Jan 17, 2023
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
A reasonable facsimile of Raina - DAI had the correct mods to make her properly. :D Anyway, it's chapter 29! It's up! I have to go to class so enjoy!
seen from Germany
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Colombia
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Bulgaria
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from India
seen from Australia
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
A reasonable facsimile of Raina - DAI had the correct mods to make her properly. :D Anyway, it's chapter 29! It's up! I have to go to class so enjoy!
Chapter 28 of from the lowest slaves to the highest kings is up!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Most commonly I'll be posting on Sundays or Mondays, I think.
It's a slow-burn fic spanning 10+ years, from 2 years before the start of Dragon Age: Origins to post-Inquisition / post- Trespasser. Depending on when it comes out and what the story wants to do, it might even get into Dread Wolf... BUT WHO CAN SAY I hope you enjoy! :D
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
It's baaaaaaack... Chapter 27 is up! So, I mentioned in my last post that I've had a LOT going on and that hasn't changed. I had a major surgery, changed jobs, moved to a new space in a new place (no roommate! just me!), started a new grad program, and I had COVID twice (the first time I had a fever for a month, the second, for 7 weeks!). Sooo... 2022 was eventful. But I have not abandoned this fic, and I'm pretty sure I never will, even if my pacing is a little... erm... inconsistent. lol As I also mentioned, I was struggling with the other story gestating inside this story; I thought about putting it somewhere else, making a separate fic, idek - but every time I tried to publish that "last chapter," it felt too much like summarizing; rushed. So I started fleshing out what happened in between it and the previous chapter, and, well... lol. I found somewhere between 7 and 10 more chapters of story in there. They're not complete, I'm not going to lie to you, but I know where it's going, generally, and I know the major plot points. I also feel pretty OK about what goes in the parts I haven't written yet. I'm not sure how long this will take me. I just got over COVID and getting back to work at a new job under such circumstances is a lot, even more so one the new term for my grad program starts up again. But I've got some things written and I'll post those things weekly and write a little more if I can. Many thanks to those of you who are still following this little labor of love. <3 image credit to the brilliant @ladylike-foxes
For You
Completed commission for @briarfox13, featuring Cullen and her Inquisitor Brenna at the Winter Palace <3
The man that carries rays of the sun asks Brenna for a dance.
“Of course,” she replies, taking his hand. “I thought you didn’t dance?”
“For you?” I’ll try.”
Her heart quickens. It’s not as though she’s been plucked from the ground to an imaginary pedestal. Cullen wants to try with her. He wants to try for her. If only he knew how much she’s been trying for him as he pulls her into his frame.
She gasps softly when they’re shoulder to shoulder. He takes her breath with his roughhewn, chiseled sort of gallantry, that scar on his lip accentuating rather than marring his handsomeness. As they begin, Cullen’s rays embed themselves against a sea of stars, while Brenna stands adorned in midnight colored silk decorated with embroidery that looks like drops from the moon. A translucent cape drapes shoulders, swaying with her as she dances. She feels beautiful, but when Cullen looks at her, she transcends. She’s herself at last, and as they dance they become each other’s own again.
In Ostwick instructors taught Brenna how to dance. She learned with incongruent partners who were awkward to the feel when she stood shoulder to shoulder with them. This moment, even with Cullen’s smashed toe when she accidentally steps on his foot, is an unlocking. Her oh. Her realization she can be congruent, if only if Cullen.
Step by step, they ease into effortless. Brenna laughs as the two begin to find a rhyme in the music, the next time she steps on his toes eliciting a chuckle rather than a hiss of pain.
“It’s alright,” he says softly after. “Besides, I quite like this.”
“I quite like you.”
Their swaying stills. Cullen clutches her hand left over his pattering heart. When had she put it there, awed at the thrum of life underneath? Maker. Like isn’t strong enough of a word to describe the quickening of her heart coupled with the still world whenever she’s near him.
“You like me?”
He smiles. He’s delighted. “Yes,” she says, firmer this time. “Of course.”
“Oh. Good.”
“Cullen.” She stifles laughter. “I thought it was obvious.”
“I like to hear it. That’s all.”
He caresses her face with his gloved hand. It’s not all. He wouldn’t hold her face in his hand as if he held the moon otherwise. He wouldn’t hold her so deliberately otherwise. He said he was shy once, though she never observed him as shy. He was gallant and brave, even when they first met. She brought him to the battlements that first time they kissed and admitted to one another how they felt, but he was the one that kissed without reservation or fear first.
CLICK TO READ MORE
Ancient Law of a Doting Commander
💜 A little sneak peak into a recent Cullen oneshot I wrote for a 28 day of fluff challenge! Read the entire collection (still ongoing as of when this is posted), or this particular one (psst, it's chapter 13!) right here on AO3! 💜
Moving her over to the bed, he placed her under the covers despite her still being fully dressed, and sat down beside her, hand going back to her cheek lovingly. “I believe as your commander, I do have some authority to keep you in Skyhold should you be under the weather.” “Oh?” she asked quietly, eyes tiredly watching him with an amused twinkle in her eyes. “I do believe you’ve just made that up.” He nodded his head. “What shall we call this rule?” She watched him with curious eyes for a bit before his intention was understood, and a little chuckle left her. “I can’t skip tomorrow.” “You cannot go either.” Of course the Inquisitor was fully aware of this. That did not mean she felt any better about it, though, and she slowly sighed in guilt, defeat dawning in her eyes. “Very well…” “So,” Cullen said victoriously, “what ancient law shall we invent?” A little smile appeared on the Inquisitor’s lips. “The ancient law of a doting commander.”
Good evening,
I hear you're looking for Smut Prompt and I'm happy to provide!
How about “Tsk, who’s been a naughty apostate tonight?” for any pairing of your choice? Thanks in advance and happy smut writing!
Thank you for the prompt. I tried my hand at staying really short. For @dadrunkwriting
---
Cullen takes a breath, squaring his shoulders and opens the door. He quickly closes the door behind him and locks it. His eyes need a moment to adjust to the dim light as he climbs the stairs up into the inquisitor's bedroom but when he reaches the top of the stairs, he can see clearly enough.
A few candles bathe the room in warm light, just enough for him to see her figure on the bed. She is naked, kneeling, her hands tied behind her back. Her hair cascades down her back, shining in red gold in the candle light. His breath gets stuck in his throat.
Maker, she's so beautiful.
But she asked him to do something tonight, so he steps over to the bed. He clears his throat and says, "Tsk, tsk, who’s been a naughty apostate tonight?"
Silence. After a moment, her shoulders begin to shake with suppressed giggles.
Cullen groans. "Maker I can't do this."
He steps closer, setting one knee on the mattress. He slides his fingers over her shoulders and down between her stretched arms. "You look delicious, my lady. Like the ripest cherry, waiting for me to be picked." He throws his mantle off and crawls onto the bed behind her. She shivers when he leans closer to her, pressing a kiss to her neck. "I want to make you mine, tonight, and all other nights."
A soft moan leaves her mouth.
"I know you wanted something else but this is all I can offer, my lady." He lets his fingertips slide down her sides, relishing how she trembles. Her hands strain against the bindings. He strokes down her arms and hums. "No, my lady. Your hands stay bound tonight."
not alone anymore
Post Tresspasser, Cullen and Lydia’s first Satinalia married. Read here on AO3
He wonders how he ever slept without Lydia. He wonders how his heart ever beat without her hand over it. Even when they eventually settle to their spots, though still near one another, he’s imprinted.
“Happy Satinalia,” she whispers in his ear before kissing his cheek, rising from her spot on the furs in their living room to rekindle the fire in the hearth with her magic. It’s been a sputtering, erratic thing since the Exalted Council. Someday soon she’ll confer with Dorian—perhaps he knows a solution working with the magisters in Tevinter. But she can still make fire, and married with a child on the way they can still make love as passionate as before, perhaps even more so, because they could have lost. Faced with what could have been lost, love is deeper. It’s surer. It’s a thousand yeses whispered in his ear when she’s underneath him and the firmer way her leg hooks and locks over his when he succumbs to the whole of her body.
When the fire is alight once more Cullen sits next to her by it, kissing her shoulder. Next year, she says, next year when we make and dress our evergreen tree for Satinalia, there will be a little one in the home. He both can’t wait and can wait. He wants to know their child and thinks he'll never be ready but mostly he can’t wait. His love has grown since Lydia. He has more to give. He has a world to give and Satinalias to share with ones he loves.
“I used to hate Satinalia.”
Though the declaration surprises him, Cullen admits he was much the same way. He used to hate Satinalia, because it was just the same as every other day. The holiday didn’t take away his ire, his paranoia, anxiety. His sadness. The day passed with snow falling from the sky and still he was the same lonely and unmovable pillar
“I was alone,” Lydia says.
He takes her hand. It is warm but still he brings it to his lips to warm it like he did the night he found her in the snow after Haven. He thinks he saw inklings of Lydia before he knew her, alone at the Circle near a gilded and grand tree. She could have been somewhere else, dancing as it snowed. Her happiness when she is happy is transcendent. He knows she doesn't like the cold. But she liked dancing in it. Cullen likes the little flurries that fall in her dark hair against ringlets of curls. They danced in the snow earlier. “The cold isn’t me,” she said, pulling him into her arms.
“But I am you,” he said.
Neither weren’t alone, both learning how to dance in the snow. Under their first Satinalia tree, they aren’t alone anymore. “You are free,” Cullen says, her hand still in his, and the word means more than it used to.
“We’re not alone anymore Cullen,” Lydia says, her thoughts his, her hand on her belly. She implores him with her eyes, touch me. Feel the little spark. She—their daughter, as they knew—was light and airy under his palm. She is like her mother already.
“Today is not like any other day,” Cullen promises. It is the first day of the rest of it all. He hasn’t been alone in a very long time. He has friends throughout Thedas and a family who drops in his home for dinner even when they have their own houses, but stew always tastes better when someone else cooks it. He’s in love with the great muse of his life, and a little more than that even.
"Happy Satinalia my love,” his wide says, kissing his cheek.
He kisses her back. He’ll never stop. “Happy Satinalia dearest.”
“No hello for your lover,” Lydia muttered demurely. “Just a hmmm as though we don’t share a bed or own a dog together or are about to have a baby.”
“I just saw you Lydia.”
He still didn’t rise from his spot. “You’re angry at me.”
“I made you breakfast.”
“Only because I’m pregnant and you want to make sure our child is alright. You’re cross with your wife and I am here to say—”
“Funny at that. We’re not married.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Cullen. Not funny.”
He sighed, rising at last and leaning against the desk. He crossed his arms. He still took her breath away. Free of armor for good for the first time in his life since childhood and wearing a red tunic with brown breeches, the scarf she gave him hung around his waist. She didn’t see him tie it on that morning, and he must have done it after he brought her breakfast. She was too busy sulking from his rebuttal the previous night even if she wasn’t proud enough to deny breakfast. That he wore her gift meant something.
His amber gaze stared expectantly as if she was a new recruit, as if she was the woman with the mark on her hand at Haven. Still he was beautiful. Still she let herself behold and indulge in the simple pleasure of gazing at Cullen, indulging in the fact that Cullen her lover and husband in everything but the paperwork took her breath away. It was alright to be taken. It was always alright to be taken and to find him beautiful. Time and healing wrapped and wound him well. He stood prouder than he once did when she first met him. Surely he was a man back then but he was a surer man now. He was proud of the space he took up and let his eyes wander down her body and what he could call his.
Her. His amber eyes took in her messy brown hair and white blouse she paired with a blue, billowing skirt. With most clothes she wore these days her pregnancy was a quiet acknowledgement, this outfit no exception. Indulging, she put her hand there. He smiled slightly even if he knew she did it to garner sympathy.
“I am sorry,” she said. “I know you didn’t take our vows lightly. I know you never took any of the steps we’ve taken lightly. But it was real to me when I gave you my vow. It always will be. No matter what happens I will uphold that vow.”
Click to read More!