Uncensored version found at: *AO3*/works/28044180/chapters/72317457
Happy Valentine's Day! I think some angst and whump befits today, don't you?
The whole world was writhing in agony and at the center of it stood the twisted ruins of Redcliffe Castle. The air was thick with an acrid odor of sulfur and the sky was caliginous and green. Tharin had to suppress a gag at the thought of a vat of gluey pea soup he'd once eaten at the Circle canteen.
The Herald thought back to a few minutes before, when they were back in their own time and everything was not utterly broken. What did Magister Alexius mean? He said that Tharin was a mistake, that he should never have existed.
But the conditions Dorian and the Herald faced were definitely not conducive to idle contemplation about the words of a madman. While they were trying to find their way out of this bizarre future, they found Cassandra and Varric in their prison cells. The imprisoned were nonplussed but more than happy to join them in their quest to return to the past.
Soon after, the four of them charged into the interrogation chamber to find Leliana barely alive, chained to the ceiling. When her eyes focused on the Herald, however, some bestial force seemed to seize her entire body. She crossed her legs across the interrogator's neck and squeezed until he stopped moving. And just like that, her tormentor crumpled to the floor like a paper doll.
Tharin quickly unchained Leliana from the ceiling and she rubbed her wrists in apparent pain. Though tempered by the horrendous state of his companions, the Herald explained with naïve hope in his voice, "If we get back to the present and stop Alexius, then you will never have to go through this."
"And mages always wonder why people fear them," Leliana spat curtly, directing her gaze at Dorian. "No one should have the power to travel through time."
Dorian stepped forward. "The time magic is dangerous and unpredictable. Before the Breach, nothing we did–"
Leliana cut the Tevinter off. Her voice was steady, but there was a hint of wrath as she lashed out, "Enough! This is all pretend to you, some future you hope will never exist. I suffered! The whole world suffered! It was real!" She rolled her hands into tight fists and trembled.
Looking more than sorry, Dorian inquired in a subdued tone, "What happened while we were away?"
"Stop talking," said Leliana flatly as she began to search for a weapon. Fortuitously, there was a bow and a bundle of arrows inside one of the storage boxes.
"I'm just asking for information."
"No. You're talking to fill silence. Nothing happened that you want to hear."
"Leliana, it could help them," Cassandra whispered softly.
The former Spymaster's hands stilled for a second, only to busy themselves again. With a nearly imperceptible sigh, she muttered, "…Perhaps later."
As his party grew, the Herald's heart grew heavier. He was barely holding back a torrent of emotions when they ran into the last member of the Inquisition in the citadel.
It took the young warrior only a single blow to dispense of a Venatori guard dozing off at his post. After the guard tumbled to the floor with a deep gouge in his neck, the man strode inside the dungeon to find only one cell occupied.
When the prisoner heard Tharin come to a stop, he warily approached for a better look. His face betrayed many emotions, but astonishment was by far the most pronounced.
"Maker's breath… It's really you."
Tharin's eyes started stinging. He reached through the bars to take the man's hand, only to have the prisoner jump out of his reach.
"Don't! You mustn't touch me. Red lyrium is growing inside me and it will spread to you as well."
Tharin retracted his arm and instead studied the man carefully. His hair, so meticulously groomed before, was now long and disheveled. His stubble had grown into a full-on beard many moons ago, and it was now obscuring the lower half of his face. It was matted with dirt and whatever else he had been through, its golden hue dulled. White and gray streaked the muddied blond hair.
He had only filthy smalls on, and all over his gaunt body, formerly resplendent with muscles, were gashing wounds. It seemed that the Tevinter torturers of Redcliffe had a busy year. Like the other companions, his eyes were glowing red and a reddish haze surrounded his frame. His skin was pale and not just from the lack of sunlight.
When the prisoner felt Tharin's eyes on his body, he attempted to hide the scars and gave a brittle smile that threatened to give out. "I feel better than I look, trust me."
With those words, the Herald fell to his knees. His helmeted head loudly clunked against those metal bars and everyone in the dungeon could hear the stifled sobs.
The prisoner's hand reached out but stopped just short of the young man's face. It hung in the air helplessly. "Please don't cry…"
"Cullen…"
"It's all right." The man immediately qualified, "We can fix this. It will be all right."
Everyone, even Dorian who had been relying on gallows humor to get through this impossible situation, was at a loss for words. Finally, Varric intervened. "Don't mean to interrupt the reunion, but we need to get you to the throne room. Why don't I try to pick the lock and get Curly out. It will only take a second." Dorian helpfully stepped forward and brought Tharin to his feet.
When the dwarf opened the cell, Cullen immediately put his hands in front of him before walking out. His eyes were focused on Tharin the entire time. He stayed well clear of the party as he approached the dead Venatori guard.
"Stay back." The voice cracked, as if red lyrium was interfering with his speech. Yet Tharin somehow could tell it wasn't just that.
The former Commander took off the armor and the sword from the corpse and armed himself.
Even through the reddish haze, Tharin could see the renewed determination fill those golden eyes. Cullen intoned firmly, "You lead. I will follow."
As the party walked the dark corridor illuminated by red lyrium deposits, Cassandra began cautiously, "Alexius's master… The Venatori call him the Elder One. After you died, or we thought you died, we could not stop him from rising. Empress Celene was murdered. The army that swept in afterwards – it was a horde of demons. Nothing stopped them. Nothing."
Leliana added begrudgingly but firmly, "Once you return, you must first stop Orlais's civil war. It weakens the Empire and leaves an opening for the Venatori to attack and take over. That is the key to stopping the Elder One."
After a heavy breath in and out, Tharin stopped and rasped, "I cannot leave you all behind in this madness."
This madness. Indeed, the past year had been nothing but mad event after another. Cullen thought about what the companions had all endured. For him, the psychological torture could not compare to the ones he suffered at Kinloch Hold, but the physical torture was much worse. He was a plaything for the Venatori to use and abuse. Literally.
The memories of the past year and the resultant emotions seeped into his brain like toxic fume, obscuring any other thought. They mixed with his memories from the Ferelden Circle and the unrelenting hums of red lyrium and amplified the fear that was ever present within him. He could feel his heart beating so fast that it threatened to detonate.
The former Commander shambled over to where the young man stood and spoke darkly, "Tharin, look at us. We are all dead already. All we can do is make sure you return to your time and stop this from ever happening.
"What you do from now on matters. You must lead the Inquisition to victory." The panic gave way to debilitating weariness. Nevertheless, Cullen persisted, "Remember that many have fought and died to preserve the Inquisition.
"I would have chosen death over life if it were just myself. I was ready to die when the war came to Haven. But our recruits and volunteers… The ones captured by the Elder One's army were dismembered and their body parts were catapulted inside the fort.
"I couldn't watch them suffer anymore. I pled for mercy, begging the Elder One to release all Inquisition personnel in exchange for my life. It was my last act of free will." Cullen directed his gaze to the floor. The little flecks of red lyrium dusted across the corridor came into sharp focus.
A part of Cullen always wondered whether he had made the right decision in the last siege of Haven. But his action did save a lot of lives that day. Many returned to their families in one piece instead of throwing away their lives in a hopeless last-ditch effort to stop the inevitable.
He could see that the world was already lost when the demon army filled with bloodthirst showed up at the gates of Haven. By his conditional surrender, his soldiers would spend the last days with their loved ones, away from battlefields where only a certain death awaited. There was no doubt that he failed as a military leader that day, but he did not fail as an honorable human being.
The former Commander knew that this Tharin would face impossible decisions in his future. Maker knows, Cullen had to face them after the Herald disappeared. He wanted to give the young man the strength to always make the right choice. For their future. He raised his head defiantly and finished, "There will come a time when your resolve weakens. I beg you, remember that we have all sacrificed our lives to save the Inquisition, to save Thedas. Be brave and persevere."
By the time they reached the center of the castle, Cullen was fading fast. The torture and severe malnutrition had done their damage, but even their effects combined could not match the poisonous parasite coursing through his veins and toying with his mind. Somehow all the excitement and activity seemed to have made red lyrium pulse harder.
The song of red lyrium was much more ruthless than the dulcet thrums of regular lyrium, and overcoming it required constant vigilance. And it was becoming harder and harder to push back. Death was inevitable and it would be inglorious – Cullen had long ago accepted it.
Still, he did his utmost to contribute to the battle against Magister Alexius. Even as Alexius flitted around the throne room and summoned demons using his ability to control the Fade rifts, Cullen never lost sight of the man. Every time the magister came near, he bashed him with a Venatori shield he had picked up on the way and expertly lacerated with his Venatori sword. It was almost ironic that Alexius would be felled by Venatori weapons.
The Herald focused on knocking the magister down and keeping him in one spot. Eventually Alexius ran out of mana and all he could do was parry with his flimsy sword. It was clear that as a mage, the magister was far from trained in close combat. Every move was one born of desperation and there was no grace, no thought imbued in it.
With Alexius's wraiths, shades, and terror demons taken care of, Cullen breathed strenuously as he leaned against his scutum and watched the Herald duel with the magister. After a couple minutes of back and forth, Tharin shouted a leonine howl and plunged his greatsword in Alexius's shoulder, rending him across the chest.
The moment Alexius's corpse hit the floor, Cullen felt the red lyrium sap the rest of his strength away. He barely managed to keep standing when his legs went weak and the knees buckled suddenly.
Nonetheless, he marshaled anything and everything left in him for the final battle as the ground reverberated with the march of the Elder One's army. The demons were coming. Cassandra and Varric took positions outside the throne room, while Leliana and Cullen covered the Herald.
Leliana spoke quickly, raising her voice to make sure she was heard through all the rumbling, "Remember that the Anchor is the gateway in and out of the Fade. The Elder One has been desperately seeking to replace the one he's lost – the one that has been grafted onto your hand – to no avail. He will try to get his hands on yours. Do not let him."
It was then that Cullen finally gathered enough courage to reveal the truth he had concealed from Tharin. If not for the insurmountable predicament they faced, he could have roared with hilarity at the absurdity. No matter where they were, when they were, the former Commander found himself having to come clean about something to Tharin. The young man was too good for him.
At least the lies would end here.
Still, the former Commander sensed his confession might negatively affect the Herald's timeline and felt the need to seek permission. The permission, whoever meted it, would have been meaningless, but the ingrained habit as a cog in the templar machinery demanded Cullen of exactly that. He looked at Leliana, who in turn gave him a shallow nod. He then spoke quietly and swiftly, standing just out of reach.
"Tharin, this might be selfish of me, but I don't care anymore. I… lied to you. When I said that I find what you are… what we are disgusting, it was all a lie. I don't regret anything we did together. And you certainly did not trigger the visions of Kinloch Hold in me."
The young man was speechless. He looked struck, his forget-me-not eyes wide with surprise. Maker… He was perfect.
Cullen gripped the hilt of his sword tighter, for a moment allowing himself to believe that he was holding Tharin. He recalled the touch from a lifetime ago, tracing in his mind all the lines and marks that embroidered the large hand. He could almost smell the snow and the new flowers. His heart ached for those days.
"I do not expect you to run to your Cullen and make up. Saving Thedas must be your priority. But… before I die, I needed you to know the truth. I… I love you." A shattered grin memorialized this moment that should never come to pass, and he then unsheathed the sword.
"Go. Make sure this doesn't become your future."
Dorian pulled the Herald toward the rift as the demons broke through the entrance and swarmed Cullen and Leliana. Cullen's chest could have burst from the knowledge that he would die with a sword in his hand securing Thedas's future and protecting Tharin. If his life had to end now, he could not have asked for a better way for it to end.
Sister Leliana chanted as she let loose arrows upon arrows, "Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame. Andraste, guide me. Maker, take me to your side!"
Cullen fought valiantly as well but could not overcome the sheer number of monstrosities coming at him. In a last act of unjustified selfishness, the former Commander looked back, trying to catch a glimpse of the young man. Their eyes met and he was able to give one final smile. He kept it on even after a searing pain drove through his gut. In his blurring vision, he saw the portal close. The Herald was gone. The world was saved.
His life was complete.
End Notes:
Every companion fought till the bitter end. That matters.
A short chapter, but IHW and the drama surrounding it needed to have a full chapter dedicated to them. I hope you aren't too disappointed by the length.
Next up, the other shoe finally drops.
Follow me, isk4649, on Tumblr! You can find frequent updates on my new, WIP Tharin/Cullen AU fic set in contemporary Japan.
Your thoughts, feedback, and critiques are always welcome! Thank you for reading!