They call me the Dread Wolf.

Walk Through the Fire - Klergy, BELLSAINT

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-DSf1TP7hNI

depicts the feelings here TT-TT 

Thanks again to @iawv Amazing screenshots! 

“We will save our friend from himself... if we can.” 

The Homecoming Kiss

Cullen and Mara Lavellan

The long-awaited culmination of unspoken desires.

Dwell Within

Chapter 29: Here and Now

...

It felt the same. His feet soft and padding up the familiar stone steps. The uniforms were the same, but the sheer numbers of forces were astounding. Greeted, saluted, but he made no answer as he quickened the pace into the hold. A brisk walk through the great hall turned into jog, then a sprint as he rounded three staircases to the corridor.

A door he had walked through hundreds of times. A door that he had fretted before once upon a time, and a door that at one point was always welcome for his stay.

This door of darkened oak was all that stood before what could be. With only the smallest hesitation, he breathed in deeply and then quietly swung open the door. He could have collapsed, the fair and golden lover curled on the drawing couch with a journal at hand. Lip bitten, she appeared to be searching for words, or lost in a memory. In either matter, whimsy donned her rose cheeks as she stole a moment for herself and her thoughts.

A heavy, exasperated sigh was released from him, and his feet led him home.

Mara turned at the sound of the footsteps, pulling herself from the sweetened thoughts. She stood from the drawing couch to welcome him from his return from Ferelden. “You’re back.” A honeyed tone that revealed his return meant something more. He had decided to stay. Her heart pounded a little nervously as he returned to her in confidence.

The journal in her hand dropped and clambered to the marble floor as he glided in, sweeping her into a familiar hold of lovers, one arm wrapped around the small of her waist to lift her, one hand’s fingers sinking up into the braid of the base of her neck.

The motion too quick and perfect to respond, in some surprise he showcased a renewed love, sinking his soul into the depths of her. Upper lip flushed against hers, his bottom lip rounded and cupped below hers. This kiss paled to the one he gave her as he bravely whispered his love just a few weeks ago. Paled to the accidental kiss she initiated in their dreams. This was a kiss only fitting of a homecoming of the utmost and enamored lovers. And this grandeur left her weak. As he lowered Mara to the ground, her knees buckled and a quick reflex pulled her in tighter to his broad and strengthened stature.

Her lips twitched as she fought a smile, breathless. “What are you doing?” She whispered in between quiet pants. The affection lifted something small that dwelled unknown to her spirit.

After his confession, he asked for a short leave to help his family settle into a new home. And be away and sort through the revelation that the Inquisitor had not returned his love.

Unfazed, he continued, moving his hand to affectionately graze her porcelain face doused in red. “How did you survive?”

...

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Dwell Within Chapter 28

& Without Part III

The finale of a three part series exploring other choices on its fate of Thedas.

...

Cold and mid morning, Smoke drifted lazily from the remnants of the Rutherford home. No longer lit in flames, the residual embers met the still and frozen air, under turned by Mara’s wary feet.

There was nothing. Wooden beams turned to ash, the siding crumbled, cracked, and discarded. There were no distinguishable possessions...Everything had parished... and perhaps everyone.

Mara stifled a cry, her mouth opened and guard fallen.

“If you’re looking to loot, there’s nothing left.”

Mara and Leliana both turned as a silent bystander had watched the two approach the remains of the home.

His voice and features were rough, weathered. A worn man of at least his mid 40’s, overshadowing a pre-teen boy who stood just behind.

There was a kindness to his eyes behind his calloused look. She’d recognized those features anywhere. “Branson?” Mara asked gently. She had only met their sisters, but there was a distinct Rutherford look in his tired features. She watched as Branson stiffened, untrusting of the two women who stood before their fallen family home. “I’m Inquisitor Lavellan. And this is my colleague Leliana.”

His eyes softened some as he looked to Mara, her pointed ears, her Vallaslin free face, the staff strapped to her back. Branson looked back to his son, then to Mara. A heavy sigh left him. “Will my boy be safe if we talk?”

“Yes.” Mara and Leliana answered in unison.

Branson turned to his son, whispered he’ll be back shortly, then turned and started walking west. Mara followed him, stopping about 100 feet away from his son and Leliana.

“I’m guessing you have something to do with all of this.” His tone was hurt, jaded, but his voice carried quietly.

Mara remained silent but looked to him with compassion. His grief fluttered through the air.

“Last night when I came home, the house was engulfed in flames. The house had to have been burning for hours...” His eyes turned to the ground.

Mara waited for the answers that would break her.

“They were home.” Branson looked back up to Mara, whose eyes were full and misty. “The fire took them.”

Death had followed Mara over the years. Thousands passed, out of war, bravery, justice, innocence, or victimization. And now, two more souls died in her name. Fast tears rolled down her face, bringing her hand to her mouth to stifle her cry.

“Who did this?” Scorned, vindicated. He had to know.

Drawing a breath, she answered softly. “Enemies. They’re targeting our families.” Another sniff as she challenged to take a breath. “We’ve traveled for days to get to you.”

“They took my family!” Branson shouted his words, cutting into the guilt that Mara already held. He wanted to be mad at her. He wanted someone for whom he could channel his anger.

And she allowed it. If she could carry this burden and relieve him, she would always choose this. “I’m so sorry.”

He could see her guilt, and he could see what his siblings saw in her. He shook his head, pacing in spot for a minute before speaking.

“I remember they wouldn’t shut up about you when Cullen brought you home. It was all I heard for months... Inquisitor this, Inquisitor that... I had always been weary of his choice to join you. But how my family loved you...” Branson teetered in emotions of blame. “They’re gone because of your cause.”

...

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Dwell Within Chapter 29

Here and Now

Upon the world ending, her love led him home. 💗

...

It felt the same. His feet soft and padding up the familiar stone steps. The uniforms were the same, but the sheer numbers of forces were astounding. Greeted, saluted, but he made no answer as he quickened the pace into the hold. A brisk walk through the great hall turned into jog, then a sprint as he rounded three staircases to the corridor.

A door he had walked through hundreds of times. A door that he had fretted before once upon a time, and a door that at one point was always welcome for his stay.

This door of darkened oak was all that stood before what could be. With only the smallest hesitation, he breathed in deeply and then quietly swung open the door. He could have collapsed, the fair and golden lover curled on the drawing couch with a journal at hand. Lip bitten, she appeared to be searching for words, or lost in a memory. In either matter, whimsy donned her rose cheeks as she stole a moment for herself and her thoughts.

A heavy, exasperated sigh was released from him, and his feet led him home.

Mara turned at the sound of the footsteps, pulling herself from the sweetened thoughts. She stood from the drawing couch to welcome him from his return from Ferelden. “You’re back.” A honeyed tone that revealed his return meant something more. He had decided to stay. Her heart pounded a little nervously as he returned to her in confidence.

The journal in her hand dropped and clambered to the marble floor as he glided in, sweeping her into a familiar hold of lovers, one arm wrapped around the small of her waist to lift her, one hand’s fingers sinking up into the braid of the base of her neck.

The motion too quick and perfect to respond, in some surprise he showcased a renewed love, sinking his soul into the depths of her. Upper lip flushed against hers, his bottom lip rounded and cupped below hers. This kiss paled to the one he gave her as he bravely whispered his love just a few weeks ago. Paled to the accidental kiss she initiated in their dreams. This was a kiss only fitting of a homecoming of the utmost and enamored lovers. And this grandeur left her weak. As he lowered Mara to the ground, her knees buckled and a quick reflex pulled her in tighter to his broad and strengthened stature.

Her lips twitched as she fought a smile, breathless. “What are you doing?” She whispered in between quiet pants. The affection lifted something small that dwelled unknown to her spirit.

Continue Reading on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937004/chapters/61058341

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Dwell Within Chapter 32

Last Man in Thedas

Live on AO3

This chapter has been in the works for two months as has seen many revisions (and has been in my mind for much longer). I owe it to you, to the story, and to myself to do this right. Thank you for waiting as I left you with a major cliffhanger.

I am so happy to share this with you. 💗

I do have a new goal on Ko-Fi to fund a couples commission for Mara and Cullen. I will also gratefully accept coffee to fuel my writing flow.

Dareth Shiral 🖤

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...

Mara offered her right hand across the war table, palm up anticipating his touch. Her gaze was focused yet soft, a kindness that would never yield. “It’ll be easier to join you,” she explained.

The Inner Circle had returned to the table in the war room after the intermission. Solas on Mara’s left, Cullen directly across from Mara, and Cassandra and Leliana filling in the other chairs at the table.

The table was now topped with warm tea among the vials of potions. Solas sat closely to Mara’s left, ready to direct guidance and supply lyrium or elfroot should she grow faint from the art of legilimency.

Without a glance to anyone else in the war room, Cullen met her eyes and her hand with his own, softly kneading his thumb to her open palm before taking her hand in his left.

Mara’s affect and tone did not change by his touch, aware of the peering eyes in the room. “The tea will help you relax, but without falling asleep.” Mara paused, feeling the buzz and warmth of magic from his gold band in her fingers. “Your willpower and experience as a Templar may make this very difficult. That’s okay. We can go slow and you can ask me to stop at any time.”

His honeyed eyes were trusting even with the task. Cullen nodded, ready to proceed.

Mara paused again, inhaling before she began.

“Close your eyes with me.”Mara instructed, watching as Cullen closed his eyes, his face softening in the rest. “Think of your home...Focus on one distinct feature.”

Mara closed her own, concentrating on the touch of his warm hand. “Think of it. Describe it to me.”

Cullen searched his mind and the month he spent there. There was pain and the entirety of the home weighed and spun in his mind.

One thing.

Cullen inhaled deeply, sighing as the antique writing desk came to mind.

There was a writing desk. Your letter was left on the surface, folded into thirds and addressed to me. Cullen stiffened, his upper back tensing as he recalled the letter. She had composed and left a letter explaining the home--a letter she prepared as she did not have the same optimism Cullen held for the fate of the world.

The desk is blue. Light blue, with brass knobs. And frankly, a little snug for me to fit into.

Mara waited in silence until a morsel of a thought found her. Blue. Except that it was abstract and without meaning, without form.

“Something blue,” Mara softly spoke. “What is around the blue?”

Cullen inhaled, trying to think of anything other than the letter penned to him. His name was written in soft and flowing cursive. He had memorized her letter word for word and recited it each night in her absence until he fell asleep.

There’s a velvet armchair. In the backdrop of bay windows. Cullen sighed, heaviness weighing in his chest. I used to imagine you curled up there, the sunlight dancing on your skin. There was a blanket on the armchair. Something to keep you warm as you read your favorite story as if it were new again.

The feeling, not the words itself, were warm and brimming from their joined hands and coursed up to her mind.

“Invite me,” Mara asked softly, a whisper that almost begged intimacy.

Cullen softly smiled to himself at her words. I want you here with me, Mara.

...

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