n i n e
Let the blade pass through the flesh,
Let my blood touch the ground,
Let my cries touch their hearts. Let mine be the last sacrifice.
Andraste 7:12
The night was quiet. A breeze wove its way through the courtyard, played with the leaves on the bushes, agitated the flags and banners, and eventually wound its way around Hawke's ankles. She stood in the ramparts, staring out over the landscape with her back to Skyhold. She was up on the low wall, one step away from plunging down the mountain. Her eyes were closed and her chin tilted slightly up, as though she stood in defiance of the world around her.
And she did. The rest of Skyhold, save for a small number of guards on the night rotation, was asleep. But Hawke found it was another night when she would avoid putting her head to a pillow because of the dreams that had plagued her. These were nothing new; even before she had left Kirkwall, the sheer stress of everything caused her to slip into nightmarish realms of the Fade at night, making her wake in the morning with an emotional fatigue that grew incrementally as the days passed. More recently, this fatigue had all but consumed her, making her fear sleep more than any earthly fate.
So she stood, feeling the wind on her skin, becoming acutely aware of the clothing on her body, ignoring her mind screaming for sleep, and delaying the return to Cullen's room.
He had fallen asleep about an hour ago, and Hawke debated whether or not to stay the night. As comfortable as she was in his arms, she worried that she would fall asleep, have a nightmare, and be forced to explain herself upon waking both of them with agitated tossing and turning. Thus the decision was made that she would simply slip out unnoticed and retire to her usual nighttime destination: one of the other towers which was unused, where she would lay out her bedroll for the night and sleep in brief stretches of an hour or so. When she had gotten up to leave, however, Cullen, asleep, had rolled over towards her and mumbled something that sounded rather like "don't leave for long".
It was just enough to make her presence feel wanted, so Hawke had opted to instead merely slip out for some air rather than to retire to her own makeshift bedroom. She never was very good at turning down requests.
Finally, she opened her eyes to see the snowy mountains around her and the camps of pilgrims and refugees at their base. "All things in this world are finite," she recited under her breath. "What one man gains, another has lost." She had never been one for the Chantry or its teachings, but Hawke had still managed to pick up bits and pieces of the Chant of Light wherever she went. Transfigurations 1:5 had always been one to stick with her.
Because she felt like she had lost a lot. Too much, even. Stripped of her home twice over, stripped of family, stripped of title, stripped of loveā¦. Even though most of the material things meant very little to her, it stood that she had lost more in a decade than some do in their entire lives. That verse gave her a very faint glimmer of hope that - because she had lost so much - someone else had gained equally. Her pain must have a purpose, and if the world remains balanced, that meant someone else was as blissful as she was distressed. And what a happiness they must possess.
Hawke turned and stepped down from the stone wall, looking briefly out at the courtyard. It was quiet and still. Too peaceful. She wasn't used to this peace and quiet. Chaos had followed her since the day she left Lothering, and it had become a welcomed companion. She wondered what would happen if she sent a fireball rocketing into the training ring right now. What if she froze all the shrubbery for everyone to find in the morning? While the thoughts entertained her, she didn't act on them, and instead turned to go back to Cullen.
While she walked, she couldn't help but think about what might happen if she had decided to disrupt the harmony of Skyhold. She had always wondered about how things might be changed, as she lay awake at night. This particularly applied to wondering about if she had acted or chosen differently in her past. When forced to indenture herself and her brother for a year upon entering Kirkwall, what would have happened had she chosen to work for the mercenaries instead of for Athenril? What if she hadn't brought Carver with her during the Deep Roads Expedition? What if she had given Isabela to the Arishok? Even the smallest choices she had made - wine vs ale, cake vs pie, left vs right - made her wonder if the choices she made were the right ones. Would she be living a different life if she had chosen to eat meat instead of fish during Aveline's summer fete? Would she even be at Skyhold right now if she hadn't helped Hubert out with the Bone Pit?
But the thoughts were ultimately pointless. Things had turned out in this way, and so thinking about alternate pasts and futures was a futile exercise.
She opened the door to Cullen's quarters quietly. She heard the rustling of the blankets as he adjusted himself above her. She climbed the ladder, hitching up a smile just in case he was awake, but was met instead with agitated mumbles.
Hawke left her boots by the ladder, shed her cloak, and sat on the edge of the bed. Cullen's brow was deeply furrowed, and a cold sweat glistened on his forehead. He was babbling incoherently under his breath and twitching in a troubled manner. Hawke recognized the behaviors instantly: nightmares.
"Shh," she began, very gently, "it's all right." Her voice was low and soft, just loud enough to reach his ears. "I'm right here, Cullen; you're safe." Slowly, she reached over and let her fingers just brush his cheek. "It's all right." This wasn't the first time she had found someone tossing and turning in their sleep, plagued with terrible dreams. With Anders, probably because of his more direct connection to the Fade, she had rarely been able to soothe his sleep. But she was hoping that Cullen could be more easily pacified.
Little by little, his brow smoothed, and she let her hand rest more firmly on his cheek. He mumbled something, much less upset, and turned into her hand. He moaned, then his eyes fluttered open. "Mmm, Hawke?" he managed, blinking away sleep and looking over at her.
"Bad dreams?" she asked, giving him a small smile.
"What?" Cullen looked as though he was about to try to deny it, so Hawke continued.
"You were mumbling and fretting in your sleep," she said. "Nightmares?"
He sighed. "Yes. I suppose I've never truly been able to escape what happened at the Circle tower so many years ago."
"I'm sure being off lyrium isn't helping, either. I overheard Cassandra and Alice talking about it," she explained when he looked surprised. "It can't be easy."
"It isn't," he agreed.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Hawke asked, sliding her hand down his cheek to rest on his chest. "I bore you often enough with my troubles, after all."
Cullen chuckled a little but shook his head. "I am not bored by your troubles, Hawke."
"Don't lie," she said with a smile. "I know that, deep down, you can't stand my constant ranting about how terrible my life's been. I know your life hasn't been much better; it must be like listening to a child complain."
He put his hand over hers, then looked up at her. "Hawke, your pain is well-justified. As is mine. But right now," he broke off to yawn, as if to illustrate his next point, "I think I would prefer to sleep than to dwell on the past. Perhaps we can talk in the morning."
"Fair enough." Hawke slid into bed next to him, and he pulled her closer. Hiding her contented smile, she tilted her head up to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Well, Commander, get some sleep. You should be well-rested if the world ends tomorrow."
"Oh, let's hope not," he murmured sleepily, kissing her head. "I hate to think that it is, unfortunately, a very real possibility."
"Don't worry about it so much," she insisted. "If it does end tomorrow, then at least I'll die in good company. And if it doesn't, then I'll be more than happy to hear about your nightmares. I know what that's like, Cullen. You're not alone."
She saw his lips tug up into a smile as his eyes closed. "You are too good of a woman, Hawke," he told her. "If the world does end tomorrow, I'd sooner die than let you perish with it."
His words made Hawke freeze. Her mind ground to a halt, all except for a single memory. Lake Calenhad, almost four months ago. The night before she resigned herself to return to Kirkwall. Alone.
"I love you. You know that right?"
Anders touches his forehead to mine and closes his eyes. His hand on my cheek is hesitant, as though he expects me to crumble to dust. His lips had been gentle, too gentle, and his voice was uncertain. I reach up to take his hand in mine.
"Of course I know that, love," I assure him with a smile. I'm not really feeling a smile, but some things must be adopted for the occasion.
"I'm sorry," he says softly.
"What for?" I ask, moving back slightly to look at him. He's frowning, avoiding my eyes. "Anders?"
"Everything," he says eventually. "I know I've hurt you, and-"
"Sh," I stop him, reaching out to turn him back to face me. "Anders, you don't need to apologize. I've told you, I know you had your reasons for what you've done. We don't need to discuss this again."
"And what if it happens again?" he presses, still refusing to look at me. "What if I hurt you again?"
"Are you planning on blowing up another Chantry?" I ask carefully with a small smirk.
That gets him to look at me, though it's with a glare. "You know that's not what I-"
"I know what you meant," I cut him off with a slight chuckle. "I know you aren't planning on hurting me again, but that doesn't mean it won't happen, right? So if it does, we'll just do what we did last time: argue about it for a few weeks, then I'll eventually forgive you."
He looks pained, so I sigh and lean forward to kiss him again. "Listen," I say gently. "I love you. Nothing you do will change that, for better or worse."
"You can't possibly know that," he insists.
"No one ever does," I agree. "But what I do know is that you plunged the entirety of Thedas into chaos, and yet I'm still here with you. So what else could you possibly do at this point?"
When he frowns again, I laugh. "That's not a challenge, Anders."
That earns a very small smile, and I kiss him again. "Stop worrying so much," I tell him. "All you need to know is that I would follow you to the end of the world, love. I'm here for you, no matter what you need."
"What did I ever do to deserve someone like you?" he asks, reaching up to caress my face again. "I would sooner die than let the world end with you still in it."
Hawke looked up at Cullen, but already, he was falling back asleep. Her serenity had evaporated in a second. There was no way he could have known one of the very last things she had heard from Anders - of course he didn't know - but the parallel was too close for comfort. She half expected to wake up in the morning alone.
"Goodnight, Hawke," Cullen murmured, barely loud enough for her to catch.
But she wouldn't. Cullen wasn't just going to leave her. He had the Inquisition's soldiers to lead; he had far more to worry about than just her. Even though she knew whatever they had wouldn't last, she couldn't help but feel like - just this once - maybe she deserved to enjoy it. There would always be a barrier she kept up to stop anyone from getting too close, leaving a comforting space between herself and the rest of the world that kept her safe from another heartbreak. But with Cullen, it seemed like it was a little easier to let that barrier falter. Maybe it was because she knew that this - the affection and sex and talking and sympathy - was only going to last as long as she stayed with the Inquisition (which wouldn't be forever; she had too many other things to do once the business with the Wardens was concluded). Maybe it was because Cullen knew what she had been through, even seen most of it, back in Kirkwall. Or maybe it was because Cullen was just as flawed and damaged as she was.
Whatever the case was, Hawke found satisfaction in knowing that there was someone who cared about her. Multiple someones. But since Varric wasn't the one she was currently cuddling up to, she would settle with the former Templar captain with strong hands and gentle eyes, an intense sense of personal commitment, and an unhealthy level of concern for her.
She smiled very slightly and kissed his cheek again, whispering, "Goodnight, love."
