he stood firmly before Morrigan and narrowed his eyes at her, red with fatigue and sorrow.  “My relationship with the Inquisitor was neither easy nor simple nor anything else you may think you know.  It is the events of the past half year that lead us to this point, and I would ask that you never speak as if you thought yourself familiar with my loss.”

Morrigan’s nose wrinkled in annoyance and her eyes narrowed at Dorian.  She did not, however, comment on his outburst, but rather continued to press her point.  “So you accept the price?”

“If it were the only thing to be done, I would give my life for his.”

“How melodramatic…”  Morrigan scoffed and turned to leave.  “Meet me in the Inquisitor’s chambers when you are ready,” she said as she descended the central spiral of stairs.  “Perhaps bathed and fed…” she added just before she disappeared from his sight.

Dorian slumped back into his chair and rubbed his temples.

His memories. 

The happiest months of his life, the only time he hadn’t had to hide who he was.  The only time he’d found someone who thought that despite his flaws and even because of several of them that he was worthy of friendship, love and affection.

This was the only swathe of time in his life that no one had been attempting to mold him like errant clay, and he was going to lose it.

Dorian wiped his eyes one last time before standing and crossing to his desk.  If he was to suffer this, he would try to make it easier on them both.  

He wrote a letter to the Inquisitor and a short note to himself.  He enclosed them both in a small satchel with his Altus amulet.  That done, he ascended to his quarters to shave and change before descending to the Inquisitor's chambers.

Trust him.  He told himself in Tevene.

Don’t give up on me.  He begged the Inquisitor.

“Te amo, Amatus,” he whispered as he sat on the edge of his lover’s bed.  He watched the other man’s unflinching face as Morrigan took his arm, held it over the altar, and carefully began to bleed him.