Romancing the Arishok (The Qun and DRAGON AGE II), "Asit tal-eb, Part 3"

Everyone has a weakness. The Arishok is mine. Well, he's actually one of maybe 20-30 weaknesses of mine across the Dragon Age game trilogy, but you get the idea. (Wait, hey, Solas isn't reading this , is he...?) Also, props to the always-talented Nick Thornborrow for this beautiful fresco.

THE ARISHOK: We remain until we fulfill the demand of the Qun. Or until the demand changes.

So, like, okay, I admit it... there are certain Dragon Age characters I sometimes find it difficult to be objective about. Simply because of, well... basic, animal, um, hotness. 

For instance, consider my darling Arishok, from Dragon Age II. My Hawke walks up those stairs to him at the Qunari compound in Dragon Age II and I'm already doing a happy dance, delighted to see my big, bad, forbidden, kingly, Qunari pseudo-boyfriend again. Every time my Hawke reaches the top of those stairs for the first time, I sort of go into a daze, gazing at him with little hearts in my eyes and imagining our iconic Lady and the Tramp moment eating spaghetti together in a nice little dive restaurant in Kirkwall, shyly culminating in a kiss over a bad chianti candle and checkered tablecloth.

I mean, yes, okay, fine, he's terrifying. He's a zealot. BUT LOOK AT HIM.

Wait, where was I? 

DAMMIT.

Nope, nope, hold on. I can do this. I can write an objective column about the Arishok without my tongue unrolling like a party favor. No, really.

Here we go. Wish me luck.

It's not easy to be a ruthless, cruel, totalitarian yet magnetic leader with a noble and brooding profile. Especially one trapped in a back alley for years (and without Wi-Fi)... in Kirkwall, of all fricking places. KIRKWALL.

The Exhausted Zealot

When we meet the Arishok, he's tired, dignified, bored, and hanging out on a bench semi-sort-of tricked out to look like a throne.

He seems really unhappy to be stuck here in Kirkwall, and who can blame him? I mean. It's Kirkwall. My take on Kirkwall is that even ships in the vicinity find themselves violently sheering away from the harbor, reacting like living marine mammals and carrying their careless passengers far from its toxic seas and airs.

And, look, if I consider the Arishok's situation, I can find a surprising amount of sympathy for him, even given his brutal actions later on. The single most important relic of his people has been stolen, and he cannot return home without it. It's simply the code of his people, the requirement of his mission. So he's trapped. He must retrieve the relic, which means he's stuck in this vile, nasty powderkeg of a backwater, watching its Viscount crumble, its Commander go mad, and its mages and templars trade blows in an eternal conflict... and he can't do anything but hang out and watch Netflix.

He does seem to like this one person, Hawke. Hawke has charisma. Hawke is color-coordinated. Hawke is brave, honest and forthright. Hawke is also extremely attractive. (My Hawke is especially attractive, just so you know. This is important as far as my romantic subtext with the Arishok.)

But pretty early on, the frustratingly narrow-minded yet attractive Arishok begins to ponder the possibility of a date with Hawke (OH SHUT UP).

Meanwhile... talk by talk... we learn who the Arishok is... what he believes... and what he wants.

Aw, dammit, Arishok, GO HOME! Go home! And then CALL ME!

A Question of Honor

As our interactions with him begin, the Arishok has been shipwrecked and trapped for far too long. He is desperate for companionship and has completed all the jumbles, New York Times crossword puzzles, and Candy Crush updates, when Hawke shows up at his carefully barricaded Qunari compound in Kirkwall, which is why he is so interested and immediately invested in Hawke when she (my Hawke's gender) shows up to say hello.

HAWKE (among options): You won't honor your bargain [with Jevaris]?
ARISHOK: There is no bargain to honor. His offer for the gaatlok was refused, so he invented a task to prove his worth, when he has none.
JEVARIS: I broke my beard getting your outcasts killed.
ARISHOK: You hired someone more competent and now stand in their shadow pretending it is yours. You dishonor their accomplishment. Get out of my sight before I bother lifting my sword.
HAWKE (among options): Nevertheless, you have benefited from his actions.
ARISHOK: Do you think we are unable to hunt our own outcasts? This was interference, nothing more.
JEVARIS: So I get nothing for all this work?
ARISHOK: If anything, we have been denied the righteous application of the wisdom of the Qun. What payment should I exact for that? Go, dwarf, before I begin my tally.At this point, Jevaris argues about being paid and that gaatlok is a product people want. The Arishok views his efforts as tiresome.

ARISHOK: There is no profit in empowering those not of the Qun. The means of creating the gaatlok is ours alone. It shall be dispensed only to our enemies, in the traditional manner.

And... Jevaris leaves in disgust. And the Arishok also is tired and irritable and pretty much done, and just wants everyone gone.

ARISHOK: You will leave as well, human. There is no more coin for you here.

He whispers to himself and this is a big moment... and it's pretty truly moving. He whispers to himself about what is right and wrong... a real question to his inner self. It's interesting, moving... and creepy. This is where the Qun becomes a religious calling even in an areligious context. Because the Arishok is admitting he feels that to leave Kirkwall unconquered, to leave its people outside the Qun... is wrong. 

ARISHOK: (to himself) We have a purpose, but when it's done, do we leave Kirkwall like this?

I think this is a key moment: The Arishok feels an actual duty to conquer this place, to bring it within the order of the Qun. It does not appear to be a need that arises from a wish for battle or conquest, but simply from his disgust for what he sees as needless chaos and disorder.

Then he looks down, and of course, typically, Hawke is still there. Brave, heedless, and waiting for more info. (Note: I'm going to boldface a few key lines of dialogue I think are directly tied to the Arishok's allegiance to the Qun.)

ARISHOK: Why do you bother me, human? I hire no blades and need no goods. Your kind thinks selfishness and want are normal. This city, all of it, leaves a bad taste.
HAWKE (among options): If you despise this place, why haven't you left?
ARISHOK: Since we arrived, I have seen nothing but greed and weakness. Dwarves, humans, elves—just... festering. No order, no goal. You are one of the few I have met with any ability. And yet this too was random, a result of selfishness. I cannot fathom how a mire like this can be justified. You say we should leave, but how can you bear to stay in this chaos?
HAWKE (among options): I agree. It's a mess.
ARISHOK: But you don't see that as a problem?
HAWKE (among options): I see it as an opportunity. And I intend to take full advantage.
ARISHOK: Karasten are soldiers. The Qun made it so. They can never vary from that assigned path, never be other than they are meant to be. But they are free to choose within that role. To accept and succeed, or deny and die. Glory is clear and defined. It is an undeniable certainty. What "full advantage" can you take without that authority? 
HAWKE: He's free to choose to obey? That isn't contradictory to you?
ARISHOK: He chooses to be. As do we all, long before any of your meaningless freedoms are presented. (a beat) I am not the one to educate you. I did not intend to land here. But this city may demand certainty. I suspect we are done, human.
HAWKE (among options): I don't think Kirkwall would do well under military rule.
ARISHOK: The rule of the Qun is not military. It is discipline and order.
HAWKE: How is that different?
ARISHOK: To your limited understanding, it is not. You fear soldiers that arrive to remove your pitiable vices. But they do not control Qunari. The triumvirate divides and governs. One is nothing without the others. 
HAWKE (among options): Can you tell me about the other two parts?
ARISHOK: No.
HAWKE: Then we can learn nothing.
ARISHOK: I am no more equipped to explain than you are to understand. Arishok, Arigena, Ariqun. Pillars of the Qunari, of the nation that must be. There is but one way to know these things, human. And I have yet to decide if it must be done.

This is one of my favorite little moments—both from Hawke, who is canny enough to point out that she is attempting to learn from him—and from the Arishok, who interestingly notes that he is not there to be her teacher, and he is not looking to evangelize or to convert her.

And then there is that chilling and disquieting moment: "There is but one way to know these things, human. And I have yet to decide if it must be done." He is, of course, talking about conquest. Purification and order through violence.

I think what's scariest here is that the Arishok speaks with that flat assurance we previously saw in Sten. He speaks about his actions without emotion, and with a flat affect, as if they are predestined. The residents of Kirkwall are not people to him, just things. Bas. And right now, they are in his way.

HAWKE (among options): You're a long way from home. Why did you come?
ARISHOK: To meet a demand of the Qun.
HAWKE: Which was?
ARISHOK: It is a matter only the Qunari understand. We remain until we fulfill the demand of the Qun. Or until the demand changes.
HAWKE (among options): How many Qunari have you lost to the Tal-Vashoth?
ARISHOK: None.
HAWKE: That seems unlikely.
ARISHOK: We lose nothing when weakness abandons the Qun. It is the Tal-Vashoth who have lost themselves.
HAWKE (among options): You guard your powder carefully. 
ARISHOK: It is a tool that can only be allowed to exist under the ordered authority of the Qun. 
HAWKE: It could benefit many people.
ARISHOK: It does now. Just as swords benefit warriors, but are not given to children. (a beat) Well... your children. 
HAWKE: Farewell.
ARISHOK: Panahedan, human.

I love the Arishok's final exchange here. There is the faintest ghost of a smile on the line about children and swords... and real, slight affection in the final, "Panahedan, human." Hawke is someone he has begun to care for.

MY HAWKE: How do you feel about dinner? Maybe the amusing glass of pinot grigio?

Alas, the Arishok does not hear me. Facepalm.

Oh, honey, no!

The Savage Within

I've taken great care to transcribe the Arishok's dealings with Hawke in Dragon Age II here, because they communicate the way the Qun's code and constructs are etched in stone. There is no stretching any meaning, no wishing for a more elastic outcome.

The Arishok, for instance, visibly likes and warms to Hawke in DA2. But this is not a happy tale, and everyone involved already seems aware of that. Hawke and the Arishok may respect one another. But they are also on a collision course with death; liking or no, the Arishok is also the person she is, in most cases, destined to kill, to be killed by, or (if Isabela is turned over) who simply postpones conquest for another, yet inevitable, day...

One key moment in the next meeting involves the Arishok's description of the theft of a decoy recipe for gaatlok that was in fact actually a recipe for saar-qamek, a poison gas. While the qunari are immune to it (interesting, given what it does), others who are exposed to it go into a blind, insane and savage rage.

HAWKE (among options): So how dangerous does this fake mixture become?
ARISHOK: It is not a threat to Qunari. For your kind, it is as dangerous as those who breathe it. 
HAWKE: Can you elaborate?
ARISHOK: The gas kills, but first it turns allies against their own in blind rage. So, the greater the skill of those sent against us, the more dangerous they become to their own people. 
HAWKE: Hard to control at the best of times.
ARISHOK: It is no longer our problem.
HAWKE (among options): Did you just leave the decoy lying around?
ARISHOK: We did not make it easy. Three Qunari died defending it. Enough to impart a sense of worth. If the real formula were at risk, the Qun would demand that we protect it to the last of us.
HAWKE (among options): I appreciate you bringing this to me.
ARISHOK: I have long thought this city would destroy itself. This would only hasten the inevitable. Panahedan, Hawke. I do not hope you die.

"I do not hope you die!" Come on, from the Arishok, that's practically a declaration of love!

My Hawke, courageous and slightly pumped after this passionate decree, bravely, suggests they act on their feelings:

MY HAWKE (casual): So, Ari, how about dinner? I know a great little Italian place down on the water. It's right under the really creepy left-hand statue of the guy writhing in agony, and the restaurant is run by a blood mage who makes an alfredo sauce that is literally magical.

ARISHOK: There is no point under the Qun in my meeting you for such an event. Also, I must admit that for me, cilantro tastes like soap.

HAWKE: Shit. I love you. Call me!

ARISHOK: Farewell, basalit-an. You are a strange creature.

Having struck out publicly, my Hawke walks away from him then, giving him a good look at the entire package, then looks back over her shoulder, shaking her pretty, pretty hair over her shoulders. Which, in DA2, actually moves fetchingly!

HAWKE: I know.

Mutual Respect

Still hopeful for a date, Hawke returns again to talk to the Arishok, this time with sincere news, truths, and regrets about the theft of the fake gaatlok recipe:

ARISHOK: They say we were careless with our trap, that this is our fault. But even without the saar-qamek, there would have been death. This elf was determined to lay blame at our feet. I admire conviction with a focus, but your kind are truly committed to weakness. 
HAWKE (among options): She was angry to see her people losing their culture by claiming yours.
ARISHOK: We accept those who submit to the Qun. The weak naturally seek the strong. It doesn't matter. We did not come equipped to indoctrinate. I am here to satisfy a demand you cannot understand. 
HAWKE: It's been a long time.
ARISHOK: It will take as long as needed. No ship is coming. There is no rescue from duty to the Qun. I am stuck here.
HAWKE (among options): That is not the understanding of city leaders and their... supporters.
ARISHOK: Let them rot. Filth stole from us. Not now, not the saar-qamek. Years ago. A simple act of greed has bound me. We are all denied Par Vollen until I alone recover what was lost under my command!

He stands, resolute and definitely scary. A loss of control we haven't seen until now.

ARISHOK: That is why this elf and her shadows are unimportant. That is why I do not simply walk from this pustule of a city! (with increasing heat) Fixing your mess is not the demand of the Qun! And you should all be grateful!

He calms himself visibly.

ARISHOK: Thank you, human, for your service. Leave.
MY HAWKE: How do you feel about Greek food?
ARISHOK: Leave me, human. No matter how deliciously prepared, grape leaves will not tempt me from my path.
HAWKE: Seriously?
ARISHOK: Yes.
HAWKE: You make me sad.

She leaves, giving him another view of her best side.

Still, she is hopeful. In her fatally optimistic mind, Kirkwall is simply the setting for one giant rom-com.

As she walks away, she smiles.

"Well, Shit."

And then it finally all just goes to hell. As it was always fated to do. Do you know that old Johnny Mercer song about what happens when an irresistible force meets an immovable object?

Yep. Something's gotta give. In this case... it's Kirkwall. 

The powderkeg finally ignites. And it's because of a pretty staggering and ugly situation in which a city guard raped an elven girl. When her family attempted to get justice, they were ignored and there was evidently not even the pretense of investigation. Her brothers then  took matters into their own hands, confronted the rapist, and the confrontation ended in his death. The two elves then went to the Qunari compound and offered themselves as converts to the Qun, to become viddathari.

At this point, Aveline is now self-righteously seeking to have the two elves returned to the city in order to receive justice, but I have to admit that I'm utterly uninvested in Aveline's feelings here, and her outrage is honestly pretty gross to me. There are definitely racist undertones to the situation—the fact that an elven girl was horrifically attacked by one of Aveline's own guards with zero outcome or punishment (Aveline carelessly refers to "rumors" about the crime), while her brothers' search for justice on the other hand requires the personal intervention of the Captain of the Guard and the risk of a political incident.

ARISHOK: The elves are now viddathari. They have chosen to submit to the Qun. They will be protected.
HAWKE (among options): Have they truly converted, or are they simply using you as a shield?
ARISHOK: They have chosen, and so have I. You have seen the corruption in this city, the suffering that is allowed. All to selfishly deny the truth of the Qun. Let us look at your "dangerous criminals." 

The elves enter, under Qunari guard.

ARISHOK: Speak, viddathari. Who did you murder, and why?
VIDDATHARI ELF: A city guard forced himself on our sister. We reported him... or tried to. But they did nothing about it, no matter what we said. So my brothers and I paid him a visit. 
AVELINE: That doesn't excuse murder.
HAWKE (among options -- my answer): Yes, it does.
HAWKE (among further options): Are these elves telling the truth?
AVELINE: There have been rumors. I will investigate, but they still took the law into their own hands.
ARISHOK (earning a fistpump from me): Sometimes that is necessary.
AVELINE: Like you avenged the Viscount's son? It was not right then, and it's not right now.
ARISHOK: Their actions are mere symptoms. Your society is the disease. They have chosen. The viddathari will submit to the Qun and find a path your way has denied them. 
AVELINE: You can't just decide that. You must hand them over.
ARISHOK: Tell me, Hawke: What would you do, in my place?
HAWKE (among options): As a guest in this city, I would keep the peace.
ARISHOK: I see. I cannot leave without the relic, and I cannot stay and remain blind to this dysfunction. There is only one solution.
AVELINE: Arishok... there is no need for—

Oh, dammit, Aveline. 

Lighting the Fire

Much as I usually love her elsewhere across the years in DA2, Aveline makes me pretty angry here in her moral relativism (her inability to understand or to, patently, believe the elves, is pretty gross). So when the Arishok here makes a magnificent "Talk to the hand" gesture, I give a fistpump. Seriously, it is perfection.

But then, of course, he takes it too far. It can't just be an exchange of ethics and viewpoints. This, at long last... is a matter for action. A demand of the Qun. He can no longer stand by and watch.

ARISHOK (to soldiers): Vinek kathas.

Aaaaghghg. "Seize them." It's come to this. So Hawke and buddies fight their way out. And at the last moment, Hawke exchanges a lingering glance with my adorable Arishok.

At this point, I mentally rush magically shrieking into my computer screen. Using my mage abilities, I blast into the screen and run up the steps to the Arishok.

ME: WAIT! STOP! LET'S TALK ABOUT THIS OVER DINNER!

Sadly, even in my imagination... the Arishok looks at me with contempt. I am, apparently, not his type. Even in my fantasies. Which is why I need about 351 more decades of therapy.

Onward. Everyone's doomed. My poor Hawke's self-image will not be the only casualty today.

The Arishok's Brief Victory

The story rolls onward mercilessly. The Qunari attack the city. All mayhem breaks loose. The Arishok tosses the head of the poor Viscount, although let's face it, he knows how to make an entrance...

ARISHOK: Here is your Viscount. 
RANDOM CITIZEN: You dare? You are starting a war!

Aaaand... a Qunari soldier kills him. Oops.

ARISHOK: Look at you. Like fat dathrasi, you feed, and feed, and complain only when your meal is interrupted. You do not look up. You do not see that the grass is bare. All you leave in your wake is misery. You are blind. I will make you see. 

MY HAWKE: Hey. Dude. No need to be sizeist.
ARISHOK: Bite me.
HAWKE: Promise?

Okay, okay. Hawke and friends have entered like the utter badasses they are. It isn't even slow-mo (but you totally get that impression anyway). My Hawke is of course deeply wishing for sunglasses as well.

ARISHOK: But we have guests. (a beat) Shanedan, Hawke. I expected you. Maraas toh ebra-shok. You alone are basalit-an. (to room) This is what respect looks like, bas. Some of you will never earn it. (to Hawke) So tell me, Hawke. You know I am denied Par Vollen until the Tome of Koslun is found. How would you see this conflict resolved without it?

MY HAWKE: Pizza?
ARISHOK: (eyeroll)

Sigh. So. Depending on choices, Isabela may enter with the Tome and give it to the Arishok at this point.

ARISHOK: The Tome of Koslun... (reverently)

If she has returned here, Isabela banters with Hawke about her vulnerability and realization that she had to do the right thing. And Hawke can either show support for Isabela here, or accuse her of betrayal, among varying options. Either way, eventually, in most cases, the Arishok hands the Tome to a soldier.

ARISHOK: The Relic is reclaimed. I am now free to return to Par Vollen. With the thief. 

Oops. Surprise from Isabela, irritation from Fenris. Outrage from my Hawke that he isn't talking about their impending date.

But seriously: Things aren't looking good for our pirate rogue.

Isabela in Chains

If you're playing a meaner, more renegade Hawke, you may choose to give Izzy back to the Qunari here, and it's pretty dramatic and sad:

ISABELA: What?
FENRIS: You thought you could strand them here for four years without consequence?
ARISHOK: She stole the Tome of Koslun. She must return with us.
HAWKE (among options): Sounds like you have something very specific in mind.
ARISHOK: She will submit to the Qun and the Ben-Hassrath. More than that, I will not say. 
HAWKE (among options): Take her, and go.
ARISHOK: Most wise.
ISABELA: No! Hawke, you bastard. I came back to help you!
HAWKE: You are helping.
ISABELA: Fight me, you coward. If you're going to send me off with them, fight me first.
ARISHOK: Hawke has denied you. You are not worthy of facing true basalit-an. 
HAWKE (among options): I'd love to, Isabela. But you heard the man.
ISABELA: This is what I get for believing you were different. That you... cared about me.  

Oh, honey. Isabela is dragged off fighting and cursing Hawke. It breaks my heart. I can't do this in my actual canon playthroughs. (And no, I can't give Fenris back either.) But as she leaves, the Arishok faces Hawke.

ARISHOK: The Qunari have what we came for. We will go. But know this: One day, we shall return. 

Isabela Stays

Or Hawke (yay!) refuses the request:

HAWKE: You have your relic. She stays with us.
VARRIC: I'm sure he'll take that well. Rivaini, you might want to move a bit this way.
ARISHOK: Then you leave me no choice. I challenge you, Hawke. You and I will battle to the death. With her as the prize. 
Isabela: No. If you're going to duel anyone, duel me.
ARISHOK: You are not basalit-an. You are unworthy.
HAWKE (among options): I accept your challenge.
ARISHOK: Maravas! So shall it be.

Inevitable Outcomes...

So Hawke and the Arishok fight. Depending on his feelings for your Hawke, you may either end up fighting party to party (you and your companions against a group with the Arishok), or in single combat if he finds you worthy and basalit-an. 

The fight, for me at least, is both deeply upsetting and deeply comic. Every single time I've played it, it encompasses my poor adorable and of course highly attractive Hawke running and running and running around the room, doing figure-eights around the pillars, her faithful hound nipping at the Arishok's delectable hindquarters, while shrieking "I JUST WANTED A DATE! A NICE DINNER! A CHANCE AT A RELATIONSHIP! WE COULD HAVE HAD SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL!"

The stupid freaking gorgeous Arishok, being stubborn and idiotic as noted, I am sorry to say, does not hear her, and he does not stop the battle and suggest that they work things out over a chessboard, a nice bottle of wine, and a game of strip poker.

Nope. He just keeps trying to skewer his true love and eventually she pummels him into submission. Except not in the fun way.

He's toast.

Then, my Hawke weeping copiously as he lies there on the steps, bleeding needlessly and near death, the Arishok gives her his final words...

ARISHOK: One day... we shall return.

My Hawke rolls her eyes at this continued evidence of stupidity, then sniffles and rallies. She faces him proudly.

HAWKE: When you do return... CALL ME!

Summoning his one single moment of coolness and humor, the Arishok gives her a faint thumbs-up.

Aaaand... the Qunari leave. And my poor Arishok almost-boyfriend is just sort of lying there, all dead and gorgeous on the steps. Seeping into the carpets and stuff.

DAMMIT.

Then Meredith comes in, yadda yadda yadda. Meredith being Meredith. The Qunari aspect of our story is done.

And my poor Hawke goes off to a group dinner with Izzy and her companions to celebrate her victory, while crying into her spaghetti and mourning her lost "Lady and the Tramp" moment. Varric walks her home and never talks about the fact that she may or may not have tried to kiss him. Hey, Varric's a gentleman.

Victory is in the Qun.

The Dragon Age Timeline, Part 4: The Blessed Age

As usual in our Thedosian timelines and histories, The Blessed Age sees an awful lot of the Great Game, as mortals jockey for riches, thrones, and assorted vengeances.

Here's my next installment on my all-encompassing "Tale of Years" or ultimate Dragon Age timeline project, a fairly quick but succinct look at the Blessed Age.

Things start to get really fun here, since we witness some big milestones when it comes to battles and births of some familiar faces (speaking of which, among the many surprises I encountered in my research, one of these was Sten's age—I'd always pictured him as relatively young because of his occasional naivete in Origins). As always, please let me know if I get anything wrong here... I'll look forward to your thoughts!

If you're still catching up on these, please don't miss my previous timeline entries in the series:

• The Dragon Age Timeline and Tale of Years: Part 1 (Ancient Age)
• The Dragon Age Timeline: Part 2: From the Divine Age to the Towers Age
• The Dragon Age Timeline Part 3: From the Black Age Through the Steel Age

The Blessed Age:

• 8:05 Blessed - Kirkwall rebels against Orlais and gains the status of free city.
• 8:10 Blessed - Qunari in Par Vollen welcome Rivaini diplomats in a successful presentation of the Qunari way of life as something ordered and civilized.
• 8:24 Blessed - The Orlesian Empire launches its Second Invasion of Ferelden. Redcliffe, Vigil's Keep and the City of Amaranthine are taken by Orlais.
  ▪ King Vanedrin Theirin is killed at the Battle of Lothering and Calenhad the Great's sword Nemetos is lost. Ardal Cousland, Teyrn of Highever, is killed.
• 8:25 Blessed - Vanedrin's son, young King Brandel, attempts to unite the country of Ferelden but fails to keep the peace.
• 8:31 Blessed - The House of Repose accepts a contract from the du Paraquette family to keep the Montilyet family's mercantile activities restrained to outside of Orlais.
• 8:44 Blessed - Orlais sacks Denerim, driving King Brandel into hiding.
• 8:47 Blessed - Emperor Reville orders the murder of Grand Duke Gratien, his wife, three grown children, and all eight grandchildren.
• 8:50 Blessed - Emperor Reville fears retribution for the assassinations of Gratien and his family, and confines himself to his room in paranoia and guilt for the rest of his days.
• 8:51 Blessed - Death of Emperor Reville.
• 8:55 Blessed - Qunari forces land in Seheron and begin the first of the next wave of assaults against Tevinter.
• 8:58 Blessed - The Qunari successfully reconquer Seheron.
• 8:60 Blessed - Aurelian Pentaghast attempts the Nevarran throne, is unmasked as an impostor, and in disgrace, joins the dwarven Legion of the Dead, the only human to ever do so.
• 8:62 Blessed - The burning of Treviso in Antiva.
• 8:65 Blessed - Shunned for centuries after Andraste, blood magic use is once more on the rise in Tevinter.
• 8:70 Blessed - Orlais and Nevarra battle for control of the Perendale western hills. Nevarra is eventually victorious.
  ▪ ~(Estimated) Birth of Duke Bastien de Ghislain.
• 8:74 Blessed - Birth of Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons.
• 8:75 Blessed - Birth of Loghain Mac Tir.
• 8:76 Blessed - Apostate Adain of Starkhaven escapes the Circle of Magi.
• 8:77 Blessed - The epidemic of The Hundred Days' Cough in Orlais, killing the twin sons of the Emperor Judicael II and the baby daughter of his brother Florian.
• 8:78 Blessed Age - Birth of Maric Theirin.
• 8:82 Blessed - Nevarra attempts conquest of the Free Marches, but are foiled by Cade Arvale, later named Champion of Tantervale.
  ▪ Birth of Wynne.
• 8:84 Blessed - Emperor Judicael II dies. Florian Valmont ascends the throne of Orlais.
  ▪ Birth of Eamon Guerrin, future Arl of Redcliffe.
• 8:89 Blessed Age - Birth of Oghren Kondrat. Birth of Sten.
• 8:91 Blessed Age - Birth of Teagan Guerrin
• 8:95 Blessed Age - The Witch of the Wilds prophesies the return of the dragons.
  ▪ ~(Estimated) birth of Gordon Blackwall
• 8:96 Blessed - Moira the Rebel Queen is assassinated by Bann Ceorlic  upon orders from King Meghren of Orlais.
  ▪ Moira's son Maric escapes after his mother is murdered.
  ▪ Endrin Aeducan ascends the throne of Orzammar.
  ▪ Death of Duchess Marissa de Ghislain, sister to Duke Bastien de Ghislain, of the blue death.
• 8:97 Blessed Age - Birth of Vivienne.
• 8:98 Blessed Age - ~(Estimated) Birth of Thom Rainier (Blackwall). 
  ▪ House Tethras is exiled for its denial of the Voice of the Ancestors, and for willfully manipulating the sacred Provings.
  ▪ Maric leads Ferelden to take the town of Gwaren.
• 8:99 Blessed Age - ~(Estimated) Birth of Velanna.
  ▪ ~(Estimated) Birth of Anders.
  ▪ ~(Estimated) Birth of Anthony Pentaghast.
  ▪ Fereldan rebels are defeated at the battle of West Hill and Maric is presumed dead.
  ▪ Maric, very much alive, kills Bann Ceorlic and three other nobles responsible for his mother's death.
  ▪ The first returning dragons emerge in Antiva, then wreak havoc across Orlais, Nevarra, then the Frostback Mountains.
  ▪ The Seekers of Truth abandon Therinfal Redoubt in Ferelden.
  ▪ Loghain Mac Tir leads Fereldan forces to victory at the Battle of the River Dane.
• After another dragon is sighted on the Orlais side of the Frostbacks, Divine Faustine II declares the coming age the Dragon Age.

Why Mages are Feared: The Creation of Anders

Anders is a complex character whose circumstances created and honed him
as sharply as any weapon.

Fenris: How have the templars not killed you?
Anders: I'm charming.

SPOILERS for all of Dragon Age (Dragon Age II, Awakening, and Inquisition)! I'm not kidding. Huge spoilers. HUGE. Read at your own risk!

What's the central conflict at the heart of the Dragon Age universe for you? Grey Wardens versus Darkspawn? Inquisition versus Corypants? Chantry versus Old Gods? Elves versus mortals? Ferelden versus Orlais? Tevinter or the Qunari versus the rest of Thedas?

For me, ultimately, the central conflict of the entire trilogy is the tragic and eternally bloody conflict of mages versus templars. And at the center of that debate is a single character, reviled, loved and debated beyond any other, from Dragon Age II.

In other words, gird your loins, folks, I'm gonna talk about Anders.

And many have done so, both for and against, for and balanced across all interpretations, across the fandom. So here's my initial take (I'll have more to say in my post on his romance in the future as well). Here we go!

The Tipping Point

To begin with, let's flash back. Near the end of Dragon Age II, things aren't looking good for our misfit band of heroes. Meredith is openly discussing enacting the Right of Annulment, to slaughter all mages in the Kirkwall Circle, when Hawke shows up. It's a surprisingly complex scene, as Orsino begs Meredith for time and sanity, and Meredith turns to Hawke and, in one of my favorite scenes for her in the game (and beautifully acted by voice actress Jean Gilpin), she comes pretty darned close to begging Hawke for understanding. 

It's a genuine moment of vulnerability for Meredith, and one of the little moments that, for me, makes her such a rich and interesting villain:

Meredith: What other option do we have? Tell me, Champion, that you have not seen with your own eyes what they can do... heard the lies of mages that seek power.
Hawke: Some of us weren't exactly what you expected. We're not the enemy.
Orsino (to Meredith): You would cast us all as villains. But it is not so!
Meredith (near tears): I know. And it breaks my heart to do it. But we must be vigilant. If you cannot tell me another way, do not brand me a tyrant!
Orsino (firmly): This is getting us nowhere. Grand Cleric Elthina will put a stop to this.
Meredith: You will not bring Her Grace into this!

Then Anders walks up confidently in his gorgeous somber Renegade's Coat, raven feathers at his shoulders, prepared to unleash hell itself (and in a performance beautifully modulated by Anders DA2 actor Adam Howden): 

Anders: The Grand Cleric cannot help you!
Meredith: Explain yourself, mage.
Anders: I will not stand by and watch you treat all mages like criminals, while those who would lead us bow to their Templar jailers.
Orsino: How dare you speak to me—
Anders: The Circle has failed us, Orsino!

Justice flares blue in Anders's eyes and face, here, marking the moment. My own question is: Is Anders aware? Or is Justice speaking independently? It's a terrible question to contemplate. Regardless, he continues...

Anders: Even you should be able to see that. (The 'Justice' light fades from Anders's face...) The time has come to act. There can be no half-measures.
Hawke: Anders... what have you done?
Anders (looking away from Hawke): There can be no turning back.

In a tragic, terrifying yet absolutely gorgeous visual moment, the Chantry is
decimated by both fire and magic.

The Pillars of Fire

We then view the cathedral-like magnificence of the Chantry building in all its imposing and towering glory, and then cut to a scene inside, as a growing rumble grows around Grand Cleric Elthina and the other Sisters. A fiery red column of fire suddenly explodes up through the center of the Chantry aisle and into the ceiling, as they watch, horrified and trapped.

And then we're watching from afar again, from a beautifully cinematic master shot high above the city as the Chantry explodes in an even more massive pillar of real and magical fire that ignites the heavens and city around it in every direction (and massive kudos to director Mark Darrah here, as well as to the rest of the artists and effects team because it's utterly an unforgettable scene).

As the fire climbs to the sky, the Chantry's external religious statues topple from their pedestals (a wonderful and subtle note) as composer Inon Zur's music soars in a theme that is both heavenly and demonic. In a tragic, terrifying yet absolutely gorgeous visual moment, the building is decimated by both fire and magic, as red lines of power emanate both vertically to the sky as well as outward horizontally in every direction even as the massive column multiplies. For a moment, the world seems to hold its breath, and as horrible as it is, there's something transcendent here, too, as if the building itself is being lifted, opened, in a blaze of pale fire, as if the very wrath of the Maker has in fact descended to earth and lifted it in an invisible fist.

And then everything crumbles and the explosion becomes an implosion, the Chantry gone, the rubble whirling and coalescing tightly around the column of fire for the briefest of seconds—and then a second explosion obliterates everything else and blows it into powder, both earth and sky, and raining destruction down upon the city areas around it. And seriously, any remaining Kirkwall citizens who've survived the corrupt templars, the blood mages, the Qunari devastation, and more have got to be fed up by now—I mean, those poor people.

Either way, in seconds there's nothing left of the Chantry but ashes, and no more chance for compromise or peace, among mages and templars. The fury of the wounded mage has, indeed, shown why mages should be feared. And now the sky falls as a result.

"There is no compromise."

"There is No Compromise."

Everyone present, except for Anders, reacts predictably in the pause to follow, crying out in horror. Anders, cool and remote and ready for death, simply responds: "I removed the chance of compromise... because there is no compromise." This is not only tragic, but also a good place to shout out to writers including the always-brilliant David Gaider, who wrote the deft, light/dark Anders in "Awakening," and to Jennifer Hepler for her complex portrait of Anders to follow, which is both passionate and funny, and yet grim and fatalistic. She knows Anders through both prose and script, as seen throughout Dragon Age, both in DA2 and most especially in her searing short story on his terrifying and confused awakening from the joining with Justice—check it out here.

Meanwhile, what happens next? Well, as you probably know... it's not great. 

Because (of course)... Meredith immediately, and predictably, invokes the Right of Annulment. Which she was basically going to do anyway, but now she really, really means it (and gets to feel super self-righteous and great about it, even in the face of Orsino's patent and believable shock at what just happened):

Orsino: The Circle didn't even do this! Champion, you can't let her. Help us stop this madness!
Meredith: And I demand you stand with us. Even you must see that this outrage cannot be tolerated.
Anders (to Hawke): It can't be stopped now. You have to choose.
Hawke: Was that why you needed me to distract the Grand Cleric?
Anders: If you knew what I was doing, you would have felt honor-bound to stop me. I couldn't take that chance. The Circle is an injustice. In many places beyond Kirkwall. The world needs to see!
Sebastian: Elphina is not the Circle. She was a good woman. And you murdered her.
Orsino: You fool, you've doomed us all.
Anders: We were already doomed. A quick death now or a slow one later. I'd rather die fighting.
Hawke (one of many options): You're a murderer. The Grand Cleric. The mages. Their blood is on your hands.
Anders: I know.
Meredith: It doesn't matter. Even if I wished to, I could not stay my hand. The people will demand blood.

Then Hawke must choose the outcome—to kill Anders or allow him to try to mitigate his act by helping to save Kirkwall in the bloodshed to come. And Meredith draws her line in the sand (rather understandably, at least until she calls for the Right)... and it all goes to hell.

Sigh.

Anders wants to make a statement. But he's also officially lost himself, killed hundreds, doomed the very mages he wanted to help, and changed the face of Thedas forever.

How did we come to this? Well, let's look back... to the creation of Anders.

The Origin Story

The secret of Anders when we first meet him in Dragon Age: Awakening  (the wonderful DAO DLC that is seriously almost a full game chapter on its own) is that every joke carries with it a secret abyss of loss, damage, and self-loathing. Truth is, at least as I see it, Anders isn't funny because he's adorable and lighthearted; he's funny because he's walking on a very narrow wire and every single moment of humor or joy he can summon pulls him forward across the darkness.

Think I'm kidding? What's his name? What's Anders's real name?

We don't know. And that's the brutal truth of it, that we'll never know. Unless he survives the events of Dragon Age II and perhaps whispers that truth to a romanced Hawke, far away from the poisonous aftermath of that apocalypse, confiding in the darkest and sweetest corners of their nights together, able to be vulnerable at last (providing, of course, that the corrupting spirit of Justice has been either reduced or expelled).

Forget DA2's Fenris; the funniest person we meet in Dragon Age: Awakening turns out to really the one with the capacity to rip out hearts... at least, figuratively.

I'd argue that Anders was created by the Circle system; a weapon forged,
crafted and sharpened by the Chantry.

Make no mistake: Anders does a heinous and unforgivable thing. The wrongness of his act cannot be forgiven or undone.

The thing is, though, I feel that in many ways Anders was created by the Circle system; a weapon forged, crafted and sharpened by the Chantry, by a system of corruption, fear and abuse of power, and by the corrupt and cruel among the templars themselves. He was created as a bright and shining blade; one that the Chantry ultimately found turned against itself. And that blade was sharp.

So let's look at the creation of Anders.

A History of Pride and Poverty

Anders's family came to Ferelden from the Anderfels, the ancient land in the Northwestern part of Thedas. The people of the Anderfels are survivors, to say the least, having stubbornly gotten through  catastrophe after catastrophe, from centuries of intermittent occupation by Tevinter, desperate suffering under three of the four Blights, constant attacks by Darkspawn, and political upheaval. 

Even the weather is a study in extremes of hot and cold, of sun and storm, and the land itself is grimmer still, a series of rocky, shrub-covered steppes broken up by rocks and mountains to the west and south, hills to the North, and seas to the far east and west. In World of Thedas, Brother Berard, a Perendale Chantry cleric, described the Anderfels as "absolute desolation," and as a place evidently abandoned by the Maker.

I think the Anderfels is enormously important to the story of Anders as a character—it's the key to where he comes from and who he is inside, and its absolute indomitability, the hellish centuries of torment its people survived without giving in are Anders's own sufferings writ large. The citizens of the Anderfels remain a proud people—and justifiably so, as the only non-dwarves to live on the doorstop of the Darkspawn on a constant basis—and they are also by many accounts especially devout in their belief in the Maker and the Chantry. (I find this especially interesting since the Chantry eventually comes to personify everything Anders hates.)

The Fire in the Barn

Anders's father apparently retained strong ties to his home, even if he had left as a boy, so it's not surprising that quick, funny little Anders grew up with stories of the Anderfels and a sense of pride in his origins. With his confidence, intelligence and wit, Anders was apparently popular and well-liked in his little village, and his life up to his twelfth year was evidently content and peaceful. 

He was content, at least, until his magic manifested, and he accidentally started a fire in the barn. His mother tried to help him, to hide the magic, but Anders's devout father feared mages and that the magic itself was a judgment upon his family from the Maker. He therefore called for the Templars, who took the boy away in chains, by force, devastated and stunned, and with only a small embroidered pillow as his remembrance of his home.

Once taken from everything he loved, Anders was then imprisoned in Kinloch Hold, the Circle Tower in Ferelden.


Life in the Circle

Once in the Circle, Anders refused to speak to anyone for a long time, not even to the other apprentices, so people began to call him "The Ander" because of his heritage, and he took the nickname as the only one he would provide. He was watched day and night by armored soldiers who feared everything he was and everything he might become, and he did not acclimate quickly or well.

Do you think he harbored fantasies of being rescued? I do. I think that, as a child, he hoped for someone to come, or for some miraculous event to allow him to go home. And then he stopped waiting for rescue and attempted to rescue himself—he was just thirteen years old when he made his first attempt at escape, and he would make six more over the next several years.

This is the thing that I think must be spotlighted: While I'm sure many mages, if not most, acclimatized as a matter of survival, accepted the reality in which they found themselves, Anders was unable to do so.

Anders grew up, as far as he was concerned, in prison. Locked in a tower
in which the leading cause of death for his fellow mages was suicide.

This means that Anders grew up, as far as he was concerned, in prison. Locked in a tower in which the leading cause of death for his fellow mages was suicide. Watched twenty-four hours per day by armed soldiers poised to kill him if he stepped out of line. Some people can disregard the attention of others, yet still others can find attention, the feeling of eyes on their skin, as repugnant and invasive. I believe this was how Anders felt, and that he was either never able to acclimatize to that feeling, or (more likely) refused to.

The bottom line is that Anders refused to submit and refused to be caged. He ran every chance he could and I think he was simply incapable of doing otherwise. He just could not take imprisonment, even knowing he'd likely be caught, even occasionally and forlornly turning the chase into a game with the harried and weary templars (not all of them evil or corrupt) who chased, recaptured, and returned him.

What I find sad about the entire situation for Anders at Kinloch Hold is that, keep in mind, this was life at one of the gentler, better circles in Thedas (even after Uldred's corruption). My own reaction: Um... ooooookay. Congrats on your forbearance.

Love and Loss Under Watchful Eyes

When he reached adolescence, Anders finally found solace when he fell in love with an older boy named Karl Thekla, and for the first time, he allowed himself the love and connection he had missed since childhood. The two young men were inseparable for a considerable amount of time, became romantically and sexually involved, successfully passed their Harrowings, then Karl was sent to Kirkwall's Gallows mage circle when the Circle requested new talent, and Anders (for the first time in several years) attempted escape once again in order to join him, but was captured at the docks. 

Anders was able to maintain correspondence with Karl, and was then more severely punished—after his sixth escape attempt, he was put into solitary confinement for a year, with only the tower cat, Mr. Wiggums, for company, a notable story point for the Dragon Age mage who loves cats more than anyone else we meet (except, perhaps, Sten). Tragically, Mr. Wiggums evidently became possessed by a rage demon, but according to Anders, it took out three templars before it was defeated. 

While this is the most openly cruel punishment Anders endures (he does state flat-out in a banter with Sebastian in Dragon Age: II that he was never personally raped or beaten), it's still a pretty hellish one, because again—it leaves Anders with nothing to do but brood, to sharpen that blade of vengeance and hate, to turn inward and fester.

A Bargain with Death 

Then Anders ran again, a seventh and final time, and he only then comes to our attention in Dragon Age: Awakening, as having been found at Vigil's Keep, with dead templars and darkspawn about him. He is taken into custody and given the chance to join the Grey Wardens, setting him into our company with the new Warden-Commander—either the Hero of Ferelden if they survived Origins, or an Orlesian Warden (if the Hero perished in the final blow against the Archdemon).

Again, I think it's worth pausing and noting that Anders joins the Grey Wardens as a last resort, as a punishment, a sentence, as an alternative to death. He may act blithe about the opportunity, but I cannot see it as anything but one more punishment for the mage who'd survived a ridiculous amount of abuse at that point. He makes a joke. And then twenty more. Because that's what he's been taught to do.

But the saddest thing is, I think Anders absolutely is truly jubilant here, and joyful. Genuinely so. Because he's finally escaped. He's gotten away from that blasted Circle tower. Even if he has to risk death by Joining, what does it matter? He's risked death over and over again already. At this point, it's a friend.

Awakening Anders

In other words, even as early as "Awakening," to me Anders was still a tragedy in the making.

Many don't see it that way, and it's understandable. Anders seems fine, after all; he jokes about his near-execution, all's well that ends well, and after all, we're overwhelmed with meeting our new companions in "Awakening." All things considered, it's easy to find your own interpretation...

And, after all, Anders is quick-witted and instantly likable when we meet him in Dragon Age: Awakening. He seems okay, not exactly traumatized, even though I also feel, if we're paying attention, all that lightness is simply a mask as brittle as any Orlesian's. Yet even in those moments, let's face it, Anders is walking a path to a potential guillotine, and never too many moments from death.

For me, in playing the game at the time, Anders's blithe acceptance of the risks of the Joining ritual actually were the first moments that really touched me, because I (as someone who finds it terrifying) was touched that this renegade apostate mage would be so eager to join the Grey Wardens, or that he would find it so preferable to a world in which he would be returned to his previous imprisonment.

A Mage, a Cat, and a Cause

As we proceed through Dragon Age: Awakening, the thing about Anders is that, while he continues to seem charming, lighthearted, funny, and adorably attached to his brave little cat companion (Ser Pounce-a-lot!), all of this is as much a mask as the masks worn by other deceptive companions before and later. Me, I think that light-heartedness (even this early on) is as deceptive as Morrigan's silence, with her hidden agenda. As deceptive as Bull's, as deceptive as the blithe lies of Solas, Blackwall, or anyone else who deceived us in the trilogy.

Dragon Age II for Anders gets a bad rap, as a lot of fans complain about how Anders in Dragon Age II seems to have lost his sense of humor or joy since "Awakening." Me, I always greet these complaints with a squawking Cassandra-noise and raised eyebrows. Because, seriously? 

It's maybe my headcanon, or maybe I'm picking up on what Hepler is giving us, but: Were you paying attention? Anders was never ever as happy as he seemed, as joyful. Every second of enjoyment was hard-won, from the moment we met him, every bit of humor a flag flown against death and despair. So for me, those who simply want him to go back to being cute and funny seem willing to completely ignore both his origin story and the events and confessions of "Awakening."

To recap, let's review what we learn from Anders even as early as "Awakening:"

• He was taken from his home forcibly as a child
• He was allowed no contact with his family
• He spent most of his life since imprisoned against his will in mage circles
• He attempted escape repeatedly
• He has not disclosed—and does not disclose—his actual, real name, instead going by a general moniker for those from his part of Thedas
• He has undergone a year of solitary confinement in punishment
• He has witnessed templar abuses—rape, beatings, corruption, killings
• He has been hunted, trapped and returned by Templars seven times
• He's willing to risk the Joining in order to get away.
  

So many people ask, "Why, Anders?" Me, going through everything he and
the other Circle Mages suffered... I admit that I've had moments where I
asked, "What took you so long?"

Pity for the Mages

I've taken up far too many words at this point, so more in Part 2, in the future, but I just want to note that there is a reason Anders is the person he is in Dragon Age II. He was honed, sharpened, created, by the very system that mages ultimately rebel against as we begin Dragon Age: Inquisition.

Think of a cage, a prison. You are ripped from your family because a talent manifests. You are taken away in chains in childhood with only what you can grab as you are hauled off. You are allowed no further contact. No visits. No correspondence. You are watched every hour of every day by warriors in armor with power over you and all your compatriots, and for YEARS; by those who view you with antagonism, fear, suspicion, or lust. Sometimes they act upon those impulses when they think nobody's watching, and you witness this. Sometimes the worst of them then follow up by making sure the minds of their victims (or witnesses) are wiped via magical lobotomy, to keep their crimes safe, in the Rite of Tranquility, clearing them for future sexual crimes without possibility of refusal or punishment, or simply as punishment and loss of consciousness.

Or sometimes they simply send your lover away against his will, to serve someone else. Because your lives are not your own.

Again: Your life is not your own. As a mage, you are dragged from home, caged, watched, victimized, and then told what to do and where to do it.

It's grotesque.

So many people ask, "Why, Anders?" I understand this, as someone who would have fought his agenda in the end (and who in fact did not get the romance trophy because I refused to help him and even tried to warn Elphina). However, in spite of that, and in a fictional universe? I admit that, going through everything he and the other Circle Mages suffered... I've had moments where I asked, not "Why, Anders?" but, rather: "What took you so long?"

Is what he does right? No. Is it acceptable? No. Is it appropriate? Absolutely not. 

But is it surprising? No. It's incredibly sad to admit. But... no.

Nope.

I'll have more exploration of Anders in future posts, especially addressing his actions across Dragon Age II as well as his romance, but while I won't end this with the frequent fan clarion call that "Anders was right," I will admit, rather, that... "I understood why Anders did what he did. Even if it was wrong."

In the meantime, I'll simply state my own point of view: That the Chantry and the brutal Circle system created Anders. He is their monster, their literary Frankenstein loosed upon Thedas, both figuratively and literally.

Given that fact, to me, it was both ironic, tragic, and appropriate that the Chantry suffered for that creation. I only wish it could have happened without the loss of innocent lives.

Demons and Archangels: The Journey of Cullen Rutherford

Yes, Cullen's hotness in Dragon Age: Inquisition is actually visible from space.

Cullen: No one ever listens. Not until it's far too late. Maker turn his gaze on you. I hope your compassion hasn't doomed us all.

Spoilers, as always, for all of Dragon Age (Origins, Dragon Age II, and Inquisition)!

This is the first analysis of several overdue discussions I'll be posting on our Inquisition's ridiculously beautiful Commander Cullen. Here, I'll start by examining his earliest origins and influences, and will be progressing through a look at his romances and other quests to follow. 

And fair warning—I love Cullen, but I'm also going to be tough on him here and there. However, I think it's important to point out his flawed and less than stellar moments as we follow his journey to the humble and reluctant commander he becomes in Dragon Age: Inquisition. I think his journey is far darker than it may appear to be, at first, and I think there are many, many times when he actively fails the tests set before him. But I do think he eventually triumphs. Which is what makes the entire journey so satisfying for me.

As written by a team of writers who gave him real nuance throughout the trilogy, Cullen was written by Sheryl Chee in Dragon Age: Origins, Jennifer Hepler in Dragon Age: II, and by Brianne Battye in Dragon Age: Inquisition, with editing by  Cori May. Cullen is voiced, and with beautiful range, emotion, and inflection throughout all three chapters of Dragon Age, by Jonny Rees.

So let's look at his progression through the story from a big-picture perspective.

But before we do... I guess I should start by admitting a Dragon Age sacrilege. And it's a pretty serious one.

No, really... here goes: 

Cullen's not my type.

Is he beautiful? Of course he is. Cullen in Dragon Age: Inquisition is the kind of gorgeous that renders ordinary humans verklempt. His eyes are as changeable as the skies above Honnleath. His cheekbones could cut metal. His lips are firm and beautifully formed, and the little scar on his upper lip only accentuates their perfection. His body was evidently carved by Michelangelo. His golden hair curls slightly, waving perfectly back from his face in a casual, accidental tumble that no doubt requires zero effort from him at all. His voice is both manly and gentle, and when he sings, little birds perch on the branches to listen in bliss.

In other words, it's a scientific fact that Cullen's hotness is actually visible from space.

But to me, his beauty was almost a handicap in Dragon Age: Inquisition. At first, all I saw was the pretty, pretty man, a readymade Prince Charming, and while I admit I did my fair share of gazing (because I am actually alive and fairly low on the Kinsey scale), I also waved a hand and went, "Nope." For a long time, I just was never really interested. I tended to prefer characters whose beauty was more subversive or hidden because it felt more real to me—Bull, or Solas, for instance. The kind of person where one day you wake up and go, "Oh, my God, how did I not notice how gorgeous you are?" When it's too obvious, for me, it's less fun.

Then I flirted with Cullen in my third playthrough, and he was shy and embarrassed and just horrible at it. Awkward. Sweaty and stammering. Terrified of all human contact. Here was the most beautiful man at Skyhold... and thanks to life's cruel conspiracies, he was a social misfit, a secret loser, a man haunted by his own past and terrified at the prospect of an actual date. I'd also just done a full trilogy playthrough and I was definitely feeling a little judgmental toward him for his decisions in the first two games. The only thing that made it better for me was that he was so visibly haunted, sleepless, guilty and penitent here.

Flawed, damaged, sleepless and haunted? And the worst flirt ever? Suddenly, I'd never found him so attractive in my life. 

Cue my Dragon Age: Inquisition romance with Cullen. When I was, suddenly and definitively, very interested in Hitting That.

Surviving Trauma

One of the themes that shows up over and over again in the Dragon Age trilogy, and especially that of Dragon Age: Inquisition, is that of survival over trauma. Of triumph over personal loss and adversity. And I don't think that's accidental. It's one of the things that made me fall in love with DAI even above and beyond the other previous and beautiful game chapters. Life is tough. What doesn't break us makes us stronger, and what does break us makes us both grateful and humble for what we still have.

The end result, for me, is when it comes to stories, I'm a sucker for damage, and for triumph over it. So I loved the fact that when we meet each and every Advisor and Companion in Inquisition, there is a beautifully complex person waiting there. A life already built, a history, complete with yearnings, guilts, regrets, torments and fears, all private and hidden and waiting to be confessed and (just possibly) healed.

I think this theme of overcoming the trauma and damage life inflicts is a deliberate and too often overlooked subtext in the games, and it's a wonderful thing to notice and appreciate. It's an idea each chapter of Dragon Age has addressed, and each time in a new and expanded way. 

In Origins, for instance, this theme was explored through, well, an origin story. Through the tale of a certain kind of young hero who must triumph when tested by the very direst of circumstances, corrupted and sentenced to an eventual cruel death in the very flower of their youth and innocence. In the underrated Dragon Age II, it was presented through one person's poignant attempt to support family and to keep on living a normal life right in the middle of the maelstrom, as her city (my Hawke is a girl) fell into chaos and destruction around her. And in Inquisition, I felt, those stakes were raised even higher as the Inquisitor must rise to an almost insurmountable challenge. Personal life, home, family, love, all of that is gone as Inquisition begins, and because I am a forever fool for headcanons, I always found that notable and tragic. The Inquisitor, after all, did not emerge from a vacuum. As Dragon Age: Inquisition begins, they are simply present at the Temple as a nobody, there to take note of events, as a regular person interested in (and worried about) the world.

Then the sky tears, demons fall, and suddenly the Inquisitor has abilities she never, ever wanted or imagined. Thus begins, for me, a gorgeous and slightly melancholy hero's journey that Joseph Campbell himself would have loved.

Just keep in mind that the entire time your hero is doing all of these things? Closing rifts? Saving worlds? They're also battling trauma and loss.

Just like everyone else we meet. And just like Cullen.

Refusing the Hero's Mantle

One of the best things about Cullen's character design is how plainly haunted
he is by what he has survived. He may be gorgeous, but his pain and
suffering are clearly visible on his face in the deep shadows around his eyes.

What the Dragon Age trilogy does well every time, I feel, is the way it plays with classic tropes and then spins or subverts them. There's the hero's journey, and there's also my other favorite trope—that of the merry band of misfits who must triumph against impossible odds. But then the Dragon Age writers complicate that hero by stacking the deck before their journey begins (the Joining) or by forcing them to ask themselves (to quote Solas) "what kind of hero they'll be" right after they've just survived catastrophe, imprisonment, loss, and a near-death experience. And that's just the first hour.

Bioware also adds complexity to that little band of misfits by giving us characters who are so rich and nuanced and complicated that they fully deserve their own novel treatments. Sten, with his brutal alignment to a terrifying ideology yet still with a simplicity and capacity for loyalty, love, and softness (and cookies and kittens). Leliana, with her simultaneous pulls toward life as an adept assassin... or life as a gentle, pious servant of the Chantry. Alistair, with his chance to stay an anonymous and brave warrior against the Blight... who must then answer (or refuse) the call to serve as the unwilling sovereign of his entire people. Zevran, the assassin on a mission of self-annihilation and suicide, who instead finds the possibility of loyalty and love. Morrigan, the secretive daughter of a mythic figure (she has no idea HOW mythic), the Witch of the Wilds... even from the beginning, they're all wonderfully drawn and complicated figures.

And don't forget Hawke, who never ever wanted any of this shit, and who simply wanted to live a nice quiet life in Kirkwall. Until the world went to hell and she had to step up. And step up. And step up. (A feeling my canon Dragon Age: Inquisition Inquisitor knew all too well, since she'd had no desire at all for power, fame, or even color-coordination.) And Anders, Fenris, Aveline, Merrill, and Isabela all deserve columns of their own (and they'll get them, eventually). Each of them survivors in some fashion, each brave and cowardly, compassionate and cruel, tender and irrevocably flawed.

Each one of these characters feels guilt for actions taken and (most of all) not taken. Guilt for actions in which they may have actively colluded. Guilt, sometimes, for simply surviving.

Leading that pack is, of course, the Inquisition's commander himself, Cullen Rutherford. And yet Cullen isn't arriving new and fresh to the scene in Inquisition. We've watched his journey from the beginning. And yet Cullen, as a participant in each of these chapters—is also similarly weighed and challenged by circumstance, and each time, his reaction is different and believable.

For instance, in Dragon Age: Origins? He's no hero. He fails. 

And fails hard.

The Tender Templar

Cullen in his fetal, DAO form. He's basically still a caterpillar here. He's
not bad, he just needs to cook a little longer to achieve maximum hotness.

Cullen Rutherford was born in 9:11 Dragon, to parents in Honnleath. When we first meet Cullen, he's a sweet young lad, a naive Templar barely out of his teens proudly serving as a Templar at the Circle Tower at Kinloch Hold, on the shores of Lake Calenhad.

Through conversations, correspondences and Codices, we learn that Cullen was a sweet child who looked up to his older sister Mia (to whom he lost most of his early chess matches), and who was not necessarily an immediate leader, even of younger siblings Branson and Rosalie. 

What he was, was good. 

Even as a child, Cullen was good. Thoughtful. Kind. A boy who looked out for others. Time and again, all he really wanted to do... was protect. Support. Help. (And... I have to interject here... who does this remind you of? I'll address this later, but I think the parallel is not an accident.) 

And he wasn't just kind or seeking justice and order... there was a spiritual component. He was also devout. He believed in the preachings of the Chantry, and wanted most of all to serve the Maker.

When he was eight, Cullen declared his decision to be a Templar. His family teased him a bit but his adored older sister Mia was his champion, and he eventually convinced his family of his seriousness. She also evidently supported his early training efforts, purely on his own, until he was noticed by a visiting Knight-Captain, and brought into the Templar order for training at the age of thirteen. He was later in this than most, but his dedication soon had him surpassing the other trainees around him, and he flourished.

When he was eighteen, Cullen took his final vows and began the strict religious and combat regimen that included devotion to the Maker and Chantry, along with the required and voluntary addiction to lyrium that would boost his Templar powers against magic. He was then assigned to the Circle Tower at Kinloch Hold, under Knight-Commander Greagoir. When the Blight began in earnest, his family fled to South Reach, but while his siblings survived (shepherded, I have no doubt, by the indomitable Mia), Cullen's parents both perished.

It's a sad story, like so many in Thedas. But there are a few noteworthy details to this period of Cullen's life that I think are, once again, worth highlighting, especially in our first meetings with him in Origins. 

The Boy Soldier: Cullen in Origins

In Origins, Cullen is the sweet, slightly naive Templar who (if we play a female Circle mage) has been charged with killing her if she does not survive her rite of Harrowing, something he dreads, since he's also in love with her.

But our intrepid future Warden survives, and there's a little banter with Cullen that pretty much echoes what will become most of his future attempts at flirtation (please note that there are several Warden dialogue choices, so here were mine):

Cullen: Oh, um, hello... I uh, am glad to see your Harrowing went smoothly. What? I'm fine. I... uh, I'm just glad you're all right. You know.

Warden: Would you really have struck me down?

Cullen: I would have felt terrible about it. But... um... but I serve the Chantry and the Maker, and I will do as I am commanded. 

Warden (flirting hard): Maybe we could go elsewhere and continue our discussion?

Cullen: (horrified) Elsewhere? What do you mean?

Warden: I've seen the way you look at me...

Cullen: Oh, my goodness. If you're saying... what I think... that would be really... inappropriate and... I couldn't. (pause) I—I should go.

And... He RUNS AWAY.

It's both wonderful and awful and incredibly embarrassing. Poor Cullen. But it's a memorable introduction, at least. (And bonus points for the sly "I should go" departure line that would become famous through the ages in Mass Effect.)

Torture and Death

Cullen as a captive after the atrocities at the Kinloch Hold mage circle. What he
witnesses here warps and twists him for nearly a decade to come.

When next we see Cullen, it's after the horrific events of the Kinloch Hold mage circle, in which possessed mage Uldred has almost destroyed the entire tower thanks to a following of corrupted blood mages, inflicting a catastrophic wave of terror and damage through a rain of demons and Abominations.

The Warden fights through all the levels of the Tower and eventually comes upon Cullen, killing his captors and attempting to reconnect with him and let him know that he is safe. The conversation with the deeply traumatized and tortured Templar, however, does not go well—please note that I include my own female mage and party member responses, below, which can of course vary slightly depending on your own choices. It's a pretty lengthy dialogue section but one I think it's important to quote in its entirety:

Cullen: This trick again? I know what you are. It won't work. I will stay strong. I know, only too well. How far they must have delved into my thoughts.

Wynne: The boy is exhausted. And this cage, I've never seen anything like it. Rest easy. Help is here.

Cullen: Enough visions! If anything in you is human... kill me now and stop this game. You broke the others. But I will stay strong, for my sake... for theirs. (Pause) Sifting through my thoughts. .. tempting me with the one thing I always wanted but could never have... using my shame against me... my ill-advised infatuation with her... a mage, of all things. I am so tired of these cruel jokes... these tricks... these...

Warden speaks: (I'm real)

Cullen: Silence! I'll not listen to anything you say. Now begone! (a pause, and Cullen is visibly confused) Still here? But that's always worked before. I close my eyes, but you are still here when I open them. (pause) I am beyond caring what you think... the Maker knows my sin, and I pray that He will forgive me.

Warden: (There's nothing wrong with liking someone.)

Cullen: It was the foolish fancy of a naive boy. I know better now. (pause) Why have you returned to the Tower? How did you survive?

Warden: (This was my home.)

Cullen: As it was mine. And look what they've done to it. They deserve to die. Uldred most of all. They caged us like animals... looked for ways to break us. I'm the only one left...

Sten (if in party): Be proud. You mastered yourself.

Cullen: Be proud? What is there to be proud of? That I lived and they died? They turned some into.. monsters. And ... there was nothing I could do.

Warden: Stay strong.

Cullen: And to think.. I once thought we were too hard on you.

Warden: We're not all like that.

Cullen: Only mages have that much power at their fingertips. Only mages are so susceptible to the infernal whisperings of the demons.

Wynne: This is a discussion for another time! Irving and the other mages who fought Uldred... where are they?

Cullen: They are in the Harrowing Chamber. The sounds coming out from there... oh, Maker.

Wynne: (We must go save them.)

Cullen: You can't save them. You don't know what they've become. But you haven't been up there. You haven't been under their influence. They've been surrounded by blood mages whose wicked fingers snake into your mind and corrupt your thoughts.

Alistair: His hatred of mages is so intense. The memory of his friends' deaths is still fresh in his mind.

Cullen: You have to end it now! Before it's too late!

Warden: No.

Cullen: Are you really saving anyone by taking this risk? To ensure this horror is ended... to guarantee that no abominations or blood mages live, you must kill everyone up there.

In my playthrough... the Warden refuses.

Wynne (to Warden): Thank you. I knew you would make a rational decision.

Cullen: Rational? How is this rational? Do you understand the danger?

Wynne: I know full well the dangers of magic, but killing innocents because they might be maleficarum is not justice. I know you are angry— 

Cullen: You know nothing! I am thinking about the future of the Circle. Of Ferelden.

Warden: (It's not as bad as you think.)

Cullen: I am just willing to see the painful truth, which you are content to ignore. But what can I do?

Sten speaks up in favor of Cullen's brutal belief and choices (not surprising given the Qunari and their incredibly brutal stance on mages)—however, a mage with good persuasion can ask him to rethink his stance.

Cullen: As you can see, I am in no position to directly influence your actions, though I would love to deal with the mages myself.

Warden: Perhaps I can free you.

Cullen: Don't waste time on me... deal with Uldred, if that is what you plan to do. Once he is dead, I will be freed.

Warden: Stay safe. It will be over soon.

Cullen: No one ever listens. Not until it's far too late. Maker turn his gaze on you. I hope your compassion hasn't doomed us all. 

And then we go save everyone. And everything so far is totally forgivable and understandable. Then, unfortunately, we meet up with Cullen again, freshly freed from his cage. In a meeting with the Warden, First Enchanter Irving, Greagoir, and more, a newly-rescued Cullen unfortunately if understandably goes completely bonkers:

Poor Cullen is... (cough) to put it bluntly... not okay:

Irving is rescued, order is restored, and he meets with Greagoir, the Warden, and Cullen.

Cullen: Uldred tortured these mages hoping to break their wills and turn them into abominations. We don't know how many of them have turned.

Irving: Don't be ridiculous.

Cullen: Of course he'll say that, he might be a blood mage! Don't you know what they did? I won't let this happen again!

Greagoir: I am the Knight-Commander here. Not you. 

Irving: We will rebuild. The Circle will go on. And we will learn from this tragedy and be strengthened by it.

Greagoir: We have won back the tower. I will accept Irving's assurance that all is well.

Cullen: But they may have demons within them, lying dormant! Lying in wait!

Greagoir: Enough. I have already made my decision.

Um... yeah. So. Not Cullen's finest hour. Admittedly.

The Aftermath

There has been plenty of justifiable criticism of Cullen's harsh reactions to his captivity and torment. He's basically immediately calling Greagoir to enact the Right of Annulment, and to kill ALL of the mages, and that's pretty brutal stuff.

HOWEVER.

I want to point out that he says this stuff literally minutes—minutes—after being rescued. He is very much not in his right mind, he's absolutely still back in that cage, and while I'm glad Greagoir immediately overruled him (in my playthrough, at least), few responsible people would have taken Cullen's hysterical outcries as real orders or as the recommendations of a sane person.

The irony is, of course, that the Right of Annulment (I keep wanting to type "Rite of Annulment" but that's not the phrase) has been invoked and carried out (depending on DAO character choices) 17 times in Thedas at this point in time, sometimes in instances in which it was later proven the mages were either innocent or murdered outright for political reasons (Antiva, Dairsmuid, and others).

But as far as Dragon Age: Origins, keep in mind, Cullen is a 19-year-old kid here who's just been tormented and teased with visions of the woman he loved and was too shy to approach. As Bull notes later on in DAI, people are pretty easy to break. We're not that complicated. The demons were able to warp Cullen's love and twist it into something ugly and shameful. Because, well, that's what demons do.

Then on top of that, he pretty clearly implies that the blood mages tortured him mentally and deliberately as well before leaving him to the cruel play of the desire demon. And then he watched everyone else with him die horribly, and then heard the additional deaths and tortures all around him, even when he couldn't see them.

So I tend to forgive Cullen's outburst here, although he doesn't get a total pass from me for one key reason: As a Templar, in this moment in which he is unable to master himself, to me, he has failed his first major test. Because he's not just a guy who's been traumatized. He is a Templar with the power of life and death over the mages, and in his own hysteria here, he is willing to sacrifice dozens and potentially hundreds of additional lives simply because of his own fear. And what's troubling is, he wields the power and legal right to do so. It is only Greagoir who stops the unthinkable from happening (if that's our choice).

I don't forget that. And—to be fair—neither, I think, does Cullen. Not for an instant.

I think now, for instance, is a good time to flash back on an admission Cullen made when we first encounter him in captivity. He says: "And to think.. I once thought we were too hard on you." I think this is so important because it demonstrates the empathy and the 'real' Cullen he was meant to be. He wanted to be a protector, a good Templar, but already even as a young man here barely out of his teens, he had begun to harbor doubts about the system's fairness to the mages under Templar care. (And that was in what was, reportedly, one of the fairer, gentler Circles!).

The Kinloch Aftermath

It's worth noting that Cullen was still recovering after these events for some time, and was definitely not seen as stable by Greagoir. If you play the Dragon Age: Origins DLC "Witch Hunt" with a Warden who was a female mage, for instance, you will overhear two gossiping mages at the Tower talk rather callously about the fact that Cullen was sent by Greagoir to Greenfell, to the Chantry there in order to "level out."

As far as Cullen's story goes—it appears that he did in fact calm down at Greenfell, but that Knight-Commander Greagoir then felt it best to send him elsewhere, so he was sent to serve the Circle in Kirkwall, in 9:31 Dragon. Once in Kirkwall, Cullen was promoted to Knight-Captain and was assigned to serve as Knight-Commander Meredith's second in command there.

Talk about the worst possible time and place. Poor Cullen couldn't have been sent to a more trauma-inducing location in all of Thedas (except, maybe, for the White Spire). And unfortunately, every paranoid thing Cullen may have ever thought about mages would have been reinforced and supported by the increasingly crazy Meredith, as well as by Kirkwall's incredibly high percentage of blood mages.

Cullen in Kirkwall

When we meet up with Cullen again in Kirkwall, he's visibly calmer, older, and more confident. He's also made a giant leap in hotness from his DAO appearance (this will become a continuing theme with Cullen from chapter to chapter), and makes for a rather kingly, almost angelic golden figure here.

In Dragon Age II, Cullen's metamorphosis continues. My favorite thing about
his character design here (other than the circles under his eyes) is how visibly
curly his hair is, since I secretly think he hates that and tames it in DAI.

One thing I find interesting about Cullen's character design in both Dragon Age II and Dragon Age: Inquisition is that his suffering is visible. Yes, he's beautiful, but his eyes are haunted and pink-rimmed, with deep purple shadows beneath. From our first glance in Dragon Age II, we can look at Cullen's face and see that this is not a man who gets a lot of restful sleep. He's haunted by his past sufferings.

Cullen has a rather difficult role to play in Dragon Age II, because he is still damaged, and still wants so badly to be a good Templar, a good soldier, a good leader. And despite his experiences in Kinloch, I do get the feeling in most of Dragon Age II that he's attempting to be just and fair in his interactions with mages, despite the fact that (bless his heart) a good percentage of those are actually either practicing blood magic or doing insidious or potentially demonic things (seriously, Kirkwall is just the worst place ever). He also admires Meredith, who is charismatic and for many years, at least, appears to be tough but also someone who can be reasoned with.

Yet as the years pass in Kirkwall, the madness grows in Meredith's eyes, and Cullen is forced to examine both his own prejudices and the realities of the situation before him. He admits in several conversations with Hawke that he has increasing doubts about what was once so clear to him, yet even so, he defends the usefulness of the abhorrent Rite of Tranquility on mages (ugh), and at another memorable point (what I'd argue to be Cullen's lowest in the trilogy), he says some pretty vile, unforgivable things if you happen to be a mage supporter:

Hawke: Blood mages have infiltrated your ranks. They have been implanting your recruits with demons.

Cullen: Sweet blood of Andraste!

Masha: Demons! Did you say something about the recruits and demons?

Templar: I didn't want to tell you, Masha. They—they were horrible. Those mages see the rest of us as just ants to be crushed. They won't stop until they've destroyed the Chantry and the Templars forever.

Hawke: Mages have been systematically abused by the Templars for a thousand years.

Cullen: How can you say that after what you've seen?

Carver (hilariously, if present, to Hawke): Yes. How can you say that to the Templar right in front of you?

Cullen: Mages cannot be treated like people; they are not like you and me.

Masha: Surely that's a little harsh.

Cullen; They are weapons. They have the power to light a city on fire in a fit of pique. 

Hawke: Mages are humans and elves. Just like the rest of us.

Cullen: Many might go their whole lives thinking that. But if even one in ten falls to the lure of blood magic, they could destroy this world.

This, right here, is Cullen's nadir. His absolute worst moment. Worse for me even than the aftermath of his informal call for the Right of Annulment in DAO.

Now, to be fair, he says it after the revelation that blood mages have infiltrated the ranks of the Templars, and I'm sure Cullen's inwardly flashing back to every horrible thing he experienced. But... yeah... it's pretty terrible. (The only bright spot in this scene, for me, is the absolutely priceless reaction of Carver... and scenes like this are why I will always love our grumpypants insecure little Hawkebrother.)

The scene itself, taken as a whole, however, is troubling, and it also shows that Cullen hasn't advanced all that far from his previous traumas and prejudices. Yet I think that very fact is so important to his story, and to his arc. 

"They are Weapons"

For me, as upsetting as Cullen's comments are here, they provide a shockingly important moment in the trilogy, and in Cullen's character arc in particular.

And what's interesting is the visual handling of this moment as designed, animated and presented in the game.When Cullen says that mages cannot be treated like people, the action abruptly stops being a simple back-and-forth series of closeups. Instead, after Carver's comment, Cullen steps slightly forward and we see a beautiful wide shot with Cullen at the center, as our view of him rotates slightly. It's very cinematic (kudos to the artists, designers, animators and director here) and signifies something momentous, something worth noting. And I think it is.

What Cullen says here, what he puts into words, is the crystallization of the anti-mage, pro-Templar side of the entire war to come. The belief that allows magically gifted children to be taken from their parents and imprisoned in Circle Towers for the rest of their lives, to live or half-live under the watchful eyes of soldiers who have the ability with full impunity to harm, rape, lobotomize (with Tranquility) or kill them without consequence at any moment. And even in good mage circles, this boils down to the fact that, if you are a mage, you are taken from your family. You are captive in a high narrow place with people you don't know. You are forbidden, in most cases, normal romantic relationships or marriages, and if you do succumb to a hasty affair, any resulting child will be taken from you.

And, of course, someone is watching you and everything you do twenty-four hours per day, seven days a week. Me, I'd go stark raving mad in a month. No wonder Anders becomes consumed with it—Anders, who ran away seven times, and who was captured and returned every time, then tortured, abused, and put in solitary confinement, and who then watched his friends and lovers killed or turned Tranquil. Anders, who never even gave his captors the satisfaction of his real name. (Yeah, I feel tremendous pity for Anders... but more on that in a later post.)

To me, the most notable thing Cullen says here isn't that mages aren't people. Yes, that's awful. But to me what's worse is when he actually puts into words the terrible subtext that "Mages are weapons." Here, he is speaking the Chantry's subtext for all to hear—and what has always been the Chantry's real belief. That mages are tools. Things. Objects to be shut away until needed, and then used and cast aside.

The tragedy of this speech is compounded by the fact that—even if 1 in 10 mages did in fact succumb to possession (and of course the actual percentages seem to be exponentially smaller than that)—that still leaves nine other brave and loyal mages who would be happy to fight injustice and demons, despite what they have suffered, and who I believe would stand at his side and fight those demons.

I think Cullen does get where he needs to, and it's to a recognition of repentance, guilt and shame that are miles away from his words here. But it's gonna take time. And the better part of a decade.

Therein Lies the Rub

This is also precisely why I think it's important that Cullen be the one who says these words. That it's Cullen—who has before now seemed to be older, kinder, more thoughtful—who allows this terrible series of admissions to occur.

Here, in the Dragon Age II dramatic spark to the powderkeg that is the issue of mages versus Templars, while Meredith is an insane extremist (as, of course, eventually, is Anders, directly opposed), Cullen must serve as the seemingly reasonable and conscientious Templar soldier, the man of duty and faith. When he admits that he thinks violence is the only way, it's both deeply disappointing and surprising.

But it's also, I feel, a necessary part of his story. Cullen, after all, is the unbeliever who will see the error of his ways; he is Saul on the road to Damascus.

Look at it this way: A mage who realizes the Circles are wrong is just one mage out of thousands. It's not a surprising revelation. However, a Templar Knight-Commander who does so? Can and will help to change the world for the better.

For me, this makes Cullen's journey through the rest of Dragon Age II more suspenseful and satisfying. He is the shining true believer, the one person who should stand beside Meredith and her irrational hatred at all costs. And yet he cannot do so. As Chapters 2 and 3 take place, Cullen becomes a visibly sadder, more penitent and confused man. He spouts platitudes. He says some pretty awful things against mages and doesn't appear to recognize why they are so terrible.

I'm grateful that the Cullen who says "Mages are not people" is not the same
man we meet in Dragon Age: Inquisition.

My own take here is pretty simple: Just as the Qun warped a protective and nurturing Bull into Hissrad, so too did the Templars warp and twist Cullen into a person who would say the words I quoted above. 

However, that hate-filled man is not who Cullen was meant to be. It is not who he is at his core. When he says "Mages aren't people," to me it's a last gasp. It's Cullen expelling the very final vestiges of that demonic poison, as he succumbs for just a moment to it and gives himself over to absolutes.

But then I think the madness passes. And I believe, going forward, as his doubt and guilt grow, he truly begins to change. Yes, he wants so badly to believe, yet he's courteous to a mage Hawke and is even willing to admit to Hawke on multiple occasions his fears of and for Meredith and for the people of Kirkwall.

By the end of Dragon Age II, Cullen must yet again make a choice that will define him, and yet again, I do think he fails. Not because he supports Hawke and finally allies our merry band against a Lyrium-mad Meredith. But because it is only her threat against Hawke that finally spurs him to action. Cullen  doesn't take action or discover his own humanity because of her invocation of the Right of Annulment before a pleading, intelligent, and very sane Orsino (who I will always adore, and who I absolutely headcanon did not end Dragon Age II as relayed by Varric). 

In fact, Cullen is silent when Meredith tries to invoke the Right. He knows it is wrong, and he is silent. He only actually speaks up against her when she threatens Hawke, whom he has reluctantly come to see as a friend (to both himself and to Kirkwall).

However, for Cullen's trilogy-long arc, this works for me. I think it has to be this way, and I think it's deliberate: Cullen has failed his test yet again. Not as badly as in DAO, but... he has a ways still to go for redemption.

As Dragon Age II ends, in 9:37, Cullen hangs in there for a few more years, but the writing's on the wall. Everything he thought he believed in... the system he loved, has failed him. He has to find new meaning. He's starting to ask himself questions that tear at him, that hurt him, to which he doesn't want the answers. And yet he can't help himself. He is, oddly, almost pulling himself unwillingly forward into his own growth, self-awareness, and redemption. And also, of course, into bitter shame and repentance.

The Chisel on the Marble

And that's where Dragon Age: Inquisition comes in, and why it's a fascinating finish to Cullen's arc.

Each time Cullen appears in the Dragon Age trilogy, he is visibly changed. It's
as if he is a statue of marble being shaped by a sculptor.

I started this analysis by noting that most of the characters we meet in Dragon Age are damaged in some crucial way, struggling against past abuse, loss, torment, and pain.

The interesting thing that DAI does, is that it takes the framework of that survivor's story and pushes the boundaries a bit further, darkening the tapestry and adding complexity to it. Inquisition uniquely almost always couples a background of trauma and violence with a heightened and dual perception of guilt and responsibility. Everyone in DAI who is battling PTSD, for instance, is also battling guilt. Bull. Varric. Cassandra. Cole. Solas. Blackwall. Even our darling Josie. And especially beautiful Cullen.

I began this analysis by talking shallowly about Cullen's beauty. However, I also think that this character attribute can also actually be seen as an intrinsic and fascinating external representation of Cullen's own journey. 

Each time Cullen appears in the Dragon Age trilogy, he is visibly changed. It's as if he is a statue of marble being shaped by a sculptor, and in each ensuing chapter, he is more handsome because, it can be argued, he is becoming who he was meant to be. The Cullen of DAO was the princely, biddable young warrior you wouldn't have picked out of a crowd. The Cullen of DA2 was the archangel at the gate—tormented with doubt, but surviving, and struggling toward the light. The Cullen of Dragon Age: Inquisition is Cullen in full flower—not the prince or the archangel but the mature man whose visible handsomeness is only matched by his equally visible suffering and desire for penance and reparation.

And that's what I'll talk about in my next analysis... as we meet the older, wiser Cullen in Dragon Age: Inquisition... where he's a man who doesn't just pray daily for victory, but for his own atonement.