digital-goddess:

thedrunkquisitor said:Prompt: So This is the end? Pairing: Cullen/Inquisitor Category: angst (what else?) Au: Red Templar!Cullen

My Note: I’m putting this under Nirah for reasons.

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Blood smeared from the corner of her lip, eyes focusing past him, refusing to give into his demands. She took a few steps back, her feet cautious of where she stepped. Nirah knew this room just as well as he did.

“Look at me.”

She blinked, lashes fluttering slow. She gave a slight shake of the head, the most response she gave to him since he strolled into her room besides screaming at him. He followed her movements, heavy steps hitting the rug. She needed something between them, but he moved to force her to the window instead of the desk. She stole a glance at him, his eyes locked on hers. Red coursed its way through the golden hue of his irises. His face looked gaunt, dark circles under his eyes giving him the image of death. The clothes he wore instead of his armor hung off of him like he was nothing more than flesh and bones.

“Look at me.”

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head once more. “You were supposed to come back last week. You weren’t supposed to go near -”

He slammed his fist onto the desk, papers strewing about as she flinched. Nirah never broke her gaze with him now. The glance turned into watching him. That same hand had struck her minutes prior, that same hand had loved her tenderly just a week ago, clenched into a fist as he moved past the desk.

“I told Samson that I won’t kill you.”

Nirah released a bitter laugh, backing away and towards the window. “I’m already dead, Cullen.”

The red lyrium jutted from the backs of his wrists, twisting them and opening his palm out towards her. “Come with me, then. You don’t have to die for this cause. We can be together still. Always.”

She swiped at his hand, knocking it away from her. He grasped her wrist in that movement and pulled her closer to him. Nirah attempted to squirm away, shaking her head as more tears fell from her eyes. “So this is the end?” she whispered, feeling his grip tighten, feeling the blood cutting off from her wrist.

He dipped his head down, forcing her to look up at him, to lock her eyes with his. His forehead pressed against hers, the faint traces of memories still lingering fresh in his mind. “For the Inquisition.”

She steadied her other hand against his side, focusing her powers quick, feeling the energy of the spirit blade form in her hand before letting it rip through him. His grip on her wrist tightened, pulling it up once as his face contorted in pain, leaning into her and pushing her against the pane glass. “For you.”