Chapter 37: Peril and Persuasion

"She's pregnant?" Cullen could feel the scowl on his face. It didn't seem right to scowl at news like that but such were the times they lived in, and such were the people they lived with, he supposed.

"I know what you're thinking." He couldn't see Evelyn's disapproval at his tone, but he heard it loud and clear.

Her head was lowered over his shoulder as she stitched up a wound there. The aftermath of the siege had seen every mage with any skill in healing taxed to their limit, Evelyn included, especially after she helped to close the gaping hole in his chest. What remained of all the non-life threatening cuts and scrapes suffered were left to conventional treatment methods. Which suited Cullen just fine. He'd always appreciated the sting of a well-earned wound getting sewn up after a worthy fight. The fact that it was Evelyn's touch against the broken skin, deft and gentle, made it almost pleasurable even.

He sighed where he lay face down on the cot in their tent. "And what's wrong with what I'm thinking?"

"They love each other, Cullen. I know you understand that even if you don't want to admit it. You would have done no less for me if my life had been threatened, and in fact, you were trying to do just that. Fenris simply got to you before you could get to Hawke."

"Is that supposed to be a slight against my fighting prowess?" Cullen made the query only partially in jest.

"Men." Evelyn grumbled.

"'Men' indeed. I've always known Hawke to act before she thinks, but I would have thought Fenris more sensible than to get her with child given their circumstances. The man was always practical and smart, even if he did just almost kill me. Which, by the way, I forgive him for because you're right, I tried to do the same."

Cullen felt proud of himself for making that step towards understanding and forgiveness, but if he thought Evelyn would agree with what he considered a mature and magnanimous statement, she swifty disavowed him of that misconception by smacking him right on the back of his head.

"Ow!" It hadn't hurt but he felt the need to express his indignation. He rubbed lightly, if dramatically, at the spot. "Did you get that from Mia? Because I really wish you'd make friends with people who didn't teach you things like that."

Evelyn rose and stood, arms crossed and face looking even more cross. He reluctantly sat up to take whatever scolding he was about to receive but, he reserved the right to argue his point. He found himself feeling more comfortable talking through things with her now. Feelings that in the past he might have buried rather than voice or opinions he might have dismissed or kept to himself, he realized he wanted to own them and especially to share them with her. With the loss of lyrium and the gain of Evelyn he felt more and more like he actually was walking away from the Chantry automaton he'd once been. Even if they didn't always agree, he could be himself here with her, good and bad, and he hoped she could as well.

As it turned out, she seemed to feel fairly comfortable letting him know where he could stick his opinion on this.

"Cullen Stanton Rutherford."

Oh for Maker's fucking sake. His middle name? Evelyn had definitely been spending too much time with his sister.

"How dare you judge how the two of them express their love. And how dare you dictate what the 'correct' course of their life should be. If we all did things correctly, I seriously doubt you and I would be here together right now. So I say, thank the Maker for 'bad' decisions."

Evelyn was visibly upset. Far more so than Cullen thought she should be over just his opinion on Hawke and Fenris' growing family. Her ears were burning red and the little pulse in her neck that he loved to nip at was throbbing wildly.

He got up, concerned that Evelyn was actually having a conversation about something different, something more personal than the life choices of a couple she'd only known a short time and who not but a matter of hours ago had put her at mortal peril. When he tried to move towards her, however, he found his intention to soothe was trumped by his still battle-ravaged body. The joints in his legs creaked and sharp pains shot through his very recently healed wounds. With a groan and a stumble he retreated back to the cot. Evelyn launched herself forward to help him. Now not only had he apparently been the one to stoke her temper, he was failing at calming it. He tried to protest her help, wanting to get to the bottom of her irritation but she shushed him into submission.

"You'll tear your stitches if you keep moving. You need to rest." She ordered sternly.

He laid back down, mostly because he couldn't force his limbs to do much else. "Fine," he grumbled, "but if I lie down will you tell me what's really on your mind?"

She pursed her lips, sitting at the edge of the cot, as if considering her next actions. They both knew she had things to say, things to share, thoughts and feelings swirling around in her head that needed to come out, but was she ready? When she scooted a bit closer to him, he made room and when she laid down next to him he held her close. He stayed silent and let her be for a while, waiting.

"Family is a strange thing." The words were whispered into his chest sounding equal parts curious, exhausted and disturbed.

"Sometimes. Yes." He waited even longer for her to continue.

"I saw my brother in the Fade. Well, his spirit at least."

Cullen bit his tongue on shock and disgust. This was Evelyn's story to tell and it was not for him to interject with his prejudice. He might be more comfortable sharing his feelings now than he had in the past but there was a time and a place for potentially insensitive comments and this was not it. Perhaps he had been too quick to judge Hawke and Fenris, and he wouldn't let himself make the mistake, again, of judging Evelyn too quickly. He trusted her and he loved her, above all else, even in the face of Fade spirits and demons. So, he held her closer and let her speak.

Her story was halting and told in half phrases, her sentences more often than not broken by emotion. A stifled sob here. A choke of anger there. She told him everything she'd learned in her time in the Fade. While he'd been fighting to hold Adamant, she'd been fighting fear and her past. Lies and intrigue, manipulation and abuse, the sad victims of which seemed to not only be Evelyn, but her dead brother James. When she was done, she asked a question but he wasn't sure if she really wanted an answer.

"Do you think my father believes what he's done is right?"

Cullen held back his immediate response. What he wanted to say was that he didn't care. It didn't matter what the sadistic bastard thought or didn't think, he was wrong and the only thing that had resulted from his actions were the suffering of many, not the least of whom were his own children. Luckily, Evelyn responded to both her own question and his unspoken answer.

"I know what he's done is wrong, of course, and he needs to answer for it, but is it possible he thinks he's right? If Hawke had torn the Veil down and killed us all in the process, would she have thought it justified? Necessary? If Fenris had murdered you to save Hawke, would he have shown remorse? Were the Templars wrong in subduing the mages? Were the mages wrong to rebel?"

He was at a loss. The complexity of understanding the forces and motivations of others, that Evelyn was grappling with now, was something he'd always tried to avoid. The enemy of purpose is supposition. The enemy of clarity is doubt. As a Templar, with or without lyrium, he'd believed in those things.

There is but one world, one life, one death. There is but one truth, one god and He is our Maker.

But he, and Evelyn, were both coming to find that there isn't but one anything. For two people who'd seen the world in black and white, it was amazing how each of their days now poured forth with more colors and shades of grey than either of them had thought possible.

"I think…" He started but he paused and focused hard on forming not just the words he would speak, but the thoughts and feelings that sourced them. "I think we can accept that everything happens for a reason and everyone has their own motivations, but I don't think it's wrong to decide for ourselves what we consider to be right and let that guide how we act. Your brother clearly made a choice. Your father clearly made choices. We will have choices to make. You have choices to make."

Cullen tried as best he could to sit up. Evelyn helped him and he held her face in his hands, looking into her eyes. "I trust the choices you've made, Evelyn. And I trust the choices you will make."

A slow and shy smile spread across her face and she lowered her eyes from his when she replied. "I trust you too."

That was enough to end the conversation for him. Still holding her face, he kissed her, long and hard, with purpose and clarity, thankful that she was the one thing in this world for him that would always be an easy choice. Unfortunately again, his mind was eager where his body was lagging. When he tried to turn them so he could lay her down, the fresh stitches in his shoulder tugged painfully and he winced inside their kiss.

Evelyn pulled away and he was almost desperate enough to pout at her denial. Fortunately she had no intention of denying him. Having made her choice, she gently pushed him down and methodically undressed him fully, taking her time and seeming to take pleasure in the slow progression of her actions and the impatient helplessness that he was sure was obvious on his face. When she was finished with him, she stripped herself of her blood and gore stained clothes until all that covered her was her hair let loose from its ties.

She climbed atop him and hugged him close, snuggling her body against his. The feel of her, the fit of her, the smell and the sight of her in that moment was worth every wound he'd ever suffered in his life to get here and if it earned him one more second of Evelyn naked and clinging to him, he'd volunteer for a near-death battle every day until the end of his days.

Inevitably, his need to have her swelled both inside and outside and thankfully, she felt the same. Unable to resist the magic of her, he let her take control and simply watched and reveled in her every action. Her fingers that had deftly sewn his skin now found purpose in stirring his desire. Her magic that had tenderly healed his wounds, now pulsed with passion and enveloped them both in a heady haze.

She was gentle with him, but relentless, and when she took him inside her, her eyes found his and she held his face so he couldn't look away. Deliberate and determined, she rode him and he was weak, powerless, but thrilled and electrified beneath her. He let the heat of her wash over him in waves, and he greedily took in every beautiful glimpse of her efforts. The sweat beading on her brow, the flex of her muscles working them towards climax, the soft pants of her intimate exertions, all made him weaker and weaker until he couldn't resist her assault any longer. He practically whimpered his release as he let go and let himself spiral into oblivion. An instant later she arched then gripped his shoulders so hard bracing herself for her own peak that he thought she might have undone his stitches herself. Little did he care though as she collapsed onto him, their chests heaving in satisfied bliss.

Sadly, there was but one truth: that the world would never let them rest for very long.

Someone knocked loudly on one of the tent posts and shouted at them from outside. "Hey. You two. We need to talk. Now."

Varric. Cullen wondered how Evelyn would judge him if he made the choice to murder Varric.

Evelyn sat up, still dazed and now obviously sleepy. "Varric? Is that you?"

"Yes, Kitten, it's me and I'm coming in there in five seconds no matter what, so you better cover whatever needs covered. Five...Four…"

Evelyn shot up at the start of the countdown and pulled on Cullen's shirt while simultaneously pulling a blanket over him. Just as Varric ducked into their tent, she sat back down on the cot, both of them now only barely modest again.

Varric rolled his eyes. "I'm glad you two have been celebrating, but we have a problem. Hawke and Fenris are trying to leave."

"And?" Cullen didn't see how this was a problem. Evelyn had already dictated that they be left alone despite their reckless actions, but given the circumstances he thought it best they leave the purview of the Inquisition.

"And you need to stop them Curly."

For possibly the first time in Cullen's experience, Varric looked serious. He was intense in a way Cullen had never seen him or known him to act. Evelyn spoke up, clearly also concerned by the dwarf's abnormal gravitas.

"Varric, we can't force them to stay if they feel their path is elsewhere, but I do wish they would remain with us if only to recover and properly mourn her sister."

Varric rubbed at his forehead as if fending off a headache and started pacing. "Look, I know those two. They're not going to stick around where they think they aren't wanted. They've been shit on enough so the first thing they're going to do in any situation is leave before there's a chance they'll get shit on yet again. But we all know, it isn't just them anymore and I can't let them leave when I know they're better off with us than out there, especially when I also know they can still help and still want to help."

Cullen sighed and was about to object, but Varric cut him off.

"Look Curly, I've never asked you for anything. I'm asking now. Talk them into staying. I begged them to go back to Kirkwall, but they won't, not that I blame them. I can't keep an eye on them indefinitely if they insist on this them-against-the-world nomad bullshit. And I'll be damned before I let their story have anything but a happy ending."

Evelyn swooped in at that statement. Cullen wasn't sure if it was the honor driven righteousness in her or the hopeless romantic that came to Varric's aid. "We'll talk to them, Varric. Immediately. I promise we'll convince them to stay."

Varric's stance visibly relaxed. "Thanks Kitten. And you know, Curly, you'll come to appreciate some day that the heroes in my stories always pull through. They get shitstorms and drama, but they always get a happy ending. And usually lots of sex. Not necessarily in that order."

Evelyn blushed crimson as Varric walked out of their tent but she collected herself quickly. Gathering up clean clothes for both of them, she started issuing more orders. "I'll help you dress, love. And then we'll go help Varric work on his happy endings."

Cullen thought he'd much rather work on more sex. Alas, he ended up following Evelyn out of their tent and walked gingerly beside her as she led him forward to accomplish their task which he felt was bound to involve drama and a shitstorm if only to fulfill Varric's foreshadowing.

They found Hawke and Fenris at the very edge of the Inquisition's encampments gathering supplies. It was still dark out, but a low purple glow on the horizon was about to herald the dawn. Fenris saw them coming and alerted Hawke with a glance. The Champion looked up from her pack and stood, head high and defiant, ready for a fight as always. Her red and swollen eyes, where tears had been rubbed away until raw, were the only things that betrayed her true emotion.

Unexpectedly gutted at the sight of Hawke with a hidden vein of vulnerability, Cullen stayed back as Evelyn approached them. He awkwardly bit his lip, letting Evelyn lead and not even hearing her opening statement to the once Champion. He felt inadequate to intrude. In the same way that Hawke knew more about Cullen's past trials and stumbles, he knew more about her tribulations than he was sure she was comfortable admitting for someone so proud, especially in the face of her newest loss. So he let Evelyn and her insight guide the encounter while he remained quiet and tried to convey a steadfast agreement with whatever his lover, and their leader, said.

Perhaps feeling similarly inept, Fenris backed away from the two women talking. Slowly, he came to stand beside Cullen. The elf's lyrium pulsed softly, and though Cullen could feel it, hear it, it wasn't intolerable. In fact, he almost thought it felt like an affirmation. He was alive and all the things that came with being alive, good and bad, had merit.

"I'm glad we're all alive." Fenris succinctly articulated Cullen's feelings aloud. "For what it's worth."

Cullen nodded. "I'm glad too."

They watched their women in silence for a while until Cullen ventured a question.

"Can Evelyn convince her to stay, do you think?"

Fenris flexed his fists and shifted his weight on his feet. "I hope so. And thank you, Commander. For understanding. You're a better man than you think you are."

"It's because of her." Nodding towards Evelyn, he said it without thinking, without even needing to think on it. If there was but one truth he would always admit to, it was that she was the best of him.

Fenris never took his eyes from Hawke. "I feel the same about Marian."

The men stood a while longer. The women eventually sat on the ground, still talking, but Cullen could tell Evelyn's face was relaxing down from the urgency of persuasion and Hawke's face was relaxing down from the peril of confrontation.

"I could really use a drink. Join me?" Cullen wasn't sure where he'd come up with that suggestion, but after saying it, it sounded like the best idea he'd ever had.

Fenris continued to watch Hawke while he seemed to consider the consequences of accepting. Suddenly a small smile appeared on Hawke's face. There was still sadness there too, but when the Champion's hands came to rest on her midsection, the smile grew and Fenris answered him.

"I'd like that."

"I know where we can look. Come on." Cullen led Fenris to what he knew would be a reliable, and safe, source of liquor. The Iron Bull would likely be face down in some suspiciously brewed firewater by now. Sera had probably already pilfered whatever she could find from the Warden stores in the ruins of the fortress and shacked up with someone warm and welcoming to share it with. Dorian would be high-browing it with a bottle of something Cullen probably couldn't pronounce. But Rylen. Rylen would have stashed away something simple, strong and reliable that would reliably get them drunk.

Which was exactly how they found him. With Mia. Drunk and watching the sunrise on the crest of a hill, leaned up against one another, each holding a bottle of Rylen's stash. Cullen swallowed down his brotherly nausea enough to walk up to Mia and nudge her with his boot.

"Hey. Share." He demanded a bit childishly.

"Commander." Rylen greeted him and offered his own bottle which Cullen took, gratefully drank from, then passed to Fenris who did the same. "Good to see you up and about Ser." Cullen's second in command let a leary glance pass over Fenris but he said nothing at his choice of drinking partners.

The four of them lingered on the hillside, drinking and letting the sun rise without incident. When clouds rolled in across the sky, obstructing their view of the Maker's handiwork, Mia stretched and stood.

"I'm knackered and drunk and it's time for bed." She bent to give Rylen a kiss on the cheek then she patted Cullen on his shoulder before she left them.

"I'm going back to Hawke." Fenris announced, taking one more swig of Rylen's brew before handing it back to Cullen. "Thank you again, Commander."

When it was just the two former Templars left, Cullen sat down next to Rylen. They finished off the booze and let the bottles roll down the hill behind them.

"So, Commander, I'm just drunk enough to talk to you about few things I've been meaning to ask you."

Cullen was just drunk enough not to object, though he thought he might know where this was going. "Mm?" Was all he managed as encouragement for Rylen to continue.

"I'd like your permission to try to stop the lyrium, Ser. And also your permission to marry your sister."

In spite of himself, Cullen smiled. "Neither venture will be an easy road, my friend."

Rylen just laughed. "I like to be challenged in life I suppose. Does that mean I have your blessing? On both counts?"

"You don't need my permission for either, but yes, I support both of your choices."

Rylen seemed to relax a little, then he tensed again. "Do you, um, have any advice about which one I should accomplish first?"

On that, Cullen thought long and hard. As Evelyn had said earlier, family was indeed a strange thing. He seriously believed Rylen to be the best match for his sister that he could have hoped for. But he knew what the path of lyrium abstinence held and he couldn't say he wanted that for his sister. He'd never met Evelyn's brother, but after hearing about the last letter Evelyn read from the man in the Fade, he was certain that if they had met, he might be having this same conversation with him. In the end, he answered Rylen with what he hoped James Trevelyan would have said to him.

"My advice would be to not keep it from her. Work on it together. She'll want to help you and if anyone can pull you through the worst of it, it's Mia. She'll drag you forward kicking and screaming if she has to and believe me when I say there will be times it may come to that. She won't let you fail, trust me. And if there's one thing I've come to learn it is that burdens are easier borne when shared. Pushing loved ones away or hiding things from them does nothing but prolong the suffering. Mia can take care of herself, you don't need to protect her from this. Let her walk the path alongside you if that's what she wants. You'll be a better man for it."

Rylen eased back flat to smile up at the sky. It was the kind of wide smile that only a man who has found purpose knows. "Thank you, Brother. And I guess I mean that figuratively and literally now, eh? There's nothing like having a good woman on your side is there, Ser?"

"Nothing like it, Brother."

A/N: So, I've written Rylen in a few different stories now (because I love him) and somehow I always manage to make him the go-to for a drunken heart to heart. I guess I just like seeing him as that perfect common sense, no nonsense, down-to-Thedas, (super hot), friendly former Templar. Thanks for reading!