Her hands trembled slightly as Isabeau yet again soaked the linen in the water basin, bringing the coolly drenched cloth back to Cullen's forehead. She patted and wiped gently at his clammy skin, repeating the action until she was satisfied to relent and take her seat back at his side. It was the third night since Cullen had gone without Lyrium and his detox was nearing its blessed end, the first two nights so trying Isabeau had been forced at one point to call on Bull, needing him to restrain Cullen's hysterical thrashing.
Much better tonight, though Maker this profuse sweating needs to end.
Isabeau had arrived tonight to relieve Solas shortly after Cullen had retired to bed, opting to sit down and eat the meal the thoughtful elf had arranged to be ready for her. Once he had left, she quickly poked her head in to find the templar sleeping soundly, only retiring to one of the armchairs by the hearth when he hadn't stirred at her presence. She had been making a considerable dent into reading a rather dry book, The Sigils of Thedas, when the first cries of discomfort erupted from behind the double doors. She had remained in the bed chambers ever since.
"Shh, shh, Cullen..." She gently soothed now as he began to thrash under the sheets, his increasingly desperate groans disquieting her further. Solas had advised that if Ser Cullen became too agitated, she was to wake him at once. He hadn't entirely been comfortable with Isabeau left alone to deal with the knight's outbursts, concerned they could turn violent again. Isabeau had reassured him she would be fine several times before he finally relented and left her to it.
A strangled scream abruptly exploded from Cullen. Isabeau leapt from her seat with the intention of waking him but the man had already shot up in his sleep, his eyes wide as he rapidly panted, before she could even lay a hand upon him. She slowed as she approached the bed, keeping her movements precise and controlled as Cullen's eyes flittered around the room before coming to finally rest on her.
She reached for the decanter of water and silently poured him a cup, holding it before her as his breathing slowed and his gaze settled into one of familiarity. Angry circles of bruised purple had formed again around his eyes and he sighed with exhaustion, a shaky hand rising to rub down the length of his face, stopping to scratch at his now unruly facial hair.
Isabeau offered him the water and he swallowed it down in three hungry gulps. He half-groaned once he was finished, passing the cup back into her hands before easing himself lower on the bed.
"You have my thanks."
"Nasty one?"
Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose, "Yes."
"I can return to the solar if you wish? There's also still some of that tea Solas brewed, it should help a bit…?" She irritatingly floundered as she made her way to the brew and refilled the cup, burying the nagging trepidation before turning to smirk teasingly at Cullen, "Or there's some choice reading on your book shelves that would do the trick."
"You're reading my books?"
"Well, there's certainly no shortage of them. Unless you mind?" she asked, setting the cup down on the night table before returning to her seat. Cullen shook his head, closing his eyes as he sank deeper into his pillow. As the minutes dragged on in silence, Isabeau decided to retreat back to the solar and leave him to rest but his eyes opened when she made to leave.
"How long have you been having them?"
"Your books?"
"Your terrors."
Oh. Caught off-guard, Isabeau felt her brain fumble for a response. She had gone so long without a peaceful sleep that it was regrettably becoming the norm. If she wasn't watching thousands burn over and over again, it was the incessant singing that kept her awake. Sometimes, when she was closing a rift, it would return, both beautiful and unsettling to behold. The worst were the nights when she lay awake in bed, the hauntingly familiar tune driving her to such distraction she always found her way back to the war room.
Cullen had been there ahead of her more times than not.
"Since Cassandra found me," she cautiously admitted, coming around the end of the bed to sit at Cullen's feet, "I don't… remember them clearly most of the time but I'm always waking up in a sorry state." She ruefully chuckled, staring blankly as she cracked her knuckles," It grew so relentless at one point, I eventually sent for Solas in desperation. His tea has been helping... "
Fatigue had lined Cullen's face, his voice sounding far away, "It… has been years for me. When I was still at Kinloch Hold, my Knight-Commander was eventually forced to send me for… rehabilitation. I had ah, struggled a great deal after Uldred," he tentatively clarified, pausing when he reached for his tea, "Greenfell… was a peaceful village. I remember the glasswork in the Chantry had been beautiful. For a time I remained there, working with the Revered Mother and the Sisters. But Kirkwall was… most trying. I haven't been able to reclaim what little succor I'd gained at Greenfell ever since."
Isabeau stared down at her hands now anxiously picking at her nails. In that moment, she felt a great pressure pushing against the dam she had painstakingly erected. The disquiet and ceaseless gnawing that dominated her waking moments bubbling dangerously to the surface, the desire to expunge it all nearly overpowering her great reluctance. Even when she had reached out to Solas, she had remained as vague as she dared, the unnatural melody that was slowly infesting her mind being conveniently absent from their discussion. Foolish as she knew it was, Isabeau felt nothing but dread at the prospect of facing her cohorts over the matter. No one behind Skyhold's walls was without their scars, but to Isabeau, being beset with memories was surely easier to swallow than what currently plagued her.
"Have I upset you, my lady?"
At Cullen's concerned tone she looked at her hands and realized she had nearly picked them bloody. She nervously slid them under her thighs and away from sight, ashamed.
"Not at all Ser Cullen, but you need your rest and I have interrupted that for long enough. I will leave you to finish your tea," she replied quietly as she rose from the bed. When she turned to leave, she heard the mattress groan in protest as a callused hand suddenly caught her own and gently spun her back. A pounding erupted between Isabeau's ears as she felt herself being slowly pulled towards the bed. Cullen shuffled over and up as he guided her to sit beside him, their backs pressed against the headboard. His hand remained in hers while the other came to clasp them both.
"C-Cullen?" Isabeau croaked uselessly as their closeness and the heat radiating from his body sent her mind spinning, the action incredibly uncharacteristic of the Cullen she knew. When she chanced to look at him, stormy grey eyes met with dusky green, her lips parting slightly as one of his hands began to trail up her arm. Her breath caught in her throat as the tips of his fingers glided over the soft skin of her slender neck, Isabeau closing her eyes from the sensation as his thumb teased her ear and cupped the back of her head. The pounding of her heart became near deafening as his face drew closer, their lips brushing ever so slightly as he tilted his head to meet hers.
Isabeau raised a hand haltingly to his chest.
"Cullen…"
Suddenly he went still, his eyes widening as he took in Isabeau's shaken expression, the nearness of their bodies, before promptly ripping himself away from her. "Maker, I-I apologize lady Trevelyan! I was… elsewhere."
She wrapped her arms around herself protectively, both averting their eyes in a similar fashion. Unbeknownst to Cullen, it had not been the first time he had acted in such a manner; fits of waking dreams and living memories had become a reoccurring consequence in these last days of his purging. An uncomfortable mix of shame and disappointment settled in her chest, irate she had allowed the farce to proceed as far as it had tonight.
And yet I'm left… yearning.
The words came from her lips before she could think, "The raven haired girl…?"
Cullen visibly slumped back onto the bed, a hand covering his face, "Amell," he replied desolately, "Her name… she was an Amell. "
"…A mage of the circle?"
His voice came out in a shame laden whisper, "Yes."
Isabeau involuntarily winced and the silence turned unbearably heavy around them.When she could take no more of it, she resolutely strode from the bedchamber before Cullen could intervene again. She closed the heavy double doors behind her and sunk to the woven rushes on the floor beneath, carefully resting the back of her head against one of the doors. She heard the telltale groans of the mattress and closed her eyes, listening as Cullen settled.
At some point sleep had taken hold of her there on the floor and when she woke next, she found a blanket draped over her, the edges of it carefully tucked around her shoulders. She vigorously rubbed at her bleary, sleep-filled eyes and carefully opened the door beside her a crack, listening. Soft snores drifted through her ears, the aches in her body stirring an unsolicited temptation to climb into the bed next to Cullen. Judging by the faint light starting to poke its way through the gaps in the drapes, Isabeau realized Solas would be coming to relieve her shortly. Her suspicions were confirmed when one of the keep's serving girls appeared with a tray for Isabeau to break her fast. She decided to chance leaving Cullen alone, scribbling a note for Solas on a piece of parchment which she left beside the platter.
Long night. Don't let him be too hard on himself.
-T