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The Chains They Placed

Summary:

Cullen hadn’t been prepared for her to be here; the last time he saw her, he had expected it to be the last. He'd seared the brand onto her forehead, he'd watched as the life left her eyes. Yet, here she was; standing in the freezing cold, looking up at him with no emotion, the sun-shaped brand just as angry as it had been that day. He felt the guilt weigh heavy in his heart.
"I shall endeavor not to bother you again," she states in reply to whatever gruff remark he had just made.
"Maker, hear my cry," Cullen begs in his mind as he watches her walk away, "If there is any way to undo what has been done, let it be so."
He never stopped caring for her, and she endured so much to try and care for him.
Both carry chains of the past, broken under the weight of them. Neither expects the other to love them.
Will the hole in the sky lead to their unbreaking?

A novelized version of DA:I centering around the love story of Meira Neria Lavellan, formerly of Kinloch Hold, and Cullen Stanton Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition’s Forces. In a world determined to keep them broken and apart, they fight to be together. Cameos, blushes, stammering and fluff abound.

**Updates b/c editing-needs polish

Chapter 1: The Tranquil

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

NERIA

It was always the same. The same quiet, yawning chasm of emptiness gnawing at my brain. I knew it was unnatural to be without emotions and yet, I could not feel them.
  Minaeve’s large, brown eyes flicked up to the Chantry’s sun-shaped brand seared into my forehead once more as she read over some reports. Sitting within the inner rooms of Haven’s Chantry, the stone walls muffled the sounds of the activity out in the main hall as the people within prepared for the Conclave.
  Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry, had called the Conclave in the hopes of bringing an end to the fighting between the Circle Mages and Templar Order. The Chantry was Thedas' strongest religious entity, facilitating worship of the Maker and his Bride, Andraste. The Circle, the forced home of those born with magic and the Templar Order, the military organization devoted to defeating dark magic and keeping mages within the walls of the Circle, were both arms of the Chantry.
  Mages had been subjected to control via the Chantry and its Templar Order for millennia, believing magic an affront to the Maker and instilling fear in the general populous through its doctrine. Many mages believed in the Maker and his Bride, who had fought to free Thedas from the rule of magical oppression, but many more believed we suffered needlessly due to a single tenet the Chantry attributed to Andraste's Chant of Light: "Magic exists to serve man, never to rule over him." From the time of her death to now, that tenet had been used to further and further subject mages to various levels of oppression. Torn from our homes at young ages, never allowed to leave the Circle until we'd proven ourselves not a danger and even then our freedoms were limited, mages had grown bitter.
  Resistance began as mages fled their Circles, defied the Templar Order and became apostates; but the Mage Rebellion - what had led to the war now plaguing Thedas - had been sparked after the destruction of the Chantry in Kirkwall. A rogue mage named Anders had decimated the Chantry and half the city through a magical explosion in a terroristic bid for mage rights; or he'd destroyed the Chantry after several attempts to get the Mother there to put an end to the templars’ cruel treatment of the mages in Kirkwall—depending on who was recounting the events that had occurred in the now infamous city-state of the Free Marches.
  The rebellion had led to the mages declaring themselves free and the Circles disbanded. When the Chantry had failed to back the Templar Order, the templars also rebelled, taking the fight into their own hands. Bloody war erupted across Thedas, destroying homes, families and anything else in both sides' path for vengeance. As soon as the bloodlust had begun, some had sought a way out - a way forward. The Conclave announced, neutral grounds chosen in the form of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, where it was believed the ashes of Andraste had been kept, those ready to end the fighting had made their way to Haven in Ferelden. 

Minaeve’s eyes flicked up to the brand again. “Does it bother you?” I asked, my voice monotone. I watched as Minaeve’s features shifted into embarrassment and concern.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t stare,” she apologized. “No, it doesn’t bother me. I just...this report is about other Tranquil mages that have not been accounted for since the rebellion.”

“I see,” I stated. “I do not find it surprising that the Tranquil are not looked after. Few are like you, Minaeve, befriending us - most find us repulsive.”

Minaeve’s small mouth turned to a frown, her eyes filling with sadness. “No one is willing to look past your lack of emotions to see your focus, intelligence and other abilities that only come from being made Tranquil.”

“Perhaps in time, I will be able to learn how to better mimic emotions and inflections. It would perhaps help those most uncomfortable to feel a little more at ease."

A laugh escaped from Minaeve. “I suppose you will, but most people seem to find that more..." She paused searching for the word.

“—Unnatural?” I questioned, deducing what she was trying to say.

“Yes,” she chuckled before placing a hand on my arm. “Neria, here you are welcome and protected. The Inquisition is doing its best to help and understands that all have value.” The Inquisition was the organization we had joined upon arriving in Haven, a failsafe Divine Justinia had created should the Conclave be unsuccessful. Its functionality was meant to be threefold: protect the people of Thedas, put an end to the chaos and challenge the tenets of the Chantry that had led Thedas to its current state.

I stared blankly at Minaeve, who in turn, sighed. I met her eyes. “Not everyone has been welcoming, Minaeve. There are some that have made unkind remarks and others who avoid us entirely.” While Minaeve’s statement was true that the Tranquil who had arrived at Haven were not turned away from the Inquisition, we were still met with disdain. People would avoid our eyes, quickly leave the room if they were alone with us or give a wide berth as we walked past. One person took great pains to avoid me in particular.

“Neria,” Minaeve’s face turned serious, “the only way you can find out why Commander Rutherford avoids you is by asking him yourself.”

“He would evade me if I tried approaching him,” I stated.

“Then approach him where he can’t evade you,” Minaeve shrugged. “Honestly, I'd think you were infatuated with the man the way you go on about him.”

“It is illogical to me,” I met her eyes again. “Discomfort and disgust I can reason, but total avoidance coupled with all the bodily indications of embarrassment, guilt, shame and shyness I can not. It is too many things at once.”

“Alright, stop dissecting him.” Minaeve shook her head as her small mouth twisted with a smirk. Her focus returned to the reports in front of her as she began to sort them into piles.

“I am not dissecting him.” I had no dissection tools nor was his body open before me like one of Minaeve’s creatures she wanted to study.

“Sarcasm, Neria,” Minaeve reminded without looking up from the parchment she started writing on.

“Oh, yes.” Sarcasm was a difficult expression to grasp. 

“No matter what, if you want to know, you will have to ask him,” Minaeve remarked as she turned away from me. Another Tranquil elf had entered the room to deliver an additional stack of reports to Minaeve.

“That course of action is inadvisable,” I stated.

She sighed again before letting the stack of reports thud onto the desk. “Ugh, fine. Then make yourself useful and help me finish going through these reports.”

...

“Neria, this stack needs to go to Commander Rutherford,” Minaeve placed a neat stack of papers into my hands, mischief in her eyes.

“You are being manipulative."

She didn’t deny it, but simply shrugged before pushing me towards the office door. "And you are going.”

“I will deliver these reports to him, but I will not ask him,” I told her as we made our way out of the room.

“Maybe he will bring it up himself?” she questioned, her tone jovial.

“That would be convenient."

“Most convenient,” she laughed as she gave me another nudge, “Now get going.”

I wrapped my arms around the reports to keep them from falling to the ground as Minaeve gave me one final shove out the door. As I walked past the room that Seeker Cassandra and Divine Justinia were occupying, I heard arguing.

“I don’t understand why you are asking this of us. We are your Left and Right Hands! We should be there to protect you!” Cassandra’s heavily accented voice shouted.

“No,” Divine Justinia’s older, distinguished voice rebutted calmly. “I want you both here - protecting the people. They are more important. Do not forget that it is you I have trusted to call the Inquisition into action should the need arise.”

  As I walked down the main hall of the Chantry, the heavy wooden door to the room was slammed shut. I observed the templars and mages filling the small candlelit hall, a few sitting in the pews that had been shoved against the stone walls. They were completely separated, only sharing glares and looks of mutual hatred.
  Some glanced at me as I walked by, their faces contorting with disgust or pity. I was a reminder of the severest punishment short of death the templars could dole out and how dangerous a mage could be. However, I could not remember why I had been made Tranquil. I continued to walk, meeting the harsh chill as I passed the Chantry doors.
  I had forgotten how cold the Ferelden winters could be, the years inside the Circle keeping me warm. I watched as the blowing snow rustled the fur at the ends of my sleeves. I found it perplexing that we still wore Circle robes despite there no longer being a Circle after Grand Enchanter Fiona and the others had voted for mage freedom.
  Pondering this thought, I observed the people of Haven as they bustled about, running errands, and getting settled. The scents of fresh bread and spices wafted from the tavern as I passed by, hearing the laughter of children and the barking of mabari in the distance.
  As I approached the outer gate, the clang of swords and the blacksmith’s hammer could be heard. The wooden gates were swung open to the worn trail that led to the recruits' training grounds. The land outside the village was covered in tents from all the attendees of the Conclave.
  Templars, mages, elves, dwarves and even qunari were among the throngs of people. Every people had taken an interest in the Mage-Templar War as the effects of its outcome would extend to nearly every corner of southern Thedas. Qunari mercenaries had been hired to act as a neutral third party should fighting occur, the dwarves were comprised of those most invested in the lyrium trade while the rest were either mages or templars.
  The various languages could be heard in  snippets of conversations coming from the tents that I passed before reaching the makeshift training grounds. Commander Rutherford stood among the recruits, shouting different orders. His back was to me, so he did not see my approach. The clang of swords was nearly deafening as I walked closer to him. His name on my tongue went unheard as he had begun shouting at a recruit.

“You there, there’s a shield in your hand, block with it. If this man were your enemy, you’d be dead,” he chastised. I tried again, but still he did not hear. Instead, he turned to a templar at his right, “Lieutenant, don’t hold back. The recruits must prepare for a real fight, not a practice one.” While the Conclave had put a pause to the fighting, the recruits to the Inquisition had to be prepared in case the Conclave failed and the war resumed. 

“Yes, Commander,” the templar saluted before heading off to instruct a pair of recruits that were dueling.

I walked closer still, “Commander Rutherford.” 

He startled and turned towards me, his amber eyes wide. “Sweet Maker,” he gasped, almost too quietly for me to hear. His eyes looked me up and down as the usual emotions played on his face. He let his eyes fall. “What do you need? If it’s about reports, you should have taken them to my tent and been on your way. I have much to do.” 

He was gruff and rude, but I did not react instead saying, “I apologize, Commander Rutherford. Minaeve told me to bring them to you directly. I shall endeavor not to bother you again.” 

The Commander’s dark brows furrowed as he searched my face as if trying to find something. When he failed to do so, his brown eyes met mine. “No, it is I who should apologize. I will take the reports from you. It’s frigid out, get back inside before you become ill.” He reached for the reports and tucked them neatly under his arm. He hesitated before speaking to me again, “Thank you for bringing these to me, Neria. Now, please, go back inside.”

“I was not aware that you knew my name,” I stated. 

His eyes widened once again. “Minaeve must have mentioned it. Now go on, I have much to do before tomorrow.” With that he turned his back on me again and walked off to the other end of the makeshift training yard.

I turned and headed back to the Chantry.

...

“Foolish, arrogant woman!” Cassandra yelled as she stomped through the door to Josephine’s office where Minaeve and I were working at a table in the corner of the room. Cassandra’s dark eyes were alight with fury, her face contorted in rage. 

“Calm down, Cassandra,” Leliana’s voice sighed as the petite Spymaster entered close behind the Nevarran woman. Her bobbed, red hair swayed as she shook her head at Cassandra's temper.

“I know you feel the same as I, Leliana. What is she thinking? We are her greatest defense!” Cassandra fumed.

“She’s wanting to appear open, vulnerable,” Leliana lilting voice explained as she approached the desk Ambassador Josephine occupied. “Yes, we’re her greatest defense, but we also send the wrong message for what she is trying to accomplish. After all, we are rather intimidating.”

“Ha! As if that were a bad thing,” Cassandra grimaced.

“It is when you’re wanting to be the mediator of peaceful negotiations, Cassandra,” Leliana chastised.

Cassandra rolled her dark eyes and stomped out of the room.

“That woman is a hurricane of fury,” Josephine sighed as she resumed scratching notes with her quill at her desk.

“I agree. Her heart is in the right place, though. I understand Divine Justinia’s decision, but I don’t agree with it,” Leliana offered as she perched on Josephine’s desk. Josephine’s normally kind face turned sour at Leliana sitting on her desk, but Leliana stuck her tongue out in dismissal.

“You’re just not in the habit of dismembering practice dummies when you’re angry,” I observed, as Cassandra had done. All eyes turned to me. Leliana smirked, Josephine giggled and Minaeve laughed. I looked at each of them in turn.

“True,” said Leliana, her blue eyes studying me, “I do have a bit more tact.” 

Everyone laughed, except me.

...

“Are you going to finish that?” Minaeve mumbled through a full mouth, pointing at the bowl of beans before me.
 
Always beans, as we were low on meat. I pushed the bowl to Minaeve who began eating it as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks. “Why do you eat so much?” I asked.

“I was practicing my magic and that always takes a lot of energy out of me,” she explained before diving into the second bowl.

“I see. I recall you saying you’re not very skilled with magic,” I remarked as I looked her over.

Her eyes flashed with mock hurt. “No, I’m not very good, but it doesn’t hurt to practice.”

“That is true,” I agreed. Practice was the only way one ever grew in skill at something.

“Do you remember what it was like to use magic?” Minaeve asked as she brought the spoon to her mouth for another bite.

“Yes and no. I remember having magic, but not how it felt.” It was another perplexity to my mind. I remembered having magic, but the sensation or even using it was blurred whenever I tried to recall those memories.

Minaeve didn’t know how to respond to that, so she focused on her food. I stayed with her until she had finished eating and then we both stood to leave the tavern. As we approached the door, Commander Rutherford opened it. There were shadows under his eyes that hadn’t been there earlier and a fresh bruise over his cheek. His eyes shifted to mine. I did not look away. Neither did he.

“Excuse us, Commander,” Minaeve apologized shyly as her eyes flicked between us.

“My apologies,” he nodded, shifting to hold the door open, but his eyes didn’t leave mine. “Actually, Minaeve, may I speak with Neria?”

Minaeve glanced my way before answering. “Of course, Commander.”

At that, Minaeve walked out the tavern door, leaving the Commander and I to look at one another. After a few moments of silence he asked, “Would you join me for a walk?”

I looked into his brown eyes, they were soft and his face sad, but the other emotions - guilt and shame - were gone. I nodded.

“First, I must apologize to you. I have not been very polite or kind to you,” he spoke softly as we walked along the curve of the frozen lake. I looked towards him at his apology, but his gaze shifted away. He was still in his armor, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed out towards the dark ice. 

“I am used to not being liked,” I stated. “Tranquil mages are seen as subspecies. I understand the discomfort others feel around me; I suppose I felt the same prior to being made Tranquil.”

“Do you...do you remember when you were made Tranquil?” he asked as his hands came to rest on the pommel of his sword.

“No,” I shook my head. “I am grateful, it would be troubling to have memories of that. Would you agree?” I met his eyes, but he looked quickly away, guilt lining his features. “Why do you look at me like that?”

“I-I...” he rubbed the back of his neck, but didn’t meet my eyes when he said, “I just feel sorry for you—for all the Tranquil.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I can’t imagine living life without emotions, without...feeling,” he observed as his gaze met mine.

“I can’t imagine life with them,” I replied. “I remember them, but I find I have more clarity, more focus without the hinderance of emotions.”

After I said that, he gently grabbed my elbow and turned me to face him. Staring intently into my eyes, he lifted a hand as if to cup my cheek, but instead he said, “I should go.”

I stared at his figure illuminated by the moonlight until he’d disappeared into the shadows. 

Notes:

Thank you for reading the first chapter!

I know I'm super late to posting for this fandom, but Dragon Age is a true love for me. The world, the characters, the story. Writing The Unbreaking has only made me fall more in love with this fictional world and all the people within it. I was inspired to write this story because of my favorite Dragon Age character, Cullen Rutherford. Cullen is not everyone's favorite, but his story, his character arc, is so compelling for me that I had to write a fic in the hopes of really shining a light on what he went through throughout the games. This goal in mind, I began writing a romance for him that would not only weave through his entire history, but parallel him every step of the way.
As I replayed through each of the games, my original character slowly took shape. Through this fic, I am slowly bringing to her to life, and weaving her story not just into Cullen's, but also into the tapestry that is the world of Dragon Age.

In writing their story, I have come to love my own character as much as I adore Cullen and have found my admiration for his character arc grow even deeper. I strive to stay committed to canon as much as possible as I write, but there is some canon-inspired headcanons and creative license to fill in the gaps of the game(s) to translate them into a novel-type story. I also strive to represent these characters as they were originally written by BioWare. The world of Thedas and the characters within belong to BioWare (exceptions being my original characters).

All I can hope is that others will come to cherish my OC and Cullen, their stories, their romance and the world of Dragon Age through it as they read this story.

WARNINGS: While there is no swearing or smut, this story is still intended for more mature audiences as it deals with some dark/difficult themes. I do imply both rape and intimacy without being graphic in depiction with either. The depictions of violence, blood and gore are more graphic.

Kudos and comments are always welcome and appreciated!

**Updates - Going back through and editing/polishing this work as it needs some sprucing up :)