A Candle in the Darkness (A Dragon Age: Inquisition fanfiction)

Who You Are Now

7 Haring, 9:41

It had been a long week. Antonia and her boys had gone out to Emprise-du-Lion again to tackle some more Red Templars. No trouble with giant bears this time, but lots of frustrations and treks across the snowy wilderness that turned out to be fruitless, so they were all tired and cranky coming back. The edge beneath the constant sniping between Dorian and the Iron Bull was so sharp she was sure they were going to slice off something important, and even Varric had little patience left.

Adding to Antonia's strain was that she had left Cullen still feverish and clearly not quite well, even if under the hands of the surgeon, so there had been no chance to put things right between them. A couple of dispatches had come from him while they'd been out, but nothing to give her any idea what his state of mind might be.

They came back in around midday, with enough time for a bath and a change of clothes before dinner. Antonia asked Roya about Cullen while her maid was clucking over the state of the Inquisitor's armor, but Roya hadn't seen much of him, and couldn't say.

Antonia took special care getting dressed that night, and spent a much longer time than usual in front of the mirror trying to arrange her short hair, dissatisfied. She wasn't particularly concerned about her looks most of the time—she knew she was attractive enough to satisfy those who came looking for her and expected that, and otherwise, didn't worry overly much. But she wanted Cullen to see her as something other than the Inquisitor, if only for tonight.

Roya, arms full of laundry, stopped at the top of the stairs. "Be you, my lady. If that's not good enough, he's not worth it."

Antonia smiled at the dwarf, but she still fiddled with the too-long bangs—time to cut those again—a few minutes longer before she needed to be in Josephine's private dining room for dinner.

There were a number of guests in the keep tonight, the most important of whom were seated on either side of the Inquisitor at the head of the table. Josephine kept the order of precedence in her head, and her seating arrangements at formal meals were sacrosanct. The end result tonight was that Cullen was seated about halfway down the table, with no chance to speak to him at all before dinner began. Antonia's eyes wandered in his direction as often as she dared without being obvious, or rude to the Rivaini on her left or the Nevarran on her right.

Finally, as the main course was being removed and the dessert plates were being laid out, Antonia was able to catch Cullen's eyes. He'd been chatting fairly easily with his own dinner companions, a retired Orlesian general and his wife and extremely attractive daughter. Not that Antonia had noticed, naturally, even though she couldn't help but be aware that said daughter had contrived to put her hand on Cullen's arm a large number of times for a single meal.

Cullen returned Antonia's gaze directly, but she couldn't read anything in his face. He tipped his head in the direction of their battlements, raising his eyebrows in question. Antonia nodded, and he smiled briefly before turning back to the general's daughter.

The sky was turning gold, the sun beginning to set, when Antonia was finally able to get free and hurry up the steps, taking them two at a time. She closed the door of the abandoned guard house behind her, leaning against it for a moment. Cullen was there before her, his hands braced on the wall and his face turned up to the breeze and the setting sun. He had his eyes closed, clearly enjoying the moment, and looked so much better than the last time she'd seen him.

He turned in her direction as she came toward him. "Welcome home. How was your trip?"

"Long. Pointless. Not finished. I'd rather not talk about it." She stopped, wanting to reach out and touch him but not sure where they stood. "Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

Cullen nodded. "I wanted to thank you ... when you came to see me ..." His hands spread out in the air, searching for words. "If there's anything ..." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh, this sounded so much better in my head."

She smiled. It was good to hear him sounding like himself again. "I trust you're feeling better?"

"I ... Yes. The surgeon finds me a 'fascinating case', and wants to experiment with some powders she has for recurring fevers."

"Is it always that bad?"

Cullen shrugged. "The pain comes and goes. Sometimes I feel as if I'm back there ... I should not have pushed myself so far that day."

"Or a number of the days preceding it," Antonia agreed. "Next time, say something. Take a break. I promise, Skyhold won't fall apart if you take an hour for yourself every now and then."

The corner of his mouth turned up a little. "I'll keep that in mind."

"It sounds like it was high time we got you to the surgeon."

"Yes, that seems likely to help next time ... but what you did helped more."

"What I did?"

He nodded, turning back to look out over the mountains surrounding Skyhold. "I never told anyone what truly happened to me in Ferelden. I was ... not myself after that. I was angry, and I let that anger blind me. I'm not proud of the man that made me. Saying it out loud, sharing that with someone— Now I can put some distance between myself and everything that happened. It's a start."

"You can talk to me anytime. I hope you know that." Cautiously, she moved closer to him. "For what it's worth, I like who you are now."

He turned to look at her, studying her face as if he wasn't sure how she meant it. "Even after—?"

"Cullen, I care about you. You've done nothing to change that." Without thinking, she lifted her hand to squeeze his arm. She wanted to tell him that everything he had revealed about himself had made her feel more—more respect and admiration, more sorrow and tenderness—but she was suddenly shy, remembering how inadequate she had felt at the time. The gap in their ages and experiences yawned suddenly as deep and wide as the leap from the edge of Skyhold.

"What about you?" Cullen asked tenderly. "You have troubles of your own. How are you holding up?"

The last thing he needed was her burdens on top of his. "I've met good people here," she said stoutly. It was the truth, after all. "Knowing they have my back—it helps."

He chuckled. "You certainly keep interesting company. I suppose I do, as well," he added, as if he'd just realized it.

They were silent for a moment. Then Antonia thought that the whole reason they were in this awkward strange situation at all was because Cullen had thought he could bear his own burdens alone and hadn't told anyone how bad his condition had gotten. Perhaps it was up to her to be more forthcoming. "Honestly?" she said. Cullen turned his head in her direction, but Antonia kept her eyes on the mountains. "I'm terrified. So much is depending on us—on me. Corypheus is still out there. What if we can't defeat him?"

"We've made great strides," Cullen said. "Don't sell yourself—or the Inquisition—short just yet." He crossed his arm over his chest with a small bow. "If there's anything I can do, you have only to ask."

"Cullen? There is something."

He raised his eyebrows, waiting, but she couldn't make the words come out. She needed to know they were all right, needed to know— She reached out a hand toward him.

There was a tremendous relief in his face that she saw only for a moment, because then she was in his arms, pressing her face into his shoulder.

Cullen rested his cheek against the top of her head. "I missed you."

"Me, too. Please don't do that to me again—I was so concerned for you, and there was nothing I could do. I hate feeling helpless."

He chuckled. "Look who's talking. It would be a weight off my shoulders if you would stop falling in and out of the Fade."

"I'll keep that in mind." Antonia raised her face to his. "Cullen?"

And then he was kissing her, and everything was right in her corner of Thedas—at least for now.