Dragon Age One Shots

Thirst, Cullen/Inquisitor

"She needs our help!"

Cullen closed his eyes rather than follow Josephine's insistent jabs towards the Inquisitor. He needn't look to know her frail body was twisted in knots, sweat pouring from her sallow skin as she clung by her nails to the bedsheets. He needn't look because he knew far better than the other two advisors staring in concern.

"I shall have a fresh vial brought up immediately..." Josephine moved to wave down the stairs to one of her runners. His hand lashed out to grab her wrist, turning the lady ambassador's wrath upon him.

"You will do no such thing," Cullen's voice rumbled from the pits of the void, which reflected only a tenth of the pain she was trapped inside.

"Commander?" Josephine said, ready to chastise him, but he released her hand. "She is in agony."

"I know," he whispered.

"We should lessen it at least. A small sip of..."

"This was her choice!" Cullen shouted, his words echoing from every inch of the mighty Inquisitor's bedroom. Every corner where they'd steal a kiss before joining the real world. Every edge where he'd hold her tight, bury his nose in her hair, and pray she'd return to him.

A groan from the depths of her wracked body broke his exile. His eyes -- always on the hunt for any danger to harm her -- fell upon the woman torturing herself for freedom. Dear Maker, how could he agree to this? Let her put herself so close to death, because...because...

Tears dripping from his eyes, he whispered, "Corypheus is gone. She doesn't need the lyrium any longer. She wants to be free of it."

"Is it her choice or yours?" Josephine hissed. His fist curled up, but not in anger at the kind-hearted ambassador wanting to rescue his love. It was at himself for standing against the only balm to aid her.

"Josie," Leliana, who'd remained quiet in the shadows, wrapped a hand around her friend, "he is right. She did order us to let this play out."

"And if she dies?"

His foots stepped away from the bickering advisors. It'd seemed easy at first watching her ween herself away. A few days where she'd get light headed, maybe suffer a headache didn't seem so bad. But this was when the real trial began, on the cusp of freedom as every vein in her body sang for lyrium. If only she could make it through tonight...

He drew a wet cloth over her fevered forehead, trying to wick away the sweat that smelled intoxicating. Her body was purging whatever drops remained inside. The scent that both repulsed and ensnared him grew stronger than ever before. Cullen wiped off her arms, taking care to not touch too strongly. The skin felt as if it were on fire when the withdrawals grew to these depths.

"I will not allow that to happen," Cullen pronounced, his eyes swinging to Josephine and Leliana. "No matter the cost."

"Understood, Commander," their Spymaster bowed her head. Josephine wanted to argue, wanted to help her even if it would undo all the hard work to this point. He paid no heed to them leaving the Inquisitor's bedroom; his focus was only upon the woman he loved fighting for her life.

"I'm sorry," tears drenched his cheeks, "I should have stopped you. Told you not to..." Why didn't he? Why didn't he throw that cursed templar trainer out the second he caught sight of him? Why did he allow her to become as chained as he'd been?

"Cu-ul-len?" her once songbird voice scrabbled like a rat in a cage, fingers clawing the air. He caught one and pressed the palm to his cheek. "It hurts," she moaned. "It hurts so bad." In every trial placed before her path -- from Haven, to Adamant, to the Arbor Wilds -- he'd never heard her whimper so. As if she'd already lost the battle inside herself.

"You have to fight," he ordered her. "Fight through this. Fight the thirst, the pain," his words drowned in tears, his lips pressing each one to her cold palm. "Please, fight to see the dawn. Fight with everything inside of you!"

She gave no answer to his words, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as she fell into a tormented sleep. Moans punctuated each breath, her chest struggling to rise for air. He was torturing her, the woman he loved more than anything, because...because he feared losing her.

Leaning down, Cullen placed a kiss to her fevered forehead, as well as a promise, "You are not alone."

___________________________________________

She woke thirsting for an ocean. Trembling hands battered into the pitcher beside her bed, only the dim light of the fireplace guiding her. It wasn't until the Inquisitor got a long drink of warm water down her throat that she caught the silhouette of a man in prayer.

He took up vigil right before her bed, a knee planted into the hard rug and hands forever clasped to the Maker. Rousing all the strength left inside of her wracked body, she slid a foot to the floor then another. Pain jarred from the tips of her pinkie toes up to her eyebrows, but she endured. With a single hand outstretched, she guided herself to the lone guardian forever watching over her.

As her palm skirted against warm fur, then down to find the scruffy flesh below, a gentle moan broke from his hopeful lips. It took another moment before the man who'd no doubt been awake the entire night shook from his waking sleep. His face turned to follow her arm, and she nearly gasped to find tears clinging in his eyes.

"Cullen?" she breathed, terrified of the abject sorrow in his eyes. He looked as if the cruel hand of the Maker swept away everything he ever cared about. The man was nearly pushed to his own breaking point and all because of her. How could she be so callow?

"You're...!" he swiped at the tears in his eyes, then leapt up from his prayer. Arms of strength and certainty bowed around her, tucking her forever safe into his embrace. "I was so..." he cried, his tears staining her neck as he buried himself deeper into her.

She tried to hug him back just as tight, but her energy was spent. All she could do was limply cling to her buoy in the choppy sea.

"If you hadn't have come back, if I'd...I was so afraid," he mumbled against her. The only man in her confidence to know what she had to face, what she had to climb, and to refuse to let her give up.

"I couldn't," she cupped her hands around his cheeks, needing to see his amber eyes in hers. To know that this wasn't some trick of the fade. "I couldn't give up," she gulped, her soul laid bare before him.

At that moment, streaks of rose and orange light scattered through the window. The pair turned to the rising sun, their smiles lifting with the new day. "I had to see the dawn," she whispered to him.

Cullen kept a hand locked around her as both limped towards the balcony. A breath of mountain air cooled her ailing body, slicking away the sweat of addiction. Inside every vein, every pulse of her heart she tasted it: freedom.

But it wasn't over just like that. Even with her system purged, it was there, lurking like a crocodile in a river. The thirst tried to scrabble up her tongue.

"What now?" she asked, her face turning to greet the sun as if she were a flower pleased to find a returned lover.

Her guardian, the man whom she entrusted with more than this promise -- who held her heart -- wrapped his hands tight around her. He too took in a breath, having to clear his aching chest from the cobwebs of doubt.

Laying his cheek beside hers, he whispered, "You fight to see the next one."