The Reunion of Flemeth and Morrigan: Witches, Mothers and Daughters

 But Mom! It was just one pizza party and season 1 of "Girls!"

FLEMETH: "I nudge history, when it's required. Other times, a shove is needed."

SPOILERS FOR ALL OF DRAGON AGE!

One of my favorite scenes across all of the Dragon Age trilogy must be the moment when Morrigan meets up again with her terrifying yet wonderful mother, Flemeth... and has an unexpected and richly ironic close encounter with one of those very elven gods who have fascinated her for so long. Not only is it a fun scene (in all variations), but it offers some of the best and most concrete clues we'll get about Flemeth across the entire trilogy, so is therefore that much more worth exploring.

Besides, come on. It's Flemeth.

FLEMETH. 

But first, let's hearken back to set the stage.

By the end of Dragon Age: Origins, Morrigan, while still operating alongside Flemeth's agenda to gain the Archdemon Urthemiel's old god soul through the Dark Ritual, had nevertheless become certain that her mother meant to overpower her and then take over her body. She then sent the Hero of Ferelden to kill her mother and take her invaluable, ages-old Grimoire. The Hero then either fought and apparently killed Flemeth (in her dragon form) or simply talked to Flemeth and asked for the Grimoire outright, leaving Flemeth alive. 

And even here, of course, the plot's a complicated thing, depending on our choices, since in the "Witch Hunt" DLC, if we find Morrigan (or the new Warden does, if our own Hero died defeating the Archdemon), she will show a surprising awareness that Flemeth still lives. If we lied, without showing animosity for the deception, she simply warns us against what Flemeth may be capable of in the future. And even if we didn't lie, and did appear to defeat Flemeth in her dragon-form, Morrigan repeats the same warning—that Flemeth somehow may yet live, and to be cautious.

Then, of course, Flemeth shows up just in time to save Hawke in Dragon Age II, and to offer some potent words of wisdom there before literally flying off into the air. Sometimes Flemeth's awesomeness is so great that I cross fictional streams in spite of myself mentally, because I'd pay so much money to see Flemeth and Galadriel or Alice (of Lev Grossman's underrated The Magicians) talk about the price of magic on love and family.

Either way, let's flash forward a decade, to 9:41 Dragon and the events of Dragon Age: Inquisition, as Morrigan joins us after the events of "Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts" and becomes part of the Inquisition gang. After the passage of years, Morrigan's noticeably quieter now, softer around the edges, less arrogant and brittle. She seems both lonely and vulnerable, and has spent the recent years gathering input and insight into the ancient elves on her own, while also protecting herself and/or her child (depending on your DAO choices) as DAI continued.

The story at this point can diverge depending on the following variables:

• Morrigan has the child Kieran, product of the Dark Ritual, and who carries Urthemiel's soul inside him
• Morrigan has the child Kieran, who is simply the human son of the Hero of Ferelden
• Morrigan is childless

The other major factors here are whether or not Morrigan or the Inquisitor chose to drink from the Well of Sorrows.

Either way, we've reached the point where history needs a little help, a divine nudge... or the good guys do... so it's time to call on Mythal.

"Hi, Mom."

And so here we are. Morrigan's eager and delighted, confident in her research and thrumming with excitement at meeting Mythal.

I always feel a little sorry for Morrigan here. She's just so darned excited. And so absolutely wrong about everything she thought she knew.

Then, oh dear, things go somewhat haywire... and Morrigan's horrified and scared and suddenly very, very vulnerable. We actually see and hear her subtly regress into childhood at several moments, which are beautifully envisioned by the artists and developers, and as acted by the always superb Claudia Black.

I'm always interested in this moment because it's been a very long time—over a decade, after all—since Morrigan saw her mother, and there are very few scenarios in which Morrigan came out looking all that great (although, granted, she truly seemed to think she was trying to protect herself). Either way, I'd say that Flemeth was very much aware of the fear and rage of her beautiful daughter, and their reunion was bound to be a dramatic one.

When Flemeth reappears, she's still as cool and queenly as ever, wearing her gorgeous DA2 apparel and the Hair Horns of Fabulousness (a hairstyle I am definitely a fan of making popular any minute now... the only downside I can see is the massive budget outlay on hair gel and hairspray... AND IT WOULD BE WORTH IT). 

Flemeth loves Mythal and shields her but they are not a single individual.
They are shared; each with her own failings, foibles, preconceptions, losses...
and needs for vengeance. There is both tragedy and wisdom to that realization.

Flemeth is one of the most beautifully envisioned characters across the trilogy, and her fantastic DA2 makeover was designed by the talented artist Matt Rhodes. Where once she was a crone in homespun in DAO, she arrives here in all her DA2 power, along with that little extra bit of mystery she seems to carry with her now. She's both witch and warrior, maiden and crone, goddess and vengeful woman. I think one of my favorite subtle aspects to her appearance here is that, while they were a darker greenish-brown hazel in DAO, since DA2 Flemeth's eyes are every bit as yellow-golden as Morrigan's now.

And now she's here just in time, yet again.

The Meeting at the Shrine

No matter which scenario we play here (Kieran or no Kieran), Flemeth is amused and Morrigan is as shocked as it is possible for her to be. But the two scenarios are intriguingly different, both visually and tonally.

First off, if there was no Dark Ritual in DAO and Kieran does not exist, then the Inquisitor, Morrigan and their party approach the Altar of Mythal in the Arbor Wilds at the appointed time and place. It's a location that is implied to be close to the Temple of Mythal itself (although it's interesting that Varric comments openly that there aren't any ruins nearby). It's a lovely area, and there are landmarks here that have actually made me reevaluate it as either the setting for the final Flemeth/Solas meeting or as being very close to it (we even see the howling wolf statues that we see nowhere else in the game but here and in that final scene).

Meanwhile, here we all are, waiting for Mythal at the altar. In this version of the meeting, there's no Fade, just this lovely green and sunny enclosure in the Arbor Wilds, birds singing overhead. 

We approach the Altar of Mythal along with the companions, and see the holy place before us. Central upon it is a female statue like those we saw at the Temple, a woman's body (very reminiscent of the Nike of Samothrace), armless, regal and beautiful, with wings outstretched and the elegant yet alien, symbolic head of a dragon. The statue is encircled with pale white blossoms in a diagonal pattern like a sash around its torso, and these same flowers also encircle the crown of its head. It's interesting to point out that flowers (bright red this time) also adorn the dragon statues that flank Mythal on either side in patterns that mimic those on the Mythal figure—crowning and enveloping them peacefully.

Morrigan: 'Tis all that remains of the Great Altar.

She reads the inscription there.

Morrigan: We few who travel far, call to me, and I will come—without mercy, without fear.
Solas (if present): Cry havoc in the moonlight, let the fire of vengeance burn. The cause is clear. (pause) A very old invocation, perfectly translated.
Morrigan: Thank you.

The Companions depart at Morrigan's insistence, and Morrigan calls upon Mythal.

Morrigan: You know who I am. From high priest to high priest, I am the last to drink of sorrows. Come to us, Mythal, whatever you are, whatever remains, I invoke your name and your power.

First off, if Patrick Weekes wrote this dialogue for Solas, his love of Shakespeare is showing once again, delightfully, as this echoes the immortal line from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar: "Cry 'Havoc!', and let slip the dogs of war!" I also love that Solas compliments Morrigan's translation; it's a sly moment of actual respect for her efforts in elven scholarship and is, alas, a moment that shall not come again.

After Morrigan's invocation, there's a gorgeous shot of the sunlight through the leaves above, and then, through a lovely rush of smoke and whispers, Flemeth appears, looking fabulous as always with her hair horns.

Morrigan: Mother.
Inquisitor (hilariously): Mother?

To which Flemeth merely says, in Kate Mulgrew's rich and unmistakable purr, "Now, isn't this a surprise?"

A formula for tragedy: Morrigan watches in curiosity and almost longing, as
Flemeth's face is smiling and almost kind here, alert and interested
in how the Inquisitor will respond.

"Once, I was but a woman..."

Hi, Mom! Yep, much to Morrigan's dismay, Flemeth's back, and with, well, a surprising lack of vengeance. And look... all kidding aside, Flemeth by Morrigan's own account made her childhood a hell, she raised her in a wilderness of unlove, fear, and virulent magic (with men openly used and sacrificed visibly before her), and then set her on a mission to rather brutally auction up her own body in order to gain the power her mother insisted upon. And that's before she began to fear that her mother's ultimate goal was possession of her own body as a new vessel.

In other words, I give Morrigan a lot of slack here, as well as back in DAO. While I love Flemeth, there's no question that Flemeth was, at worst, abusive, and, at best, staggeringly callous and tone-deaf with her lovely dark-haired daughter.

The Inquisitor has a variety of options for response here but in answer to most, Morrigan loses her temper, and Flemeth restrains her effortlessly (or, if the Inquisitor drank from the Well, the Inquisitor does so on her behalf).

Morrigan: She is a deceiving witch!
Flemeth: Now, now, that's quite enough of that.
Morrigan: What have you done to me?
Flemeth: I have done nothing. You drank from the well of your own volition.
Morrigan: Then you... are Mythal?

The Inquisitor simply looks more curious than angry, and while Morrigan stews, can be either boastful and antagonistic or respectful. I always choose 'respectful' because I am a Flemeth fangirl but to each our own.

Flemeth: You see, girl? Those are manners, as you require a demonstration.
Morrigan: I do not understand. How can you be Mythal?

And here we are, at the monologue that, for me, is the core of who Flemeth is... and of who Mythal was, gloriously delivered by Mulgrew as if its poetry is what she has been waiting to declaim since Thedas was born: 

Flemeth: Once I was but a woman... crying out in the lonely darkness for justice. And she came to me, a wisp of an ancient being, and she granted me all I wanted and more. I have carried Mythal through the ages ever since, seeking the justice denied to her.

The Goddess and the Witch

This is, irrevocably, part of why I love Flemeth. She dies yet lives. She smiles yet burns with vengeance. She is capable of both kindness and cruelty. She does not always keep heroes from falling, but instead reminds them that sometimes, a brutal fall, whether literal or figurative, is all that reminds us of the great things of which we are capable. Only by falling, as she notes in DA2, do we truly learn whether we can fly. It moved me then; it moves me still.

Most of all, as here, Flemeth acknowledges the wrongful imbalance of the world, right here and now: Once, I was but a woman... and then we find out how it all went down. But I'm still stuck on the idea that, gloriously... a woman wronged cried out... and the spirit of a wronged woman answered. Call me a feminist or a social justice warrior and I will simply smile and wear both labels with pride.

Because those aspects cannot be ignored or cast aside. This, this, this is the heart of who Flemeth is. This is the heart of who Mythal was. Their combination should scare anyone, man or woman, who seeks injustice against the weak.

The Goddess Speaks

Flemeth continues, so I'll quote that conversation going forward here. And please note—for expediency, I'll explore most main conversational choices as if taken, and will also include as much of the most important dialogue as I can. I know that doing so lengthens these blog posts, but I look at each of these as chapters, in many ways, and I also know how frustrating it is, firsthand, not to be able to reference and quote important dialogue from the games. While the Wiki and its value and importance cannot be overstated, it doesn't include much beyond the companion banters, so I feel like transcribing these moments is also a useful service to do for fans wherever I can, as well.

So here we go!

Flemeth: She is a part of me. No more separate than your heart from your chest. You hear the voices of the Well, girl. What do they say?
Morrigan: They... say you speak the truth.
Flemeth: But what was Mythal? A legend given name and called a god, or something more? Truth is not the end but a beginning.

She approaches the two of them, Morrigan watching in curiosity and almost longing. Flemeth's face is smiling and almost kind here, alert and interested in how they'll respond.

Flemeth: A herald, indeed. Shouting to the heavens, harbinger of a new age. As for me, I have had many names. But you... may call me Flemeth.
Inquisitor: Then you're Mythal as well as Morrigan's mother?
Morrigan: As well as a witch who prolongs her unnatural life by possessing the bodies of her daughters.
Flemeth: That's what you believe, is it?
Morrigan: I found your Grimoire, and I am no fool, old woman.
Flemeth: (chuckling) If only that were so. (to Inquisitor) My daughter ran from me long ago. I've let her be... until now, it seems.
Inquisitor: If Mythal is within you, why not reveal yourself?
Flemeth: And to whom should I reveal myself?
Inquisitor: To the elves, to everyone.
Flemeth: I knew the hearts of men even before Mythal came to me. It is why she came to me. They do not want the truth, and I... I am but a shadow, lingering in the sun.
Inquisitor: Why did Mythal come to you?
Flemeth: For a reckoning that will shake the very heavens.
Morrigan: And you follow her whims? Do you even know what she truly is?
Flemeth: You seek to preserve the powers that were, but to what end? It is because I taught you, girl, because things happened that were never meant to happen. She was betrayed, as I was betrayed—as the world was betrayed! 

There's a beautiful and very cinematic moment here (and kudos to director Mike Laidlaw) as the camera pans up above and pulls back slightly from Flemeth in her rage and fury.

Flemeth: Mythal clawed and crawled her way through the ages to me, and I will see her avenged!

We zoom in close on the Mythal statue's dragon head, crowned softly with flowers that tremble in the breeze, and Flemeth looks intently at it, then grows sorrowful again. 

Flemeth: Alas. So long as the music plays, we dance.
Inquisitor: I know the name Flemeth. It belongs to an ancient Fereldan legend. It says, long ago, you left your husband for a lover. Your husband then tricked you, killed your lover, and imprisoned you. Then a spirit came to offer you vengeance—Mythal—that's what you spoke of.
Flemeth: One day, someone will summarize the terrible events of your life so quickly. Hm. But yes, I was that woman. That is how my tale began.
Inquisitor: Flemeth appears in other legends, helping heroes for reasons of her own.
Flemeth: I nudge history, when it's required. Other times, a shove is needed. (she chuckles.)
Inquisitor (Varying responses, but basically): We need your help.
Flemeth: Against the magister who grasps beyond his reach. Yes, I know. The voices did not lie. I can help you.

Holding out a hand glowing with magic, Flemeth communicates the knowledge, which is (depending on choices) either of how Morrigan can shapeshift or of how the Inquisitor can master the dragon and it will come to them for the final battle. 

Morrigan (alternatively, if she drank): The voices came from you?
Flemeth: The price of the well seemed no dire thing when you saw so much gain, hmm?The voices did not lie, Morrigan. I can help you fight Corypheus.

She reaches her hand to Morrigan's head, and the magic glows golden. It is not aggressive, however, but almost gentle, and Morrigan stands still, then slowly opens her eyes. 

Flemeth: Do you understand, child?
Morrigan: Yes... I think I do.

Flemeth turn and walks away, back down the steps and into the wild grasses. Morrigan calls after her. 

Morrigan: Wait!
Flemeth (smiling):I wished to see who drank from the Well of sorrows. It has been a very long time.  (If Inquisitor) And now I have, and he is free to go. (If Morrigan) Imagine my surprise to discover... it was you.
Morrigan (If she drank from the Well): And that is all? Or (Non-Well): But what of us? (sadly)
Flemeth (after a significant pause and smile): A soul is not forced upon the unwilling, Morrigan. You were never in danger from me.

She walks back off into the billow of magical smoke and vanishes.

Variations on a Scene

What's interesting about this variation on the scene is that the psychology of Morrigan is visibly and beautifully different from that of Morrigan the mother willing to protect Kieran at all costs (which I'll be exploring separately, later). Here, she is quieter, more openly vulnerable and emotional. Claudia Black plays many of Morrigan's reactions here as almost hesitant, truly cowed by the realizations she has come to.

Flemeth, meanwhile, is kinder and quieter, too. There's less of that feeling that she's toying with Morrigan (as she very openly does in the Fade, seeming just a little to enjoy the fear Morrigan has for Kieran). Instead, she's more centered, more smiling, and is almost gentle with Morrigan.

It's interesting that there are a few key differences here. Morrigan calls the Inquisitor a "harbinger" rather than a messenger of a new age, but this may be due to Inquisitor choices relating to their belief in the Maker. If there's no Kieran, she's gentler, quieter, less sure. And interestingly enough, if she didn't drink from the Well, the confrontation is actually more angry and antagonistic, less gentle. In my interpretation, there's a chance at communion that is lost in that scenario, and it's kind of tragic—Flemeth cannot instantly translate understanding to Morrigan through benign magic, so instead, Morrigan is angry, still vengeful, and Flemeth is still wary and betrayed.

It's interesting that, here, we find that the best and sweetest story scenario is actually the one in which Morrigan drank from the Well. Not because she loses empowerment, but simply because she is given a sense of communion with her mother that she will not gain in any other way. It is, in many ways, an unexpected gift. Morrigan is linked to the woman she feared, the woman she knows, and instead of terror finds... gentleness. Assurance. Perhaps even love. And the quiet she'd perhaps wanted between them both.

It's a new and creative ending to the fairytale of the orphan in the forest, the fable of the daughter of the Witch of the Wilds. A moment... well, of grace.

Of all the possible scenarios with Morrigan in DAI, I admit that I prefer the ones with Kieran... they're richer, darker, and more moving. But I also loved discovering the childlike side of Morrigan here, and the more open portrayal of her potential for connection and understanding with her long-estranged mother. Every child seeks understanding; Flemeth's willingness to provide it here is an unexpected gift, and one I feel that Morrigan both deserves and which will profit her in the days to come.

Meanwhile, I'll explore the moment with Mythal, Morrigan and Kieran in a separate post, Part 2, to come!

Ranking the Quests in Dragon Age: Origins

Confession: I would welcome an entire DLC where I did nothing but ask
Flemeth questions while gazing adoringly. Because, come on, it's FLEMETH.

SHALE: Ah, well. Enough talking. There is a burning city to invade... or something.

SPOILERS for all of Dragon Age: Origins!

Dragon Age: Origins is vital to the Dragon Age universe as the keystone upon which its universe rests. For many, many fans it still represents the pinnacle of the series in terms of daring and darkness. I love it too,  for its thoughtful and complex character choices, its challenging RPG gameplay, and (most of all) for its ability to create a truly original and deeply immersive high fantasy setting unlike anything you'll find anywhere else.

While there are perhaps faint homages in the Grey Wardens to George R. R. Martin's Night's Watch in the Game of Thrones series, or a slight tip of the hat to "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" funnyman Xander in perpetually hilarious (and clueless) Alistair, those inspirations don't change the fact that the world of Dragon Age: Origins really feels like something new in high fantasy. It takes the basic required ingredients—elves, dwarves, humans, dragons, nobles, demons, even enchanted forests—and discards the cliches, the obvious tropes, and instead creates something genuinely grim, gorgeous, thought-provoking and new. The conflicts are original and believable (we're still arguing mages versus templars even all these years later), and the magic system, tied to the Fade for good or ill, is sublime.

Thedas is not Middle-Earth, nor is it your usual pallid, veiled fantasy knockoff. And (thank goodness) it's not Westeros, either. 

Instead, it's something darker, wilder, less grand and solemn, but also rich with both light and darkness. The Grey Wardens are actually more self-sacrificing, thought-provoking and interesting to me than the Night's Watch (not to mention less rapey and sexist), and what Gaider and the writers created in Thedas with the threats of the Blight, the Darkspawn, the Archdemons, and the hints of a catastrophic vengeance upon the world by none less than the Maker (God) Himself offers breathtaking scope and a wonderful tapestry against which to set events. No wonder the series has not only supported a massive game trilogy, an assortment of DLCs, and over a dozen novels, graphic novels, and other explorations—Thedas is complex enough to support all of this and still feel like we've barely scratched the surface.

As a way of saluting Dragon Age: Origins and its creativity, I thought it would be fun to take a look at all the main quests in the game, as well as the most notable side quests, and then rank them from worst to best. (Keep in mind that even the "worst" quests in DAO are wonderful—there are no losers here!)

After the Joining

Hi Duncan! Hi Cailan! Bye, Duncan! Bye, Cailan!

This isn't the most exciting quest in terms of game activity, but it's still one of the most important story beats across the entire trilogy, as here's where we get to meet the doomed, gallant and foolish King Cailan, and where we also get more insight into Loghain, as well as Duncan. We also get a glimpse of Uldred here, who figures so importantly later on after the events at the Kinloch Hold Circle Tower.

Elora's Halla
I don't know why this little quest, in which we must diagnose a sick halla when visiting the Brecilian Forest Dalish encampment, moves me, but it is never one I skip, and I always look forward to it. As someone who loves the rich and tragic story of the elves across the trilogy, perhaps it's simply that we get to spend a few moments with one of my favorite creatures, the halla (the white deerlike creatures with graceful, twining silver horns). Or maybe it's that we have the opportunity to rescue an animal. Either way, I always calm the halla—I know we have the option to get Elora to kill it, but that's never happening on my playthroughs!

Notices of Death
My inclusion of this makes me an absolutely horrible person, but it's a questline that's wittily written and that manages to be both cringeworthy, poignant, and hilarious in the worst way.

Here, we're given the quest to deliver notices of death to the family members of several fallen soldiers. And if we get our companions to do it for us, the results are priceless. Alistair, Wynne and Leliana are predictably kind and heartfelt (Alistair's especially always gets to me: "I hope you like heroes, my lady, because your husband died like one"). 

But the rest of our companions? Um, let's just say tact is in short supply:

STEN: The man you love has died. It seems you could have chosen better.

ZEVRAN (cheerfully): Your husband? Dead. It was horrible. And so forth.

OGHREN: So... You know that husband of yours? Dead. Sorry!

MORRIGAN: Your man is dead. Get over it.

OGHREN (happily): Er, um, oh... Good news, lady. You're single!

This moment where I ask Flemeth to adopt me never ends as well as
I'd hoped it would. (And yes, Morrigan totally supports the idea.)

The Grey Wardens' Cache
It's not the most exciting moment, but I do have a fondness for this quest because it introduces Morrigan and Flemeth, two of the best characters across the game (and across the trilogy itself). We
also get our first battle with Darkspawn hordes, and learn more about the Grey Warden treaties and what effect they may have on the political intrigues involved. But mainly I'm just thrilled at our first glimpse of Flemeth's hut. Otherwise, it's not as exciting as some of the others for me.

Joining the Grey Wardens
This quest is a strong introduction to the Dragon Age world, providing us with the opportunity to begin to soak in the atmosphere of Thedas by showing us around Ostagar and giving us the chance to meet and interact with a variety of characters who will be important either personally or symbolically in the story to come. It's where we meet Loghain for the first time, along with Wynne (if we aren't starting out as mages), as well as Alistair, and recruits like Jory and Daveth, who will have heavy symbolic importance shortly as well. From a writing standpoint especially, I loved this early quest, because it sets the stage so beautifully for this world and its characters.

A Mother's Hope
This quest, in which a mother, Filda asks us to search for her missing son Ruck in the Deep Roads, is one of the most memorable across DAO for me. It's just so well written and acted, it's genuinely emotional, and it's a great example of how even a few moments with a character can live on in our memories.

As you might expect, alas, we do find Ruck, and his situation is heartbreaking. Lost in the deep caverns and ruins of Ortan Thaig, Ruck has been corrupted by the Taint after subsisting on the flesh of Darkspawn in the tunnels. His mind is now mostly gone, yet, tragically, he is aware of his situation and his conversation with the Warden is devastating, as he is both grateful if sympathy is offered and ashamed of his circumstances. This encounter can have several different endings, in which Ruck is killed either in self-defense (if we say something to instigate an attack), or in mercy. We can also leave Ruck alive to continue his tragic existence just as before.

I admit it, the moral quandaries of this particular quest really made me think. I didn't want to kill or hurt Ruck, especially after having a conversation with him (if we're courteous and use high persuasion, he is touchingly grateful for even the smallest kindness). And yet it was equally terrible to leave him to die slowly, mad and alone in the darkness.

I've played through options where I killed poor Ruck—regretfully, and because Zevran was in the party, as Zev's dialogue in that scene causes Ruck to attack and gives us no choice. And I've also let Ruck return to his hoarding and his pitiful and mad existence. No matter what, I always do what he asked, and tell Filda, his mother, that we found his body far beneath the earth.

It's a great example of how rich and satisfying Dragon Age can be. We spend perhaps five or ten minutes with Ruck in actual game-time. But I still vividly remember him and pity his fate.

The Mabari Hound

And here's my first Warden with our faithful rescued mabari companion, who
has just torn out the throats of half a dozen enemies and is now waiting
for much-deserved treats and cuddles.

Okay, this isn't a major quest but COME ON. RESCUE THE DOG. Unless you are a supervillain in training or simply have no heart, this quest is a definite must, and it provides an informative and fascinating introduction to the importance of the mabari hound to Ferelden life and culture (Fereldans, you will soon learn, adore their dogs). Also, if we do this and save the blighted hound, we get our adorable and brave mabari (whom I always name Barkwise), also known to fans as Barkspawn. Barkwise is a wonderful character who brings out the best and funniest moments in many of our companions (particularly Sten and Morrigan), and he's also a brave and useful fighting comrade as well.

Lothering and the Imperial Highway
This questline isn't as dramatic as some but still, it's easily one of the most vital in the entire DAO game (or indeed in the entire Dragon Age trilogy). It's where we meet so many unforgettable characters for the first time, both featured characters in the story, as well as companions who will have incredible impact across the trilogy.

Most of all, this quest is always a highlight for me upon replay because Lothering will very soon cease to exist. With only a few exceptions, everyone we meet in the village is doomed, and it's genuinely upsetting to look back upon. Meanwhile, this is where we see what Loghain's plans are for Thedas, and we get our first glimpses of both Bann Teagan (also known as Hot Young Teagan) as well as of Cailan's widow and Loghain's daughter, Queen Anora, as well as our stalwart friends Bodahn and Sandal. And of course, Lothering itself is where we meet two incredibly vital potential companions -- Sten, and Leliana.

I still remember the jolt I felt when my party left Camp and Lothering was... gone. Just a skull on the map. It still gets to me, years later. And does so in every playthrough.

Tainted Blood
This quest starts out as seemingly harmless, requiring our Warden to fetch some necessary ingredients around the area, but it quickly becomes apparent that the Joining Ritual ahead is something to fear. That sense of foreboding increases throughout this quest and becomes palpable as the time of the ritual approaches.

My favorite thing about this quest is how it seamlessly introduces us to the solemn and terrifying stakes faced not just by the Grey Wardens, but by those who seek to enter their ranks through the tense and solemn Joining ritual. The stakes are high. Most fail, and people die right in front of us. The sudden deaths of people we'd just spoken to and begun to care about is a shocking occurrence but it's also the perfect example of how Dragon Age: Origins pulls no punches. 

Bad things can happen, and they often do, as in life, even to those who don't deserve them. In other words, it beautifully sets the stage and lets us know that Thedas is not a place for the faint of heart.

You've just woken up with Alistair alone, caged, and in your underwear.
Needless to say, it's a scenario that can go several ways. Although
probably not the way you'd want them to.

Captured!
This entertaining and slyly funny questline is part of the larger series of quests relating to The Landsmeet, and is one of my favorites across the game. It happens after we surrender to Ser Cauthrien after trying to rescue Anora (and don't even get me started on Miss Thing's immediate betrayal there), and we're subsequently captured and imprisoned at the impressive Keep of Fort Drakon.

While there are a variety of potential story progressions and outcomes here (including the potential to elude capture at all, or to wait for rescue), for me it's most fun if we get captured and end up at Fort Drakon, and then decide to rescue ourselves. Thus far, I've always ended up getting imprisoned with Alistair, and the hilarity of waking up in your underwear next to a blushing and underwear-clad Alistair is actually even funnier if you aren't romancing him. We then have to sneak, charm, bluff, cajole and fight our way to freedom out of the prison and through the castle, and it's tons of fun.

Alternatively, it's just as much fun if you wait for rescue (if you're captured alone, you can choose your rescuers). My favorite rescue team by far is that of our beloved mabari (Barkspawn!) and Sten (I know, I know, you're shocked), who banter back and forth like a classic buddy-cop movie. Sten frustratedly argues with the dog and then is disgusted with himself for... arguing with a dog. "I have been in this country too long," he admits to Barkspawn (continuing, it should be noted, to talk to the dog). Barkspawn simply pants happily in his face. 

Then he and our canny pup bluff their way in (with a downright Shakespearean canine performance by our faithful mabari in which he pretends an illness so vile the soldiers simply want him out of the way). Sten, not to be outdone, actually manages to bluff the female guard there, getting her to realize that her life's ambition has led her to endless boredom. "Are you a soldier? Or an ornament?" he asks her, and sure enough, within thirty seconds she nopes out of there and questions all her life choices. 

SIDE NOTE: I feel like, viewing this, Sten would be a surprisingly good (if tough) life coach. He would view my book-filled and slightly cluttered apartment, for instance, and ask, "What is this? Are you a hobbit? A scholar? A weak creature seeking comforts in its cave? Or are you a warrior?"

"I'm a hobbit," I would answer sheepishly. 

"Parshaara."

"Sorry."

"A warrior does not apologize. Once more, you sadden and befuddle me," Sten would probably retort. And then he'd march out, and a few days later I'd get a bill for the remaining life coach sessions. But he'd still Fedex me a sword to remind me of my inner hero. Or so I like to think.

Anyway. My favorite part of this scene, by the way, is that after they progress further into the Keep, Sten then turns to Barkspawn and says, in total seriousness, "Be ready. These soldiers will not stop to listen to stories." I love that Sten pretends not to acknowledge our dog's intelligence, but in the end, he is one of the few party members who treats Barkspawn with absolute respect and seriousness. It's kind of charming.

This also means that I may or may not picture Sten, when he's secretly playing with kittens, as also giving them life-lessons, telling them soberly: "You are small but brave, little feline, and you are the match for any mouse. Never doubt it. Act without fear and with complete self-confidence and the rodent will be yours."

Broken Circle
Written by Sheryl Chee, this is without a doubt one of the creepiest and most effective quests in DAO, as we arrive at the Mage Circle tower at Kinloch Hold only to realize that the worst has happened, and that the Tower has been taken over by demons, Abominations and corrupted blood mages.

So... hey, Cullen... um... so... glad you're okay. Sorry you were tortured. But,
to quote K in Men in Black: "Hire a decorator quick, because... DAMN."

The quest is both incredibly atmospheric and genuinely disturbing as we see the devastation wrought upon the tower, room by room and floor by floor. It's especially poignant if we're playing a Circle Mage origin, because we're returning home, in many ways, only to see it destroyed. This quest can also go horribly dark in many ways, resulting in the deaths of Wynne, Irving, and (if our Warden agrees with a traumatized and brutally vengeful Cullen) the slaughter of the entire mage tower. As occurs in each chapter in the Dragon Age trilogy, you'll have to choose between mages and Templars, and as so often occurs in Dragon Age, this is one of those moments where your decisions are irrevocable. And even years and playthroughs later, it's still incredibly disturbing that our sweet Cullen is so utterly willing to raze the entire Circle and the lives of its mages to the ground.

Meanwhile, I know many many, many people out there hate the "Lost in Dreams" aspect (the dreaded quest sequence in the Fade), but I have to admit that while I get how frustrating it can be... I kind of love it. I love being able to play all the different physical beings, and going from being as timid as a tiny brave mouse, to being an eternally burning figure, a stone golem, and more. 

Just one request for Bioware though: At some point, aside from our brief excursion with Solas in Dragon Age: Inquisition, couldn't we actually play... a happy Fade? The fun Fade? Where it's always Christmas and witches give us treats and lemonade?

A Paragon of Her Kind
So, um, feel free to throw things at me but... I HATE the Deep Roads in DAO. Haaaaaate. Precisely because of how beautifully they're designed and rendered. They feel too dark, too grim, too gross, too terrifying, and too real. But this is a fantastic quest chain, starting in a wonderfully dark and well-rendered Orzammar, and it's an unforgettable introduction to the underground kingdom of the dwarves, in a beautiful and richly woven story and series of quests written by Lukas Kristjanson and Jennifer Hepler.

Here, society is governed via a strict and often brutal caste system, and where the highest born never see the sun. And at the bottom of the pyramid? The poor casteless, who are brutally tattooed at birth and who may never rise above their stations and most of whom are overwhelmingly cursed to lives of misery and bare, brutal subsistence.

Oh, Harrowmont, Harrowmont. You frustrate me so.

As with the rest of the game's story and details, Orzammar and the dwarven kingdom is beautifully envisioned, and it is yet another example of how the Dragon Age universe manages to encompass high fantasy elements and archetypes, yet with real imagination and uniqueness. Dragon Age's dwarves are not those of Tolkien—their lives are sadder and more strictly governed, in some ways, and perhaps pettier too, and yet Dragon Age's dwarves do feel rich with potential. They don't have to avenge lost kingdoms, but are mostly seeking to simply rise to a way of life that is sustainable and comfortable. There's not quite that sense of grandeur in Dragon Age's dwarves as in Tolkien's, and their plight isn't as obviously tragic as those of the elves, but there's still a rich and powerful sense of real pathos and loss.

It's terrific, and it's every bit as rich and fascinating as the worlds of men and elves to which we've already been introduced. And we're thrown right into its politics and corruption, as well as into the dreams and yearnings of those who live there. We help to choose a new leader in a deceptively complicated choice—do we pick noble, yet frustratingly conservative and out of touch Harrowmont? Or sneaky, unlikable Bhelen, the corrupt progressive who may nevertheless usher in a better world for the casteless? We meet potential companion Oghren here, as well as potential future notables in the series like wonderful Dagna (and let's not forget Leliana's potential nug companion Schmooples!).

This questline's fantastic series of explorations culminates into our entry into what is surely one of the most loved and hated sections of the game (along with The Fade): The Deep Roads, the terrifying network of caves and chasms that takes us out of the world of dwarves and into the abyssal haunts of demons and Darkspawn. And despite a trilogy of visits, for me the Deep Roads are never more terrifying than here in DAO, when we must travel with our brave companions through a near-endless series of dark twisting caverns filled with rotting corpses, Darkspawn, walls that pulsate with living evil, and monsters too terrible and tragic to look upon... the Broodmothers. (I won't even go into poor Hespith's terrible and deeply disturbing chant that outlines the sufferings of the women used by the Darkspawn to become the Broodmothers, but let's just say that it haunted me for days after I played it.)

And then there's Branka. Oh, Branka, crazy, terrifying Branka. The Orzammar paragon and Oghren's ex (and Hespith's, whom she brutally betrayed for her own ambitions). Who, it turns out, is set on using the Anvil of the Void to create an army of golems, in opposition to Caridin, the ancient paragon golem attempting to atone for his past sins. Once again, this encounter is wonderfully written, rendered and performed, and is fraught with potential tragedy, as depending on our actions, we can either support Branka's insane agenda (dooming Shale, if she is present, and who will fight and die against this choice), or we  can support Caridin and the more obviously moral choice. 

We then end this questline with the coronation of the dwarven king we supported, and it's a testament to the game's writing that even this moment is both painful and satisfying no matter who we choose. When I chose Harrowmont, I winced. And when I chose Bhelen, I winced even more (even though I knew it was right).

The Tower of Ishal
This race to light the beacon for King Cailan is one of my favorite early quests in DAO—it's exciting and pulse-pounding, and it really feels like our Warden is attempting to accomplish something epic (I felt like I was trying to light the signal-beacons in Gondor for a moment). It's also a terrific and more in-depth introduction to Alistair as a character in all his humor and bravery and innocence, and the combat as we attempt to fight our way floor by floor up the tower is genuinely exciting and challenging. 

And then it ends with one of the most striking and tragic  cutscenes in the game—the resolution of the Battle for Ostagar, as Loghain betrays the King, dooming Cailan and Duncan before a tide of unbeatable evil. I can still remember the terrible resignation on poor Duncan's face as he faces the unstoppable tide overwhelming them... and I'm talking about PIXELS. In a GAME.

Sniffle.

Meanwhile, the denouement of the quest takes place after our rescue by Flemeth, and we get another fabulous scene in her hut, and then Morrigan grumpily joins our party. 

Honestly, I always exhaust all conversation options here, as anytime I can talk to Flemeth is a high point in the games for me. I talk to Flemeth so much, honestly, in every single scene, that I swear I have unlocked slightly magical powers because Flemeth will, at a certain point, roll her eyes at me and tell me to get back to the game, girl. Get on with it. 

This is also why this quest is tied for me with "Flemeth's Real Grimoire," in which we go back and either talk to or battle Flemeth in order to get her Grimoire for Morrigan (who is convinced Flemeth is planning to possess her in order to extend her own life). I battled Flemeth on my first playthrough (and honestly felt terrible about it), but have never done so again... not only is it not right (and more than a little cowardly of Morrigan), but I'd much rather talk to Flemeth than fight her, so I always exhaust every single conversation option here. Until she literally tells me to go away.

"But wait!" I cry. "I must know! What made you decide to get the Hair Horns after this? Was it a midlife crisis? A spur of the moment thing?"

Alas, Flemeth never answers. At least not yet. If she ever does, I suppose this means I'll have descended into a new level of Dragon Age psychosis. (Fingers crossed!)

The Arl of Redcliffe
Would you kill a child to save a village? Or damn a village to save a child? This is another standout quest, a classic written by the always-talented David Gaider, and that involves some hard choices for  our Warden, and it remains one of my favorite questlines in the Dragon Age: Origins game story. It's also a terrific narrative piece, and gives us a lot of additional potential information about Ferelden, about Alistair himself (and his potentially mysterious background), as well as about the Arl, and we also get more time with my darling Hot Young Teagan, as well as having important interactions with the possessed child Connor and with Teagan's wife Isolde. The outcomes here can have huge ramifications on the game's story progression, with the potential loss of Connor, Isolde, Jowan, the entire population of Redcliffe, and more.

And as all Dragon Age fans know, the inclusion of the immortal line from Isolde "Who iz dis wooooman, Teeeeagan?" automatically bumped it up even higher. Because, reasons.

So, yes, Shale is a bit grumpy, but can you blame her? Years of immobility
while pigeons pooped on her. It's a miracle her sense of humor is still intact.

The Golem in Honnleath
If you get The Stone Prisoner DLC for DAO (and please do, as Shale is a wry, powerful hilarious and utterly unique character), you'll have to complete this quest in order to get the rod that will free golem and potential companion Shale (currently frozen as a statue in the square) from her imprisonment. It's a visually beautiful and interesting quest, with memorable characters and an especially challenging demonic confrontation that, in the end, can go terribly and chillingly wrong. (Dragon Age: Origins has no problem at all killing off child characters, and proves it again here.)

I've played it through several different ways—in some, poor Amalia was irrevocably possessed by her deceptively adorable cat friend "Kitty" (who was actually a desire demon) and then killed, while in others, I loved being able to rescue her and defeat the demon, returning Amalia to her waiting father. Either way, this quest always makes me smile when I come across the amulet "Kitty's Collar" in Dragon Age: Inquisition (a sly remembrance of Amalia).

And hey, at least now we can free poor Shale from her endless torment by the evil pigeons of the village.

Nature of the Beast
Perhaps it's because I so often prefer to play elven protagonists in Dragon Age, but this spooky, complex and yet often beautiful quest is absolutely one of my favorites in DAO. Another major questline written by David Gaider, it provides a wonderful and balanced introduction to the Dalish, and gives us a series of gorgeous settings and dungeons in the Brecilian Forest and Ruins, and in the Lair of the Werewolves. The elves are wary and ruthless, and yet are also charming, courteous and sympathetic. The werewolves then turn out to be equally complex, both fearsome and savage, and yet also heartbreakingly aware of their cursed existences (I'm still broken up over the fate of poor Danyla). The final decision here, as is so often the case in Dragon Age, can be bleak and brutal, in which we side with the werewolves and slaughter the entire Dalish clan, or in which instead the werewolves are slaughtered themselves.

I love the character design of the Lady of the Forest, even if I also desperately
want to offer her a sweater. Besides, I have extras, since Morrigan won't
wear any of the ones I got for her.

However, I personally prefer the outcome in which we convince Zathrian to confront the Lady of the Forest, and we get the outcome in which Zathrian admits to ending his vengeance, and he and the Lady of the Forest willingly sacrifice themselves so that the werewolves are cured and the hostilities are ended. The idea of forgiveness never gets old, and it's gorgeously rendered here. The Lady and the werewolves are beautifully designed characters (with the Lady's suggested nudity managing to seem more beautiful and wild than prurient), and the final sequence in which all find peace is just beautifully done.

The Landsmeet
Oh, the politics! The intrigues! Culminating in a confrontation that's tense, complex and downright cinematic, the Landsmeet questline, written by the superb Mary Kirby (Hard in Hightown), embodies everything I love about Dragon Age: Origins. The questline is witty, smart, and suspenseful entertainment, and it demands genuine insight and attention from the player to reach their desired outcome.

Personally, I always love main quests that are as much about plot and character as they are about combat, which is why I'm such a fan of DAI's "Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts" as our poor Inquisitor attempts to charm a ballroom full of jaded, cynical, Great Game-playing Orlesians.

It's also why I love this one, where we're reunited with so many characters we've met and interacted with before—Arl Eamon, Loghain, Arl Howe, Anora, Duncan, and more, and where the hard decisions come to fruition. In this instance alone, the story outcomes can include Alistair as King in a variety of potential marital states, remaining as a Grey Warden, executed by Anora, or disillusioned and drunk if Loghain is allowed to join the Wardens as penance for his crimes.

The Landsmeet is an incredible culmination of all our political maneuverings
 in the game, and the end of the questline is truly epic and emotional,
no matter what we choose.

Me, I'm torn. I truly do feel for poor Alistair. But at the same time, the fact that he is so adamant, that he cannot abide by the recommendations of Riordan (his superior officer) in punishment of Loghain... to me this flaw is truly disappointing. I still love Alistair, but it's interesting to me that he, as a character inspired by Xander ("Buffy the Vampire Slayer") actually shares some of that character's weaknesses. Xander was charming, until you crossed him, and then he was easily at his worst... especially  whenever confronted with his own jealousies. Alistair definitely has shades of this to him, as well. However, in the end, I much prefer Alistair to Xander. Even in a single game, we watch Alistair mature and grow into real gravitas and responsibility, and (thankfully) he does so without losing his sense of joy or humor.

Something Wicked
This scary, atmospheric and tragically memorable quest in which we assist the saintly, blind Ser Otto in his pursuit of the mystery haunting the abandoned orphanage in the Denerim elven Alienage has definitely always stayed with me.

It's a suspenseful and interesting story, with an engrossing mystery at its heart, but for me what lingers is the classic horror-movie feel in the most traditional and gothic sense. I loved the gorgeously rendered atmosphere of the abandoned orphanage, with its barely-seen ghostly children dancing at the edge of sight, the evil giggles, the eerie weeping, the shadowy vestiges of violence everywhere... and worst of all, the sense that we might be able to bring peace here again, but we'd never be able to right the original and horrific wrongs that took place in this darkness.

We search, we fight, we triumph. Or so we think, when, of course, we're faced with the inevitable fate of the kindly and caring Ser Otto, which still makes me angry every single time. I WANTED SOMETHING GOOD, Dragon Age: Origins! Just once, give me something good and let poor Ser Otto live!

Dammit. Now I need roof-cookies.

The Urn of Sacred Ashes
This is easily one of my absolute favorite quests in Dragon Age: Origins because it offers a series of superb and diverse gameplay, combat and puzzle challenges, and because it effortlessly manages to communicate so much lore and history. It, like so many other quests in DAO, also has the potential to go terribly, horribly wrong, and at the end, depending upon our decisions here, Leliana and Wynne may not only end up dead, but they do so at the Warden's own hand. Sten, too, may end up departing permanently depending on your early actions in the questline, at Haven.

Primarily written by Sheryl Chee, this questline involves some incredibly atmospheric and interesting locations. Haven (which we'll see in very different circumstances again in DAI) is here an apparently sleepy little village in the foothills, but there's a creepy and palpable sense of menace, an almost Village of the Damned undertone that's wonderfully unsettling. Meanwhile, the ruins, caverns and dragon/wyrmling lairs are equally interesting, and the quest culminates in a superb and mind-cracking series of haunting scenes and beautiful challenges at The Gauntlet. One of my favorite moments in the game, and certainly an absolutely pivotal moment. After this quest, the next scenes at Camp can be both thought-provoking or incredibly sad.

Don't worry about the Archdemon, Hot Young Teagan! I'll protect you!

The Battle of Denerim
How often in your life do you get to command an army, lead a charge, and risk (or give) your life against a magnificent Archdemon in dragon form? How often, even in a game, do we lead armies, strategies warfare from attack wave to attack wave, or get to risk our lives, our companions, and our highest selves to save the world from an opponent that otherwise will devour it in darkness? How often do you fight a creature so massive that it dwarfs battlements and armies?

It's no wonder then, that this questline is truly the game's high point and centerpiece for me, and justifiably so. 

And my favorite aspect of this gorgeous final series of quests is how personal and fragile it all is. Just as crucial as the strategic aspect to the story (Landsmeet done, supportive factions put in place, and more), it's the emotional, friendship, and romantic elements to this story sequence that really tug at your heartstrings.

For instance, take those final sweet heartfelt farewells to our companions the night before! The moments when Wynne and Leliana express love and gratitude, when Sten reaffirms his affection and faith, when Zevran surprises us with his solemnity and emotion, are all wonderful, and reminders that Bioware has done something miraculous here with these scattered pixels—they'e turned them into people we care about.Then we're faced with more emotional obstacles, including our potential conflicting feelings of happiness (or ickiness) at performing the Dark Ritual with Morrigan! And that final goodbye to our sweet Barkspawn if we don't take our faithful mabari along for the final battle (the little worried whine our mabari gives there just kills me)! 

Sigh. So much fantastic dramatic fodder.

And let's not forget all the clever and strategic ways we can utilize the Dalish, dwarves, mages, Templars, and more who support us—as the culmination of all our diligent combat, strategic, political and ambassadorial work throughout this past year in Thedas. Let's definitely not overlook the wonderful fact that we can (if on PC) even actually support and help to preserve the lives of so many vital key characters we've met and saved before, and who now fight alongside us, including First Enchanter Irving or Knight-Commander Greagoir, Hot Young Teagan, Arl Eamon, Swiftrunner (or Zathrian), and more.

But the lasting elements to this story moment are the romantic, political, friendship, and intimate alliances we've built over the past year of Thedas time between our brave Warden and their companions.

By the end of Dragon Age: Origins, we've lived an epic. We've razed the ground if we were ruthless and hard, leaving companions dead behind us in service to power or ambition, or we've championed the best in all of us and earned the love of those who fight beside us, so that even hard, cynical Morrigan professes her love or comradeship, stoic Sten quietly calls us by the endearment "kadan" ("Where the Heart Lies" in Qunlat), and even Shale hesitantly admits she'd be bummed if we got squished. Our Warden may have sacrificed themselves for the good of all Thedas, or taken Morrigan up on her offering of the Dark Ritual so that the final blow against the Archdemon did not take a life in sacrifice. Yet this is the end of the journey, and the final moment before the bittersweet partings.

As always, this quest is a reminder that what makes these games so fantastic isn't the gameplay (no matter how consistently good it is) but the nuanced and complex writing, the heartfelt and versatile acting, and the feeling that at the end of our journey (for me at least) our protagonist, if they survived, did not do so alone. They are known, fully, flaws and all... and they are loved. But then again, I'm always a sucker for stories of scrappy misfits and their self-created family units (Mass Effect 2, I'm looking at you).

Which quests in Dragon Age: Origins were YOUR favorites? 

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.