Nine months later, his daughter was born. Mirana, still twisted with pain, named her Mala'nan. Your revenge. She served as a constant reminder of her father and, whenever she was near, it was as if his ghost had found her. The sadness grew so immense sometimes that Mirana would be forced to avoid her. The tiny girl did not deserve this, she knew. She felt guilt whenever she addressed her, her little head cupped within the palm of her hand. How could she not love her though? Her wisps of brown hair were so soft, just as her skin. She would watch her mother with a pair of fascinated green eyes, wide and absorbent as a sponge. Her fingers would wrap around her own and she would produce the loveliest smile Mirana had ever seen. Together, they would sit and just smile at each other, filled with an understanding that went beyond words. For the first time in a long time, she wasn't alone.
It did not take long for Mala'nan to begin showing signs she was destined to possess magical abilities. At a year old, she had learned to conduct a small wave of electric energy through her finger to steal her mother's attention and, whenever she was angry, she tended to set things on fire. Fortunately for their drapery, she was an abnormally happy child, preferring to sit outside in the sun, dandelions sprouting at her feet while Mirana read to her. She seemed to have an especially good connection with the Fade as well, for a baby at least. She would find her mother in dreams often, squealing in excitement as she would totter to her side. A non-mage, Mirana rarely remembered her walks in the Fade, let alone could she control them. She prayed her daughter would not be a somniari, a Dreamer, like her father. This fear for her only grew stronger when, one day upon waking, she had learned the word papae. "No, da'len, mamae," she would correct her, heart racing as she pondered where she could have had the opportunity to learn that word. It had certainly never come out of her own mouth, Mirana thought, puzzled. Her mother would try to think nothing of it, figuring she just heard things—like her experience with memories—in her dreams. It's not as if she had any power to stop her, regardless. She would just praise her for being such a smart da'len as she hugged her and planted a tender kiss on her forehead. Mala'nan would gurgle with pleasure, teensy hands clapping together in an exuberant display of pride.
At the news of the Inquisitor's pregnancy, Skyhold had experienced a wide array of reactions. Most were unsure whether they should be happy for her or furious at him. Most succeeded mainly with the latter. They tried to keep word from spreading as best as they could; the entire army was under orders of secrecy, but naturally one pair of loose lips has the power to sink ships and gossip was soon blazing throughout all of Thedas. Everyone, from the nobles in Orlais to the farmers in Fereldan had an opinion on the situation. They varied greatly, ranging from joy, to intrigue, to disapproval at the mystery surrounding the identity of its father. Mirana had received valiant offers from her male colleagues to claim its parenthood in order to stifle the brewing scandal, but she refused them. She could not force them to live a lie, she would say. Additionally, it would be difficult for any human to pass as Mala'nan's father when her ears were distinctly elven. If there must be outrage, she could handle it. Creators, she had only saved the world! One would have thought they'd give her the benefit of the doubt with all things considered.
But eventually her daughter was born and the uproar puttered out as people lost interest. She rarely went to battle anymore, resorting mainly to commanding her forces at the war table. The public frightened her now. She imagined they judged her by the thousands, the sacrifices she had made forgotten with the passage of her lineage. This was not true, of course, but motherhood had made her paranoid in addition to many other things. The residents of the castle loved her child, at least of that she was certain. Mala'nan had won them over just as she had her mother. Many had not seen a baby in a long time and they loved to play with her and shower her with little gifts. Even Cullen, who had been the most awkward with her at first, enjoyed picking her flowers as the two sat together in the garden.
She came across them now as she entered the courtyard. Even though the sun was high in the sky, she had been exhausted from staying up the whole night before. The Commander had generously offered to babysit for her while she stole a brief nap. Motherhood was definitely taking all she had to give; she couldn't wait for her Terrible Twos. The thought of raising her alone was daunting, sure, but she knew that she was up to the task. She had to be.
He smiled at her as she plopped down beside her daughter, facing him as she crossed her legs. "I hope she hasn't been too much trouble." From the looks of it, however, she appeared to be quite the opposite. A pile of tiny flowers lay at her feet and, for the moment, she was content with placing them on top of her head. It was an effort completely in vain, Mirana noted with a giggle, as whenever she would look down to pick up another flower, the one she had most recently positioned would tumble back into the grass in front of her. She didn't seem to notice, on the contrary, she kept working with a solemn diligence.
"Oh, not at all. Mallie's actually been quite a pleasant distraction. We all need those once in a while, you included." He sent Mirana a knowing look, to which she just shrugged.
"What was it you told me the last time I requested a nap? 'No rest for the wicked?'"
He returned her grin as he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Ah, yes, I did say that, didn't I? Well, either way, just because the wicked don't sleep, doesn't mean you can't. Especially now." He leaned back on his hands, regarding her with slightly raised brows. "I can tell it's taking a toll on you," he said quietly.
"A lot of things have taken a toll on me, Cullen," she sighed. Mala'nan suddenly grew discontent; she thought she was experiencing a shortage of flowers (though really, she had just managed to strip the majority of them of their petals). She whined and reached in Cullen's direction, her fingers acting like they wanted to grab something. He looked around himself for a moment before finally settling on a baby embrium to give to her. He wiggled it on her nose before placing it in her hand, causing her to giggle and return his sweet smile.
"Wow, I had no idea that you of all people would be good with children," Mirana teased, though she would never admit, the sight of him playing with her daughter made her chest ache. Would he have played with her like this?
"And what is that supposed to mean?" He huffed, trying not to sound offended.
Mirana chuckled. "It's just that, well, you used to be rather uncomfortable around her. You were scared to touch her, like she had a deepstalker hidden in her diapers or something."
He looked as if he were about to object then decided that perhaps, to her, it would have appeared that way. If she knew the truth about his underlying feelings, his discomfort would've made more sense. But, of course, she could never know. He wasn't even sure himself, how could he be now? It had been nearly two years and she still would lock herself in her quarters some afternoons to cry. He wanted to desperately to see her happy once again after all she had helped him through. Without the support of her and Cassandra, he had no idea where he might be right now. She had saved the world, true, but the elf had also saved each one of her friends in tiny, significant ways. Such a compassionate soul deserves a happy ending, he had told himself one day as he watched her examining something on the war table. It was something in Lydes, he remembered. Something with a duchess.
"I haven't always been the best with children, I admit. I have a nephew, but that's about the sum of my experience."
"Well you should feel very accomplished then; you've certainly won her adoration." As if to prove her point, Mala'nan picked one of the flowers from her dwindling collection and held it out to Cullen as a gift.
"Why thank you, my lady. This is very kind," he said politely, shooting Mirana an amused look.
She was equally touched and filled with dread. The two had both grown to care for each other, that much was clear. Certainly one day she would ask why she didn't have a father, like normal children. Wasn't he the most logical choice for her? He was handsome, with a good heart and a strong mind. No doubt he could make them happy, she and her daughter. But what about him? She knew she could not devote herself entirely to any other, even years later she still mourned Solas' departure. He deserved better than a broken-hearted woman that still pined after a lost love.
Cullen noticed the darkness within her gaze, the sadness that nestled itself so deep inside of her that one thought perhaps it was just her disposition. But he had known her before; he was well aware of the beacon of positive energy she had been, for he had been drawn to her himself as a moth to flame. She would always burn him, he knew, but he didn't mind. "You still think of him, don't you?" he asked softly.
"It's hard not to," she admitted. "Whenever I'm around her, I'm reminded of him." She sighed, then added dryly, "Luckily she has hair, or else it'd be like looking at a bloody portrait."
Cullen smiled weakly, tipping his head in inquiry. "Really? I thought she had more of your good looks. She definitely has your eyes." Was this flirting? He couldn't tell. Now he appeared as if he sat in something wet.
"I hope my cheeks aren't that full. I know I look younger than I am, but—"
"No, no, it was meant as a compliment," he blurted out.
She found his tendency to get flustered endearing, if not incredibly amusing. "I know, Cullen. Thank you. You've been invariably thoughtful and it truly means a lot to me. It means a lot to her as well, though she's not very good at voicing her gratitude yet." She smiled down at her daughter as she ran an affectionate hand through her soft hair. The child was growing sleepy. Her mouth stretched wide in a yawn, displaying a pair of two tiny bottom teeth. Mirana gently brushed the leafy debris from her clothes before lifting her into her lap in preparation to leave.
"Would I be able to speak with you later?" he asked hastily when he saw her stand to go.
"Yes, of course. I hate to leave, but it seems to be someone's bedtime. Wave goodbye, Mala'nan." Seeming to understand the sentiment behind this, she flailed her chubby arm up and down in an attempt at a wave and gurgled something that at least began with the letter B. "I'll come around after dinner, unless it's urgent?"
"Ah, no. After dinner will be fine. I shall see you then." He bade Mirana farewell, then pressed a kiss to her daughter's hand. "I wish you the best of naps, Mallie."
She seemed to take his words to heart; the second Mirana placed her in her crib her eyes closed and she was off in the Fade. She stayed with her for a while as the moon slowly made its ascent above the mountains. She watched her eyelashes flutter as she dreamed, her lips moving as if speaking some silent language. Her knuckles ghosted over her daughter's large cheeks as she absorbed her innocent beauty, soft and light, unburdened by the machinations of the world. Could she stay like this forever, she wondered, with her head small enough to cup in her hands and her feet the size of pebbles? "He would have loved you so much," she whispered. She fought away the images her mind would conjure up of the two of them together, father and daughter. She did not want to think of him holding her, telling her mystical stories of his journeys while she gazed up at him with wide eyes that could not comprehend his words yet understood nonetheless. She was only harming herself with these illusions of him kissing her nose, putting flowers in her hair…
Her eyes flashed to the darkening sky beyond her window. What time was it? She had no inkling of how long she had been sitting here, lost in this maternal trance. She hoped Cullen didn't think she had forgotten him. She pressed a kiss to her daughter's forehead, smelling the sweet scent of her hair as if she herself were a tiny flower, exquisite in bloom. "Sleep well, ma vhenan," she murmured into her ear before departing, "I'll be back soon."
She was nearly breathless by the time she swung open the door to his quarters, chest rising and falling as she regarded a man she didn't immediately recognize as the Commander. He stood with his back towards her, clad in the garb of a normal man: plain shirt and breeches. Foolishly, she was surprised to see him like this; she figured he probably wore his armor to bed. He smiled at her in greeting as she came in, his hands moving to tidy up his desk out of anxious habit. "I thought you had forgotten. I'm glad you're here."
Mirana snorted. "Well, I usually attend meetings scheduled by the commander of my army, but I'm happy to be appreciated." She could tell something was a little off by the curious lilt in his voice but decided not to broach the subject. "So this Exalted Council we're going to," she began, "Josephine told me they had plans for the Inquisition. Do you think they could actually succeed in disbanding us?"
He surprised her when he laughed aloud. "No, not if she has anything to say about it. Personally, I think that the whole thing is ridiculous. How can they forget all that you did just two years ago? Fereldan and Orlais and all bloody Thedas for that matter would be a collection of ash if not for you. How they can just ignore all the good…" He groaned, shaking his head as he muttered, "Politics have always made as much sense to me as Orlesian fashion."
"You act as if I were a one-man army when in reality, without you and the others, I would've just been a Dalish elf with a glowy hand."
He leaned against his desk as he watched her speak, despising himself for how much he enjoyed the sound of it. Maker damn him, why was he so invested in this woman? From the moment he had laid eyes on her, he had found the Dalish elf intriguing in the least, entrancing at the most. But over the time he had worked with her, grown to know the great depths of her heart and the quiet wisdom with which she commanded, he had built a deep respect for her. His trust in her surprised him, as he found himself seeking her assistance in dealing with his addiction. So non-judgmental then, she had seemed proud that he was doing this for himself, breaking the chains the Chantry had bound him in. That was when he began to consider her as a friend, a friend he could rely on, a friend who perhaps saw him as the man he so badly wanted to be. He wasn't aware of his love for the Inquisitor until he saw her, one day after Solas had left, staring so dejectedly at a mural in the rotunda. Tears had caused her bright, green eyes to glimmer before rolling down her cheek with an unexpected dignity, a power buried beneath her despair, that he knew then she deserved all the happiness in the world.
"Cullen?" Her question brought him back to the present only to flush in realization that he had been staring. "Is everything alright?" she asked slowly. Her scrutinizing gaze wandered from his reddening cheeks to the large bottle of rum that sat next to him on his desk. "Have you been drinking?"
He rubbed at the back of his neck before picking up the bottle and fiddling with it in his large hands. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than before. "I haven't in a while. I forgot how much it burns going down. A bit like lyrium." He smiled wryly as he shook the bottle, listening to its contents slosh while his mind fought off the torrid flashbacks bubbling up underneath his subconscious. "Frankly? You make me nervous. I thought if I had some, er, liquid courage, I would be able to ask you what I needed to ask you."
"Are you telling me that one of my own advisors is scared to raise a simple question with me?"
"Well, that's where the issue arises, Mirana: the question is probably the most complicated question I've ever dared to ask someone." He took a breath, sent her a look as if he were about to reveal this grand query, then took a sizable gulp of whatever was in the bottle.
She rolled her eyes as he proceeded to offer it to her before crossing her arms and glaring at him in exasperation. "Are you going to spit it out now or should I just come back in the morning?"
He smiled, the warmness the drink brought upon his insides growing in intensity at the sight of her, hip stuck out in a pout, the tips of her ears pink with annoyance. "You know, the first time we met I recall you were standing in this exact position. Of course, it was a lot colder then."
"Cullen—"
He took another swig, ignoring her. "I thought you were really arrogant, at first. But then I realized it was because you were scared. I had never thought about how it must've felt, being a Dalish elf in such a place where humans were meant to worship you."
"Seriously, what—"
"Maybe that's why you found comfort in him. He was like you in ways that we weren't. In him you found," he paused to hiccup before his lips cracked open in bitter amusement, "solace."
"Don't make jokes, Cullen; they don't suit you."
He continued as if he hadn't heard her. "But then he left you. You bore his child, and he's never returned for her. You don't truly wish to raise her all on your own, do you?"
Her glare slowly faded into a look of dejection, her entirety seeming to slump with the truth she had thought of continuously but had never been breathed into words until now. She bit her lip, hands twitching at her sides as her mind combed for ways to respond. Eventually, she relented and snatched the bottle from his hands, taking several deep gulps before shuddering from the taste. "What are you trying to do?" she muttered.
"I'm trying to get you to see reality, Mirana. To see that you don't have to be alone for the rest of your life. Your daughter could have a father."
She laughed wryly. "Oh, and who are you suggesting to fill those shoes? Has Josephine prepared a list of suitors she wishes me to court?" She belched then continued to empty the bottle down her throat before slamming it on the desk beside him. She opened her mouth to add to her rant only to stop as he grabbed the wrist that hovered over the bottle.
"Marry me."
She couldn't contain the giggle that escaped her lips—this was all too ridiculous. In truth, she had entertained the idea of taking him as her husband for a good deal longer than she'd care to admit, and the sight of him with Mala'nan continued to crumble her resolve just a little bit more. She could feel him watching her now, brow furrowed in doubtful anticipation, though he remained a professional distance away as if afraid she might flee at his touch. "Cullen," she began, making an effort for her words to come out clear and sensical, "you know you're a dear friend of mine, and Mallie absolutely adores you. You've helped me so much over the past couple of years; I could never thank you enough, but—"
"You don't need to thank me for doing the right thing," he replied with a shake of his head. He realized she must be dodging the proposal for a reason, but he humored her by playing along.
"But it wasn't just a matter of moral obligation for you, was it?" she asked in a tone that suggested she already knew the answer. A brief flash of anxiety passed over his features, but she met his gaze evenly.
After an awkward period of silence, he finally uttered, "No. No, it wasn't."
She blinked. Once. Twice. Her small body was already beginning to absorb the rum and she had started to sway. Brown eyes flashed to see the green inches from his nose. She was so close; he could feel the warmth from her breath as it fanned up and down his neck. Gingerly, he tugged on the arm he had been holding captive, silently begging her to come closer. He saw things he never thought he would. Yellow flecks in her irises. The strong cupid's bow adorning her upper lip. A faded scar on the tip of her chin. She smelled of air and milk and lavender, so close now her lips were practically brushing his.
Then suddenly, she froze. Her mind was reeling, her thoughts headed in so many different directions she wasn't sure if half of them were even her own. Her rational side yearned to guide her into his arms while the other screamed at her run in the opposite direction. She flashed back to the Fade, to Solas' face as she spoke of her memories, his hands lazily clasped behind his back as he listened. She heard his voice, ma vhenan, he would say as he smiled in greeting, his eyes lighting up whenever she wandered into the rotunda. She could still feel his heart beating against hers, his hands wound in her hair as if their tangled bodies had become one.
His presence flooded her, and she stumbled away from Cullen as if struck by a wave. "I can't," she finally muttered. Her expression sagged as she found it necessary to admit both to Cullen and herself: "I'm still in love with him." The words sounded almost like a revelation, but of course she was already well-aware of her unyielding attachment. How she wished she could just forget it, forget him, and find happiness elsewhere, but her dreams rarely came to fruition.
The taste of her practically on his lips, he felt a new coldness seep under his clothes and into his skin as his arms were suddenly emptied. "He's not coming back, Mirana!" he exclaimed, startling himself with his own intensity. "No matter how much you wish him to," he added more gently. He could see his words cutting her like daggers, but he knew that she needed to hear the truth. Before she could object, he stepped closer to her to try and catch her flaming eye. "If he didn't come when you bore his child…"
She scowled at him, outraged at these accusations against Solas, but also at how easily she jumped to defend the man who had left her. "Maybe he doesn't know!"
"You're the Inquisitor. Everyone knows. He couldn't have passed through a town without hearing some gossipmonger speaking of it," he argued, though his voice remained level. "I know it must be hard to accept, but it's been two years. I've no idea if you'll ever love me, and that's fine. You deserve to be happy, Mirana, more than anyone in this world. All I ask is that you try, even if not with me." He placed his hands on her shoulders, bending his head down to her level as he finished. "Please."
"But I have his child? How would you ever accept her as your own? You realize that her ears will grow to look like mine, right?"
Cullen smiled, wanting nothing more than to trace their delicate shape with his finger. He knew what her words implied: everyone would know Mallie wasn't his daughter. "I have thought about it, admittedly, but, seeing as I probably won't have children of my own, I don't see why I can't love her as one." His past mistakes had left him feeling unworthy of bringing a child into the world. In fact, the entire notion of loving another had been nothing more than a distant dream before now.
She looked at him, standing before her with a gentle smile shining between his alcohol-flushed cheeks. His curls were tousled from him frequently running his fingers through them while his shirt was lopsided and hung low in the front, revealing the outline of his collarbones. Tall, earnest, and disheveled, he appeared different than Solas in nearly every aspect to her, yet somehow she felt drawn to him. Perhaps it was the drink burning in her stomach, perhaps it was the thought of not being alone, but she slowly moved towards him, mouth gaping with uncertainty. Could she grow to love him? Did she have enough trust to give another man the power to leave her and her daughter?
"Cullen, I—"
She was cut off by the sound of the door to his room swinging open. A scout was running towards them, his cheeks puffing breathlessly. "Commander, Inquisitor. Urgent news!" Cullen looked mildly irritated at the interruption but nodded for him to continue. "It's the Inquisitor's daughter, sir," the scout addressed him, scared to speak directly to her.
Mirana felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up as a chill sent tremors down her spine. She pushed past Cullen to glare at the woman, panic already making her hands numb. "What is it?"
The scout gulped. "We've already sent word to our allies and multiple search parties outside of Skyhold. She's gone, Inquisitor. Someone has kidnapped your daughter."
