Chapter 2
Cullen almost thought he could feel the last strands of his faith slip through his trembling fingers. The Maker seemed to have no end to the trials put before him.
Of all times, of all people, it would be her that he ran into, in the kitchens of all places, in the middle of the night, looking the way he did and feeling worse.
He had been trying, perhaps stupidly and now certainly in vain, to avoid her. He didn't want her to see him like this. He hadn't quite worked out what exactly he would say to her, or how to tell her about his...situation. He selfishly imagined Cassandra would replace him while Evelyn was away and he could slink off into obscurity and not have to face her at all. He could die a quiet death alone. But was he really that much of a coward? He hardly knew anymore.
It seemed like all he had known for days was the delirium of withdrawal. Pain he could tolerate, pain was familiar and if anything it at least reminded him he was still alive. But when it started getting hard for him to think, when his mind started to slow, when the nightmares got worse and dark thoughts and dark needs threatened to overtake him it was getting to be more than he could bear silently.
One of the reasons he stopped taking the lyrium was so it wouldn't steal who he was, but now, without it, he was losing who he was anyway. It was a shameful irony. How could he have been so naïve to think he would win this battle? Perhaps he was nothing more than a coward after all.
Even if it was so, he had prayed he wouldn't seem that way in front of Evelyn. So much for prayer.
He barely heard her speaking to him. She asked him for a second time if he would be alright. As a reflex he said yes, then he reconsidered the obvious lie. For all his fear and discomfort imagining this conversation taking place, and his disappointment that it was taking place at all, the reality of it was...easier than he thought it would be. As was everything about her. Easy.
Everything seemed easier with her around. She was easy to talk to. She had an easy, calming way about her. Sometimes he found himself staring at her because when he did his head seemed to clear even if only for a little while. And that only tempted him more to continue.
He told himself he must keep as much distance from her as possible. She was a dangerous distraction that he had not been expecting. She was young, she was a noble and she was far too kind, far too important to their cause and far too beautiful.
But he was doing a piss poor job of staying away. It was the one thing the woman was not making easy for him. In fact she was gradually making it near impossible. Wasn't she? Another thing he was unsure about. Did her gaze linger on him longer than others? Did she seek him out more often than her other advisors? Or was his clouded mind conjuring fantasy in an effort to find some sort of respite from the torment?
Did it even matter anymore? She was standing before him now. Eyes wide and full of concern. Of that he was certain. She had not responded to his admissions thus far with shock or anger or disgust. She hadn't asked him if he could fulfill his duties, she hadn't asked him if he could continue to lead or fight. She asked if he thought he was going to be alright.
He took back the lie that was always his first response and told her the truth. He had nothing left to lose.
"...I don't know."
She let out a long breath, then, not taking her eyes from him, she sat back down. She folded her hands in her lap. The flickering firelight cast shadows across her face giving it a soothing softness. Cullen saw no judgment there. Only...willingness.
Again it might have been his addled senses, but he didn't care anymore. He wanted to believe it. That she was willing to listen, willing to look down the path he walked, willing to understand.
She smiled a little, then spoke. "Tell me."
It was an order he was disgracefully eager to obey. But he found he couldn't look her in the eye, so he stared into the fire instead almost wishing it would burn the memories from his head.
"You asked what happened to Fereldon's circle. It was taken over by Abominations..." The words spilled from his lips more easily than he would have thought. He told her everything. Dead mages, dead Templars, dead friends. Demons and slaughter. Hopelessness and torture.
"How can you be the same person after that?" Cullen heard his own voice faltering as he spoke the words that he had never admitted to himself. He wasn't the same person, but he had continued on, trying to be. He wanted to serve.
He told her of Kirkwall and how fear and suspicion twisted into hatred and madness. And more dead innocents.
"Can't you see why I want nothing to do with that life?" Was he trying to convince her, or himself? He felt his fever rising again. He was nauseous. His head was throbbing, his chest was aching and he started pacing. These old memories held no purpose but to remind him of all that had been lost. They reminded him how the bitter wounds of failing in his duty to protect were still not scarred over, but remained fresh and bleeding.
Doubt was creeping into his mind again, dark and insidious. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to be whole again, not this shaking broken thing.
Her voice reached out to him. "Of course I can see why, I..."
No. He would not be mollified. "Don't!" He spit back at her. "You should be questioning what I've done. I thought this would be better, that I would regain some control over my life. But these thoughts won't leave me..."
His breath was coming harder now. It was as if he was pleading with her, or maybe he was pleading with the demons in his head. He asked her questions she had no answers to. He insisted to her that he swore to give no less of himself to this cause than he had the Chantry. He didn't let her respond. His thoughts went to the same futile conclusion they always did, how could she possibly think any differently?
"I should be taking it!" Without even realizing it, in his frustrated rant his bare fist found the wall and a sharp pain shot through his hand. When he pulled it back he saw blood. He would have a new scar. Just one more atop the many. He repeated his words, almost resigned to them now. "I should be taking it."
"Is that what you want?" It was a forceful question. She was not timidly asking. She was demanding something of him. He finally looked in her eyes and she was looking back at him. She saw him. She saw him for what he was and what he wanted to be.
"This doesn't have to be about the Inquisition, Cullen."
She was demanding he put himself before the Inquisition? His wants were no more relevant now than they had ever been. Why did she care? And, yet he knew she did. He had never felt more exposed than he did at that moment with her intense green eyes staring up at him. Exposed, but safe. And he had always considered it his job to keep her safe. How easily she turned the tables.
Cullen exhaled a rough and ragged breath and answered her. "No. But these memories have always haunted me. If they become worse, if I cannot endure this..."
He moved to turn away from her again, but before he could she stopped him, with her small hand on his chest. He hadn't even seen her rise from her chair, but there she was right in front of him. Close enough to smell her hair. Her fingers resting overtop one of his deepest scars.
It was a scar he hadn't thought about in a long time, but her touch there reminded him of the numbness that lingered over the once broken and hastily mended skin. It was from the circle in Fereldon. He was held paralyzed by magic and run through with his own blade, only to be healed for the fun of it. The memory left him as numb as the scar.
She didn't seem to notice the old wound beneath her hand, or she chose not to. She leaned into him and he saw absolute certainty in her eyes when she said, "You can."
Evelyn stayed just like that for a long moment, hand on his chest, looking up at him. He stood dumbfounded, unsure of what to say or if he should say anything at all. His faith that had fled him at the beginning of this conversation slowly began to creep back into his grasp. Or was it her faith that she was giving to him?
He still felt awful. But not quite so hopeless. In spite of everything, he believed her. Perhaps he could endure. It seemed not so daunting now. It seemed easier.
His heartbeat slowed and his breathing evened beneath her touch. When she finally released him, she turned and walked casually over to rummage around in one of the cabinets on the wall. She pulled out a small flask and handed it to him. He just stared down at it stupidly.
"It's a ginger draught." She shoved it towards him again. "It will help with the nausea. I imagine it's why you came down here in the first place. I doubt it was because you were trying to find me." She smiled innocently. "But I'm glad you did."
He looked at her eyes once more. He reached up to rub the old burn on the back of his neck that still sometimes itched and stung. Not knowing what more to say, he said nothing, not even thank you. He was empty and exhausted. He didn't have it in him. He simply took the flask and left.
xxxx
She wasn't expecting him to say anything. She just wanted him to try and sleep on what had been said. He needed time. She knew that. And she knew she still loved him. She would give him time in spades if that was what he needed from her. When he turned and left, he still looked like he had come from a demon battle, and had a look on his face like he was going to fight some more, but she hoped she had helped him to a better place in his own head than before.
Evelyn gave him a few seconds head start back to his tower, then she followed. It was easy enough to keep herself hidden from him as he made his way back to his bed. She wasn't exactly worried for him. She believed what she told him; that he could handle this, that he could endure. But that didn't stop her own need to be near him while he suffered. Even if he wouldn't have wanted it, even if he didn't know, she wanted to be near him if only as a symbolic gesture of solidarity...and love.
He moved slowly, not seeming to notice the cold on his bare skin. She had to swipe an old blanket from one of the still unused tower rooms and wrap herself in it before her teeth chattering gave her away.
When he was finally back in his quarters and the heavy door shut behind him, she took up a position just outside, sitting on the cold stone and settling in under her blanket. She watched steadfastly until the faint candle light that came from within was extinguished and then she fell asleep.
