Fandom: Dragon Age
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Cullen Rutherford x Arya Amell
Chapter: 1/??
Summary: Eliza Hawke arrives unexpectedly at Skyhold, promising to pledge herself as an agent of the Inquisition under one condition: They will attempt to reverse the Rite of Tranquillity on her cousin, Arya Amell.
Read on AO3 here
Notes: I’ve had this series in my head for a very long time and I am extremely excited to finally start sharing it. Updates will probably be quite sporadic, but I am determined to see this through. Hope you enjoy!
Prologue
In the long hours of the night
When hope has abandoned me,
I will see the stars and know
Your Light Remains.
- Chant of Light, Canticle of Trials
Arya Amell's pounding footsteps seemed to echo as she ran across the barren landscape of the fade. Her long, dark hair flew wildly around her, sticking to her face where the tears poured down her cheeks.
The Fade shifted suddenly as her sanctuary came into view. It was just as she had left it last, a bizarre blend of library and garden which could have only existed within the Fade.
Arya drank in the sight, her eyes following the rows upon rows of tall bookshelves which outlined the chamber. A spiral staircase stood opposite her, leading up to a balcony which granted access to the second story of books, as well as an array of plush armchairs. Instead of a ceiling, the room opened up to the swirling colours of the Fade sky above. The centre of the chamber was dominated by a large willow tree, with low twisting branches. A grassy meadow full of wild flowers coated the floor like a carpet, surrounding a large pond on the far side of the room. Books floated haphazardly throughout the room between bookshelves, waiting to be plucked out of the air and read.
She and Eliza had constructed this sanctuary together as children; it was their safe haven, away from the prison of the circle and the fears and uncertainties of a life constantly on the run. Here, they had fantasised about one day meeting, but that could never happen now.
Arya came to an abrupt halt at the thought, fear and despair clawing at her chest. This would be the last time she would see her sanctuary, and it appeared to be empty. If Eliza wasn't here, Arya would never see her cousin again.
"Eliza?" She choked back a sob, "Eliza, w-where are you?"
"Over here Ari!" Eliza called, swinging her way down the spiral staircase, "What's got your knickers in twist, you never call me-" the words died in her throat as her amber eyes met Arya's blue.
"Ari? What happened?!" Eliza was at Arya's side in an instant, far faster than she would have managed outside of the fade. She gripped Arya's upper arm with one hand and tried to brush the tangled mess of hair out of her cousin's face with the other.
"He lied to m-me El, Jowan lied," Arya sobbed.
"What?"
"He's a blood mage El, and I helped him escape."
They had gone into the basement in search of their phylacteries. They had found Jowan's and destroyed it, but Arya's had already been sent to Denerim following her Harrowing. But that didn't matter; Jowan had assured her, he and Lily would help her escape. Maker, she had been such a fool.
"We got caught and he left me behind and they're…they're going to make me tranquil." Arya's knees buckled and she fell to the floor.
"No! They can't!" Eliza gasped, crouching in front of her cousin, pulling her hands away from her face and holding them tightly. "I won't let them… we'll come for you, Bethany, Carver and I, we'll break you out before they can-"
"No! You'll never make it in time El, and then you and Beth will be imprisoned here too, maker knows what they'd do to Carver."
"But-"
"Please, don't make this any worse than this has to be," she whispered.
Eliza pulled her younger cousin against her, wrapping her in her arms. The cousins sat that way for what felt like eternity, clinging to each other, making the most of their last moments together. Arya's sobs echoed through the fade as Hawke stroked her hair.
"They'll coming for me for me soon, I don't have much time." Arya took a deep breath, wiping her face. She looked up at Eliza resolute. "Promise me you won't come looking for me?"
"But-"
"I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you, and I… I don't want you to see me like that. Promise me?"
"I can’t just leave you-“
“Eliza, please.”
Eliza wanted to resist, to argue and fight until she was blue in the face, but the pleading, desperate look in her cousin’s eyes made her falter.
“I…I promise.”
Arya sighed in relief. Trying to muster up a smile, she took Eliza’s face in her hands. "Goodbye El, I love you," she whispered.
"Wait! Not yet, don't g-" But the figure of Arya Amell had already faded away, leaving Eliza Hawke kneeling alone in the fade.
"M-mage Amell?"
Arya knew that voice all too well. A voice that made her heart soar and butterflies flutter in her stomach. Soon, she'd never be able to feel that again. She'd never figure out if it was love or just an adolescent crush. She curled up tighter on the cold hard ground of the room that served as her cell, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to stop the flow of tears.
Maker, not him. Not now.
Footsteps. A pause.
"Arya?"
In spite of herself, she turned to look up in surprise; he'd never used her given name before. Cullen was knelt beside her, uncertainty etched across his face. As their eyes meet, his eyes widened.
"I-I came as soon as I heard, I had to see you before- M-maker, I'm so sorry"
She laughed hollowly as she pulled herself into a sitting position with her back against the wall, hugging her knees to her chest.
"There's nothing to apologise for Cullen," she sniffed, trying to wipe the tears off of her face, unable to look Cullen in the eye. Maker, why couldn't she stop crying? "It's my own fault, I trusted the wrong person and now I'm to be made-" Choking back a sudden sob, she buried her face in her arms.
Tranquil. The word hovered unspoken between them.
She heard the sound of plate hitting the floor before a warm, calloused hand gently grasped her upper arm. She gasped softly at the unexpected contact, before slowly looking up to meet his eye. She felt her heart stop at the look of concern and devastation on his face.
It was the only kindness she had been shown since Jowan's escape. Despite everything, he still trusted her. To him, she wasn't a monster. To him, she was still Arya.
The thought was enough to tip her over the edge again, and somehow she was suddenly in his arms, sobbing hysterically against his chest-plate. Cullen hesitated for just a moment before awkwardly wrapping his arms around her, the sudden urgency of the situation had broken every boundary. He slowly rubbed her back with one hand, stroking her hair with the other. After a while, the sobs started to subside.
"I should have realised," Arya murmured against him.
"You couldn't have known."
Her hands balled into fists against his chest as she looked up, her blue eyes icy. "He was my best friend, my brother, for seven years. We told each other everything! How could he keep that from me? I should have known."
But Cullen still did not pull away, still gazing at her intently. Embarrassed, Arya took a deep breath looked down at her hands, slowly unclenching them.
"Why are you doing this? You should hate me."
"I could never hate you."
She looked up at him again, surprised to find the gentleness and sincerity in his eyes. This was closer than they'd ever been before; she'd never noticed the darker flecks of amber in his golden eyes before. Her heart hammered in her chest. If this was her last chance to feel like this, Maker be damned, she would not waste it. Lips parted, she moved her face closer, and, Maker's breath, he wasn't moving away…
The sudden scraping of the key in the lock of the door broke the trance, and Arya leapt away from her Templar and back against the wall. She would not get him in trouble too.
"Ser Cullen, I thought I'd ordered you to stay in your quarters," Greagoir barked.
"B-but sir-"
"Silence! As I told you in my office, I will not change my mind. You are too close to this situation…this mage." He sneered the words. "You will leave immediately."
Cullen took one last look at Arya. His sorrow evident.
"Now, Cullen."
"I'm sorry, M-mage Amell." Cullen whispered.
Arya could not watch as he walked away from her. She barely noticed as they tied her wrists together and led her away. As if she could try to escape anyway, with them restraining her magic.
Irving stood there in the Harrowing Chamber, waiting for her execution party. He looked at her sadly; his star pupil, reduced to this.
Panic bubbled in her chest. "Irving, please, don't let them do this to me. I could-"
"I'm sorry, child," Maker, why did he have to look so disappointed in her, "This is the only way"
"Mage Arya Amell," Greagoir barked, "You knowingly aided the escape of a blood mage."
"I didn't-"
"Silence! You have proven yourself untrustworthy and a danger to the circle. You will be subjected to the rite of tranquillity, for the safety of yourself and others.”
Arya had finally run out of tears, but couldn't stop herself from shaking uncontrollably.
Greagoir approached her, lifting the lyrium brand to her forehead. “Consider this an act of mercy.”
Arya squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus on her remaining emotions, savouring each one.
Love. Eliza, her only true family, who’d taught her to climb trees in the Fade, and could make her cry with laughter.
Anger. Jowan, her friend, her brother, who had lied and betrayed her, leaving her alone to this fate.
Joy. The sneaked glances, smiles and blushes with Cullen in the library. The thrill of their secret chess games in the dead of night.
Sadness. There were so many things she’d never experience. So many things she’d never get to feel.
Wonder. The rush of magic through her veins as she healed a wound, or brought ice to her fingertips.
Fear. What would become of her now? Would any fragment of her remain?
So this is my first fanfic attempt that i’ve actually been kind of happy with. Might be part of a larger piece some day (i’ve got a ton of ideas running through my head that I can’t seem to get on to paper at the moment), but I thought i’d share this for now to see what people thought. I hope you enjoy :)
Fandom: Dragon Age
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Cullen Rutherford x Arya Amell
Read on AO3 here
"Arghhh!" A frustrated voice shrieked from behind a bookcase.
Cullen snapped out of his daydream. Unable to sleep, he had been enjoying the peace and quiet of the sleeping tower on a late night stroll. It had made a nice change from the usual chatter and explosions from the mage's lessons or experiments, and it felt rather freeing to not be weighed down by his armour as he paced the corridors. He had ended up in the library; it was one of his favourite places to patrol, for reasons he swore had nothing to do with a certain mage who always seemed to be in there.
But the spell of peace and quiet had been broken; Cullen was clearly not alone. His templar instincts kicked in, as he slowly crept towards the source of the noise, ducking behind a bookcase.
"Andraste's knicker weasels!" The voice shrieked again, before a small thud.
At that, Cullen couldn’t stop himself.
"Andraste's what?" Cullen exclaimed, ducking around the bookshelf. He blushed immediately at the sight before him.
Arya Amell sat alone, cross legged on the rug in front of the fireplace. An old book lay open in her lap and a chess set in front of her. She was glaring at a discarded chess piece he suspected she had just thrown at the bookcase opposite her. Her dark bushy hair was wilder than usual, haphazardly tucked behind her ears.
Maker's breath, she was beautiful.
At the sound of his voice she looked up in horror and immediately flushed a shade of red to rival his own.
"S-Ser Cullen! I'm so sorry, I didn't think anyone else would still be up and I-"
"N-no, I'm sorry for interrupting- no one else is up, I c-couldn't sleep and…Maker's breath, what are you doing?"
"I'm…um…I'm practicing." She replied sheepishly, nervously tugging at her hair and nodding towards the chest set in front of her.
Cullen looked at her in stunned silence, so she babbled on, trying to avoid his gaze.
"Jowan keeps wiping the floor with me, and so I thought if I practiced really hard, without him noticing…maybe I could surprise him and wipe that infuriating smirk off of his stupid face and then maybe-"
Cullen chuckled, and Arya looked up in surprise.
"And what does that have to do with Andraste's…what was it?"
"Knicker weasels." She flushed harder, if that were possible.
"Right," he chucked again, "What has chess got to do with those?"
"It turns out practicing on my own is harder than I'd thought…I'd found a book on chess techniques, and thought that would help, but Brother Francis is proving to be a patronising arse and is overall highly unhelpful." She glared at the offending book, slamming it shut and tossing it aside.
Cullen’s eyes widened in surprise; he had never seen her treat a book like that. She usually handled them as priceless treasures. He had caught her on more than one occasion telling the younger apprentices off for such treatment. This one really must be bad…
"I could help you practice?" the offer was out of his mouth before he could think about it properly, and he inwardly cringed, anticipating an immediate rejection.
"You know how to play?" she asked, surprised. Cullen nodded and Arya stared back at him thoughtfully. There was still so much she didn't know about her Templar. Maker's breath, the Templar. Their stolen glances and blushes did not make Cullen hers.
And yet she couldn't stop staring at him as if he were hers. In the quiet of the sleeping tower, she had him all to herself for a change. And Andraste's knicker weasels she'd never seen him without his armour before; the loose tunic was showing off broad shoulders and muscular arms that were normally hidden in plate…
Cullen's face fell as he turned to leave. Arya panicked; she'd forgotten to answer his question.
Maker please don’t let me have ruined this.
"N-no wait! Please… if…if you wouldn't mind. That would be..." Wonderful. Amazing. "…helpful."
She cringed at her inability to speak coherently around him, convinced that he would change his mind, stalk away and report her for being out of bed so late.
And yet Cullen's face lit up, and she swore she felt her heart stop. She watched as he came towards her, crouching to pick up her discarded Queen, before settling down across the board from her. He reached across with the piece, and as she stretched back to take it from him their hands brushed. In her surprise, she fumbled and dropped it. Flushing again (Maker's breath she must look like a tomato right now), she focused on setting up her pieces, determined not to look at him.
"So…" Arya started, steadying her voice and trying to distract herself from the ridiculous urge to throw herself across the chess board and kiss him. "Where did you learn to play?"
"Oh…w-well as a child I played with my sister. She would get this stuck-up grin whenever she won. Which was all the time," he smiled, "My brother and I practiced together for weeks. The look on her face the day I finally won…"
Cullen looked at the chess board, smiling fondly, lost in the memory. Arya gazed back at him in wonder; this was the most he'd ever spoken to her without stammering. She grinned. Progress.
Cullen looked up suddenly, as if he'd briefly forgotten she was there.
"So…er… I know exactly the k-kind of problem you're facing," He grinned awkwardly. And adorably. She had to stop herself from swooning. Maker help her…
Fandom: Dragon Age, pre-blight setting
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Cullen Rutherford x Arya Amell
Summary: Pacing the Circle Tower in the dead of night, Cullen did not expect to stumble across a flustered Arya Amell attempting to practice her chess skills.
Notes: So I actually managed to write a new chapter for this, as well as making a few edits to Chapter One (although nothing major). Huzzah!I think I have a few more short chapters in me for this, but we shall see.Hope you enjoy :)
AO3 and previous chapter: Here
Arya waited for the last of her fellow apprentices to blow out their candles and begin snoring softly, before silently dressing and and creeping out of her dormitory. Her entire body felt tight with apprehension as she tiptoed her way through the corridors and down the stairs, making her way back towards the library. The previous night, she had she had been worried about getting caught out of bed out of hours as she followed the familiar route; now an entirely different fear gripped at her chest.
She had skirted around the topic of meeting with Cullen again, terrified of scaring him off and ruining what was quite possibly the best evening of her life. Cullen had seemed reluctant to discuss anything further meetings himself, casting her hopes into further doubt.
Before she knew it, Arya reached the heavy wooden doors to the library. She took a deep breath, before tentatively reaching out to turn the door knob.
Suddenly, she pulled her hand back in panic. Instead, she leaned forward and rested her head against the door with a small thud. Closing her eyes, she attempted to clear her racing thoughts, and shake away the doubt gnawing at her chest.
Get it together Amell, what’s the worst that could happen?
Straightening herself, she reached up to comb her fingers through her unruly hair trying to tame it, to no avail. One more deep breath, and Arya slowly pushed the door open, slipping through and tentatively making her way through the bookshelves towards the light of the fireplace.
She’s not coming, Cullen silently cursed, what was I thinking?
He sat crossed legged before the fireplace, the chess set in front of him. Much like how he had found Arya the night before. A smile briefly tugged at his lips at the memory, before his doubt consumed him again.
The previous night had been wonderful. For the first time, he had Arya’s company all to himself, completely free of the usual worries of judgemental stares from his fellow Templars, or fearful glances from the other mages. He hadn’t wanted to spoil things by asking if they would meet again, especially as Arya hadn’t seemed to want to bring it up herself. If it was going to be a onetime occurrence he was going to make the most of it, Maker be damned. As he lay in bed afterwards, grinning like an idiot and feeling lighter than he had in months, he had told himself that he was content with this.
But now, sat alone in the quite of the library faced with the very real possibility that she wasn’t coming, he knew he had been lying to himself. He had hoped with every fibre in his being that she had enjoyed herself and would want to meet again. Even if she had just wanted to practice enough to finally beat Jowan at chess, that would be enough for him. But now, doubt clawed at his chest. He was a Templar, and she was a mage. Why would she want to spend more time with one of her jailors?
Maker, he was a fool. Sighing, he flicked over his king in defeat, and stood. With one last glance at the chess board, he turned to leave, rounding the corner of the bookshelf and immediately walked straight in to Arya.
She yelped as she nearly fell backwards. Instinctively Cullen’s hands shot out to steady her, as Arya’s own hands reached out to grip at the nearest object to right herself, which just so happened to be his shirt. They stared at each other in shock.
She’s here. She’s actually here.
They stood frozen like that for what felt like hours, hearts racing, his amber eyes gazing into her icy blue. He’d never noticed the faint freckles scattered over the top of her nose, and he longed to reach out and trace them with his fingertips, committing the location of each one to memory. Cullen was captivated by the warmth of her body against his and her faint smell of vanilla; he never wanted to let go. Her hands softened against his chest and he felt sure she’d be able to feel the hammering of his heart.
Suddenly, he came back to himself. He was overstepping his bounds, he knew it. Quickly, but reluctantly, he released her and stepped away. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and tried to avoid her gaze. His head was desperately scrabbling for words to apologise and excuse himself, when she interrupted his thought process with a small cough.
“Shall we?”
He looked up. Her face was flushed, but she was beaming up at him, gesturing towards the board. He felt his heart stop.
I’ve created a new side-blog for my fanfic drabbles! This means I have a place to post any non Dragon Age related fics, so I can continue to use this blog purely to spam my DA obsession.
I will be reblogging my DA fanfics on this blog ( @daqueen15 ), but please check out @daqueen15writes if you fancy checking out my other writings (i’ve recently posted a My Immortal fanfic). I’m considering also using the side blog to share writing advice posts I find on here.
Fandom: Dragon Age, Pre-Blight setting
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Cullen Rutherford x Arya Amell
Summary: Pacing the Circle Tower in the dead of night, Cullen did not expect to stumble across a flustered Arya Amell attempting to practice her chess skills.
Notes: Reblogging the updated chapter one of my first fanfic, originally posted on my Dragon Age Blog @daqueen15 . Enjoy :)
Read on AO3 here
A frustrated shriek cut through the silence of the library, snapping Cullen out of his daydream.
Unable to sleep, Cullen had been enjoying the peace and quiet of the sleeping tower on a late-night stroll. It had made a nice change from the usual chatter and explosions from the mage's lessons or experiments, and it felt rather freeing to not be weighed down by his armour as he paced the corridors. He had found himself in the library; it was one of his favourite places to patrol, for reasons he swore had nothing to do with a certain mage who always seemed to be in there.
But the spell of peace and quiet had been broken; Cullen was clearly not alone. His Templar instincts kicked in, as he slowly crept towards the source of the noise, ducking behind a bookcase. He mentally cursed at his decision not to wear his armour. Even if he’d just brought his sword…
"Andraste's knicker weasels!" The voice shrieked again, before a small thud.
At that, Cullen couldn’t stop himself.
"Andraste's what?" Cullen exclaimed, ducking around the bookshelf. He blushed immediately at the sight before him.
Arya Amell sat alone, cross legged on the rug in front of the fireplace. An old book lay open in her lap and a chess set in front of her. She was glaring at a discarded chess piece he suspected she had just thrown at the bookcase opposite her. Her dark bushy hair was wilder than usual, haphazardly tucked behind her ears.
Maker's breath, she was beautiful.
At the sound of his voice she looked up in horror and immediately flushed a shade of red to rival his own.
"Ser Cullen! I'm so sorry, I didn't think anyone else would still be up and I-"
"N-no, I'm sorry for interrupting- no one else is up, I…uh… couldn't sleep and…Maker's breath, what are you d-doing?"
"I'm…um…I'm practicing." She replied sheepishly, nervously tugging at her hair and nodding towards the chest set in front of her.
Cullen stared at her in stunned silence as she babbled on, trying to avoid his gaze.
"Jowan keeps wiping the floor with me, and so I thought if I practiced really hard, without him noticing…maybe I could surprise him and wipe that infuriating smirk off of his stupid face and then maybe-"
Cullen chuckled, and Arya looked up in surprise.
"And what does that have to d-do with Andraste's…what was it?"
"Knicker weasels." She flushed harder, if that were possible.
"Right," he chucked again, "What has chess got to d-do with those?"
"Well…It turns out practicing on my own is harder than I'd thought. I'd found a book on chess techniques, and thought that would help, but Brother Francis is proving to be a patronising arse and is overall highly unhelpful." She glared at the offending book, slamming it shut and tossing it aside.
Cullen’s eyes widened in surprise; he had never seen her treat a book like that. She usually handled them as priceless treasures. He had caught her on more than one occasion chastising the younger apprentices for such treatment. This one must be bad.
"I could help you practice?" the offer was out of his mouth before he could think about it properly, and he inwardly cringed, anticipating an immediate rejection.
"You know how to play?" she asked, surprised. Cullen nodded and Arya stared back at him thoughtfully. There was still so much she didn't know about her Templar. Maker's breath, the Templar. Their stolen glances and blushes did not make Cullen hers.
And yet she couldn't stop staring at him as if he were hers. In the quiet of the sleeping tower, she had him all to herself for a change. And Andraste's knicker weasels she'd never seen him without his armour before; the loose tunic was showing off broad shoulders and muscular arms that were normally hidden in plate…
Cullen's face fell as he turned to leave. Arya panicked; she'd forgotten to answer his question.
Maker please don’t let me have ruined this.
"N-no wait! Please… if…if you wouldn't mind. That would be..." Wonderful. Amazing. "…helpful."
She cringed at her inability to speak coherently around him, convinced that he would change his mind, stalk away and report her to Greagoir for being out of bed so late.
And yet Cullen's face lit up, and she swore she felt her heart stop. She watched as he came towards her, crouching to pick up her discarded Queen, before settling down across the board from her. He reached across with the piece, and as she stretched back to take it from him their hands brushed. In her surprise, she fumbled and dropped it. Flushing again (Maker's breath, she felt like she was on fire), she focused on setting up her pieces, determined not to look at him.
"So…" Arya started, steadying her voice and trying to distract herself from the ridiculous urge to throw herself across the chess board and kiss him. "Where did you learn to play?"
"Oh…w-well as a child I played with my sister. She would get this stuck-up grin whenever she won. Which was all the time," he smiled, "My brother and I practiced together for weeks. The look on her face the day I finally won…"
Cullen looked at the chess board, smiling fondly, lost in the memory. Arya gazed back at him in wonder; this was the most he'd ever spoken to her without stammering. She grinned. Progress.
Cullen looked up suddenly, as if he'd briefly forgotten she was there.
"So…er… I know exactly the kind of problem you're facing," He grinned awkwardly. And adorably. She had to stop herself from swooning. Maker help her…
