Disclaimer: While Christine, and Cullen and the rest of them belong to Bioware. However much I wish to keep Cullen to myself….
AN: Just a nice fluffy one-shot. While I will always play mage-Trevelyan/Cullen, my head-canon will always be Amell/Cullen. I would love to write out all of my fluffy scenes for mage-Trevelyan/Cullen, but I think Delia Amell would stop speaking to me. ENJOY! Read and Review!
"Draconis," she whispered, staring up at the star filled sky. "Depicted as a dragon in flight." Inquisitor Trevelyan couldn't help but smile as she recalled the first real dragon she'd seen when she first entered the Hinterlands almost a year ago. Known as the Ferelden Frostback, she had been majestic, beautiful, and all too deadly. The dragon was everything that she'd read about in stories and more.
Everything had been simple then, back when the Inquisition was just a few of them trying to stop a madman from taking over Thedas. Now, they were a vast army trying to stop a madman from taking over Thedas. Before the time traveling, before the Anchor, before the Breach, she had just been a simple girl in the Circle, throwing fireballs and keeping out of the way of the templars. Now, she was Herald, Inquisitor, the savior of all of Thedas. So many people looked to her for guidance, for support. She had become the light on the darkest of days, and the only one save them all from utter destruction.
Inquisitor Trevelyan took a deep breath and the frigid mountain air served its purpose in helping her finally push the darkest of nightmares to the farthest corners of her mind. The dreams were getting worse and there was little she could do to stop them. She believed that the Anchor, which connected her to each rift all over Thedas, only magnified her connection to the Fade when she slept. While asleep, it was like every demon and horror found her in dreams, taunting her with her deepest fears, and greatest desires.
But the dreams were getting worse. She and her companions had just returned from Emprise du Lion and she'd seen such things and heard such words that shook her to her bones. Those thoughts and images only got worse while she slept. It was one night after discovering what Samson was doing to innocent people, after rescuing countless villages, slaying dozens of red templars, that her nightmare induced screams shattered the night time silence.
Dorian had been the first to reach her, his staff already glowing with dark necromancy magic, ready to kill anyone who threatened. Cole and Iron Bull were closely behind. None said anything as she threw a blanket around herself and stepped into the frost bitten air. She swore them all to secrecy, and while the each of them in their own way had checked in on her after coming back to Skyhold, they all kept their word.
Now, she'd escaped the confines of her room and hid in the secluded garden to stare at the night sky, the last remnants of her nightmare finally making its retreat. She'd have to return to her room as dawn would be approaching in a few hours, but there'd be no more sleep for her this night.
"Just a little while longer," she whispered. "Oh Maker, hear my cry: Guide me through the blackest nights. Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked. Make me to restin the warmest places." The prayer fell easily from her well-rehearsed lips but did little to appease her soul.
She stared at the Anchor, her eyes filling with tears as she remembered how much she did not want this. She wished she'd died in the Conclave like so many others. She wanted any other than her to carry this weight, this burden.
"Inquisitor?" A voice called out to her, and she sighed.
The Maker always knew when to remind her that He was always taking care of her. Without this Inquisition, without the Anchor, she'd never have met him: the one who held her heart, whom she loved so dearly. She took a deep breath and looked up to see the Commander of the Inquisition, looking down at her. Gone was the armor, as he wore a thick heavy cloak over a loose fitting shirt tucked into dark pants. The way the wind teased at his tousled curls, he looked ever much the prince out of a fairytale.
"Cullen," she whispered, reaching up to take the hand he offered. She fell easily into his embrace, and reveled in the scent of leather and sandalwood.
"You're freezing," he admonished, and he wrapped his cloak around them both.
"I didn't bother with a cloak when I left my room. I didn't think I'd be out here this long." She rested her head on his chest and she could hear the soft beat of his heart. It calmed her more than the cool air had done. She looked up at him, his soft amber eyes told her more than words ever could, and the flames from the torches bounced off the contours of his face. One side of his face was lit while the other was kept dark. It reminded her too much of dream, too much of what she once saw in Redcliffe, that she felt her heart begin to race and she held all the more tightly to him.
No, she thought to herself. Maker, please let what I have seen not come to pass. I cannot lose him too.
"Christine, what is it?" She felt his head rest atop hers, and she knew he'd seen the fear in her eyes. "I'm well-versed in the aftermath of nightmares. You don't need to keep anything from me."
Very few people actually addressed her by name these days, and she wondered if she was liable to one day forgot it. When he said her name, it was like the Inquisition no longer existed. It was just the two of them, like the time they'd gone to the lake near his home. Part of her hoped and prayed and believed that they'd both come out of this alive, and then it could really just be them. There would be a future for them both when the Inquisition would no longer be needed.
But could she tell him what she saw? She'd given a decent report of the future she'd seen at Redcliffe, but a few choice images she'd kept to herself: Cullen's future in particular. And now...in the aftermath of Emprise du Lion…
"Let's get you back to your room," he offered, guiding her out of the garden and towards the entrance to the Great Hall.
Gone. The moment was gone. She should've told him when he offered, but she'd seen the guarded look come over his eyes when she'd kept silent too long. They'd had this conversation before...well, one where he'd said she never needed to confide in him unless she wanted to. He believed himself not worthy of her confidence or her trust, despite the fact that he'd given so much to her, and told her of his own pain-filled past.
The Hall was silent, save for a guard or two, and they paid the two of them no mind. They'd become such an item over the past six months that most of the Orlesians had stopped gossiping about them to such an extreme extent, and it was now common to see the two of them together...regardless of the hour. They came to her door all too quickly, and she hated the fact that she'd let another night pass without telling Cullen the truth. So many had put her up on a pedestal and she'd had to put on the appearance of being so strong...to let her guard down…
But it's Cullen, she thought to herself. If there is one person who wouldn't think on you differently...if there is one person whom you should tell all.
She grabbed his hand and refused to let go when he turned to tell her goodnight. He looked confused but she could see the hurt in his eyes.
"Cullen...I...can you...that is...would you…" She lowered her head and smiled. Usually this sort of awkwardness was the other way around.
"Inquisitor, you should probably rest some more before the dawn. I'll see you at breakfast." He took her hand and kissed it before making a move to turn from her.
"Cullen, please don't leave me," she whispered, the tears finally springing to her eyes. "There is...there is something you must know." She wrapped her around her middle and rested against the door.
"What is it?" He asked, turning back to her.
"Not here. Please, come upstairs?" She held out her hand to him, which he stared at as if he'd never seen one before. She didn't realize she'd been holding her breath, until he took it and met her gaze with his.
The journey up to her room was a silent one, and she debated how best to tell him about her nightmares. She felt the pull of the Fade as she used just a little bit of magic to light the candles in her room, and to make the blaze of the fire just a little brighter. The couch sunk beneath her as the two of them sat down, and still Cullen held onto her hand.
"Cullen, there have been nightmares," she began, not really sure of how to proceed.
"I know," he replied, softly. "You had one that night you spent with me. You never woke, but I knew the signs."
A few tears fell. He knew. Of course her Cullen would know. After she'd begged him not to take lyrium, he'd said his own nightmares were getting worse. It made it all the easier to tell him.
"There was one thing I have yet to speak of about mine and Dorian's trip to the future. I told you all that out of all the advisors, Leliana was the only one I'd seen. I lied. I never saw Josephine, but I did see you."
The air was silent. Cullen didn't press her to continue, but held on to her, using his calloused fingers to rub small circles on the back of her hands. It did little to push away the memory of what she'd seen.
"You weren't you anymore. You looked like you and spoke like you, but you were covered in red lyrium crystals. With your mind lost and your soul corrupted, you came after me, sword brandished, ready to kill."
"Did you kill me?" He asked, his voice soft and seemingly thousands of miles away as she was lost in her memory.
"I didn't want to!" She cried, bringing a hand to her lips in order to stifle her sobs. The battle had been brief but intense. The red lyrium had made him violent, but also unstable.
"What happened, Christine?" He was patient with her. So, patient. Maker bless him.
"I'd somehow managed to gain the upper hand. I don't know how, you were so strong. As you laid there, trying to find someway to gain the upper hand, it was like the Cullen I knew briefly came back. You stared at me…" she paused and looked up at him. "Not with the eyes that I have come to love, but with eyes full of red and of hate. You called me by name, and said that you were happy that I had lived. You asked me to end your suffering. I said that I couldn't, but you told me that it would be the greatest thing I could do for you, would be to allow you to pass to the Maker's side."
She stopped and closed her eyes. He'd shown her the kink in his armor that would allow her to make just one blow to end it. The feel of the blade in her hands as she felt it pierce through his heart, would haunt her til the day she died.
"As you lay there, dying, it was probably the moment that I firmly resolved to return to my own timeline, just so that I could be near you and never let such a moment like that happen."
Her story was only half finished, but it had nearly exhausted her as she'd told it. She needed him to hear the rest and she'd give it all tonight, or she'd never be able to again.
"The red templars in the Emprise du Lion, brought it all back. Tonight I dreamed of that horrid future, only this time you were much stronger. The red templars had said horrible things to me, taunting me as I fought them. In dreams, you say them. I can see Corypheus's face and I can see Samson...and it's terrifying. I hear them say that they'll grow red lyrium from my skull, that they'll take great pleasure in seeing me suffer, how I shall become a beacon to all who choose to stand against them. I see you raise your sword against me. So far, I have been lucky and that is when I wake up."
Christine looked up at him, and saw that the sun was beginning to rise. Had they really been talking for so long? Cullen's own eyes shone with tears, and she welcomed his kiss. It was featherlight and lasted the briefest of moments, but it calmed her tormented heart, and soothed her wearied soul.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his hands wrapping around her to hold her close. "You should've told me."
"Everyone expects so much of me. It's hard for me to let them see that I'm still just a person. That I have weaknesses and flaws, just like everyone else."
Cullen's hand cupped her face and he made her look at him. "I expect no such things from you Christine Trevelyan. You are a person just like everyone else, and you have many people here who love and support you. Many who will die here for you. Don't turn them away."
It was remarkable to her that a man could love her as much as Cullen did. After the Shrine of Dumat, when he'd fought so fiercely and so bravely at her side, he'd proven that he was willing to do anything for her and with her.
"Cullen," she whispered, taking his hands. "I don't want you to die for me. I want you to live. Live for me, love. I promise, I'll do the same and that I'll be more forthcoming to you in the future."
In truth, she felt much better having told him. Secrets were poison, regardless of how Leliana tried to tell her otherwise. But she resolved to tell him if the dreams bothered her, just as she expected the same from him. They were two very imperfect people who made the other whole again. No matter how much time was left to them, and Maker she prayed they had a lot of it, they'd spend it together. No matter what happened.
Cullen kissed her again, and as they spent the early morning hours together, she knew he felt the same. Whatever happened in the coming weeks, the Arbor Wilds and soon facing Corypheus, she would have the man she loved by her side, fighting and living for her.