This took forever to write. Sorry to those who've been waiting. I had an all-day meeting out of town yesterday, and it was a busy and exhausting week at work. Thank the Maker for junior researchers is all I can say.
Thanks for following along, and I hope you enjoy!
This was all his fault.
If I hadn't been so distracted trying to... It didn't matter now. They were overrun.
Ashara is going to die.
After the lone watch guard brought word of the advancing horde, a strange young man - Cole, he said - arrived at the gates bearing the news that the Templars, under the command of the Elder One, were coming to kill the Herald. The Elder One was a towering, twisted creature as much red lyrium as man. And at his side, an equally chilling site, was Samson...
"Cullen! Give me a plan. Anything!" she cried.
Cullen knew that Samson wouldn't make this easy. They must control the battle. Thank the Maker he'd thought to properly calibrate the trebuchets. They could strike the mountain above the marching army, take them out and limit their numbers.
He drew his blade, hands steadied by the looming fight.
"Inquistion! With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!"
The battle was short and bloody. Wave after wave of Venatori and red lyrium abominations in Templar armor crashed against the meager defenses of Haven. Ashara and her coterie pressed to the front lines, even taking back the southern trebuchet after the enemy had beaten back the Inquisition's soldiers. And with that, the Herald brought down the approaching forces.
That should have been the end of it.
That could never have been the end of it.
They never could have anticipated a dragon. Arch-demon. Whatever it was, it breathed fire and destroyed what remained of their safe haven. A clear path was cut for the remainder of the army to simply walk in and slaughter them all.
He gathered what remained of the Inquisition into the Chantry, Ashara and gang dragging in the injured, those they'd freed from burning buildings.
They wouldn't be safe in the Chantry, but they could at least make this Elder One and Samson fight for their victory.
She had looked at him with those eyes, filled with rage and sadness. "If it would save these people, he can have me."
The Herald of Andraste.
There was nothing they could do. No tactics to make this survivable. Only by turning the trebuchets, causing one last slide...
"We're overrun, Cullen. To hit the enemy, we'd... bury Haven."
"We're dying," he pressed. "But we can decide how. Many don't get that choice."
"But this isn't their choice. These people came to the Inquisition for hope they could find a better life by bringing peace. We can't make this choice for them." Tears threatened.
But Chancellor Roderick, the last person he expected to help, had given them their lifeline.
He stood at the door to the path, dumbfounded and struggling for the proper goodbye. As the Chantry doors slammed shut behind her, he turned, not wanting to accept her decision. He bit down hard on his resolve and made sure every last man, woman, and horse made it into the tunnels to follow Roderick and the strange boy to salvation.
She stayed behind...
This was all his fault...
And now Ashara is going to die...
The path was unexpectedly clear and smooth once they got through the first patch of overgrown bushes, as though someone had kept up maintenance even though no one would have been making the summer pilgrimage in late Harvestmere.
The climb to the tree line lasted a lifetime. And only a few breaths.
She was dying down there. For them.
The men and women who'd fought by her side as she grew the Inquisition stood with him, the final few catching up with them so much sooner than he'd anticipated. More time... And maybe she could escape as well.
"But what of your escape?"
She had just looked away, jaw clenched, shoulders drawing back.
"Perhaps you will surprise it? Find a way!"
He saw the flashes of eerily red flame as the dragon and the Elder One descended upon her.
Maker give her strength. Give me strength.
The unusually somber Sera handed him her bow and a fire arrow. It was only right that he send the signal.
That he be the one to tell her it was safe.
To signal the sacrifice of the woman he could love...
He did not turn away as the mountain came down upon her.
This was all his fault.
He did not know how long he stood there, Sera's bow fisted in his hand.
Was he watching for movement through the snow now whipped into a frenzy by the force of the avalanche? Maybe a flash of green from her mark? Any sign of hope.
"Cullen." Cassandra stood behind him, Leliana not far behind.
"This was all my fault."
"You know that isn't true."
"I should have known, been on guard. The march to the Breach was far too easy."
"It is I who should bear the blame. I pulled my scouts when some started going missing." Leliana did not mask her anguish.
He just shook his head and slipped back into his Commander role. "We should make sure everyone is prepared. Get everything organized. We may need to stay out here for a while, or we might need to move on. Either way, we need to assess our supplies and ensure the injured are properly attended."
I let her die. It should have been me. My penance for turning a blind eye, being complicit in Kirkwall.
Though he busied himself distributing supplies, building campfires, assigning duties, she stayed in his mind. His admiration for her bravery and commitment to this cause that had essentially conscripted her. Her dedication to doing what was right, to making the hard decisions no one should have had to make. Her sacrifice...
Her hand on his. For his hands, icy from the lyrium withdrawal, her touch was like fire that did not burn. She was Sunshine. She had stood in that dragon fire, unshaken, showing no sign of fear facing down the monster before her.
This was all his fault. His role was to protect the Inquisition - protect her, and he had failed. He had let her die.
He had killed her...
Snow began to fall and rapidly became a vicious storm. They had to move camp, get to the other side of the mountain to get out of the wind. It was with great reluctance that he joined the others. He insisted they leave a couple of fires burning. To help her find her way to them if she did make it out of Haven somehow.
When they crested the rise and the remains of Haven fell out of view, the demons started their familiar dance through his being. They were Despair, and they froze his heart.
Out of the fury of the storm and unable to travel further in the falling darkness, they pitched camp. He stayed on the edge so he could keep an eye out for... any sign.
As the others began to bed down, the whispering grew. Every gust of wind, shifting shadow startled some sense within him. A desperation. It could be her.
It never was.
He paced. His head was pounding.
This was all his fault.
"The deep dark before dawn's first light seems eternal; But know the sun always rises."
Mother Giselle stood beside him, her steady gaze fixed upon him.
"Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder."
He stared at her. She was trying to tell him something, but the fog of his demons slowed his brain.
"You hold out hope that she may yet live."
"I do."
"Do not let go of that hope. Faith may be all that we have to see us through. Whether you believe she is truly the Herald of Andraste or not, she is a light in the shadows. You must seek that light, see your way through this darkness."
Before he had fully wrapped his head around what she was trying to say to him, the priest walked away.
She was out there somewhere. They had to find her.
With renewed purpose and energy he called for volunteers to form a search party. The response was overwhelming. Nearly everyone strong enough to walk offered their assistance. Her sacrifice had inspired and united them like nothing yet had. The Inquisition had been made real.
"Cassandra, Varric, Iron Bull, you're with me. Rylen, divide the rest into groups. We'll spread out across the ridge. No one is to go off alone. Make sure you are within sight of your team at all times."
Maker go with us.
What might have been a human form lurched toward them. They were only a few hundred feet from camp. Could she have made it this far?
A faint flash of green...
"There! It's her!" There was no question in his mind.
He reached her right as her strength failed. She fell to her knees, glazed eyes, framed by ice crystals, trying to focus on him.
He caught her before she fell forward into the snow.
"Ashara. You're alive! You're alive... You made it. You came back to me." A breathless benediction on his lips.
He wrapped her in his cloak
"It's alright now. I have you. You're safe. You're going to be alright."
He cradled her, lifting her easily in his arms, pulling her gently to his chest. She was solid, real. Yet somehow weightless, ethereal, as though she could flit away in a heartbeat. He wanted to press her to him, secure her there.
She was alive. She had returned to him...
He didn't bother correcting himself. For this moment, he allowed the selfishness.
"...Cullen..." Her voice was hoarse, strained, barely audible. "I can... walk... You don't... have to... carry me..."
He stopped and looked down at her. Her skin was wan, lips tinged blue. Dried blood streaked her face. Her helm was severely dented, her hair stained red below the damage. She barely kept her eyes open.
He wanted to cry. "You are a terrible liar, Ashara."
She tried to smile. "I'm... okay... Just... Everything hurts... So... bloody... cold!"
He wanted to hold her tighter but he knew it would only cause more pain. But that she felt pain and cold was good. That meant hypothermia hadn't set in. There was hope. She gave him hope.
A tear melted through the snow frozen to her lashes and trailed down her filthy cheek. "Thank you... Cullen." She turned her face into the fur of his cloak and seemed to inhale deeply before nodding off.
Please, Maker, watch over her. He prayed silently to try to stave off his own tears. This remarkable woman had battled demons, mages, templars, bears, and Maker knows what else. She had saved hundreds, if not thousands of lives before tonight. And then she risked sacrificing herself to save them again. But now she felt so small in his arms, like she could shatter into a million pieces with the slightest blow. He wanted more than anything to shield her, protect her in this moment. If he did nothing else with his life, let him bring her back, see her safely through her injuries.
Those who remained at the camp stood as they returned, others rushing back as the ecstatic word of their savior's rebirth spread to closer groups, apprehensive at the sight of the Herald lying limp in the Commander's arms.
"We have her. She's alive. Seriously injured. We must warm her immediately. Rylen, call back the others. Dorian, if you would help me, please."
They commandeered a large tent. Cullen refused to set her down until they had arranged braziers around a cot and brought as many extra blankets as they could find. He gently lower her to the cot, still holding her close to warm her, keep her there.
"Cassandra, can you get her armor off? Everything is soaked and we need to see the extent of her injuries. Dorian, can you warm her with your magic?"
The mage nodded slowly and helped Cassandra remove the rent and scarred plate. Cullen continued to hold her close, head bowed over her, praying desperately that she would be okay.
He looked up when a startled hiss escaped between Dorian's teeth.
"We're going to need a healer."
Ir did not occur to Cullen that after she'd been stripped of her armor and leathers, she was in only bloodied linens. He only saw the brutal bruises along her left side. She had to have several broken ribs, possible internal bleeding judging by the deep color welling beneath her skin. Her left shoulder was clearly dislocated. Her sword arm appeared to be fractured in at least one place. An ugly gash had split open under the dent in her helm. Her left ankle was swollen and rivaled her ribs for bruising. And the scars... though it was obvious a mage had tried to heal her, she had clearly been severely burned from a couple inches below her navel down her right leg. Those didn't look new.
"Then someone get a healer! NOW!"
How had she made it back to them in this condition?
His breath caught in his throat. It was getting harder to fight the tears back.
"Cullen..." Cassandra spoke softly. "She will be alright. The Maker returned her to us. He would not do so only take her away now. She will be alright."
Adan and Solas arrived blessedly quickly and set to work immediately. The tent was flooded with magic - Solas's healing spells, Dorian's warming runes, and something else Cullen couldn't describe. Cassandra had to gently pry him away from Ashara when his presence became an impediment to the healing efforts. He reluctantly let her go, fighting to accept that the healers and mages were best suited to the work needed now.
With lowered eyes he wandered from the tent toward a fire, not hearing the comforting words Cassandra tried to offer him. Soldiers parted, murmuring and glancing at each other, leaving him to stand alone before the blaze.
The demons tormented him.
This was all his fault.
"She's stable now, Commander, you can rest now. Pacing won't help."
He had sacrificed her to the Elder One, a lamb to die for his cowardice.
"Cullen?"
His foolish desire to connect with someone for whom he could never be worthy had put her life in danger, jeopardized the mission of the Inquisition, threatened the survival of all in Haven.
"I know you've... gotten close with her."
This was worse than turning a blind eye in Kirkwall.
"And I know you mean much to her."
Than when he let his boyish naivety rule him, be distracted by Solona's pretty face when he should have noticed Uldred's bloody machinations.
He had sanctioned Ashara's death. Had given her over to that monster instead of performing his duty as a soldier and the Commander of the Inquisition.
"There is no reason to blame yourself, Cullen."
"...Your fault, Chantry boy. Coward. Fool. Did you really think you could keep her safe? That you were good enough? You make me laugh. And you thought she might actually be attracted to you? That you could bed her?! We knew you were a fool, but that, of all your stupid ideas..."
Their laughter was cruel and as colder than the ice crystals that had frozen to the Herald's face.
"Cullen, perhaps you should get some rest. You've not slept in days..."
"Go ahead, Templar. Rest. Lay down your sword and shield, and just give in. You'll never be able to give her what she needs. You'll never be able to beat the Elder One. We will triumph again, as we always do. And you will be broken. You are broken. Weak."
"...And we need to make some decisions. Once the Herald is strong enough, we will need to move..."
"...An Inquisition? How very presumptuous of you and your silly little friends. Do you really think you have a chance to take away our victory? To compare yourselves to that fool Ameridan. He died too, you know. Disappeared. Because just like your little Herald - so pretty she is, can't wait to taste that. Maybe we'll try some of those things you've thought about doing to her... You didn't even know about those things back in Kinloch... We might have tried harder if we knew you could do that! So very naughty, Chantry boy. Where did you get such thoughts? Oh, but it would be fun to be her..."
"Leave me! You will not speak of her that way!"
"Cullen? What are you talking about? Cullen?!"
"Oh, we see we've found your soft spot, Templar. That one, really? The little pirate? Not only do you want to fuck her, you've given her your heart?! Ooh, that's delicious. We could take her away and we'll finally have you too! Do we take her first and use those hips and... oh those thighs... You'd love to bury yourself in her, wouldn't you? It would be so easy to break you with her."
"Cassandra, there's something wrong with Cullen!"
"Go back to the Herald's tent, Leliana, I can handle this."
"Are you su - "
"Please, Leliana."
"You know she'll never love you. You're weak. Nothing. A broken, lyrium-addicted, Templar fool. Look at how beautiful she is, how powerful. And a noble! She'd never give you the time of day. But oh how fun she'll be to crush. She'll fall just like the rest of them. And it will be your fault when we take her. She's just as weak as - "
"NO! You will not - " He lashed out at the writhing, taunting Desire demons circling him.
Cassandra had his wrist in her iron grip.
"Cullen!"
There were no demons. Only the crushing pain behind his eyes.
A powerful cramping took him. He would have collapsed into the snow if not for Cassandra's quick step to steady him.
"You need to rest, Cullen. Exhaustion will only make the symptoms worse."
"What..." The full picture finally cleared before him. "Maker, Cassandra! I'm so sorry!"
"You've pushed yourself too hard, Cullen. You must rest. You will make it through this, but only if you left yourself."
"This is all my fault - "
"No. Cullen, it is not your fault. It is because of your quick thinking that so many survived. And that we were able to find the Herald before she froze to death."
He focused on steadying his breathing, clearing his mind.
"The hallucinations have begun, then?"
He sighed. "Yes. Not long ago. But this was the worst one yet. It was like the nightmares of Kinloch, but... so specific to... I was awake... and..."
"You need not give me details. Please. Rest. The sun will be up soon, and you've not slept. You will need your strength, and you are more vulnerable to the withdrawal when your body and mind are so tired."
He nodded.
"We will discuss our next steps after we've all gotten what rest we can. The Herald will need time to recover, but we must be prepared to move as soon as she is able... And thank you, Cullen. You saved her. Without your determination to find her... I fear where we may be now."
Her voice was firm, her eyes sincere.
She saw him to a tent, ensuring no one else could see his pitiable state.
Sleep did not come easily, not that he expected it to. Something in Cassandra's words seemed to tame the demons that eventually came.
But it was the vision of the Herald - Ashara - standing like a light in the darkness between himself and the Void that stood guard as he finally drifted off.
His last thought before a fitful sleep finally took him, was a realization. He had not thought himself capable of that feeling after what the demons did to him using Solona's image. But there it was: warm, inviting, safe, solid, protecting. Proud. Terrifying.
And he would of whatever he could to ensure she would never be forced to make such a terrible choice ever again. He would protect her as she had them all.
It was not the danger of facing every horror of the Fade the Elder One would fling at them that made him tremble. It was the knowledge that he had given his heart to her, just as the demon had said...
I cannot see the path. Perhaps there is only abyss. Trembling, I step forward, In darkness enveloped.
Tried playing around with style a bit. Hope it's not too confusing what's happening there.