A/N: Ugh! I don't know what's wrong with me. Writing has been so hard lately. I love this story and I have the whole thing planned out and am super excited about it, but when I sit down to type I just stare blankly at my screen until I get so frustrated that I give up and go play mass effect instead. AHHHH! I need this writers block to go away.
"That was the beginning, wasn't it?" Thais asked, grinning up at him. Cullen smiled down at her sadly and she rolled off his lap, gracefully rising to her knees. Her face was a whisper away from his and she grinned impishly, eyes flicking down to his split lips. "That moment I saw you, touched you, filled you up with my magic…it began to change between us."
"But we had such a long time before the climax of our tale," he argued and she giggled.
"Climax, Chantry Boy?"
"Such a one track mind," Cullen blushed, though he could not hide his smile. It faltered a minute later when the sound of a wet scream echoed around them. That one sound made things sharper, clearer, more painful, and he could suddenly feel his protesting ribs, the blood seeping from a gash along his arm, and the cold that seeped into his thighs from sitting on the frigid stone.
"Hey," Thais whispered softly, eyes seeking his, "don't lose me, Chantry boy. There's so much more to tell. I want to hear every climax inducing detail." When she leaned in to him, lips seeking out his with determination, he turned away from her and felt tears sting his eyes. It was hard to walk the tightrope of reality and wishing; one misstep and he would fall into damnation, screaming all the way down. He needed to keep the balance, to be cognoscente of the here and now while living briefly in the past.
With a hand rising to catch her wrist in his shaking hand, he returned his focus on the pretender before him.
"Yes," he whispered, tracing a circle against her flesh like he had that night she had healed him, "it was the beginning."
~oOo~
Something was wrong with the village, that much was clear as the tiny cottages dotted that the horizon came into view. The low rising sun sent sharp rays of golden kissed pinks across the sky, painting the quaint holding as if it were a canvas hung upon a wall. It was a pretty picture, but something was missing. There was no smoke rising from chimneys signaling the baking of the morning's bread, no live stock being led to pasture. It was deathly still and Cullen felt himself tense warily, eyes sweeping the horizon for signs of danger. As they neared, Thais began to notice the unsettling calm, and her feet carried her faster towards the buildings, heart clenching off beat as she ran through all the horrifying possibilities that could cause such a terrifyingly idyllic scene.
"What do you think it is?" she asked softly as they crested a hill that brought the village into full view. "Is it Maharette?"
"I don't know," Cullen replied tightly, his eyes narrowed as he looked down upon the silent homes and empty animal pens. The holding lay in a wide swath of a valley floor, shielded from the elements by a rocky outcropping of cliffs on one side, and a dense forest on the other. A pleasant stream cut through the village, feeding into Lake Calenhad in the distance. All in all the very picture of pastoral elegance.
The pair continued swiftly on their course and arrived at the outskirts just as the sun had cleared the horizon. A lone man, bent and grizzled, barred their path, a grim expression on his face as he thrust a shovel into the soft earth. All around him, freshly turned mounds of soil dotted the land and Thais knew that the sight only boded one thing.
"Cullen, I have to get in there," she breathed, feet already carrying her forward. The templar thrust a hand out to stop her, grabbing her upper arm in a vice like grip.
"Thais, you can't just go bounding into an unknown situation," he argued, fearing for her safety.
"It's not unknown," she murmured, shaking off his grip and sprinting away, blowing straight by the elderly man who started at her sudden appearance.
"Wait!" he cried, shovel forgotten in his hands, "You can't-"
"What's happened here?" Cullen demanded, drawing the man's attention. From the corner of his eye he could see Thais slip into the village's community hall and disappear from sight.
"Plague," the stranger replied, grim and mournful. "Swept in like brush fire. These are the first to fall…almost half the village is infected."
"Surely your healers have it contained?" Cullen insisted, bewildered that the sickness had spread this far south. The man snorted in disbelief and shook his head, returning his attention to the digging before him.
"We're a small holding…what mages we had were taken by you lot long ago," he said with the slightest hint of malice, waving a hand at the Chantry insignia upon his armor. "All we have is a few midwifes and lessons passed down through generations. We never stood a chance."
"Well you have one now," Cullen murmured as he took his leave of the old man and followed Thais' path through the village. When he arrived at the common hall he was immediately gagged by the smell of illness and human suffering that seemed to permeate the air. All around him moans of agony sounded in the great space and he desperately sought out his errant charge. He found her kneeling at a cot, hands pressed firmly to a man's forehead, eyelids closed and trembling as she filled him with the gift of healing. He cautiously approached her and crouched down to address her, knowing he was about to begin a losing battle.
"Thais," he murmured, "we don't have time for this."
"Beg to differ, Chantry Boy," she said dismissively once she had finished her spell, fingers feeling for a pulse in her patient's wrist. Whatever she sensed seemed to satisfy her and she moved on to the next victim without pause. "We have all the time in the world."
Cullen had to forcibly swallow the argument that bubbled from his throat. Any other time in the world he would have acquiesced, had done what he could ease the suffering of the people around him; but once the old man outside had uttered the word "plague" Cullen knew he was racing against a very dangerous clock. Thais would want to help, would want to stay until the very last person rose from the sick bed healthy and whole. Healing was as much a part of her as the blood magic, perhaps even more so since she had embraced the discipline with a joyful heart. He had heard tales, mixed in with the stories of Edmund and the rumors of her dalliance with Anders; she was extremely talented in the medicinal arts, unnaturally so. Because of this he knew that their little detour to this unfortunate village would last well beyond the three weeks he had planned for their journey…three weeks that was cutting it too close for his own, personal needs.
The last shipment of Lyrium to Kinloch hold had been delayed due to inclement weather in the Frostback Mountains. At the time Cullen had thought nothing of it, sure that when he returned from Andralia he would receive his dosage. But Maharette's schemes had thrown a kink into his plans, and he knew without a doubt that he was living on borrowed time. Lyrium withdrawal was a slow process, one that took a month or so to show the signs, and he was fast approaching what was deemed acceptable. If they stayed in this village, he would most certainly succumb to withdrawal and he could not let Thais, or any other soul, see it. It was the Chantry's dirty little secret, one even Cullen disagreed with, but he had been fed the element for so long he was chained by its laws as much as any other templar.
"Thais, please," he begged, "You can't possibly do this. You can't heal all these people."
"The hell I can't," she snapped, eye blazing. "Thanks to Maharette's little attack we have plenty of lyrium potions and I'm more than mage enough to help these people. You took on a contingency of darkspawn, despite the odds, Chantry Boy. The least you can do is allow me my battlefield."
"I have to get back-"
"And we will," she seethed, rising to poke him in his chest, "Don't worry Sir Cullen, you can still haul me back to the circle and get your accolades. There will be plenty of time to watch me brought low. But right now? I need to work. So either move that pretty ass of yours and help me, or run along back to the tower and get yourself an army of templars. Because I guarantee you're going to need it if you plan on taking me away from these people." She underscored her point by grabbing a nearby bundle of linens and shoving them into his arms. He staggered back from the force of her will and push and she cocked an eyebrow in defiance.
"Thais, there are…other factors to be considered," he said slowly and patiently, following her about the massive room as she flitted from patient to patient.
"Oh? And what would those be?"
"Maharette, for one," he said triumphantly, pleased to have found a valid point to address. "Her followers are but half a day's journey behind us. We're quite easily found and they will come for you."
"Let them," Thais muttered darkly before kneeling beside a young woman, her face sickly yellow and sheened in sweat. "She's bad off. I can smell it on her flesh. The fever will burn her out if we're not careful. Here, help me strip her."
"Help you what now?" he blustered, turning away.
"Strip. Her," Thais said with over exaggerated enunciation. "This isn't a bordello, Chantry Boy, it's a sick room. You may be a stuttering prig of a virgin, but you do know the difference, right?"
"Of-of course," he squeaked in reply, hesitantly kneeling beside her and laying his burden of linens gently to the ground. Thais nodded brusquely before beginning the indelicate work of disrobing the patient in front of her. Cullen fumbled about as best he could, lifting and tugging when strength was required. Soon all thoughts of impropriety fled as inch after inch of infected flesh was revealed. Ghastly black lesions marred the woman's skin, festering and angry. They seemed to pulse with her poisoned blood and Cullen stumbled back, retching violently at the sight. When he at last had emptied his stomach of its meager contents he knelt panting on the floor.
"If you're all done with your theatrics I need you to fetch me that water over there," Thais said, never bothering to even glance his way. Scowling at her jibe he rose to do as she bid, returning moments later with a cracked earthenware jug half full of tepid water. Nodding in acknowledgement Thais gestured to the pile of linens as she dipped her hands into the water, "Tear me off some strips. We need to draw the fever away from her brain." Cullen moved to do so, noting absently that the jug now had a sheen of frost coating its jagged rim. When his charge removed her hands they were a pale blue and Thais clenched her teeth against the pain. "Damnit, I can never get that one down," she muttered through chattering teeth. Cullen handed her a strip of cloth and arched an eyebrow at her condition.
"Done with your theatrics?" he mocked. To his surprise she flashed him a smile before dipping the linen in the now freezing water.
"When I do it it's colorful commentary," she said primly, glancing at him sidelong from beneath the fan of her lashes. "Don't worry about it, Cullen. You should have seen me my first healing. It was an amputation…not only did I vomit all over Ismae's shoes, I then passed out in the mess. Took me a while to live that one down."
Cullen grinned and made to tease her with the revelation, but they were both drawn from their camaraderie by an agonized cry from their patient. Leaping into action the both hovered over her thrashing form, trying futilely to still her. Thais lay the compress against the woman's brow, muttering soothing words of nonsense that barely registered through the haze of fever.
"Hold this," she murmured before closing her eyes and calling out a spell. Instantly their patient collapsed against the cot, limbs limp and empty of any fight. Cullen gasped in shock when Thais quickly lashed out and slapped the woman hard across the face, her head lolling sharply to the side.
"What was that for?"
"To make sure she's out," the mage replied as she dug through the pack of belongings, "this isn't going to be pretty and if she were conscious I feared she'd die from shock alone. Blast it! I left the damn hunting knife at the camp. Give me your dagger."
"No," Cullen said firmly, sitting up a bit straighter, "I may turn a blind eye to what you have to do to get us safely home, but I will not enable your damnation."
"I've been responsible for my damnation long before you ever showed up, Chantry boy," she sighed, "but this isn't about blood. This is about good old fashioned, down and dirty medicine. My magic can only do so much, and her infection is too far advanced. So unless you want to lance her lesions and drain the pus, hand me the damn dagger!"
At the word "pus" Cullen paled and hastily unsheathed the blade from his waist, fair throwing it at her. She huffed in triumph before sweeping her eyes over the woman's body, seeking out the best place to begin her ministrations. Cullen felt the room tilt and spin as she cut with quick, efficient precision, splitting a black mound that cut along the woman's hip. An off white froth immediately bloomed to the surface and Thais exerted pressure against the wound, squeezing more of the foul smelling liquid to the surface. Through it all she called for scraps on linen and Cullen handed them to her unthinkingly, too fascinated by the grisly and stomach churning scene before him. When at last blood, dark and ruby colored, seeped from between Thais' filthy fingers she sighed in relief and let a tingle of magic flow into the woman's body, sealing the wound between one blink of the eye and the next.
Over the next hour the pair worked on the woman; draining lesions and changing compresses in an effort to break the fever and outrun the plague coursing through the woman's veins. Twice Thais had to recast the sleep spell, the pain of lancing proving too great. It was grim business but in the end Thais was satisfied with her efforts and deemed the patient stable enough to survive the night. At her words Cullen collapsed in relief, exhausted beyond on all reason. He had once spent an entire three days on a battlefield with barely any respite, and he did not feel as tired then and he did now. Something about fighting an enemy that lives in someone's very blood drains a person to breaking. His only consolation had been watching Thais. She was magnificent; barking out orders with a command that very few could hold, and working against the very nature of Death as if it were nothing. Cullen hated to admit it but she damn near glowed when she wielded the magic, and he felt himself transfixed by the very sight of her. Even now, hands sticky with blood and Maker only knew what foul substances, hair mussed eyes half lidded with exhaustion, there was a light to her that drew him in. He had always known, in a dismissive sort of way, that she was attractive, but now he could see that she was stunning…and damnit if it didn't knock his legs out from under him.
"Come on," she said wearily, pushing to her feet with a groan. Cullen started at her words and stared up at her as if she had sprouted a second head.
"Pardon?"
"No rest for the wicked, Cullen," she said with an exhausted grin, "There are plenty more people waiting to die…I intended not to let them." Her words were woozy and panted and he saw the moment in which her eyes rolled up and he knew she was about to faint. He surged forward and caught her clumsily in his arms, half risen from the floor. The two crashed against the wooden surface and Cullen winced as her shoulder crushed against his elbow in a most displeasing manner. The impact startled her back into consciousness and she blinked about in confusion.
"Well now, this is quite the turn. If you wanted me to be on top all you had to do was say so, Chantry boy," she murmured wryly. Cullen guffawed and eased himself out from underneath her, surprised that he had not had a more visceral reaction to her flirting.
"Are you okay?" he asked gently.
"Yeah," she muttered, raising a hand to rest upon her temple, "just need a lyrium potion and a decent meal. Haven't really eaten much since Andralia."
"Let me rectify that," Cullen said gently, eyes scanning over the great the hall as if a trestle table of food would magically appear for strength of wanting.
"No time," Thais insisted, crawling over to their pack. Shaking and pale hands dug through the contents, pulling free a vial of the blue liquid. She downed the vial in one smooth gulp, taking a deep breath as it worked its way through her body. Seconds later she seemed to stand a bit straighter with more of a flush to her cheeks. Cullen watched baffled as she rose to her feet, still shaky and unbalanced, and slowly made her way to the next poor soul who needed her help. Almost against his will he rose and followed her, silently agreeing to help her in this doomed endeavor. As they went about the room, tending to the dying, Cullen's mind ticked off every soul they saved, and every second that brought him closer to his own downfall.
