SPOILERS WARNING: Do not read unless you have finished DA:I! Mature Warning: Violence and gore.
"That is all for today," Nicolette said declaring the day's war council meeting over.
Her advisors nodded and began gathering their paperwork and making their way to the door. Leliana and Josephine lead the way with Cullen right behind them as Nicolette brought up the rear a few paces behind him. The spymaster and ambassador were making small talk as Cullen paused to wait for Nicolette.
With Corypheus gone, hopefully for good this time, they had finally been able to relax. With this new found breather they had time to spend with each other and he wanted to ask if he could steal her away for some privacy. Turning back to face her, she was already looking at him with a slow smile starting to spread across her face. She already knew what was on his mind. As he opened his mouth to speak they heard the door to Josephine's office slam open. They all paused staring at the closed door at the end of the hall. A heartbeat later the door came open with such force that Leliana had to jerked back to keep from being struck by it.
Cullen's hand went to the hilt of his sword, he could feel a wave of pure hostility coming towards him through the open doors. The presence swept past him nearly knocked him off his feet. Rolling back on his heel he put one hand on the wall to balance himself. Trying to recover he saw Nicolette hoisted up into the air and thrown backwards into the war room. Without hesitation he sprinted forward, turning himself sideways he barely made it through the doors as they closed. Had he not waited for Nicolette he would have been too far away to get through. With a loud bang the doors closed shut tight behind him. Yet it was not the war council room he stood in.
Before him was the main mess hall of the Kinloch Hold, the circle tower of Ferelden. Cold fear ran through him. This meant only one thing, a demon, and he and Nicolette were in its grasp. Gripping his sword tighter he took a step forward.
"Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter," he whispered under his breath.
The main mess hall had once been one of the liveliest places in the Circle. Mages were there almost all hours of the day, whether they were eating, socializing, or studying. But when the tower had erupted in violence it became a place of some of the most ghastly events Cullen had ever witnessed.
As he entered, it was silent. Though the evidence of violence was all around. Corpses lay everywhere, Templars and mages alike. The aggressors, defenders, and innocents all twisted and disfigured in death. Their bodies had been left to rot, the smell and imagery was vomit inducing. Some of the bodies had been arranged in someone's sick idea of art or ritual. Skinned with organs and bone spread in ways that only made sense to the mad and possessed.
Carefully picking his way through the carnage, he heard voices. Peeling his eyes away from the gore he found two dark haired women standing together. One wore a white leather coat and tall boots, the other barely wore anything at all. She was holding the other's arm, gently speaking to her as a teacher to a student.
"Guide the blade across the wrist, not too deeply least you bleed yourself dry."
The knife she held cut into the other's arm, sending a stream of blood to stain her sleeves.
"Like this," she cooed to her student.
This was a trick of some kind, the first of many he was sure. Raising his sword, he knew he had to find a way to reach Nicolette. He reminded himself it was a vision, still, it made it no easier to witness.
The women stopped what they were doing and turned to him, his throat went dry with fear. The student in the white coat was Nicolette and the instructor was Astrid Amell.
"Ah, Cullen so good of you to join us," Astrid playfully stroked Nicolette's cheek. "Your little Herald is so lovely. Its a shame you keep her all to yourself, especially since we could have so much fun together."
He had to focus to keep his hands from trembling, "This isn't real. I know what you are demon. It will not work."
"Is that so?" The demon Astrid began to stalk towards him putting extra sway in her hips and running her hands over herself, "You fell for it so easily last time, but that was so long ago wasn't it, my dear Cullen."
Taking a few steps back he tried to keep some distance between them. Her smile only broadened.
"Still so suspicious but then you know the truth about mages. What was it you said?"
Trailing off she snapped her fingers and before him was another him, a younger him. He stood proud in his polished Templar armor. His eyes cold and angry, he looked at him with betrayal in his eyes, "Mages cannot be our friends."
Cullen felt his stomach turn, he remembered saying those words to Hawke. He remembered believing wholeheartedly in their truth, his anger after Kinloch having blinded him too much. His younger self would not have looked at Nicolette twice, much less love her.
Astrid began to circle around him, smugly reminding him of his failings, "I wonder what sweet Nicolette would think of you after hearing such things."
Cullen could feel the noose begin to tighten, demons' tricks were obvious but there was little you could do to sidestep them. They forced you to see exactly what you did not want to. They had access to your mind and every doubt and trouble inside. He might have been ten years past Astrid but though she was no longer the object of desire she still represented much of his regret; of apologies never made, of thanks never given.
The vision of his former self must have been for Nicolette. Cullen had laid his past bare to her, she had not scorned him or turned away in disgust. Nonetheless, what would it do to her to see him as he was, to see his hatred first hand, directed at her and what she was?
"I was wrong, I couldn't see past my own hatred and loss."
"Were you? Or did you see the truth up until a pair of pretty little tits came bouncing up to you?" Astrid looked past him to Nicolette, her wrist still dripping blood. "You know that she will be tempted, that mark of hers puts her one breath away from the Fade. She isn't truly the Herald of Andraste, you know this. There was no provident intervention making her holy. She is just another mage who wields an unimaginable power. She will use it for evil, they all eventually do."
Calling out to his other self she said, "Knight-Captain, this mage is a maleficarum. She wields the same power of the magisters used to assault the Golden City. Do your duty."
"No!" Cullen yelled and tried to dash forward to stop his younger self but Astrid was suddenly on his back holding him with an otherworldly strength. He could only watch in horror as his younger self drew his sword and with an expert skill delivered a single sword thrust through Nicolette's heart. She collapsed in a heap on the ground.
In a flash Astrid was no longer holding him in place, she now kneeled down beside Nicolette examining the corpse. Released from her hold Cullen dropped to his knees.
Astrid touched Nicolette's jaw turning her face to study it, "My, she was a pretty one, wasn't she? But then you always did like looking at the lovely ones. Though this one you got to take off the pedestal and play with. Such fun that must have been. Why look at these blue eyes, almost like lyrium. Traded one addiction for another didn't you?"
Carrying the memories of Ferelden and Kirkwall was already too much but this was beyond what he could endure. This isn't real, he tried to remind himself, that couldn't have really been Nicolette.
"Quiet demon," he growled at her.
That only seemed to amuse her, "Demon? My dear Cullen, I am only showing you what is in your mind already. I am part of you, as is he," she nodded to the Templar still standing over Nicolette, blade wet from her blood. "This is the truth echoing through your mind. You think you have distanced yourself from your past? That you can see clearer now? How clear does everything look from your knees? You know it will end with you murdering your lover. It is inevitable." She smiled cruelly, "And what a lovely corpse she will make."
This was all a vision. The dead woman on the floor was not the real Nicolette, when he heard the real her screaming he knew.
Nicolette coughed trying to catch her breath, after she had been thrown backwards through the war room doors she had landed on the table. The wind had been knocked out of her lungs and she was fairly sure she had blacked out for a moment. Sitting up she looked at the closed doors in front of her. What had just happened? She had adjourned the council meeting as they were leaving Cullen had stopped to say something to her. Then something had picked her up and thrown her backwards.
"Inquisitor," Cullen's voice came from behind her. His voice had a bitter edge to it where she might have expected him to sound concerned.
Turning from where she sat on the war table she found him standing there with a woman she did not recognize. The woman stood with one elbow resting on his shoulder, leaning against him. The symbol of a griffon on her light armor and a staff attached to her back, a Grey Warden mage. This woman was elegant and with a statuesque confidence about her.
Looking back to Cullen, she realized he was no longer in his normal armor. At some point he had changed and now wore the armor of the Templar order. That unsettled her more than anything else. How long had she been out? When had this woman arrived? Things were not adding up.
"What is going on," she started.
"You lied to me," Cullen hissed at her.
She blinked at him, unsure what he meant, "I would never. What are you talking about?"
"Astrid told me everything," he narrowed his eyes at her, "about what you said to Warden Alistair in the Fade."
The woman was Astrid Amell, the Hero of Ferelden, once Circle mage and one of Cullen's old charges. She was smiling at her but there was nothing warm about her face as she spoke, "Alistair told me what you said to him, that once you defeated Corypheus you planned to enter the Black City yourself and take the throne of the Maker as soon as you figured out how. Alistair knew that no one in the Inquisition would believe him but he knew Cullen would trust me."
Nicolette felt her heart sink, she was too stunned to say anything as her mind reeled to try and make sense of what she was saying. She had never said anything to Alistair about taking the seat of the Maker. One of them was lying but why? This whole situation was not making sense and for some reason she could not figure out why.
The anger in Cullen's eyes towards her was unbearable, "Cullen, I never said that!"
"Silence!" he yelled, making her jump. Pressing his mouth into a hateful line he turned his face away from her. "I had been right, mages can not be treated like people. They will always be tempted and no matter who they might be, they can all fall to corruption."
His words stung her more than all of the vicious words that had ever been thrown at her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she had always feared he might feel this way but to hear him actually say it cut her deeply.
Astrid nodded, "You are right, my Templar. You know what you need to do to stop her, but first…"
Grabbing Nicolette's left wrist she pulled her back down, slamming her arm hard on the war table, and before Nicolette could wrestle away Cullen pulled out a dagger and stabbed it through the palm of her hand. Nicolette screamed.
Spinning to face the direction of the scream Cullen turned to see the war table sitting in the middle of the mess hall, completely out of place. Upon it was Nicolette, she was on her back, laid out from where she had been thrown back into the war room. Her hand that bore the anchor was pinned to the table through her palm by a dagger. Blood pooled on the maps of southern Thedas, its green light flared and sputtered. She was trying to use the mark but the pain and the dagger must have been stopping her. Her face twisted in agony and tears, she was trying to pull the dagger out with her free hand but did not have the strength to pull it free from the wood.
The other version of himself stood over her with a second vision of Astrid next to him, this one dressed as a Warden. The Templar grabbed a handful of Nicolette's black hair and jerked it back hard, banging her head against the table. She stopped struggling for a moment, terrified.
"You can not fool me again mage and playing innocent won't help. You are guilty of crimes against the Chantry; apostasy, heresy, and using forbidden magic," he sneered at her.
Tears began to ebb from her eyes. Several times she had asked him about how he saw her, whether or not her being a mage made him anxious. Ever worried for him and not herself. Cullen knew the impact her magic had on her relationship with her family. Her mother who, forever cold, saw her as a burden and a stain on the Trevelyan's good standing with the Chantry. It was an old pain that had hurt her for years. Growing up she felt she was never good enough for someone to truly love her. To her, his love meant more than the world.
She stared up at the demon trying to understand, then the realization dawned on her. Throwing up her free hand she tried to cast. He grabbed her wrist and slammed it down against the table. Bucking and kicking uselessly she yelled at him, "Demon!"
He smiled and reached below the table, pulling forth an iron brand. At its tip was the Chantry's sunburst. Nicolette shrieked.
Cullen screamed as he ran to the table. Scrambling up on it, he managed to grab the shaft just above the brand right as the demon was driving it down. The searing heat burned through his glove quickly, scorching his hand. The pain was acute. Gritting his teeth he reminded himself that this was only a vision, managing to hang on he had stopped the brand a few inches from Nicolette's forehead.
Tears poured from her eyes as she stared up at the struggle going on over her. Forced to let go of her arm the demon used both hands to try to press the brand down. Her right hand free she grabbed the dagger pinning her hand and pulled. Still it refused to move.
Struggling between the pain of his burning hand and keeping the brand away from her, Cullen reached for the dagger, his hand going over Nicolette's helping her pull. From behind him he heard Astrid howl, she leapt on his back, her razor sharp nails going to his throat ready to tear. But the demon would not kill him outright. She still hoped to use him. Giving a heave he and Nicolette pulled the dagger from her palm.
Several things happened at once; the green light from her hand flared to life and like a fog being blown from a valley, Kinloch Hold was suddenly gone. They were back in the war room. Nicolette really was laid out on the table her hand stabbed and bleeding. But what had been the younger version of himself was a man. A blood mage, who was holding a dagger not the tranquility brand. Cullen's hand was around the blade, blood dripping from his fingers. On his back was really a desire demon. Its claw at his throat. Nicolette raised her anchored hand, she cried out in pain as it flashed its light and the demon was thrown off his back.
Using the dagger that had pinned Nicolette, Cullen drove it deep into the mage's heart. The desire demon shrieked as her master died. Climbing down from the table Cullen retrieved his sword that he had dropped when he had rushed to save Nicolette. Coming to stand over the demon it hissed and tried to crawl away from him. Giving a quick swing he rendered its head from its shoulders. A sudden weariness came over him as his heart begun to slow. His lacerated hand and claw marks on his throat began to hurt but it was over.
Turning back to the war table his concern shifted back to Nicolette. She was scooting off the war table holding her bloody hand to her chest. Her blood covered her hand and soaked into her sleeve. The blood from his hand had dripped onto her face, and her eyes were too wide. Taking several deep breaths she tried to calm herself. Cullen moved to embrace her but her good hand went up to stop him. His jaw went slack and he froze in place, she was afraid of him.
Working her jaw she tried to speak, let out a shaky breath she wiped the back of her arm across her face smearing the blood. Finally she said, "I thought…"
Her lip quivered but she finally met his eyes, there was a lot of hurt there.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Nicolette flew into his arms and buried her face into his shoulder as he held her tightly against him.
"I'm so sorry," he kept repeating to her. Sorry that he had not been quicker, sorry that she had seen that, sorry that he had once said things like that.
She pulled away just enough to look at him, "Are you alright?"
Blinking at her in surprise he almost laughed. She was worried about him. Touching her face he tried to thumb some of the blood away.
"You are alive, I'm fine," he said.
The doors to the war room burst open and The Iron Bull stumbled in from where he had shoulder bashed it open. Cassandra stood in the doorway her sword drawn. Behind them was Leliana, her bow at the ready. Cassandra stalked in and looked around the room pausing at the body of the demon and the man behind the table.
She then looked at them, both bloody and exhausted, "What happened?"
Nicolette pulled away from him and said, "I was attacked by a blood mage. I think he was possessed by a demon of despair and had a demon of desire bound to him. Cullen helped me stop them."
She did not mention the terror they had been dragged through. The visions they endured were personal and too fresh to share.
Cassandra nodded accepting her explanation and turned to the others, "Call the healers and get someone to clean this mess up."
Nicolette hated stitches, how the needle pierces her skin and the way the thread tugged it back together made tears well in her eyes. In her private quarters she sat with a white knuckled grip on her couch's arm rest and biting down on her lip, she tried not to jerk as the surgeon worked. It seemed to take an eternity before she put down her needle and thread. Spreading an ointment of elfroot, she finished up by wrapping her hand with bandages.
Gathering up her tools the surgeon explained the care she would need to keep the wound clean and how she would return later to check on her. Nicolette nodded, ready for her to leave.
Finally she headed down the stairs leaving Nicolette to clutch her hand to her chest. The pain would eventually wane but for now it ached. Still she counted herself lucky, had Cullen not been there she would have died. She had not seen him since the attack, she knew he was elsewhere being patched up as well. His poor hand, she thought, he had grabbed that blade that was meant for her. His leather gloves had protected him from most of the damage but she was sure it had still been severe.
"Nico?" as if her thoughts had summoned him, Cullen stood at the top of her stairs waiting. He was hesitant, waiting for her to invite him the rest of the way in. No longer in his armor he stood in a simple shirt and trousers. His hand bandaged up much like hers as was the marks on his neck.
Standing up, she went to him and wrapped her arms around him. Folding his arms around her back they held each other for several long minutes. After a moment she could feel him relax against her. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her and he took her bandaged hand in his and examined it. His face wrinkled with concern.
"I'm fine, Cullen," she said putting her good hand over the both of theirs.
After a moment he nodded and she leaned up to kiss the corner of his mouth. Taking his good hand in hers she led him to her bed. Laying down together she curled up to him as he held her tightly.
She watched him struggle to say something to her. He wanted to apologize to try to explain what had happened in that awful vision but she shook her head and touched his jaw making him look her in the eye.
"I love you, you hear me?" she said.
Cullen smiled then nodded, "I love you."
Laying her head on the pillow next to him she closed her eyes, "That is all I need to hear."