Lavellan did not remember where she was, or what time it was, or much of anything. She awoke startled, her chest pounding from her thudding heartbeat. Her surroundings were dimly lit, and she struggled to put the pieces of the puzzle together. A nightstand was near her pillow, a candle burnt low resting on its surface. Above her was the canopy of a four-poster bed. Lavellan blinked rapidly, the tension releasing from her muscles upon the realization that she was in her quarters in Skyhold. Gently, she sat up on her bed, and her head pulsed. When Lavellan touched her forehead, however, there was no bump or scrape, only smooth skin. Her gaze drifted to her arms, and after throwing back the coverlet, her legs, which showed no bruises or cuts.
Now that Lavellan had been upright for a minute, the dull ache in her brain had dissipated. Her eyes flickered to the lamp burning across the room, which was perched on her desk. Cullen sat there, bent forward with his back to her and loosely clutching a stack of paper. She attempted to speak, but her lips were glued shut from disuse. Lavellan cleared her throat and pried her mouth open. "Cullen?" she croaked.
He stilled and then stood up with enough force to rattle the desk, as the papers slipped to the floor below, forgotten. Cullen strode to her side and immediately cupped her jaw with his ink-splattered hand, his look of surprise melting into one of relief and careful concern. "You're awake. How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Fine, I suppose," she replied. "What happened?"
"You've been asleep for 2 days," Cullen answered. Lavellan could see that the Commander had likely been awake for many of those hours. He had not looked his best before the battle, and the days afterward had taken a toll as well.
"You haven't been taking care of yourself," Lavellan chided, offering a ghost of a smile.
Cullen's hand dropped to his side, and he looked away from her. "There were more pressing concerns," he mumbled.
Lavellan tugged on the sleeve on his coat. "Tell me."
"You almost died," he said as if speaking the words aloud physically pained him.
"Because I hit my head-"
"No, merely a mild concussion, thankfully," Cullen continued. "You nearly bled to death. Hemorrhaging, as the midwife had feared. I don't know how you made it through the fight."
"Oh…" she drifted off. "It was kind of an out-of-body experience, really."
Lavellan stared at the bassinet by her bed and the crib along the wall, noting both were empty. "Where's June?" she asked.
"They're after her. I just saw her an hour ago. We thought it would be best if you got some rest." Cullen rubbed the back of his neck and continued, "They weren't sure you were going to survive. They didn't know… umm… if they were going to have to take your womb to stop the bleeding, but they managed to prevent it. So they say you should make a full recovery, if you were worried about anything like that, future children, and things."
"Future children," Lavellan muttered, and she could see his wheels turning, the urge to backpedal apparent, but she softened her expression to let him know he could relax. "How are the others? How many casualties?"
"We lost ten soldiers, may they rest in peace. Sera was hanging on by a thread, but she's recovering, or at least the healers are trying to keep her from reinjuring herself. Bull had a nasty gash left by the dragon, but he is quite proud of the scar. And there's no sign of Solas. Bull said he saw him walking away."
Lavellan nodded, but she didn't voice her suspicions. Perhaps she was paranoid, letting near-death hallucinations scare her and see shadows where there were none. She sighed, "We should find him. He may not have been a true ally to the Inquisition, though I'd like to think otherwise."
A sharp knock at the door pulled Lavellan from her thoughts. A woman's head poked in. "Commander," she whispered. "Oh, the Inquisitor is up! Did you want to see your darling? She just woke up and is hungry."
"Yes!" Lavellan cried, all business talk instantly forgotten.
The nurse strolled in and handed Lavellan her daughter, who was vigorously sucking at her own hand.
"What do I do?" Lavellan asked, instinctively rocking June to keep her calm.
The other woman leaned down to show her how to feed her daughter, and though it took a few tries, Lavellan found it easy in the end. She stared down into June's eyes as she nursed, Cullen beaming down at them. Slowly, June fell asleep content, her mouth popping opening. Lavellan giggled at the sight, her heart swelling with love for her child. She was so lucky to be able to hold her again. Lavellan teared up at the thought that she might have lost the opportunity.
"Lavellan," Cullen whispered before placing a kiss on her forehead. "We're both glad that you returned."
Lavellan drew her gaze away from her sleeping baby. Cullen's eyes weren't entirely dry, either. "Well, I hope I can be a good mother, and you don't get sick of me, because I don't plan on leaving anytime soon," she joked to lighten the mood.
"Unfortunately, I don't think our work is over yet." Cullen grimaced.
"Perhaps not," she replied, resuming a serious demeanor. "But I'll count my blessings. I'm whole, with you at my side, and our daughter is here and healthy."
Cullen appeared a little reassured at her words and released a shaky breath.
"Go get some sleep," she softly requested of him.
Cullen balked, but not wanting to wake June, he reluctantly acquiesced. Lavellan was happy to watch father and daughter sleep, and for the first time, she wondered about the possibilities of what their lives might look like next.
Once Lavellan was allowed off bed rest, the Inquisition threw a victory party in her honor. There had been celebrations after Corypheus was defeated, but they were muted, as the fate of the Inquisitor loomed over them.
Her Inner Circle swarmed her, plying her with drinks and offering warm hugs. Stories were told, and card games were played. Lavellan laughed the hardest she had in weeks.
At the end of the night, it hit her that the main purpose of the Inquisition was over, so likely some friends might begin to depart to take care of other priorities. They would never again be in a room all together like that.
That chapter of Lavellan's life was closing, and as sad as it was, she still looked forward to the next.
Surprisingly, however, some of her Inner Circle opted to remain at Skyhold. One of those to leave, however, was Dorian, which stung. She clung to him as he said goodbye, recalled to Tevinter. They wrote to each other afterward, but it wasn't quite the same.
Still, to have her old teammates traversing Thedas with her, clearing out pockets of former Corypheus allies, brightened her days when she had to leave behind her family. Work was much the same: excursions to faraway lands, hard weeks on the road, tiresome fights with outmatched foes. No longer, however, was there the specter of an almighty enemy hunting them down. That made it easier to gossip with her friends as they slowly rode their horses, or stop for a snack beside a creek and bathe in the midday sun.
Occasionally, her mind drifted to Solas and contemplated where he was and what he was up to, but she shrugged those thoughts away like a fading dream. Had he gathered an army of elves like he had in her future? Were some of them here with her in Skyhold? She allowed herself to move on.
Three months passed. June's smiling and cooing turned Lavellan to jelly. She would not let her daughter of her sight when she was at Skyhold, choosing to wrap her to her body and carrying her around wherever she went.
The exhaustion was ever-present; that had not changed. She would pass out as soon as her head hit her pillow at the end of the day. Between their Inquisition responsibilities and the needs of an infant, Cullen and Lavellan were frequently like two ships passing in the night.
When Lavellan had her run-in with Samson way back in the dark timeline, Cullen had hastily proposed to her, and they wasted no time on their path to the altar. No such grand romantic gesture was displayed upon her recovery from the battle with Corypheus. She was as certain of her feelings for Cullen as ever, and she wondered if he felt the same. Were the current and future Cullen so different? Or was current Cullen hesitant about marrying her because she had been previously married to him? Was it a matter of timing?
Lavellan decided to take her destiny into her own hands.
June napped in their bedroom while her nanny watched over. Lavellan entered Cullen's office to ask him to accompany her on a walk. She led him outside the gates of Skyhold, marching to the boulder where she had first told him everything.
"What is this about?" Cullen inquired tensely as his eyes narrowed.
Lavellan's mouth dropped open. Her intention was not to cause him discomfort. She had wanted to choose a place that held meaning in their relationship, but Cullen was apparently waiting for her to present a bombshell. Her hastily made plan was clearly a failure.
"It's not anything bad!" Lavellan rushed to reassure him. She sighed, appreciating the mountainside vista and avoiding Cullen's piercing stare. Lavellan gathered her courage and faced him. "I know we haven't had a lot of time together recently. Baby and all that. I don't want you to think that I've cut you out, or my love has diminished."
Cullen exhaled. "I don't think that-"
"We've just been busy," she interrupted. "I wanted you to know that nothing has changed for me."
Lavellan scratched her head, a nervous tic. "The thing is, I can't imagine my life without you. I have been married before, and it meant something to me. Death is no longer looming over us as much as before, so there isn't that same pressure to give a formal name to our relationship. And yet, I still want to all the same."
Cullen's guard dropped, his shoulders relaxing.
Lavellan continued, "So I brought you here to tell you that I love you deeply. You're a good man, Cullen Rutherford, probably the best I'll ever meet. You're a wonderful father to our daughter. It's been quite a journey so far, and I'm wondering if you would take life's path with me until it's end?"
Cullen appeared slightly befuddled, but answered in the affirmative. "Yes."
"It's settled then!" Lavellan cheered, throwing herself into his arms, and he caught her.
"Just so it's clear…" Cullen replied, looking down at her, his eyes sparkling but questioning.
"Oh, shit," she groaned and slid away onto her feet. Lavellan had forgotten the most important part. She crouched to the muddy dirt on one knee despite Cullen's protests. She could feel cold wetness seeping in through her leggings. It was not as romantic as she had imagined. "Ser Cullen Rutherford, will you accept my hand in marriage?"
Lavellan had read stories, and she had been proposed to once. This was how humans traditionally did it, she thought, but Cullen was tugging on her arms, dragging her up and out of the mud. It dawned on her that he was going to reject her. She worried at her lower lip and cast her gaze elsewhere, anywhere but at him.
"What are you - no, I mean," Cullen stammered before softly tilting her head toward him with his hands. "Of course I will marry you. I wasn't exactly expecting you to do that, and I didn't want you to get down in that muck for my sake."
"Oh. Well, it was worth it." Lavellan grinned. "So it's a yes, then."
"Yes," he confirmed, sweeping her back into his arms and kissing her thoroughly.
When they finally broke apart, Cullen declared, "We're going to make time for ourselves, together. I can think of nothing I want more than you as my wife."
"My husband," she tried out. She had said the term before, but it was new again to her. Joy flowed throughout her, erasing any doubts or hang ups about the past. They were stepping forward into the future together, united against the unknown.
Nine months had passed since Corypheus was defeated. Josephine had thrown herself into wedding planning at Cullen and Lavellan's announcement, but their news had to remain a secret. Josephine reluctantly stowed away her elaborate book of ideas and acknowledged the reality of their situation. Political rivals would be alarmed by the joining of two of the heads of the Inquisition in matrimony. Tensions had been rising since the demise of their common enemy, with no universal threat to hold together all the factions of Thedas.
Divine Victoria, formerly Leliana, paid a visit to Skyhold, and Cullen and Lavellan could think of no one more fitting to marry them. Their Inner Circle attended the ceremony in the fort's chapel. Cassandra held June, who was dressed in a lacy white dress and babbled throughout. Cullen and Lavellan's vows were Andrastian, given their officiant, but they also wrote their own. For her second wedding, Lavellan abstained from including Dalish traditions.
The reception was in the war room, tucked away from any curious bypassers. Cullen and Lavellan did not dance, but Lavellan playfully smashed cake in Cullen's face after they cut the first slice. Cullen had blinked, stunned, before mounting his own offensive. They each tried to shove more cake in the other's face, laughing as they dueled and accidentally knocked over things. Frosting was all over, and Josephine clucked her tongue at them, which only encouraged them to chuckle until their eyes were tearing. Lavellan could not recall when they had last acted so carefree.
Their honeymoon was a night to themselves without June's middle-of-the-night wakings. All in all, it was a rather understated wedding but perfect for them.
It was too soon to try for another child, but Cullen broached the subject. Lavellan agreed that it was a great idea. June should have a companion close in age. However, they were both weighed down by their responsibilities, as parents and as members of the Inquisition, so any talk of another baby was purely theoretical. It was pleasant to share their dreams, ideas of what may come, as Lavellan grew drowsy with her head resting on Cullen's chest.
The Anchor flared up that night. The attacks were becoming more and more common, but she hid her latest spasm from Cullen as always, running to the washroom and shutting the door. One last lie of omission for old time's sake, as much as it hurt her and as much as it would hurt him. There was no point in ruining Cullen's moments of happiness; her worsening condition could not be resolved. Solas had been the only person to demonstrate any knowledge in regards to the magic marring her palm, and for all of Dorian's research, he had come up with nothing. So Lavellan dealt with the pain as best she could, as she also mitigated the disappointment that her happy ending was fading faster than she had anticipated. If only she had not spent that year in the future, she would have had more time in the present. But no, Lavellan would not regret that, would not begrudge those hard-fought months and those nights when she and Cullen clutched at each other, the thin fabric ceiling of his tent the only barrier between them and a sickly green-gray sky. She would never trade June.
When she woke up in the morning, Cullen was at her side. It was like any other day, but she smiled with contentment. Lavellan could have ended up dead at the Conclave like anyone else from her clan who had attended, but instead she had gotten to live, truly live. She had her husband and her daughter. She had made dear friends. The world was safer. Lavellan would forfeit gracefully.