Morrigan was downright rude and dour, and Lavellan was envious of her slim figure that she had no problem displaying. However, her pregnancy stories kept Lavellan entertained as they made their way to the Arbor Wilds. For some reason, Lavellan found it easy to speak with Morrigan, even though she was shut down from time to time.
"So you have raised your son by yourself?" Lavellan asked her as they rode horses side by side.
"'Twas for the best," Morrigan answered in her typically curt manner. She then laughed with mirth, "The father of the child…"
When Morrigan did not elaborate, Lavellan found herself filling the silence. "I'm not certain what I'm going to do," she confessed.
"You're the Inquisitor." Morrigan glared at her. "I think you should be able to figure it out. The father leave you high and dry?"
"It's complicated," Lavellan exhaled.
Morrigan rolled her eyes and that was the end of that.
After arriving at the Inquisition's forward camp, she caught up with Josephine before gathering her companions to march toward the temple. Along the path, they encountered groups of the Inquisition's forces fighting off a bevy of opponents. Cullen and a few soldiers were battling some red templars and brainwashed Grey Wardens. Lavellan and her companions helped ward them off. At the end of the battle, she was to head north to enter the Temple of Mythal, but she had a case of cold feet.
"Inquisitor, shall we proceed?" Morrigan drawled.
Lavellan wiped the blood off her blade on a bush nearby, and while her attention was elsewhere, Cullen walked to her. She lowered her sword and he hesitated before wrapping her in a brief hug, their bulky armor creating some distance between them. "You've got this," he whispered into her ear.
Cullen quickly stepped away from her, maintaining professional decorum. In the corner of her vision, Lavellan caught Morrigan groaning impatiently, and she swore Solas sighed as well. She ignored them and gave Cullen a nod that hopefully conveyed confidence, but she must have wavered, for he said, "Why don't we accompany you? I'm not certain how many reinforcements may be within the temple."
Lavellan knew she should turn him down. It is what she would have done had this been in the past. But in this moment, she accepted in a heartbeat. As much as Lavellan did not want to drag him further into the fray, she would greedily take any support she could garner.
In the temple, their group found Corphyeus and Samson, and they pursued them as red templars attacked. They also found Abelas, an ancient sentinel who guarded the Well of Sorrows. The sentinels fought them once Lavellan refused to negotiate with Abelas, as she wanted to personally ensure that Corypheus did not gain access to the Well. Solas dissented rather vocally, but she did not relent.
Near the Well of Sorrows, Samson awaited. Lavellan heard a rushing sound and was vaguely aware that Samson was sneering at her, but she couldn't make out the words he was saying. Cullen grabbed her arm firmly, and the background noise died. "Destroy his armor?" he asked, and she tilted her head in assent.
"Knight-Captain Cullen, so nice to see you. Doing someone's dirty work again?" Samson taunted.
Cullen growled, "It doesn't have to be this way, Samson."
"It's not too late for you. Embrace red lyrium. Kill the heretic you call Inquisitor."
"Oh, shut it," Lavellan yelled and charged at him.
With Samson's armor weakened, the fight was relatively simple. However, Lavellan was on the receiving end of a strong blow to the shoulder, which knocked her to the ground and caused her to shout. Blood trickled from her neck, a surface wound from the tip of Samson's sword, but nothing felt broken. Cullen caught a glance of her collapsed with a glove pressed below her chin. His face fell in an instant, but Lavellan mouthed she was okay and forced herself up with a grunt.
Soon enough, Samson was on his knees, and their team had received no serious injuries. Looking down at Samson's scowl, Lavellan wanted to slit his throat right then and there as the memories flooded her. He goaded her on to do it, but she resisted the urge. The man in front of her had not yet committed those same crimes against her. Samson would be judged back at Skyhold as all captured enemies were.
Lavellan was able to convince the rather intimidating Abelas to let them access the Well. Standing on the precipice of the Well itself, it dawned on her that she did not have a plan. Morrigan fervently argued that she should drink from the Well, as it could provide knowledge that they could use to defeat Corypheus. However, the idea of giving that opportunity to someone who wasn't an elf bothered Lavellan.
"Solas, will you drink?" Lavellan asked of him.
Solas frowned and heartily refused. "I will not be a servant to Mythal."
Lavellan had figured he would have wanted to gain that knowledge of their people, even if he would be tied to one of their gods, so she was taken aback. The only option other than Morrigan was Lavellan herself.
"Then should I drink from the Well?" Lavellan pondered aloud.
"No," Solas replied adamantly.
Lavellan had forgotten Cullen since they reached the Well itself, but her attention was drawn back to him. "Don't," Cullen pleaded.
Her stomach fluttered as the baby moved. Maybe they were protesting, too. She was not certain as to how the Well would affect her, and she was never a passionate scholar of her culture. "Right. Morrigan, you should be the one."
Lavellan hoped it was not a mistake, but like many of the decisions she was called to make as Inquisitor, she had to go with the least worst option and wish for the best.
"I'm going to go check on the troops. I'll see you back there," Cullen told her, and she nodded and gave him her thanks before he departed.
Morrigan slowly stepped into the water, heading to the center of the pool. She dropped down under the surface, and the next second, a tidal wave pushed against Lavellan, knocking her down. She panicked, water all around her and heavy armor pinning her down, but the flood dissipated. When she stood back up, the Well was mostly dry, and Morrigan was unconscious on the ground. Lavellan rushed to her side and was able to rouse her, and Morrigan confirmed she was alright. Before they could discuss the Well further, Corypheus appeared in a rage. Frantically, Lavellan searched for an exit; the only way to escape was through the Eluvian.
Several days had come to pass since Morrigan, Solas, Varric, Iron Bull, and Lavellan had returned to Skyhold via the Eluvian. The remainder of Lavellan's Inner Circle and a good portion of their troops were still journeying back home. It was odd to see the fortress so empty of people, and Lavellan was lonely. The war was heating up, and childbirth loomed on the horizon, and neither were particularly comforting thoughts for her.
She became breathless quite easily now, so sparring with Iron Bull did not hold much appeal, nor did watching him slam back shots of liquor in the tavern. Morrigan was off making sense of whatever the Well had done to her, and Solas kept to himself. Varric and Lavellan still had a bit of a strained relationship, but she sat down with him in front of a fire in the hall one night, hoping to break bread.
"Scouts reported they saw the gang heading up the mountain," Varric informed her. He arched a brow. "You're not running to the gates to greet them?"
Lavellan huffed. "Not worth the exertion. And they'll be exhausted when they get here and want to head for bed."
"Not eager to welcome back Curly?" he asked with faux innocence.
"Why would I go seek out the Commander?" she replied, giving nothing away.
Varric shrugged. "No reason, I guess. You two seemed close back there in the temple. He's a good guy. Hawke used to say… nevermind."
Lavellan winced. "Varric-"
"Save your words. You've said it all before. Forgive me… it's just hard losing a friend like her."
"I know a little about loss. I feel for you." She continued, "I hope I meet Hawke again in a better place."
"Not anytime soon. Let's not lose anyone else," he rasped.
Lavellan held out her hand that had the Anchor, and it emanated green light in contrast to the warm glow of the fire. "I'm afraid the worst is yet to come."
Varric closed her fingers around her palm, dimming the Anchor. "That's enough doomsday talk. Now do you want to hear the story of when Hawke fought the Arishok?"
She grinned. "I've heard the tale, but I think it will be even better coming from you."
Lavellan stayed up talking with Varric into the wee hours of the early morning. Her eyes stung and her stomach rumbled, but it was so nice to chat with him and not think about the heavier things that usually occupied her mind. In her sleepy state, she was startled when she noticed Cullen had appeared next to them, still in the attire he had worn on the road.
"Curly," Varric welcomed him before giving Lavellan a wink. "Time for me to hit the sack."
Then she was alone with him. Lavellan expected him to take Varric's spot, but he remained where he was. Cullen glanced around the hall, which was sparsely populated but some returnees had trickled in. "Lavellan, I was hoping to speak with you. Maybe in my office?" Cullen asked shyly.
His tower was several staircases away in the pitch dark of the night, and snow was likely to fall before dawn. She stood up. "Let's go to my quarters."
Cullen's mouth was slightly agape. "Just come on," Lavellan encouraged him, and he followed her to her room, careful to leave space between them.
Her maid had left a fire going in the fireplace, but Lavellan poured water from a bucket over it. She was burning hot most of the time, and the room was stuffy. She could no longer stand to be in her long-sleeved top and pants.
"Shut the door, please," Lavellan asked of Cullen, and she went behind a screen to roll down her breeches in privacy. They had been tailored specifically for her, but the lacing still had a way of biting into her skin and leaving indentations. Now in the confines of her bedroom, she shucked her clothes of the day and pulled on a short gossamer nightgown with delicate thin straps and airy silk fabric. Who cared about decorum, she wanted to be comfortable.
Cullen had waited for her by the window that looked out on the balcony, and he apparently did not hear her bare feet carry her across the room. "You wanted to speak with me?" she said softly.
Cullen's attention was drawn to her, and it did not escape Lavellan that he gnawed at his bottom lip and then cleared his throat. "Yes."
When he did not continue, she giggled, and that was enough to interrupt his reverie. "I wanted to see you. Back in the Arbor Wilds, we waited for you to exit the temple, and when we went in to investigate after a while, you were gone. We weren't sure what had happened."
Lavellan frowned. "I'm sorry. We did send ravens upon our arrival here, though."
"I know," Cullen sighed. "But before the birds arrived… I was worried."
She understood how he had felt. During the course of the last few days, her mind had wandered to imagine how he was faring on the road. "Well, now you can see that I am whole. No reason to worry."
He nodded. "I'm glad." He hesitated before moving forward, "Have you judged Samson?"
"No, I haven't yet." She shifted to cross her arms, warming her shoulders. The topic had brought a chill to the air, at least for her. "Thank you for coming along to the temple. That wasn't the plan."
"You would've been able to take him down on your own."
"Still, it was a comfort to have you there."
Silence fell. She wondered if he really wanted to discuss Samson, or if his being concerned about her well-being was the only reason he ran to her immediately upon his return. "There's something else I wished to discuss," Cullen confessed. Ah, there it was. "I've thought it over, as I know you wanted me to, and I would like to be in your child's life, if you'll have me."
"Of course, Cullen," she reassured him.
"As their father?"
She unfurled her arms. "It's up to you, so yes."
He gave her a small smile. "I would like that."
"Alright, Papa," she joked, and he laughed.
"Too soon, maybe. I hope I get used to the sound of that."
"You will, I'm certain. I think you'll make an excellent father."
"And you're going to be a great mother."
She exhaled, "We'll see about that." She still feared she would not have the opportunity. Their enemy was out there, and she had to be on the frontlines, no matter how vulnerable she was.
Lavellan wrapped her arms back around herself, quelling her thoughts. Hopefully, some rest would help. "Is there anything else you wanted to chat about? You must be exhausted."
He appeared to be on the verge of saying something, as his mouth was ajar, but he closed it. "That was it for now. You're right, I should let you get some sleep, and I am very much looking forward to a bath."
She walked him to her door and sleepily rested her head on the doorframe. "Good night, Cullen."
"Good night, Lavellan." He stood at the top of the staircase a moment, holding her eyes, before he nodded to himself and descended down the stairs. Lavellan smirked and shut the door. She spun around in her quarters, imagining where a crib might be placed. What characters would hang from the mobile that would float over their child's head? What color would be the baby's first blanket? Would Cullen hold their child as they fell asleep in a rocking chair that would look great in the corner?
Everything had been a blur since she had emerged from the earth and out of the red templars' clutches. Potions were poured down her throat, and healing magic flowed through her, bringing her back to reality for brief flashes. The agony diminished slowly.
When she fully came to consciousness, they were at a small campsite, at some point between where she had been captured and home. Lavellan was on her back, the stars and a harvest moon shining down on her. She blinked, adjusting to her surroundings. If she twisted her head to either side, she saw sleeping bodies on mats. To her right appeared to be Cullen, his head left uncovered by the blanket wrapped around him.
Lavellan did not make a sound, but a nightmare must have been bothering Cullen, for he flipped over to face her and woke with a startled gasp. His eyes flew open, and a second passed before he sat straight up with alarm. "You're awake?" he whispered loudly.
Her throat was raw, so she did not reply. She noticed he had been sleeping in his armor, which must have been extremely uncomfortable yet necessary, but what caught her attention was a coin on a chain that hung around his neck. He followed her line of sight and touched it. "My lucky coin. I should have given it to you," Cullen explained, and his voice quivered. "I thought you were dead. Again."
"I thought so, too," she managed to croak.
"And to think, one of our last conversations would have been… I'm sorry," he whispered, his regret painfully evident.
She remained quiet, for while she had been hurt by his actions, it felt like a lifetime ago after the events of the last week. He continued, "I don't want us to be separated. I didn't want to be a distraction or another burden to you, but it's honestly been a struggle without you."
Lavellan's lips curled up at the corners. Not too long ago, he had been perfectly fine on his own. Cullen had thought her dead, and then she had returned. Now that she had truly been knocking on death's door, the experience had frightened her to her core. There wasn't enough good in her life yet. She hadn't fully lived. "Same," she rasped.
That's all she had the strength to say, and there would be more to talk about later, so she drifted away with the comforting knowledge of her current environment and the people around her.