Breaking the Divide - Cullen X Reader

7

Haven was gone. The buildings glowed like dying embers, the contents and citizens reduced to agonized ash.

Cullen hefted Y/N's scorched trunk—the only thing that had served her cabin—as he stalked down the side of the mountain. There'd been nothing that the scouts hadn't already reclaimed, leaving Haven behind them like a picked-over carcass. Cullen gritted his teeth as he paused to collect another handful of Elfroot. He thawed out the leaves with his breath and fingers before storing the collection into the trunk with the rest of Y/N's things.

Grey began spilling over the mountain peak: the warning of the oncoming dawn. He grunted, quickening his pace as he trudged to the encampment below. Dying fires licked the cracked remnants of burnt logs, casting long shadows over the handful of soldiers who paced throughout the camp. The only other light came from the healer's tent.

"How is she?" Cullen asked as he set the trunk inside.

"She's fucking cold!" Bull snapped from the bed.

Y/N—now wrapped in bandages—was draped across Bull's front. The qunari's hands rubbed along her back in slow, circular motions. Cullen had never thought of Y/N as small until that moment. Bull could miniaturize anyone who stood beside him but Y/N, with her bandages and shallowed breaths, appeared closer to a sick child than an injured warrior.

"Um..." Cullen cleared his throat and glanced away. Bull was the proper choice to keep Y/N warm. He was large enough to cover more of her skin and his size made him run hotter than the average human but it still felt... off to see Y/N in his arms. He shifted from one foot to another as he tried to shake the nagging emotion off. "Has the Herald improved?"

"Barely," Vivienne said as she washed her hands off in a basin. "We managed to restore a bit of color to her fingers and nose but she's still not responding to stimulus in the rest of her extremities. I'd feel better if she'd open her eyes."

"... I see." Cullen stepped aside when one of the healers nudged at his side. "I managed to collect some elfroot. There weren't any poultices left at Haven."

"Every bit helps, my dear." She motioned to a small table where he could set them down before raising an eyebrow at him. "Anything else, Commander?"

"I, uh—" He had no real reason to stay. "Can nothing else be done for her?"

"Boss'll be fine," Bull rumbled, a gentle teasing in his tone. "I'm the one you should be worrying about. Stuck here with nowhere to go. How'm I supposed to take a piss when the time comes? Hmm?"

Cullen managed a small smile, grateful for the distraction. "I'm sure we can figure something out with a bottle if nothing else." His smile grew at Bull's grimace. Kneeling down in front of Y/N's trunk, Cullen eased the lid open, hoping to find some trinket that he could place beside her bed—something familiar for her to awaken to. A change of clothes, a handful of runes, a small bag of cookies—Cullen smiled at that, recalling the small boy who'd run through the snow for sweets—and a book wrapped in velvet.

He peeled back the top layer and his lip curled.

Tale of the Champion.

He set the book back in place with a heavy sigh. He'd never read the novel himself. He had no desire to revisit the ghosts that haunted his dreams in his waking hours, no desire to go through a recounting of six years of his life, of all the things he'd done, and all the things he'd failed to do.

"I'll leave you to your work," he said to the healers before moving back to the tent flap. He paused a moment to stare at Y/N. Her cheeks were marked with bruises and scrapes, darkened by the severe cold. His stomach twisted into tight knots, guilt choking him from the inside. The image of her standing alone had yet to leave his thoughts. Cullen wandered through the camp, mind too frantic for sleep. There had to be some other task, some way to reach her as she was. He stopped at one of the dying fires. Varric sat there, Bianca on his lap as he polished the old crossbow. Cullen sat across from him, staring at the dwarf who spared him little more than a glance.