She read the letter over and over, searching for the punchline, the words blurring together as her hot tears blotted the script.
If you do not return home to us, I'll know that forgiveness does not lie in your heart.
"How dare you!" she snarled viciously, the words husky as they ripped from her throat. "How dare you, how dare you, how-"Cullen's sure grip on her shoulder turned her cries into a wrecked sob. Maerwynne turned to him with a wrinkled brow and a trembling lip, "they lied to me," she quivered. "They took her away and lied to me for all this time."
"Who did?" Cullen asked urgently, his concern spiralling at her distress.
Maerwynne stared at the letter again, her grip wrinkling the parchment as her fingers held tighter. Then she shoved it at him, her gaze falling to the floor as he studied it.
"Maker" Cullen sighed finally, stunned to stillness by all he'd read. "A sister" he breathed, soft and unbelieving, "I can't begin to imagine- Maerwynne, I'm- sorry doesn't seem adequate."
"They hid her away in the tower because she had magic," Maerwynne whimpered as she snatched the parchment back. "Then they thought to hide me in the chantry so I didn't pass it on, like some disease," she spat, anger twisting to sadness and back again, over and over. "They didn't want me souring the line; didn't want me marrying, having children in case-," She hid her grimace in her hands. "And now she's dead and I- I don't know what to do" she confessed on a ragged breath.
Cullen pulled her closer, his hand cradling the back of her head as she cried, clinging to his chest. "You do what you must. There's no amount of time assigned to grief, and grief is something I know well. Whenever you need me, I'll be here."
She lifted her head to frown at him, her once bright, hazel-green eyes reddened and swollen as they roamed his face sceptically. "You'll stay?" she whispered, incredulous, before a hiccup racked her chest.
"What do you mean?" Cullen asked hesitantly, his hands momentarily slowing where they smoothed her hair.
Her sigh was guttural; every broken sob racked his heart a little more. "If my- sister is, was, a mage then it runs in my blood. That- doesn't concern you?" She queried as her frown melted in a hopeful lift of her brows.
"Maya" he drawled, sad and tender, "you've enough to concern yourself with without worrying about us; that doesn't matter right now."
"It matters Cullen!" She cried, the sudden volume making him flinch, "it matters to me." Maerwynne hung her head instantly, "I'm sorry" she whispered, though in that moment Cullen wasn't sure just whom she was apologising to. "Thank you for being here," she croaked, exhaustion obvious in her wilting shoulders.
You've yet to turn away from me he wanted to say, yet didn't want to insinuate that he was only there to repay a favour. "Always" he said instead as he took her hand, "you should try and get some rest."
Cullen thanked the maker as she followed him eagerly to her oversized bed without argument. He laid with her in his arms, his hands gentle and soothing as they caressed her back. Laid with her until shuddering breaths slowed and softened as her dreams captured her; Cullen prayed harder than he had in a long time that they, at least, would deliver something pleasant.