This will be a relatively short (maybe 5 installments?) multi-chapter Dragon Age: Inquisition AU featuring a F!Trevelyan x Cullen romance.
Though I'm using Elena Trevelyan (who appears in my Cullen one-shots) this story's verse is different from both A Good Man and A Finer Point of Templar Training.
I always thought it was really strange that there's all this talk about a trial for the Herald in the beginning of the game, and then after Haven everyone conveniently forgets about it. So, here's what happens when the Inquisitor goes to Val Royeaux to answer the Grand Clerics' accusations. Please let me know what you think!
This Chapter is rated T, but later chapters will be rated M (NSFW).
"It will be alright," Cassandra said, patting Inquisitor Trevelyan's shoulder with a gauntleted hand. "It is merely a formality."
Elena Trevelyan stared down at the map of southern Thedas, her stomach roiling. The voices of the rest of the war council were a buzz at the fringe of her consciousness, and she wasn't sure if she was going to faint or throw up. Shaking her head, she tried to fixate on what was going on around her.
"A formality?! Maker's breath! They could chop her head off!" Cullen thundered. "Hang what the Grand Clerics want; I say we go straight to Halamshiral."
"And have the Clerics declare us heretics for flouting their decree?" Josephine returned. "the Empress would turn us out immediately."
"We're already heretics, according to the Chantry—what's left of it anyway," that singsong voice would be Leliana.
Her head swam as their voices rose. She needed air—she needed—she needed everyone to just—
"Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!" She screamed, slamming her fists on the table and sending a million little inquisition markers flying. "I can't think will you all shouting over each other."
Skyhold's war chamber fell silent as all eyes turned to the normally soft-spoken Inquisitor. Elena raked her fingers through her hair, and grimaced has her normally elaborate braids snagged against her nails. She took a deep breath and turned to Cassandra.
"Are you sure this is only a formality? There's no way the Grand Clerics will actually convict me of murdering the Divine...and execute me?"
The Seeker hesitated for only a moment, but it was enough to freeze the air in Elena's lungs. "There is always the possibility that the Chantry will decide to show its teeth, but Leliana and I will testify on your behalf. With the Right and Left Hand of the Divine, you will be fine."
Elena nodded, chewing over the other woman's words before turning to Josephine. "And you're completely sure that conceding to the Chantry's demands for a trial is the only way we can get an invitation to the Empress' peace talks at Halamshiral?"
Josephine considered the question longer than Cassandra had; Elena could see the Ambassador's mind spinning through the threads of alliance and friendship they'd formed across Thedas. "Aside from marrying you into the Imperial family—which we certainly don't have time for—it's the only way."
Elena looked across to the table to Cullen. He was leaning over the map, hands balled into fists but amber eyes fixed on her. The fury on his face was plain to see, though it was shaded with another emotion she couldn't read.
"What do you think, Commander?"
He straightened up and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't like the idea of handing you over to the Chantry so easily, but I fear we have little choice."
"The decision is yours, Inquisitor," Leliana chirped.
Elena took another deep, shuttering breath. Cassandra was right, this was just a formality. There should be no harm. But why did she feel as if she was walking up the stairs in the dark, and suddenly there were no more stairs?
"I suppose we must stop in Val Royeaux on our way to Halamshiral. If the Grand Clerics want a trial, a trial they shall have."
Josephine saw to all the preparations. They would not appear before what was left of the Chantry as criminals, but rather a rival power. A villa was rented in the fashionable outskirts of the city, carriages were retained. Cullen and Leliana saw to it that their best people were guarding the group, and especially the Inquisitor, at all times. Vivienne even helped in her own way by packing Elena's trunks for her—well, overseeing the packing: My darling, you'll look so poised and polished it would be a sin to burn you.
Elena stood in the courtyard of Skyhold, waiting for the carriages to be made ready, her mount shuffling at her side. She was sure that after a day or two on horseback she would be thankful for the carriage's cushioned benches, but right now she felt she'd go mad if she was cooped up in that box for any length of time. She turned and rubbed her horse's velvety nose and tried not to think about the days ahead.
"Lady Trevelyan we're almost ready leave," Cullen's voice rumbled from behind her.
She turned to look at him and grimaced, "so soon? I thought perhaps I would wake up by now."
He gave a wry smile and stepped forward, offering her his arm so she could mount. "I've been considering the same thing. Unfortunately it looks like this isn't the fade."
Pity, she thought, someone usually ends up naked in the fade.
Elena took his hand, bracing herself against him as she swung up into the saddle. Though Josephine and Vivienne were no doubt scandalized, she rode astride-it was quicker that way, and besides she'd never been very good at sidesaddle. Cullen mounted his own horse a moment later, and with a nod to her, rode out before the main carriage.
Urging her horse forward, Elena set off at a trot, following the carriage. It would be along ride to Val Royeaux—perfect for her overactive imagination to conjure up all the different ways the Grand Clerics could kill her.