cullen: so, um, do you still have that lucky coin i gave you?
inquisitor: of course, dear.
cullen: does it, ah, bring you luck?
inquisitor: maybe? cullen, what is this about?
cullen: well- i- can i just borrow it for a moment?
inquisitor: yes, but why would you need it back—
cullen: *gets down on one knee*
Look, if you think that Cullen is an irredeemable tool because he was once a dedicated Templar, then that’s your prerogative. I’m not here to tell anyone how to feel about fictional characters.
BUT.
In my opinion? The fact that he came out of DA2 defending mages was a goddamn miracle, and speaks to the quality of his character.
Let’s look at his arc:
Cullen is a rookie kid. He’s sympathetic enough towards mages that he can potentially form a crush on one. He knows that this is inappropriate, given the power imbalance at work, and so doesn’t follow up on it. He wants to do the right thing.
Cullen is tortured by blood mages for weeks or possibly months. Meanwhile, all of his friends are brutally murdered in front of him.
Cullen has a breakdown and lashes out at mages.
Does this case Cullen’s commanding officers to send him off to a nice, quiet monastery for some recuperation time? Nope. Apparently not. Instead they ship Cullen off to Kirkwall, aka the blood mage capital of Thedas.
In Kirkwall, Meredith takes a shine to Cullen because of his ongoing freakout, and promotes him to the post of Knight Captain at a very young age — likely bypassing several intermediate ranks.
Cullen spends the next six years being regularly exposed to demons and blood magic. Some of there experiences are probably triggering.
At the same time, Cullen is surrounded by people who would have encouraged and rewarded his worst authoritarian tendencies.
Somehow, in spite of this, he forms doubts. He comes to (re)recognize the humanity in mages and decides to defend them, turning against the mentor who had faith in him when he was a broken young man.
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.
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.”
Some pieces of audio from a Cullen cutscene that didn’t make it into the game (originally found here). I decided to try and edit together the clips to make it easier to enjoy without having to download the .zip file. (Sorry in advance if the person who did the original rip has already done a post like this. I am not trying to steal anyone’s thunder.) Sadly there isn’t really enough to make for a cohesive conversation, but there are some interesting bits in there.
WOAH WOAH WOAH THERE CULLEN TALKS IN HIS SLEEP??
Cullen talks in his sleep, gets sea-sick, cut a bird free because it was stuck instead of hurting it or just leaving it there, once bruised a rib because he was trying so hard not to laugh during an inspection, and WAS INFATUATED WITH THE INQUISITOR RIGHT FROM THE START.
She shook him with all of her strength. “Please wake up.” He was just thrashing about, the blankets and bedding tangled around him. He had gone limp, his face pale in comparison to yesterday. She shook him once more, fingers digging into his cold skin. “Please wake up!” she cried out again, crawling closer to him. She pressed her head against his chest, listening, praying for any sound.
“Maker, help! Help!” she shouted, her shaking continuing. “Wake up, Cullen! Cullen, damnit, wake up!” she said through broken sobs.
She waited to see his chest rise up and fall, taking in a giant gasp of air, but nothing happened. She shook him more and more, stumbling out of the bed and to the staircase, shouting as loudly as she could. “Help! Please!”
She ran back to her bed, watching him helplessly as she heard the scrambling of boots in the hallway.
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