Bonds
The sacrifices we make are our burdens to bear, the losses just as a damning. This was not the life she had meant for them, but she would not let them fall. || AU, Cullen x F!Inquisitor Trevelyan Mage and Dorian x M!Trevelyan Mage.
An AU where slugette from deviantART's Yvad is Mara's young half-brother, their paths reunited after she retakes Skyhold and the rebel mages join the Inquisition. More or less chronicles their interactions as they try to find their place with the fall of the Circles while learning that they each can have something more than a gilded cage.
Will be done in small installments as the muse takes me.
And I've decided on a whim to give the chapters Latin titles. No idea why.
Author: Illusionary Ennui
Disclaimer: If it's not in the games, codex entries, or the wiki, it's mine. All else, hail to Bioware.
Chapter Rating: T
Chapter Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Tension, Confusion, Anger
Edited: 01.18.2015
Ubi Sunt
Brother, brother mine
Huddled in the fallen snow,
where are you to go?
Hardly more than a young man, the Commander of the Inquisition's forces eyed the boy where he stood before them in the guard-tower. Very little of Yvad Trevelyan reminded Cullen of the Inquisitor. Yet something lingered in his eyes, even in their amethyst shade rather than the familiar dark amber, which struck him with the same determination and compassion. They were, however, less weathered.
Did they not have enough trouble: Skyhold barely under their control, a bevy of rebels hosted beneath crumbling walls? With the Circle gone, a part of him felt for the mage. He understood the allure of Grand Enchanter Fiona's bid for order among the chaos, of freedom and respect. Had he known of his fellows attacked after he left the Order himself, but what rapport would they have now? It sat in the pit of his stomach, congealing as it mixed with disdain – they had only learned themselves of the bloodshed at Therinfal Redoubt, the few survivors finding sanctuary within the old fortress. In one breath, Cullen was glad for their presence to counterbalance the influx of mages. However, in the next breath, it strained his own resolve – Maker, he could still taste it in the air.
"Know that you will receive no special treatment from me or any under our command. Even if the Grand Enchanter and the Inquisitor may vouch for you."
"I don't expect any," Yvad assured him as he chewed on his lower lip.
His robes, not heavy enough for the mountain weather, shifted with his feet, his balance moved from one foot to the other. A thin hand reached to brush a fallen ebony lock from his eyes. It was his own dreams and demons that called to him from the fallen, Alexius' folly like molten lead worming through his veins. All he craved was their silence and the comfort of the one who mattered most.
"Can I see her?"
"Your sister should be here shortly. Ambassador Montilyet had need of her for another matter."
Leaning to lay his vambrace across his desk, the commander's amber stare fixed the mage in its line. Leather-clad fingers tapped an uneven rhythm on the hardwood to hide the subtle twitch of their lengths, the tremors growing worse each day. He knew his duty as he fought to keep his mind in check. His voice hardened, its timbre lowered as if to remind himself of the truth so he would not waver. "First and foremost, the Inquisition takes precedent above our own desires."
Yvad returned the former templar's gaze, full of curious ire. A fire burned in the man's breast, a quiet, building flicker. He had seen it before, the need and fascination. Too many times he saw it dwell in the First Enchanter as he watched his sister grow under Lydia's care, her path dictated by their design. But this man's flame burned with a different light. Softer. Torn. He could not sense the lyrium readily in the commander's blood, but there were chains like it, hooked deeply into both mind and body. Perhaps there was more to him than met the eye? Something held the warrior to the standard of command, masking him in it. But beyond that, Yvad could only guess what lay beyond the golden glare.
"And what of her desires?" Incensed, his emotions simmered near the surface enough for the tingle of magic to ghost across the tips of his fingers. It set his teeth on edge even as instinct brought the Commander snapping to his feet, reaching for the hilt of his sword. No, the man would listen – they both had fought too hard for their ideals. For him, Mara had given Yvad everything in the Circle, gave him peace and strength. How could he let them forget she was as mortal as they were?
"The First Enchanter. The Inquisition. Every one of you try to use her. All she wanted was to help of us, to make things easier for mages AND templars alike."
"And I've given her my promise that such destruction will never happen again. Corypheus may have taken hold of the Order, but I will NOT let their poison go unchecked."
The young Trevelyan stepped back from the low roar. There it was, the same fire of an altered strain. What was this man? More than a commander of a growing army. More than a templar. There were ghosts clawing behind those eyes and something more. What made him burn at the mere mention of his sister's trials? With a measured breath, Yvad allowed his magic fade and his mind to calm, sifting through query after query.
"What do you –"
"Yvad?"
All his bravado drained at the mere sound of his name, so soft as it fell from a welcome voice. He turned to see only Mara, not the tower around them, the commander's dusty military tomes, nor the man in stranger garb beside her. All Yvad saw was his sister, all apprehension and kindness. Unlike their elder brother set to inherit what they could not, their only tied was the blood of Bann Trevelyan alone. He saw their father in her face, a fleeting memory, but he cared little for that man. He care for Mara, not the nobility had had been born into. Even his own mother had loved her, no more than an elven mistress herself to their father. It was she who hid their magic as they grew together, learned together, until their father banished them to the Circle, first her and he only a few years later. She was the one who saw him through the trials, through the hurt and fear.
He wanted to speak, to tell her how much he had missed her, how he had feared for her. Even the Bann had thought her dead until the rumours became truth and inspiration. He had wanted to leave the rebels then, to flock to Haven. He never reached her in Redcliffe, held back by Fiona for his own safety. But he was here now – he wanted to help.
"Mara, I –"
"What were you thinking?!" Her righteous wrath mingled with her relief. Expecting a scolding, he bristled only to feel her arms fold around him, barely giving him room to breathe into the tangles of auburn. Whatever argument he could muster lost itself in her embrace, as comforting as he remembered. He forgot everything save that warmth.
"Now, don't smother the lad. I imagine he's been through enough."
Like spice and dark allure, the other man's accent pierced Yvad's haze. Further north than their own. Seheron? No, too far. Tevinter. The subtle, regal airs filled each word, distinct but telling. Yvad managed to pull away just enough to meet the steel-grey eyes smiling at him from behind his sister. All sun-kissed skin and stylish coif, every buckle and filigree polished and fine. Even in the aura of their own, his magic and stature stood out like a challenge, something worth reaching for. Who was this mage?
Courage and ease took Yvad then, his own fire fanned.
"And miss out on all the fun?" He flashed the Tevinter a smile of his own, his words found again. "Not a chance."
To be continued...
Author's Note: Again, this is an AU, a what-if. And admittedly, I don't know how it's going to play out, but it should focus more on the familial bonds and history between Yvad Trevelyan (belonging to slugette) and Inquisitor Mara Trevelyan as well as their relationships with those they care about and their choices.
Will be done in small installments as the muse takes me. And I've decided on a whim to give the chapters Latin titles. No idea why.
Any road, I intend to work on this when I don't have the muse for my Order and Chaos series, probably even after that one is finished.