#post inquisition

The world spun around her, illuminated by the warm light of the melting candles perched on his desk. Vague memories swirled around her mind of being deposited against her will by large, grey hands and a deep, rumbling chuckle, but anything else was beyond her. Not that she particularly cared when Cullen was there, the corner of his lips ticked up in an amused smirk.

“Mhm,” she hummed, shifting her weight, bringing her nose against his neck and taking several short sniffs. Cullen laughed, cringing away from her tickling breath, but she followed. “Very-*hic*-nice.”

“Ashvalla,” he admonished with no real bite, “you promised you would refrain from interrupting.”

Ash frowned. “I don’t…remember that.” Then, she sniffed again, and this time he twisted from her grasp. His hands gripped her shoulders, her eyelids drooping as she shot him her best smile. He rolled his eyes, but he sighed in resignation, and Ash applauded herself for having won a game she had no idea she’d been playing.

“We should get you to bed before I cover this report in ink blots. You’re far too distracting like this.”

Her smile sharpened into a grin. “Flushed and ready for you, vhenan?”

Over a year of their courtship, and he still blushed at her flirtations—though not as fiercely as he once did, much to her dismay. “Drunk and likely to regret your decisions in the morning,” Cullen corrected. “Come on, you will need help up that ladder.”

Without waiting for a reply, he stood, rounded his chair, and lifted her into his arms. She flopped uselessly, pressing her face against the crook of his neck, her legs wrapping around his waist, and buried her fingers in his mantle for stability. Surrounded by the safety of his embrace, she pressed her content into his skin in the form of many small kisses.

His arms tightened around her. “Ashvalla, I would rather not drop you.”

“Then don’t.” She punctuated her words with another kiss, followed by several more.

He scoffed, but he did not request her to cease her affectionate activity. “Hold on tight, alright?”

With all the power of a drunken woman on a mission, she clasped her thighs around his waist, locked her arms around his neck, and hiccuped. Cullen released her, testing to ensure she’d followed his instruction, and once satisfied, began his climb. This was not the first time they’d ascended to his room like that, sober or drunk, and she was well versed in how to hang on.

In a matter of seconds, he safely maneuvered them into their loft and carried her over to the bed, placing her down on the firm mattress. She flopped back with a breathy giggle, gaze fixed on the stars winking at her from the hole in the ceiling. Chill night air hit her feet, and she frowned, certain she’d had her boots on to avoid the large muddy puddles from the recent spring thaw. Ash glanced down, understanding dawning as Cullen gently removed her second boot. Moonlight shone against his pale skin, illuminating his strong jaw and the golden strands of his hair. Painfully handsome, as always. If she were lucky, perhaps he’d let her play with them before sleep took her.

Once her boots were removed and she’d started shimmying out of her robes with little success, he helped her out of her stockings, cueing her with softly murmured instructions when he needed her cooperation. Ash grumbled as her arms got trapped in her sleeves, and he chuckled, shaking his head with fond exasperation, but he helped her out of her sticky situation, too.

The restriction of her breast band irritated her, and she rolled over onto her stomach with a dramatic groan. She reached back, haphazardly tapping her back in hopes that he understood what she was asking.

“Yes, dear,” he said patiently, and set about freeing her from the bindings. She took a deep breath and was relieved to find he’d made quick work of her breast band. Fresh air filled her lungs, and she released it with a happy sigh.

Ash mumbled her thank you and rolled onto the open side of the bed he created for her, landing on her back. Shuffling sounds came from her bedside, and she cracked an eye open to find Cullen opening her jar of moisturizer—a necessity for her burn scars, lest they grow itchy and likely to tear. How lucky she was to have someone who cared for her so deeply, and how far they had come to get there. Through strife and pain and far too much to name, they’d settled into the comfort of their love. She closed her eye again, her love an ache in her chest she would never wish away.

The mattress dipped as Cullen sat beside her, prodding her gently to roll onto her opposite side, and he began working moisturizer into her scarred skin. He began at her cheek, moving down her neck, her arm, lingering over her stomach, and to the worst of the burns at her hip.

"Spending a lot of time on my backside, hm?" she teased.

He huffed a quiet laugh, though it failed to hide the melancholy of his touch and the light kiss he placed on her hip bone. "I know you dislike when I take the blame for your injuries, but I would have liked to have the foresight to commission a tasset for you as well. More protection could have saved you some pain."

She wrinkled her nose, searching for her limited knowledge on the different parts of armour—taught almost entirely by Cullen himself. Tasset…right! Metal plates that sat over one's hips. "None of us could've known."

He hummed his agreement. "Yet the sentiment remains."

Had she the wherewithal, perhaps she would have corrected his way of thinking, but words of reassurance swam in her mind, firmly out of reach no matter how hard she tried to grab them. Cullen continued moisturizing her leg in silence, and once finished, he moved back up the bed, his fingers ghosting over her skin as he brushed her bangs from her face. She turned onto her back, her eyelids fluttering open, heavy with exhaustion but needing to gaze upon his handsome face like she needed air. His hand cupped her cheek, his lips curved in a soft smile, and his eyes…Love pulsed in her heart, sending her pulse into an erratic rhythm. If someone were to tell her that he was the one possessed by a spirit of love, she would be inclined to believe them. It practically radiated from every pore, lighting up his face and warming her down to her core.

“Stop looking at me like that.” Her hand flopped about in a useless attempt to ward him off. “I’ll fall in love all over again.”

Cullen chuckled, ducking his chin, though his love did not dim. “Would that be so terrible?”

A smile stretched her cheeks, and she giggled. “No.”

“Then the matter is settled.” He tucked the sheets up to her chin, and she didn’t have the heart to tell him she’d kick it off as soon as he left—too warm already. When he returned, he’d see for himself, but hopefully her bare breasts could distract him from thoughts of sheets. In her opinion, they were much more important.

“G’night, Cullen,” she said as she nuzzled into his palm.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight, Ashvalla. I’ll return with water for you, should you need it.”

Ash hummed in lieu of acknowledgment, and before Cullen’s weight beside her could ease, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Kaaras’ eyes widened as he whirled around. In his panic, he had forgotten that there had been four corpses pursuing him. One had broken off from the group and was now looming over him, mace in hand and ready to strike. He could look directly into its empty eye sockets and see the fervent glow of the energy that animated the body – it flickered, cold and almost mocking him. Then the corpse raised its mace with both hands and swung down hard.

He might have lost his dominant arm, but he was still somewhat trained as a Dalish rogue. He dove out of the way at the last moment, rolling to a stop some distance away. Then he scrambled to his feet, whirling around so he could keep an eye on his opponent. Right then, the corpse was trying to pry its mace from the ground, tugging hard with skeletal arms clad in both dented armor and chunks of mummified muscle and skin.

That was the bad part about animated corpses – they weren’t bound by a body trying not to hurt itself. Instead, they just wanted to hurt him.

Briefly, Kaaras contemplated running into the darkness of the night in order to wait for them to pass. But then he remembered the town that wasn’t too far away – there was innocent people there. If he was struggling with the corpses, they wouldn’t stand a chance.

By the time he had decided on what to do, the corpse had freed its mace from the ground. Now it was advancing on him at a surprisingly brisk rate of speed, far from the shuffling gait its fellows had shambled along with. This one was the leader, if one could be found among animated corpses.

If he took that one out… maybe the rest would follow.

However, taking it out would require gaining the upper hand. That was a little hard when he only had one to begin with. It was even more difficult when his opponent had both skeletal hands on its mace and was using them to swing down hard. Once again, he was forced to dodge out of the way, barely missing his left shoulder being clipped in the process.

There had to be irony in the fact had he still had his arm, he would’ve definitely broken in with the late dodge. But Kaaras didn’t have a chance to reflect on how the gods hated him as he jumped back to avoid another swing.

Then they proved they really despised him by putting a chunk of wall where his foot was supposed to be as he landed.

Kaaras saw stars as he fell back and landed hard on the ground. Then he saw the corpse leering over him, the lights in its empty skull glowing in the dark of the night. All he could do was roll out of the way as it took the mace in both hands again and tried to bring it down on his skull. At least it missed his horn, but that wasn’t much comfort.

His heart was pounding as he tried his best to get back on his feet, but his downfall came when he tried to prop himself up with his left arm. Instead of finding a grip on the ground, there was nothing but cold air. Then he was back on the ground hard, wincing as his still-tender shoulder collided with the earth.

A groan escaped his lips as he lay there, pain racing through the arm that was no longer there as if to remind him once again what he had lost. It wasn’t the first time he cursed Fen’Harel, but it might be the last as the corpse advanced on him, ready to swing for the fences. The gap was closing fast – feet became inches, and then it was right above him with that damn mace.

He could practically hear the rotting muscles creak and groan as it raised its mace to bring it down between his horns.

It was in that moment that he should’ve accepted his death that Kaaras threw out his hand, closing his eyes tightly. That was when he felt the tingle start in his palm, traveling out towards his fingers and then extending beyond his hand altogether. With it came a flash of heat, and then a light that would’ve certainly blinded him had he not had his eyes shut.

Then he heard something hard hit the ground as the pain never came.

Kaaras finally caught his breath as he risked the chance to open his eyes. In front of him, sizzling in a charred heap of bone and armor, was what had once been the corpse trying to kill him. Its mace lay to the side, forever discarded without its wielder to retrieve it. For the moment, he was safe.

He allowed himself a breath as he managed to make it back on his feet, heart pounding in his ears. His palm still tingled, but not as bad as before. However, he could feel it now – the energy running like a current under his skin, begging to be released.

Once, he had ignored this feeling and tried to push it down back into the darkness where it had resided for so many years. But that was a lifetime ago, and he didn’t have the luxury in turning down his one chance of making it to sunrise. Instead, he clenched his fist and watched as the violet light flared through his fingers.

It was time to fight back.

Kaaras’ breathing slowed as he crept along the leaf-lined ground, bare feet making little noise as he hid behind a tree. From his vantage point, he could see the three remaining corpses were still looking around, trying to find him.

If he focused…

He glanced down at his still glowing hand. While his control was getting better, the amount of his spells was still low. If he had to guess, he had one big attack left in him before he ran out of energy. But… small attacks would work. All he had to do was avoid getting killed.

With his heart pounding so hard against his binder that he was amazed he didn’t see the outline against his clothes, Kaaras crept along, trying to get in range. He might have even made it all the way, if not for the fact a twig crunched under his foot when he still had some distance to clear.

What happened next was a blur as all three corpses turned to face him, eye sockets glowing with wild energy. They were soon shambling towards him, rusty weapons raised and ready to strike. They cleared the distance far faster than he expected, and soon they were upon him, surrounding him and cutting off his escape.

“I swear I’m cursed some days.”

But there was no more talking after that – Kaaras twisted around to dodge a rusty sword slice from the corpse on his left. He wheeled around, lashing out with the hardest kick he could to send it flying, watching as it hit the ground hard in a clatter of bone and metal. It would’ve been a proud moment, but he didn’t have time to rest on his laurels. Instead, he had to jump back to avoid the head of a hammer from one of the two still standing bodies.

At least this time he landed on his feet, but then he had to dodge out of the way of dagger swings. For a brief moment, something like nostalgia rushed through him – it felt like a lifetime ago that he had managed that – but he didn’t have time to feel it. Instead, it was time to fight. He could brood later once the danger had passed.

Kaaras grit his teeth as his hand glowed violet and energy collected between his fingers. He swung hard, releasing a bolt of energy towards the dagger wielding corpse. One dagger dropped to the ground with the arm that held it and it was forced back a number of feet. He pried the blade from the still-twitching hand and soon that was glowing too.

Then he was upon his opponent, swinging down hard in a vicious stab straight into the corpse’s chest. Before it had time to react, he kicked it away and jumped back just in time to avoid the sudden explosion of energy and light. Bone and metal flew in all directions, but in the end there was nothing left by a mark of ruin on the ground where it had once stood.

Creating a miniature walking bomb was quickly becoming one of his specialties.

As much as he might have hoped the explosion would’ve taken out the other two corpses, they had been out of the blast range. However, with power coursing through his veins, he felt a stab of courage as he strode forth. For the first time in what felt like ages, he wasn’t afraid.

The hammer wielding body approached, drawn in by the explosion. It readied its attack, swinging down hard. This time, instead of jumping back, he quickly swerved to the side and avoided the blow. Then his stolen dagger, still glowing with energy, found a home in the corpse’s eye socket.

It tingled a little as he released the energy, violet fire filling the void and setting the skull on fire. Then the fire spread throughout the entire body, popping and crackling with light and heat. It didn’t last long – the charred corpse soon hit the ground, hammer falling to the side.

The worst part about it was the smell. Even throughout his years as a merc and later as the Inquisitor, he had never gotten used to what burning bodies smelled like. How Andrastians could do it regularly was beyond him, but he didn’t have time to reflect on that. There was still a corpse remaining, and it was back on its feet.

A cold wind blew as Kaaras stared down his final opponent. For a moment, violet eyes met the glowing eye holes. Then in the span of a breath the spell had broken, and it rushed towards him with its sword raised. Their blades met in the middle as Kaaras fought to keep from sliding back. For a corpse, it was strong.

But it was only a corpse, even if it could move. And corpses had bones that broke easily when he kicked hard at the uncovered knees.

The corpse buckled and fell, still gripping its sword. It tried to swing at him, but he jumped out of the way of the blade. Then he was his turn to attack. Energy bubbled in his veins as he gathered the last of his magic into his stolen dagger, feeling drained for a brief moment before the adrenaline rush took over.

Then he brought it down hard into the corpse’s head, shattering rotten bone in a flash of violet light. With the connection severed, the rest of the body dropped to the ground, shuttering for a second before going still. It was then that Kaaras allowed himself a breath as the light died in his dagger and his remaining arm felt as heavy as lead.

He had survived the worst of it. Now all he had to do was make it back before he passed out.

---

The next day, Kaaras rose in the afternoon. His body ached as he pulled himself out of bed and dressed for the day, but he was used to that. The worst of it was the throb of his shoulder – it still hurt from where he had landed on it the night before – but it was something he could live with in the moment.

Besides. He had a meeting.

His teacher was waiting for him in their usual room, with a wide window that looked over the Antivan countryside. Hissra’s face was blank as he closed the door behind him, cutting off his route of escape until it was all over. Kaaras could feel his heart in his throat as he came to a stop in front of her, sweat beading on the back of his neck.

It had been her idea that he go to clear out the shuffling corpses – they had been the leftovers of a small time necromancer that had died the month prior. There had been whispers of the risen dead throughout the countryside – thus he had wound up in the dark armed with nothing but his magic and the desire to see the sun rise.

Why she hadn’t gone herself or sent her necromancer son was beyond him, but he was the student and it wasn’t like him to question her lesson plan.

“Good to see you in one piece, Kaaras.” Her tone was even, like it always was. “How do you think last night went?”

Well, he was alive, so…

Kaaras paused to replay the night’s events, his frown deepening as he saw every misstep as if it was tattooed into his eyelids. “I could’ve been faster with my attacks. I know,  I keep forgetting that I have magic at my disposal.”

It was one of the points of their lessons – he needed to stop thinking like a rogue and begin acting like a mage. Easily said, but actually leaning into it was something else. Even with his failed training as a child and teen, some things just died hard.

“The range of your miniature walking bomb is getting more refined though. Last month you would have been caught in the blast.”

Yeah – he had needed healing from the burns. It was one hell of a reminder that he needed to get out of the blast zone.

Still, it was a compliment, so Kaaras nodded along.

“You managed four separate attacks last night, and even channeled it through a nonmagical weapon.” A brief smile crossed Hissra’s face as she nodded. “That was good work.”

Kaaras’ heart skipped a beat at that. “Really?”

She nodded, the tips of her horns bobbing with the movement. “Four is a record for you, and that’s under ideal conditions. Now we know what you can do under stress.”

No doubt that was going to change her lesson plans. His body ached at the thought of an uptick in training and what other hell she would put him through. Despite that, however, he felt light as the sunlight streamed through the large windows.

Maybe he could do this mage thing after all.

“Now, today’s lesson is going to focus on channeling with just your focus item…”

Back to work it was. Kaaras nodded as he settled in for another lesson on how to best use his long-neglected magic. It would be another trying day no doubt, with plenty of missteps and failures along the way that would keep him up at night long after practice was over.

But… he had the memory of her words and how it had felt to stand there with power coursing freely through his veins to help soothe his troubled mind. With any luck, it would grant him some reprieve through the worst of it.