Discover Top Posts Tagged with #asher lavellan

More than just the Inquisitor

(I felt like drawing, but more and more writing ideas started popping into my head, so I figured, hey, may as well. This at least gives me the chance to flesh out my characters a bit! So have some Asher and Cullen and bro bonding and stuff.)

Ever since he had spoken to the Inquisitor about his lyrium problem, Cullen found himself sleeping just a bit easier at night. Maybe it was because of Lavellan’s patient understanding, or his unconditional support of the Commander, Cullen wasn’t too sure. But whatever it was, the ex-Templar felt as though the Inquisitor’s knowing of the situation helped lift particularly heavy weight from his shoulders.

That wasn’t to say he was entirely without sleepless nights, however. There were still plenty of times where the Commander found himself staring through the hole in his ceiling at the numerous stars above, mentally exhausted yet physically restless.

Tonight was no different, and when he finally tired of trying to convince his body it was as worn as his mind was, he decided to at least be productive and bring the reports from the previous afternoon to the War Table. If nothing else, the walk would allow him to check on the nightly patrols. With that reasoning set in his mind, he dressed and climbed down from his loft, gathering the papers from his desk and stepping out onto the battlements.

The guards were silent, save the clinking of their armour, and each gave Cullen a salute as he passed by. With a nod of approval and acknowledgement, he took the steps from the battlements down to the courtyard and set off for the grand castle doors.

It was out of habit that he avoided Solas’ rotunda; it wasn’t that the elf spoke outright to him, or anybody, that passed through. But Cullen preferred to take the long route around to the main hall, both out of respect for the apostate’s workspace and an old habit of taking precaution around his magic.

A bit of a silly thing, really, when he thought about it. He was an advisor to the Inquisitor, after all, a Dalish mage that was believed to be the Herald of Andraste. Herald of a Prophet to a god he didn’t believe in. He knew Lavellan often wrinkled his nose in annoyance whenever anyone called him the Herald, and Cullen noticed the Dalish also had a habit of biting the inside of his cheek when uncomfortable. And Lavellan was very often made to feel uncomfortable.

Why wouldn’t he be? Cullen had sometimes wondered exactly what sort of life the elven mage had been robbed of by the twist of fate that saved him at the Conclave. Lavellan had listened to him attentively when he spoke of his family back home. In fact, there wasn’t one person within Lavellan’s inner circle that hadn’t had some aspect of their personal life revealed to the Inquisitor. Yet aside from the occasional letter brought to the War Table regarding his clan, hardly a thing was mentioned about the Inquisitor having a life outside of the Inquisition.

The thought bothered Cullen, tugging at his mind as he found himself at the great doors leading to the War Room. His feet must have carried him there automatically while he was lost in his own mind, and he tried to shake the fog from his head as he opened the smaller door to drop off the reports.

He expected an empty room. What he saw instead was the Inquisitor himself, leaning over the map on the Table and staring intently at it, the only light coming from a small flame in his palm. This flame was quickly extinguished as Lavellan looked up suddenly, catching sight of the Commander.

“Cullen,” he said, surprise evident in his tone. “A bit late to be up and working, don’t you think?”

“The same could be said for you, yet here you are,” the Commander retorted, taking a few long strides over and placing the papers down on the edge of the map. He looked down to the Table, where Lavellan’s other hand rested gently over one of the metal figurines they used to assign missions.

“Wycome,” Cullen stated softly, turning his attention back to the Inquisitor. It was difficult to make out in the darkness, but as his eyes adjusted, Cullen could see the worry etched into the man’s brow. “Has there been any word?”

“Not yet. I’ve been waiting on a letter from my sister, but there hasn’t been anything since Leliana helped my clan enter the city.” His lips were pulled into a frown and he leaned back from the table with a sigh, chewing on the inside of his cheek with worry.

“Sister?” Cullen repeated, unable to hide his surprise. “You have family?”

“You say that like you expected otherwise. Is having a family aside from my clanmates such a strange thing?” Lavellan teased, grinning slightly at the Commander’s flustered babbling.

“No, of course not, I only meant- You never mentioned- I never thought-”

“Relax, Cullen. It’s alright. I don’t talk about my private life that much. It’s really the only thing being Inquisitor hasn’t taken away from me.” His arms folded across his chest as a long and exhausted sigh drew itself from his lips. “Well, not entirely, anyway. Faye is something the Chantry and everything else can’t touch. It’s comforting, knowing that the life I used to have still exists, and the people I knew still live.”

He had turned his back to the War Table now, and was leaning against it as he spoke. Cullen hesitated, unsure whether or not to pry, shifting his weight until he finally decided to walk around the Table and take up the space beside the man.

“Inquisitor-” he began.

“Asher, Cullen. Right now, it’s just Asher.”

“Asher. Of course.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, rolling the name around in his head before continuing.”Your sister, Faye is her name? Is she your elder sibling, or . . . ?”

A smile tugged at the corners of Asher’s mouth, green eyes staring up and out of the windows of the large room as he spoke.

“Twin, actually. She likes act the part of the wise older sibling, despite being only a few minutes ahead. She’s a mage too, our Keeper’s First. The Keeper wanted to send her to the Conclave, but I offered to go instead. The clan needs somebody like her as their Keeper one day, and I was never one to sit down and study our lore the way she could.” He made a small noise of amusement, something between a snort and a chuckle. “She was always more of the leader type than I was. Yet here I am, head of an Inquisition. Imagine her surprise when I told her the shemlen had raised me up as the Herald of their Prophet.”

Cullen shifted uncomfortably, an action that he tried to pass off as nothing, but knew Asher saw anyway.

“It was nothing compared to her relief that I had survived at all, that is,” the Dalish continued softly, any notes of disdain leaving his voice. “Probably not unlike your own sister’s, eh, Commander?” Asher gave a small smile that relaxed the ex-Templar, and Cullen noted the acknowledgement on his face; two men, both brothers, both knowing what it was like to feel the wrath of a sister.

“Probably,” Cullen replied with a grin of his own, mimicking the mage’s posture.

They stood in silence for a while, relaxing in the silence of the empty room and the calm atmosphere. There was a feeling of camaraderie forming between the two men, and Cullen couldn’t say it was unwelcome. He had heard Varric mention offhand that sometimes it was easy to forget that the elven man was a person, and not just a symbol of something bigger than himself. And there were plenty of times where Cullen agreed; Lavellan was a man who was making decisions that would shape the course of history for Thedas, he was a symbol who meant hope and peace and a brighter future.

Except for tonight. Tonight he was simply Asher just as the Commander was simply Cullen. He was a man with a sister who wrote to him regularly, who played Wicked Grace and chess, who was in love with a man that looked at him like he was every star in the sky, and who was wasting away the wee hours of the night talking to a friend while the world around them slept and forgot about their fight for a while.

#asher lavellan

Trending Tags

Recently Viewed Tags

#asher lavellan