AUTHOR'S NOTES
I owe much to MoonCrisis (*FFN*/u/1538943/MoonCrisis), the best beta reader anyone could ask for. I have grown tremendously as an author from their comments and critiques, and this fic would have been even more amateurish without their steadfast support. Thank you so much!
Obviously, I do not own the rights to any characters or materials directly derived from the Dragon Age franchise, which all belong to BioWare. I do not, and will never, profit from the publication and the distribution of this fan fiction.
This is a fan fiction focused on the gay romance between a male Inquisitor and Cullen Rutherford. Proceed at your own risk.
I will post updates every Sunday afternoon (U.S. Eastern Standard Time).
FFN Specific: This is a heavily censored version of the fic that meets the ratings guideline for FFN. I highly recommend that the readers check out the uncensored version at AO3. For those willing to venture forth, I will post links to AO3 on every chapter that has been censored.
Your thoughts and feedback are always welcome! Thank you for reading!
They met under the worst circumstances. The Temple of Sacred Ashes, obliterated. The Divine's Conclave, vaporized. If not for his duty as the Commander of the Inquisition's forces, Cullen would have been at the epicenter too.
But there was no time to philosophize that particular brush with death. As the Inquisition agents struggled to gather what force they could, fortify Haven, and counteract Fade rifts that have sprung up everywhere, the Commander found himself backed into a corner. Four despair demons surrounded the man, and he fought to survive.
He detested despair demons. They flitted about wildly, allowing him no opportunity to strike as they bombarded him constantly with freezing emissions. Fresh snow dotted their dark hoods and sickly green exoskeletons. Cullen's ragged breath diffused quickly in the frigid air, as if to prove that they were conveyed by an evanescent organism, an infinitely mortal being.
The Commander had a fleeting thought that he shouldn't have stopped taking lyrium. Maybe he could beat all four of them if he had some lyrium right now.
He was losing. He could feel it.
Then he saw another warrior jump into the battle. He could immediately tell the man was a templar.
The new warrior, whoever he might be, bellowed a battle cry that seemed to raise Cullen's faith in perseverance and victory. Their moves aligned perfectly, down to the arduous breaths, and the relief washed over the Commander. Between the two of them, four demons were manageable.
Feeling reinvigorated by the reinforcement, Cullen gripped his sword and heater shield tighter. The despair demons diverted their attention to the new templar, preparing to make a dash toward the fresh target. Before all four of them did, the Commander bashed the one closest to him with his shield and mercilessly hacked at its appendages. The demon shrieked as it melted away into the oblivion.
Letting the momentum of the kill carry his body forward in a smooth motion, he bashed another demon and punctured its gaping maw. The other warrior was whirling about, easily dispatching the third demon with his nondescript broadsword. And then they were down to one.
But Cullen should not have relaxed. Not yet anyway. The last monstrosity turned toward him and stretched a bony arm, which he managed to evade only barely. The Commander took a tumble and was about to be pierced by that grotesque arm when the other templar cleaved the demon's torso.
As the demon combusted into a pile of gray ash, the young templar stopped and offered a shimmering hand. It was him, the one the Inquisition soldiers found at the center of the explosion. The one who was supposed to be held in a jail somewhere.
Cullen clasped the forearm firmly and it lifted him off the icy ground with some difficulty.
"Are you all right?" A weary smile. Cullen could not help but stare at the prisoner's face.
At that moment Cassandra shouted harshly, "Close the rift, now!"
"Pardon me," intoned the prisoner as he promptly jogged over to the rift, away from Cullen's side. The iridescent glow coming from the Fade alighted the man's silhouette and the Commander thought it oddly beautiful.
With a flick of the prisoner's left wrist and a small burst of arcane energy, the rift was no more. After requisite introductions and a few polite words, Cullen watched as the young prisoner, Cassandra, Solas, and Varric headed down to the explosion site.
Many months had passed, but the Commander often thought of the day the world shattered. And whenever he did, those tired yet resolute blue eyes on the young prisoner who owed him and the Inquisition nothing, lingered in his mind.