A short chapter of pain and angst. How Cullen is handling Anuiras death. (well as far as he knows she is)

Enjoy!

.o.O.o.

Credits for any tevene goes to katiebour at deviantart and the dragonage wikia.

Credits for any elvish goes to FenXshiral and whom ever is responsible for the LingoJam elven DAI translator. I'm sorry if I abuse the language. Bare with me, I'm trying.

Chapter 25

~.o.O.o.~

He was running, frantically making his way through the dimly lit corridors of the netherworld. His lungs screamed in protest as he filled them with air, only to expel it seconds later. His panting was inhuman as his body overdosed on the fear-induced adrenaline pumping through his veins.
He felt talons of the snarling fiends behind him grace his back slightly and jerked away. Even such minor scratch burned his back like fire and he could fell the revolting sickness spreading ruthlessly through his entire body in mere moments.

He was not sure how long he had been fleeing. He didn't even know where he was or where he was going. He just kept running, praying and forcing his body to move faster.

But he was trapped, there was no way out.

The thoughts hit him hard, knocking the wind out of him and making him stumble slightly in his sprint. And as despair settled over him making his limbs heavy and sluggish, he fell.

He was instantly overrun by his frenzied pursuers. Their corruption and vile stench surrounded him mercilessly, smothering even the tiniest memory of happiness and beauty as they pulled and prodded him. Jagged, cruel teeth sunk deep into his flesh, ripping it off his bones with a sickening sound as his tortured screams drowned in the darkspawns triumphant cacophony of howls.

Jolting upright, screaming, panting and tangled in his sheets, Cullen recognized his room at Skyhold. He slumped back into his bed with his hands over his face, drenched in sweat and trembling from pain and fear.
He had never fought many darkspawn in his life, and most certainly had never gotten lost in the deep roads. But still, this was the latest of his nightmares and one he could never fully shake as the last thing he ever saw in it, was the love of his life, switched in his place.

Anuira was sickly pale, thinner than he thought possible and badly wounded. Her usually sparkling turquoise eyes was dull, almost unseeing as they pleaded the words her cracked ashen lips could not speak. Her bloodied bare arm, covered in grime, cuts and horrid bite-marks desperately reached for him as her body jerked and spasmed with every piece of flesh torn away by relentless jaws.

She was gruesomely ripped apart, piece by tiny piece, right there in front of him and there was nothing he could do. He saw the life drain out of her, saw her sad, pleading eyes turned dark and cold, her arm falling to her side as her body went limp. Seconds later she was glaring at him with balefully dead eyes. Her mutilated lips slowly curling up in a hateful snarl and soon she released the first guttural inhuman growl as she clawed at him.

It was his fault.

He had not been strong enough or fast enough to save her and she was haunting him from the beyond because of it. He clenched his fists and pressed them into his eyes in an attempt to stop the waves of tears spilling onto his cheeks. The pain in his chest raw and throbbing, threatening to explode and it made him want to curl up in a ball and die.
He swallowed a sob but couldn't stop the hushed whimper escaping his throat as he worked to get himself under control.
He felt like a child. A child left in the dark, robbed of all sense of security and happiness. It hurt so much and some days he was sure his heart would just give out.

But as if to spite him, it never did.

He hauled himself out of bed, snatching up his tunic from the floor and putting it on as he moved towards the ladder. He needed to get some air and the ramparts was usually a forgiving place to lurk this time of the night. If he had been able to he would have stayed in the quarters he shared with Anuira, but after one night he moved back to his original room. Not being able to stand the near constant reminders of his failure and his loss.
The only reason he stayed at Skyhold, managing its affairs, was to throw off the somnoborium, to irk them and make sure they couldn't get their soiled greedy paws on it.

He didn't have much more than petty vengeance now and he used his anger, his spite to crush every damnable attempt to further the somnoborium's plans.