Dragon Age: The Silences Song

Chapter 13

Elizabeth stood at the edge of the freezing pool, watching the water swirl with the wind. The cold bit at her skin, reminding her of the untamed chill of the Korcari Wilds—her true home, not the palace life she claimed to Cullen. The story she spun for him about growing up in Starkhaven, as a servant's child, was only half-truth. It was a necessary lie, one that distanced her from her real upbringing.

In truth, she had been raised by the Chasind in the depths of the Korcari Wilds. Her mother, a fierce warrior and assassin, had pushed her relentlessly from a young age. Elizabeth had struggled to keep up. She was skilled, but she lacked the brutality her mother demanded, her heart too gentle for the savage life in the Wilds.

Her thoughts drifted back to those days—the endless training, her mother's stern face, the crushing pressure to be stronger, faster. Her memories were filled with cold water baths like this one after long, grueling days of fighting. Her mother had made her fight like a warrior, like a Chasind, but Elizabeth had never truly fit in.

Then there was Flemeth.

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed slightly at the memory of the witch of the Wilds. Flemeth had come to their tribe one day, a towering figure wrapped in mystery and power. Where her mother had seen only weakness in Elizabeth, Flemeth had found potential, something worth nurturing. She had offered to take Elizabeth under her wing, and her mother, disappointed and perhaps relieved, had allowed it.

Living with Flemeth had been different. The witch was demanding in her own way, but she had also understood Elizabeth's strengths—her cunning, her intelligence, her desire for something more than brute strength. Under Flemeth's guidance, Elizabeth honed her skills in ways she hadn't imagined, learning to use her mind as much as her sword. For years, she had lived in the Wilds, studying and training with Flemeth, until she finally felt ready to venture out on her own.

When Elizabeth left the Wilds as a teenager, she had sought adventure, traveling to the Anderfels, and forging her own path. But part of her had always wondered what became of the witch. She had never seen Flemeth again, and the mystery of the old woman's fate still lingered in the back of her mind.

Now, as Elizabeth stood by the freezing water, those memories felt closer than ever. She dipped her fingers into the cold pool, watching the ripples spread outward. The cold wasn't just a reminder of the Wilds—it was a reminder of who she really was, a truth she had buried beneath years of pretending. A truth she couldn't afford to let Cullen, or anyone else, uncover.

She took a deep breath, the cold air sharp in her lungs, and let the memories sink back down, buried once again beneath the surface. She was Elizabeth Rutherford now, and that was who she had to remain.

Elizabeth stood frozen in the pool, the cold water biting at her skin, but the sudden chill she felt inside had nothing to do with the temperature.

"You caught me off guard," he said, with a smooth haunting voice.

She kept her back to him, she didn't need to turn,that voice was one she would easily recognise. Slowly, she stepped further into the freezing water, letting it numb her legs.

"Sneaking around in Deep Roads tunnels now, are we?" she asked, her voice viciously calm.

"I followed you," the man replied in that same, maddeningly composed voice. "And saw what I needed." He paused and the air between them had grown thick.

"Your mission is done," he continued.

Her head snapped around at that, the calm demeanor vanishing in an instant. "What?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing as they locked onto the shadowy figure in the trees. "What do you mean? We haven't found the Dreadwolf yet."

"We found enough," he said evenly.. "Go back home. Take care of your elves. Do whatever you need to do. But you are done, Elizabeth."

Anger flared in her chest. "Why?" She bit the word out through clenched teeth. The idea of being dismissed, of being pulled away from a mission she was far too deep into, made her blood boil.

"I saw you back there," he replied, his voice quiet. "You're getting too involved. This won't end well for any of us."

Another sound rustled from the woods behind him—a warning, perhaps. The man glanced back at her one last time, his eyes unreadable in the fading light. "You leave tonight," he said in a tone that left no room for argument, and with that, he vanished into the woods as silently as he had appeared.

Elizabeth stood alone, her heart pounding in her chest, the cold of the water now entirely forgotten. Every instinct screamed at her to chase after him, to demand answers, but deep down she knew this was the end of their encounter for now. His words lingered, gnawing at her thoughts.

"Too involved?" she muttered bitterly, staring at the spot where he had disappeared. But how could she not be? The mission, the Dreadwolf—it was more than just orders. This fight was personal.

"There you—oh, sorry," Cullen stammered, emerging from the bushes, his face turning crimson the moment he caught sight of her. He quickly spun around, eyes locked on the ground. Elizabeth instinctively sank deeper into the pool, covering herself completely, though her heart raced, this time not with anger but something else entirely.

"It's okay," she said, her voice soft. She hesitated for a moment before an unexpected wave of bravery swept over her. "Join me."

Cullen froze, blinking in surprise. "I—what?"

"Join me," she repeated, more firmly this time, turning her back to give him a semblance of privacy.

The silence hung heavy in the air, the only sound the soft rippling of water. After a long pause, Cullen finally moved, slowly undressing. She waited, listening to the quiet shuffle of his clothes hitting the ground.

When she was sure he had slipped into the water, Elizabeth turned to face him.

"You seem troubled," He said, his eyes searching hers.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the confession that had been gnawing at her. The truth, or at least a part of it, was clawing its way up from the depths of her. "Cullen, I—" She stopped herself, her courage faltering. Could she really tell him everything? Could she risk what he might think? Would he hate her?

She surged forward, her lips crashing against his in a rush of desperate need, cutting off her doubts. For a moment, Cullen stood frozen in shock, his mind struggling to process the sudden shift. But soon, his hesitation melted away, and his body responded instinctively. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer, as their lips moved in a rhythm neither had anticipated.

Her hands found their way to the back of his neck, fingers weaving into his damp hair as she deepened the kiss. She felt the heat of him through the chill of the water, her pulse quickening. She knew this was reckless, maybe even wrong, but right now, she needed the comfort he offered. The weight of her secrets, the pressure of her past—it all slipped away in that moment.

Cullen growled softly, his grip tightening around her waist as his hands roamed her back, steady and sure, as though she were the only thing grounding him. Their kiss was intense, fueled by emotion and days of pent-up tension, but as they pulled apart, breathless, the gravity of what had just happened settled between them like a heavy fog.

Cullen stared at her, his eyes wide with a mix of confusion and longing. "Elizabeth, what are we doing?"

Elizabeth rested her forehead against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breath anchoring her. "I don't know," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I just... I needed this."

For a moment, neither of them moved, their breaths mingling in the cold night air, the world outside the pool fading into insignificance. He held her tightly against him. Elizabeth weighed her options. Either she confesses or she leaves, but she can't keep on pretending like this.