WARNING: Another mature chapter. No graphic descriptions, but there is implied sexual content.
I waited until everyone had settled in for the night before sneaking back inside. Quietly, I worked my way over to Cullen's bedroll before folding his mantle and setting it beside him. An empty glass bottle glinted in the light of the fire near his head. For a moment, I studied his sleeping face: the lines of stress were gone, his lips slightly parted as he breathed deeply in and out, his dark lashes grazing his cheeks. I smiled to myself at his childlikeness as he slept before I settled onto my bedroll.
As I laid on my side, I found Ellana turned towards me, a slight crease in her dark brows as she slept. I studied her face - our face - in the dying light of the fire. I studied the white tree that decorated her smooth forehead and high cheekbones with its branches. The branches on her forehead met in a thin trunk that followed the slope of her delicate nose before curving the slightly upturned tip. The trunk continued, cutting through the plump, rounded curves of her upper and lower lips. The trunk then split at her chin into tangled roots.
I couldn't imagine the pain she endured as the Keeper would have cut her flesh, the ink filling the fresh wounds. To endure it in silence as well, as the Keeper would not have stopped until the design was complete and any cry would have shown weakness. To show weakness was to admit an unpreparedness for the responsibilities of adulthood amongst the Dalish. How old had she been when she allowed the Keeper to carve it into her flesh?
I studied her delicately pointed ears, decorated with various gold bands and earrings. Her ebony hair had gold weaved into some of her twisted locks; wether it was her hair painted gold or chains I couldn't tell in the dim light. She had few scars compared to my body which was riddled with them, but they were not absent from her skin. I watched the slow rise and fall of her side as she slept, the embers in the fireplace dancing behind her. I continued to study her sleeping face until my eyes drifted close.
...
I awoke to the cold of the Fade. Panic gripped me as I didn't understand why or how I was here. Purpose was not with me to indicate that he was causing more memories to surface. I turned in my spot, nothing but mist surrounding me. Taking a step, I was jolted forward.
My head pounded as blood rushed to it, causing my vision to blur. I blinked, trying to get my bearings. No longer was I in the farm house, but a beautiful copse, the light of dawn shining through the trunks. My eyes scanned the copse, my feet feeling the tickle of grass.
As I looked, two small forms appeared - children giggling to each other. Pointed ears turned towards me as the children looked to their right at the sound of footfalls entering their hiding spot. One raced towards the footfalls, their ebony curls streaming behind them, the other stayed behind.
"Da! You have to see what we found!" the one who'd raced forward shouted.
A solemn elf male strode into view, carrying the child in his strong arms. Dark hair cropped short, olive skin peeking out from breaks in his armor. His dark eyes didn't leave the other child who'd stayed hidden, even as the one in his arms clamored for his attention.
"Meira," he spoke, barely more than a whisper.
I blinked. My mind caught up with the scene before me. The elven children were Ellana and I playing in our secret spot when we were young. It was Da who held Ellana in his arms, the look he was giving me as I remained hidden one of pain and resignation.
This was the morning the clan rejected me. I had listened as Ma and Da argued in hushed tones the night before. They thought we were asleep; Ellana had been, sprawled as she was in her bedroll, but I hadn't been able to fall asleep. A vague sense that something was wrong, and that I was at the center of it, had gripped my mind as sleep eluded me.
It began when the Keeper wouldn't make eye contact with me as Ellana and I practiced with her. It built when the rest of the clan stared at me wherever I went; some avoiding me, some speaking with a sad note in their voice when they addressed me. It overwhelmed me when Ma and Da had clung to me as we said goodnight.
The child me looked to Da, tears shining in my eyes, "I'm leaving, aren't I?"
Da's composure broke for only a moment, his strong arms gripping Ellana hard. Ellana looked between the two of us, her smile faltering.
"What do you mean, Meira?" Ellana asked when Da did not answer.
"Hush, Ellana," Da quieted her, "Go find your mother and stay with her. I need to speak with your sister."
Da set Ellana down and gently shoved her toward the camp. Ellana refused to take a step forward, instead turning back towards us. Her jade eyes met mine, fear held in their light. She took a step towards me and I towards her, our hands reaching out. Da turned and scooped Ellana up in his arms again, taking purposeful steps away from me and towards the camp.
"Stay here, Meira," he ordered over his shoulder.
"Meira?" Ellana questioned, hands reaching out for me.
"Hush, Ellana," Da quieted her again, his voice thick.
"Meira?! Meira! Meira! MEIRA!" I could hear Ellana's panicked shouts as Da took her to the camp.
"Don't leave me!" a final cry met my ears as the scene before me faded.
I tried to wake up, but I found myself in that misty crossroads I'd first woken up in. I stood still, thinking that moving is what had brought that vision or dream to me. Yet, even not moving, the mist swallowed me.
This time, I awoke to screams.
Slightly more prepared for the jolt, I steadied myself against the wall of a great stone hall. It felt familiar as I straightened and slowly walked it, my fingers grazing the cold stones. More screams sounded, followed by a monstrous roar; the screams were cut short. I raced forward, great statues erupting from the dark, the hall rounding in a circle.
Kinloch Hold.
Old, wooden doors lined the hall: some shattered, some swinging on their hinges, a few still closed. I went to one of the broken doors to find bodies strewn within. It looked as if they'd tried to block the door with what furniture had been in the room, but to no avail. I turned back, to find that the hall had changed.
There were bodies everywhere. Templars, mages, children - all lying dead. The chandeliers above were now lit, leaving no detail of the gruesome violence hidden. I heard more screams, defiant yells and a hideous cackle. I ran towards the sounds, stumbling through a door.
I was met with the scene of Uldred and his acolytes in the hall before an abomination had grabbed me. Cullen screaming for me and I desperately trying to fight the beast's grip. Cullen fell unconscious at a mage's words whispered in his ear. I was taken to the Harrowing chamber. Instead of following myself to the Harrowing chamber, I was made to follow Cullen and the other templars as they were trapped inside cages.
"Rutherford!" Wilhelm's voice yelled, the templar that had gone with Cullen and I as we searched the tower for other survivors.
Cullen jerked awake. He had been imprisoned within a magical cage, but the other surviving templars were being held in metal cages outside his barrier. They were at the foot of the stairs leading to the Harrowing chamber. Screams, roars, squelching and other revolting sounds issued from the inner chamber.
"What's happening?" Cullen asked as he looked toward the chamber door, his voice shaky.
"They found other mages and dragged them up there," Wilhelm explained, grasping the bars of his cage, "I think he's forcibly changing mages into abominations or torturing them until they give in."
"Andraste, preserve us," Cullen murmured, his eyes looking over the others before him.
A fungal-like substance covered the walls and floor around them, bits of templars and mages within the pulsating mounds. The air was foul with the stench of death, blood and decay. All the templars were murmuring prayers, songs or words of encouragement under their breath. Only a couple seemed to have already given in to fear, sobbing on the floor of their cages.
I had a feeling I was about to see something I didn't want to see, that I was invading someone's privacy. I had a pretty good idea as to who and did not want to do this to him. I tried to wake myself up, I tried to leave, but nothing I could think of worked.
"I think she's abandoned us, Cullen," Wilhelm mourned as he observed the others.
"Don't lose hope," Cullen assured, his eyes betraying his fear.
"How sweet of you to comfort them, my pet," Reyna's voice, the maleficar that had whispered in Cullen's ear to cause him to go unconscious, issued from a corner.
"Who's there?" some of the templars called out, drawing weapons.
Reyna stepped out, but she was no longer Reyna: she had become a desire demon. The demon sauntered forward, her generous hips swaying and unnaturally full breasts bouncing with each step. Her taloned hands stroked her body, as fire colored eyes burned with the desire that named her. Plump lips parted into a smile at the men's rapt attention. Desire rolled her neck, causing the flames on her head to curl around her great horns. She strolled slowly, like a cat toying with its prey, her reptilian tail flicking much the same as a feline.
She slowly walked towards Cullen, her form changing with each step. It was different for each templar, but when she reached Cullen her form was - me. Gone were my circle robes, instead she had dressed my imitation in a gauzy thing that barely covered my body. Cullen's eyes widened and he turned scarlet as he looked her over, his gaze averting quickly. She gave him a sensual smile with my face as she pressed herself against the barrier.
"Cullen," she said, huskily, her eyes hungry as she looked at him.
"No," he muttered, squeezing his eyes closed.
"Yes, Cullen," she moaned, "It's me."
"It can't be," he shook his head, still not looking at her, "They took you."
"It's me," she assured, pressing herself harder against the barrier with a moan.
"Don't listen!" Wilhelm shouted, banging his weapon on the bars of his cell.
The demon turned, sauntering to Wilhelm. Her form shifted into a little girl. The girl had long blonde hair, bright blue eyes and a sweet smile on her face. The demon girl danced before Wilhem's cage in a cotton nightgown.
"Daddy," she laughed, clasping her hands in front of her and looking up at him as she bent forward, "I'm just playing with the nice boy! Can we go home to mommy?"
"Lizzie?" Wilhelm questioned as he lowered his weapon, sorrow and elation in his voice.
"Silly daddy, yes it's me Lizzie!" she giggled, "Can you read me a story tonight?"
"Of course," Wilhelm smiled, tears shining in his eyes, "I'll read you your favorite."
"Wilhelm!" another templar shouted, banging on his cage, "Resist!"
"Daddy!" the demon shrieked in fear as she cowered behind Wilhelm's cage, "Don't let him hurt me!"
Wilhelm snarled, "Nothing will hurt you, my love!"
The demon turned to the templar that had cried out, her form shifting. Now an older man, the demon's eyes were full of fear and sorrow as he looked over the templar before him. The templar whipped off his helmet, revealing a young boy, no older than Cullen, beneath. His dark eyes were alight with regret and wonder as he beheld the man before him.
"Christian," the demon murmured, "Avenge your mother and I. I forgive you for it all. I love you, my son. Avenge your mother and I, so that we may be at peace."
"Father?" the templar named Christian questioned, gripping the cage bars.
"Christian, let our souls rest. Avenge us by ending our killer!" the demon demanded, turning to point at Wilhelm.
Christian drew his sword. The demon snapped her fingers, causing the cage doors to swing open. Without hesitation, Wilhelm and Christian charged each other. The other templars shouted for them to stop, banging on their cages, but the two men would not be curbed from their goals.
It was a bloody battle, but Wilhelm won quickly, thrusting his blade through Christian's neck. Christian's blood splattered Wilhelm's face as the boy gurgled and choked on his own blood. With a crash, the boy fell to the stone floor dead, the crimson liquid pooling around his body.
"Daddy," the demon cried as she threw her arms around Wilhelm's legs, "You saved me, daddy!"
"Of course, little one, I'd do anything for you," Wilhelm assured, cupping the girl's cheek in his hand smearing her fair skin with blood.
"Daddy, will you become strong so you can always protect me?" she asked, her blue eyes expectant as she looked into the man's glazed eyes.
"Of course, Lizzie," Wilhelm promised, lowering himself to her eye level.
"Good," the demon purred as she laced her arms around Wilhelm's neck.
Wilhelm dropped to the ground, convulsing. His screams echoed off the stones of the room, the metal scrape of his armor on the stones piercing my ears. The other templars shouted curses upon the demon, tried to call out to Wilhelm to fight, banging on their cages. A few tried to kick open their doors or slam their bodies against the metal, but the cages would not budge.
"Wilhelm!" Cullen cried, trying to slice at the barrier with his sword.
"Shh," the demon girl turned to him, Christian's blood still smeared on her face as a sinister smile spread across her lips before she held a small finger to her mouth in a quieting gesture, "Daddy's sleeping."
"You foul creature!" another templar shouted, "Void take you!"
The girl giggled over Wilhem's screams as he began to transform into an abomination. The demon continued the pattern, becoming what each templar desired in turn. A family member, a lover, a dream, until each succumbed to her illusion and temptations. They either died or became an abomination.
A few resisted for days, the ones who remained speaking the Chant in encouragement. Other mages would come then, using blood magic to torture them, to break what will they had. I couldn't tell how much time passed, I kept trying to escape, to make it stop, but I couldn't.
I watched as they sustained the resisters with lyrium and blood magic instead of food and water; paranoia, insanity, and self-harm followed then. What ones still survived eventually lost the will to fight or the mages grew tired of toying with them and ended them. Eventually only Cullen was left; because he was still resisting, they'd cut him off from lyrium. They weren't feeding him or giving him water nor were they sustaining him with magic.
He was shaking violently, a sheen of sweat on his skin. His pupils were huge, the his irises almost black. He'd vomited numerous times as his lyrium was cut off. I'd watched as he'd screamed his friends names. He'd hit the barrier with his sword until he cast it away and banged on it with his fists, sobbing as each met their end.
His teeth chattered as he kneeled now, leaning his head against his sword, reciting the Chant: "Maker, my enemies are abundant. Many are those who rise up against me. But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion, should they set themselves against me.
"In the long hours of the night when hope has abandoned me, I will see the stars and know Your Light remains. I have heard the sound, a song in the stillness, the echo of Your voice, calling creation to wake from its slumber.
"How can we know You? In the turning of the seasons, in life and death, in the empty space where our hearts hunger for a forgotten face?
"You have walked beside me down the paths where a thousand arrows sought my flesh. You have stood with me when all others have forsaken me. I have faced armies with You as my shield, and though I bear scars beyond counting, nothing can break me except Your absence. When I have lost all else, when my eyes fail me and the taste of blood fills my mouth, then in the pounding of my heart I hear the glory of creation.
"You have grieved as I have. You, who made worlds out of nothing. We are alike in sorrow, sculptor and clay, comforting each other in our art. Do not grieve for me, Maker of All. Though all others may forget You, Your name is etched into my every step. I will not forsake You, even if I forget myself.
"Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the Light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder. Who knows me as You do? You have been there since before my first breath. You have seen me when no other would recognize my face. You composed the cadence of my heart.
"Through blinding mist, I climb a sheer cliff, the summit shrouded in fog, the base endlessly far beneath my feet. The Maker is the rock to which I cling. I cannot see the path. Perhaps there is only abyss.
"Trembling, I step forward, in darkness enveloped. Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost. I am not alone. Even as I stumble on the path with my eyes closed, yet I see the Light is here.
"Draw your last breath, my friends. Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky. Rest at the Maker's right hand, and be Forgiven," his voice was hoarse, he was shaking and tears fell down his face.
The demon returned, wearing my face again. She was silent in her approach to Cullen as he finished reciting the Chant. Kneeling down to him, her arms encircled his neck. He tensed, but didn't move, she drew a hand through his hair and pressed against his back before putting her lips to his ears. The demon began to murmur sensual things in Cullen's ear, causing him to tear out of her arms and crawl away.
"Get away!" he sobbed as he turned back to her.
"Shh," she hushed him, crawling toward him on all fours, her eyes - my eyes - hungry.
Fear was evident in Cullen's face, but he blushed again as he looked over the demon wearing my skin. The demon crawled into his space, dragging her hands up his legs, his arms, his chest. He looked away, embarrassed, panting and shaking. The demon took the opportunity to kiss along his exposed neck. Cullen stiffened before he scrambled away from her.
"Why do you resist me, Cullen? Am I not what you desire?" she purred, her eyelids heavy with want.
"No! You are not her!" he shouted, anger and defiance on his face.
"But I am, I am every bit her. Everything you've seen, everything you've imagined," her voice was thick with sensuality as she sat up on her knees, her hands roving my body, "You can have it all. You need only ask."
"No!" Cullen yelled, the echo of it bouncing off the stone walls.
"I can take us away from here. Let you enjoy me however and wherever you wish. A room after one of my classes? The library after you've helped me retrieve a book? Your quarters? Perhaps a lovely meadow on the farm we share?"
"Stop!" Cullen cried, putting his hands over his ears to drown her out.
She crawled towards him again, a feline smile on her lips. Cullen tried to curl in on himself, but the demon wound her way into his shaking limbs. She stroked and petted him, taunting him with more sensual ideas as her hands began undoing his armor.
"Be gone you foul demon!" he roared, smacking her hands away and throwing her off of him.
With a snarl, she disappeared.
Once alone, Cullen sobbed. Then the room changed, no longer the grotesque tower, but restored to how it had been before.
"Is this what you desire then?" the demon's sultry voice asked.
Cullen stood in the hallway as I - as the demon - approached. It was that moment in the hall. The memory played out to the point of my standing on tiptoes to kiss Cullen's cheek; but instead of kissing his cheek, she encircled his neck in her arms and pulled him in for a kiss. He tensed for a moment before melting into her mouth. The demon broke away, moaning his name. He made a noise in his throat before dragging her back to him, his hands hungrily grasping at her - at my - hips.
The scene changed. They were now in an room with only a bed. Gone was Cullen's armor. The demon's hands roamed his lightly clothed body as they continued kissing passionately. As he seemed to be taken in by the illusion, the demon began to take more liberties in her exploration. Cullen reacted, moaning my name.
The demon smiled, a predatory look on her face before she slid her hands down him. As she knelt before him, she curled her hands around to the backs of his thighs. Greedily, her hands dragged forward. As quickly as Cullen's passion had been lit, it froze.
"No! Enough!" he cried out, kicking her from him.
As he kicked, he lost his footing and fell backwards. His armor reappeared when he hit the floor, once again inside the magical cage. She growled, my face shifting into the mage that the demon had possessed. She scowled, her hazel eyes angry.
"Why do you resist?" she hissed, "Is she not what you have desired since you set foot in this tower? While I sat back and longed for you from afar, would've given you what you wished from her without hesitation, but you only had eyes for her.
"For Neria. Perfect, special, beloved Neria. Irving's favorite; even favored enough by Greagoir to let Irving talk him out of executing her after she helped Jowan destroy his phylactery," her form kept flicking between her human self and the desire demon as she paced in front of Cullen,
"Working under Irving's orders, what a load of garbage! And you, he knew about you two - everyone knew and yet she remained. You remained. Taunting me, tormenting me, tempting me. Uldred told us of his plan to strike after Greagoir sent a bulk of the templars out in search of Jowan, promised me you in exchange for my help - convincing Greagoir to keep you behind. Gave me Desire to help me secure you. All for what? For you to resist the most basic need a man has to the point of death!"
She shifted again, becoming me, fully bare before him. She did things to my body that were disgusting and vile in front of him. He turned from her, clamping his hands over his ears before he began reciting the Chant over and over at the top of his lungs to drown out the moaning.
"Am I not beautiful as her? Are these not the things you long to do to her?" she continued to torture him, moaning and crying out his name, "The sounds you wish to win from her?"
I threw up at the revolting way she was torturing him. I couldn't help it. Memories of my own trauma came back as I watched and I had to close my eyes.
"Oh Cullen, what wonderful things we could do together. Just surrender yourself to that desire coursing through your veins. I can feel it, you know, I can hear it. Hear your longing. Just -"
"-LEAVE ME, DEMON!" he half bellowed, half sobbed.
She screeched in anger before disappearing.
Cullen sank into a ball, panting and shaking. Sweat dripped down his face as he sobbed through his prayers, until he couldn't say them any more.
"Leave me, leave me, leave me," he kept saying, rocking on his knees, his hands clasped tight in front of him, "Maker, please just let me die," he whimpered when his voice was hoarse.
The sight of him so broken caused my feet to move before I realized what my body was doing. I knelt down to him, but didn't touch him. He must have heard me, though, as a terrified eye peeked out from behind his hand. When I said nothing, he scurried away.
"What are you?" he asked, confusion and terror on his face, "This isn't…this isn't how it goes."
"What do you mean?" I asked, not daring to go near him.
He lunged at me then, pinning me to the ground, "What is happening?"
"Cullen, I -" I started to say, trying to struggle out of his grip.
"Cullen?" my voice questioned from outside the magical cage.
I was in my Circle robes, which were torn in places and there were wounds on my face. I looked confused and terrified. Cullen seemed to forget about the me on the floor as he stood to approach the Neria outside the cage - drawn to her like a moth to a flame. I took the opportunity to scramble back to the shadows, my mind not being able to comprehend what had just happened.
"Neria?" Cullen questioned, hesitantly as he approached her.
"Cullen, what's going on?" the Neria outside the cage asked, "I was in the Harrowing Chamber…now I'm here. Uldred has gone mad. He's…he's -"
"- Neria, run," Cullen commanded, panic in his voice as he put his hands on the barrier as if he would tear it apart.
"What? Why?" she looked around in panic.
"A demon, Neria, it's going to come back. It will hurt you," Cullen's voice broke.
"You don't want me to hurt her, do you?" the desire demon's voice purred, "I've had enough of Reyna's fumbling. You will deal directly with me now."
She appeared behind the Neria outside the cage. The demon grabbed me by the hair before she drew a hand up to my throat. I cried out in pain. Her claws elongated over my throat, clearly sharp and deadly.
"No!" he shouted, hitting the barrier, "Please, don't hurt her."
The desire demon smiled broadly, I whimpered in her arms as she purred, "If you desire for me not to hurt her, then you must devote yourself to me."
"Cullen -" I sobbed, my frightened eyes staring into his.
"Shh, my dear," the demon threatened, digging a claw into my throat.
Crimson droplets appeared under her talon, causing me to cry out at the pain.
"Stop!" Cullen pleaded.
The demon smiled wider, fanged teeth promising my death as her grip tightened on my throat. Tears of pain streamed down my cheeks, mingling with the blood. I watched the war of emotions on Cullen's face: agony, desperation and horror. He wanted to save me, but knew the cost. He continued to war internally as his eyes followed the trickle of my blood down the column of the neck.
Why don't I remember this?
"You're testing my patience," she clicked her tongue, her claws digging in further.
I screamed as tried to writhe out of her grip, only for her to shove her other claws into my side. A silent scream froze on my lips as crimson seeped in small circles through my robes around her taloned fingers.
"Enough!" Cullen begged, "I'll invite you in, just leave her alone."
The demon dragged us both through the cage's wall. She eased her grip on my throat, but did not lower her hand nor did she remove the claws from my side. The demon looked triumphant as she stared Cullen down. He stared back, defiance on his face.
"Come closer, templar, and swear your devotion to me," she ordered, "If you do, this one will be yours."
She cupped my chin and stroked my cheek with her nose, all the while keeping eye contact with Cullen. Cullen hesitated, but walked forward.
As he kneeled before the demon, he bowed his head and spoke, "I swear," he began, "to beg the Maker's forgiveness for this for the rest of my days."
In a flash of movement, Cullen had thrust his sword hilt deep into my gut and pierced the demon behind me. The sword protruded through her back, the blade covered in black blood. The demon screamed in rage, throwing me from her. As I stumbled forward, my body flickered.
"Neria?" Cullen panted as I kept flickering like a candle.
"She's not real, you fool," the demon spit, spreading her legs wide and digging her heels into the stone floor, "Uldred would not give up such a fine mage when she could be used for his ends. We had a contract for Reyna, no one else."
I disappeared and the sword dropped to the ground. Cullen lunged for it. The demon hissed, her fire eyes livid, claws and fangs out as she lunged for him.
I screamed his name.
I shot up, awake. Looking around the room, I was gasping for air, soaked in sweat and had the sour taste of vomit in my mouth. I was back in the farmhouse, my sister next to me - fast asleep. I saw the others in their bedrolls also asleep.
I looked towards Cullen's across from me, but found him sitting upright holding his head in his hands, his shoulders heaving as he panted for breath. I crept my way towards him and placed a shaky hand on his arm. He grabbed my hand before twisting and pinning me beneath him. His eyes were wild, his pupils so dilated his irises were almost black; his face pale and sweaty.
I felt the cold of metal against my throat and realized he held a dagger. Fighting down memories of Alrik as this was completely different, I stayed completely still and looked sadly into Cullen's eyes. I understood. He studied my eyes, my face, my body before blinking a few times. His breathing slowed and his eyes calmed. Without a word he pulled himself off of me and crept outside. I laid there, taking deep breaths until my heart stopped hammering against my chest.
Once it had slowed to its normal beat, I exited the house. Cullen was not right outside, but I was determined to talk to him. I kept walking until I saw him next to the well, dumping a bucket of water on himself. The water made the fabric of his tunic cling to his body, accentuating how badly he was shaking. He saw me approach and took a step back.
"How?" he breathed, "How were you in my dream?"
He looked absolutely terrified as his wild eyes looked me over.
"Cullen?" I asked, hesitantly.
"Please, Ner-Meira, forgive me," he pleaded as he closed his eyes.
I blinked. He wasn't just terrified, he was...ashamed. His face was contorted with it as he held his body taut like he was waiting for a blow. Waiting for me to shout, to be disgusted, to reject him for what he knew I saw. I couldn't speak as I saw the anticipation. I prefer not to speak of it. He was terrified of me knowing, ashamed of what had happened, and now afraid of what I would say.
How could I convey that I understood so completely that I felt a piece of me comforted in knowing that he had suffered the same kind of pain enabling him to understand mine on a level? Would that not seem selfish? Disgustingly so? Or would he possibly feel the same if I told him how well I understood? But I had to admit that I didn't feel ashamed by what form the demon had taken in Kirkwall because I did desire Cullen, because I loved him. I had felt triumphant when I saw through the demon's ruse because I felt in some way that meant my love for Cullen was true and I would accept nothing less than the real him.
So, why was he ashamed? Did he not feel the same way? Had he simply had a physical attraction on which the demon played and the little he gave in proved to him that his feelings were not true? Did he now feel ashamed because he no longer held any affection for me besides friendship and this was just a haunting memory of immature infatuation that he could not let go because it had been so traumatizing? How then could I reassure him without revealing the depths of my feelings, but still be of comfort to him?
I decided words would not do here. Slowly, never taking my eyes from his, I entwined my arms around his waist and pressed my head to his chest. I listened to the rapid thuds of his heart as I felt him tense for a moment before slowly circling his arms around me. A choked sound escaped his throat before he lowered his head to my shoulder and pressed me closer to him, holding the back of my head as he pressed it into his shoulder. Soothingly, I stroked his back, not caring that his soaked tunic was seeping through mine. Not caring about anything, but the hurting man in my arms that seemed to be clinging to me for absolution.
"You're safe, Cullen. You have nothing to apologize for nor to be ashamed of. You were so brave, so strong. You are not alone," I murmured against his shoulder.
"Yet I see the Light is here," he quoted, so quiet I'm not sure I was meant to hear.
He pulled back, his hands going to my face. They were so large and warm despite the chill in the air. His eyes shone with so many emotions, I reached my hands up to hold his wrists, feeling the strong pulse of his heart in them. I rubbed my thumbs soothingly along the back of his wrists.
He pulled my face to him as he bent down, lips parting. My heart fluttered in my chest before it started thundering so loud in anticipation I thought Cullen would be able to hear it. His lips were centimeters from my own before a split second change in direction. He pressed them gently to my forehead, holding us there for a few moments.
"How did you enter my dream?" he asked softly as he pulled away, dropping his hands from my face, but holding my elbows.
"I honestly don't know," I murmured, "Since the Rite was reversed, my magic is different than I remember. I can't control it like I used to and I'm afraid -" I couldn't finish the sentence.
"Perhaps we should ask Solas? He seems to be quite knowledgeable about magic," Cullen suggested.
I was touched at his being concerned about me in the middle of dealing with the aftermath of revisiting those days in Kinloch Hold. I was unsure of approaching Solas, still wary of the elf male. I didn't close out the option completely as I was desperate not to endure something like that again. I prayed to the Maker that if I did ask the male, he would know what was happening or know of a way to stop it.
"Perhaps," I replied, my brow furrowing.
"I do not sense anything sinister, if you are concerned?" he rubbed my arms reassuringly.
"I am glad for that, but no I'm just...I'm just afraid of what this means," I confessed.
Cullen looked into my eyes, his own almost gold in the moonlight. Conflicting thoughts flickered in them, but I could still see the haunted look he'd had when I first stood before him.
"I am sorry about invading your privacy," I breathed as I looked into his eyes, shame in my voice.
He smirked a little, but it didn't chase away the shadows.
"In a way, it's...a relief to have you know what happened," he said softly, his eyes studying my face.
"What happened after?" I asked, curious as to how things ended.
He continued to stare at me, but obliged my question, "The demon attacked me. We fought and I wounded her again. She disappeared and didn't return after that second blow. The next time I saw her, she was lying dead, surrounded by other templars she had ensnared.
"The Hero of Ferelden and her companions had ended her as they rescued the tower and looked for more survivors. She had been one of Uldred's most devoted followers. You had been in the Harrowing Chamber as Uldred forcibly turned mages into abominations. The process was long and grueling, so the Hero was able to stop him before he turned you.
"We were concerned that you were all possessed already, but Irving assured us that this was not the truth. I was not convinced, but Greagoir would hear none of my arguments. I thank the Maker for that now, as I wanted blood for the loss of my friends and nothing more."
"I am sorry, Cullen. For all of it," I offered.
Cullen nodded, squeezing my arms gently, "Thank you, I am sorry for attacking you." Shame crossed his features again.
"No apology necessary," I tried to give him a smile, but it faltered as I met his eyes.
"If you won't accept an apology," his tone was strained teasing as he unhooked the scabbard of the dagger on his belt and held it out to me, "then accept this. It's the first weapon I was given when I became a templar-recruit."
I studied the dagger in his hands. It was simple like him, but well crafted. The leather of the scabbard was dark and supple, the stitching even and sturdy; I could tell it was worn, but had been meticulously kept. I studied the grip, it was wrapped leather of the same used to make the scabbard.
The pommel and guard were simplistic in style and comprised of steel. I palmed the dagger and noticed a "C" and "R" carved into the leather at the back of the scabbard as I unsheathed the blade. It shone in the moonlight, the steel somehow beautiful despite its deadly purpose. I had never been given a gift before and I couldn't help the tears that came at his gesture, as a piece of me felt like this was his way of saying goodbye to a part of his past.
"Thank you," I whispered, sheathing the dagger again.
He plucked it gently from my hand before hooking the scabbard to my belt, "Please, go back inside. I'm going to stay out here and keep watch. Asaala's a little further down, I will send her back up."
I nodded, obediently returning to my bedroll, but I wouldn't close my eyes for fear of entering someone else's dreams.
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