Chapter Text
The weight of the ring in his pocket was almost too much for him as the two made the ride to Honnleath. Even though he had nervously touched the pocket of his robes time after time again, the closer the couple got to their destination, he felt himself reach in and touch it once more just to make sure it was still there.
“Is everything okay?” Gwyn asked, turning her horse about face. Her head was tilted and a concerned frown washed over her face as she absentmindedly patted her horse’s neck. “I haven’t gotten us lost, have I? Why did you let me take the lead—I thought you said we were close.” Smiling, Cullen shook his head.
“Just excited and a bit nervous, I suppose,” Cullen responded, trotting up next to her. She playfully pushed him as they moved up a hill, revealing a large clearing. There was a small curve opening up into a quaint village that took Gwyn’s breath away. In a way, it had reminded her slightly of Haven.
“There it is,” he sighed, a smile growing as he could make out a small house surrounded by field outside of the town. Home. The thought seemed almost silly to him. For the longest time, the Circle was his home, then, Kirkwall…then Haven, now Skyhold. He glanced over at Gwyn, who was grinning.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, her eyes scanning over every hill and valley. “Can I guess which is yours?” Her eyes sparkled and Cullen couldn’t help but stifle his laughter.
“Give it your best shot,” he smirked, readjusting himself on his saddle. He’d talked of home plenty of times with her, mentioned the fields, the quiet that sometimes existed if his siblings allowed it. Finally, her fingers pointed in the direction of the cottage in the distance.
“There. That’s it,” she grinned, glancing at him for approval. He nodded as the two began to continue their ride side-by-side. It was only until he could see her nervously fidgeting in her saddle that he spoke.
“Are you alright?” She nodded carefully before sighing.
“No. Maybe? I suppose I’m just nervous,” she decided.
“Well, talk to me about it,” he encouraged. They were rounding the curve now; soon they would be entering the village itself.
“I don’t exactly have a good track record with mothers or sisters,” she mumbled,
“Well, not all mothers and sisters are the same—thank the Maker.” He frowned at the memory of Gwyn’s mother and sister showing up after Corypheus’ defeat. How they had expected something from her, how they had called Gwyn ungrateful, how they had turned their noses up at Cullen when he tried to step in. He hadn’t told Gwyn, but when he had “escorted” them from Skyhold, asking that they not return, they had spat at him that she was nothing but a blemish to their name, an abomination that would bring ruin to all things around her. It had been the exact opposite of meeting Gwyn’s father and twin brother. It was almost surreal that they were all a part of the same family.
“My family wouldn’t…they would never—they wouldn’t reject you unless they had good reason,” He reached for the hand that was resting on the horn of her saddle, his thumb gently caressing her skin. “Everything is going to be fine.” As the two rode into the village, Cullen smiled as he took in the familiarity of what was left of his town. That strange statue in the middle of the square was gone, but if he could pinpoint any changes, it was that Honnleath looked like it might have grown.
It wasn’t long before he realized Gwyn had climbed down from her horse and was chattering with some local children. She was smiling as she lifted child after child, allowing them to pat her horse’s mane. Gwyn was always good with children. She was like a magnet to them, it seemed like. Any refugees she met in the Hinterlands had climbed all over her, asked her questions about magic, about her anchor. Cullen admired the ease with which she spoke to them patiently. He watched as she was bending down to their level, laughing as they squealed when they realized who she was. Some returned to their respective parents except a lone, little girl who was hugging her tightly. Gwyn pulled something from her knapsack and handed it to her, smiling as the girl hugged her once more. Cullen approached her, an amused smile on his lips as he lowered himself from his horse.
“What was that all about?” Gwyn wiped her hands off on her breeches before grabbing a hold of her horse’s bridle.
“Her father…he was- he was one the men who came with me to the Valley,” she was quiet as she tightened her bag.
“I didn’t…I don’t think I knew him,” Cullen frowned as he realized he hadn’t gotten to know the late recruits as much as he would’ve like to. He prided himself on knowing the soldiers that were under his command; it seemed strange that he wouldn’t know a man from his birthplace. Unfortunately, the larger the Inquisition got, the harder it had become for him to do so.
“I didn’t know him well either, if that’s any consolation. I just- I found something of his in the rubble after…and I found out he was from Honnleath. Anyway, I just thought if I found his family that they might want it,” she sighed as she motioned towards the path on the hill. “It’s that way, right?” He watched the little girl she had hugged run towards a cottage on the edge of the marketplace. While the buildings in the square had, for the most part, remained the same, it was the people that gave him pause. He could barely recognize the people that passed- the parents who had to practically drag their children away from a smiling Gwyn, or the shopkeepers selling their wares in the street. He worried for a moment that perhaps too much time had passed, that maybe too much had changed when he felt Gwyn’s hand grab ahold of his.
“C’mere,” she pulled him close, one of her hands smoothing the collar of his shirt. Her fingertips danced over the material of his shirt, ignoring his cloak completely. She pressed her forehead to his, her blue eyes looking up at him. “Promise they won’t hate me?” She was chewing on her bottom lip when Cullen took both of her hands and kissed them gently.
“Promise,” he smiled against her fingers, his lips still brushing them as he spoke. “They haven’t even met you yet, and I’m absolutely positive they’ll adore you.”
When they approached the house, Cullen secured the horses within a small pasture as Gwyn studied the field. It was filled with wildflowers and straw that moved with each breath of wind that came through. For a moment, she found herself taking a step forward—her fingers brushing against the straw and her eyes closed as she took in a breath. Feeling eyes on her, she turned around to see Cullen watching her, a grin breaking on his face.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, smiling. She bent down to pick up a blue and purple flower, sniffing it before holding it out to Cullen. “I think I love it here already.” He took the flower from her, recognizing the petals and its scent before it even reached his nose.
“They call these ‘cupid’s dart.’ My mother planted them when I was a boy, they’re some of her favorites,” he carefully placed the flower behind her ear, tucking wisps of hair that had escaped from her braid with it.
“I thought I heard someone talking about me,” a voice rang out excitedly behind them. Cullen turned to see his mother. Her curly blonde hair had greyed extensively, but she wore it pulled back in a simple bun just as she had when he was a child. Her brown eyes greeted him warmly as she pulled him into a deep hug. “I’ve missed you.” It was a heartfelt whisper that caused Cullen’s eyes to well up with tears.
“I missed you too,” he murmured in her ear, hugging her tightly. It’d been a long time, too long.
“Is that my baby brother I hear out there?” There was movement as another woman appeared in the doorway, her long, blonde hair pulled in a tight braid down her back. Her hand covered her mouth as she stared at Cullen, her feet stumbling as she slowly approached him. Gwyn watched the woman’s face contort into this aching joy that caused tears to stream down her face as she wrapped her arms around Cullen. She sobbed openly and Gwyn couldn’t help but cry at the sight herself.
“You stupid, precious fool, I could kiss and kill you at the same time,” the woman muttered as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You could’ve been dead this whole time. Waiting to write your own sister until it suited you—sometimes I don’t believe you!” She broke into a small laugh as he hugged her even tighter.
“I love you too, Mia,” he laughed. Gwyn shifted awkwardly on her heels, watching Cullen’s face carefully as he asked about the rest of the family.
“Father’s resting; he hasn’t been feeling well lately. Laurel’s keeping an eye on the food and the kids inside while Crispin and Alain are working—Crispin’s actually working with Alain as the blacksmith in town now. Did I tell you that yet? Anyway, he should be returning sometime soon. I can’t wait for you to get to know Alain,” Mia told him, smiling. She was talking so quickly that Gwyn was still trying to dissect the names that she had mentioned. Laurel and Crispin were Cullen’s other siblings; Laurel was the youngest. Mia had gotten married to Alain…and, if Gwyn remembered correctly, they had two children. Cullen turned to Gwyn, interrupting her thoughts as he held his hand out. She joined his side, resisting the shaking feeling that was filling her entire body.
“I know you’ve heard so much already, but I’d like you to meet Gwyneth Trevelyan, the leader of the Inquisition.” He held her hand tightly, offering a reassuring smile in her direction.
“It’s Gwyn though, isn’t it?” His mother asked, a smile on her lips as she took a step towards her. Gwyn nodded carefully, her fingers squeezing Cullen’s hand.
“She’s much prettier than what you said in your letter,” a voice from the doorway called, causing heat to rise in Gwyn’s cheeks. A young lady with light brown curly hair was grinning in Cullen’s direction.
“That would be my younger sister, Laurel,” Cullen grinned. The girl took off at a run in his direction and he responded by lifting her into his arms, hugging her tightly. Two small children ran over to Mia, standing sheepishly at her side. Meanwhile, Cullen’s mother stood in front of Gwyn, smiling.
“He speaks very highly of you, you know,” she spoke softly, low enough so that Cullen wouldn’t hear her as he chattered endlessly with Laurel. Eventually the two children approached Laurel slowly and Gwyn watched as Cullen lowered himself to their level. Mia observed Gwyn carefully, her amber eyes scanning her up and down until she took her in her arms.
“Thank you,” she breathed. Gwyn was frozen as Mia held her tightly. “I’ve never seen or heard him so happy, so healthy. Thank you.” When Mia released her, Gwyn realized Mia’s eyes were filled with tears.
“I didn’t—” Gwyn stammered, wanting to fix whatever was wrong. Mia waved her off, a small laugh escaping her.
“Cullen has,” his mother started, watching him with Laurel and the children carefully. “He hasn’t had an easy life—ever. His letters became shorter as time went on until they stopped completely. It was no secret that he was troubled. Mia tried for years to talk to him, but he could never bring himself to talk about it. Now, he writes more often than ever. He writes of you, and he sounds the happiest he’s ever been. I don’t-I don’t want to dismiss the strides he’s made on his own, but I think I’d be lying if I thought you didn’t have something to do with it too.”
Suddenly Mia reached for Gwyn’s hands, studying them carefully. The mark still existed on her left hand, even after Corypheus’s undoing. Mia’s eyes met Gwyn’s, soft and caring.
“You’re the only woman he’s ever mentioned to any of us. He…” she smiled at the sight of Cullen grinning as he walked towards them. “He loves you,” she shrugged. Gwyn smiled as Mia hugged her tightly again. “I’m glad he decided to bring you here.”
“Thank you,” Gwyn smiled warmly, returning the embrace.
“C’mon everyone, let’s go inside before dinner gets cold. Crispin better be on his way,” his mother muttered, ushering everyone to the house. She gave a quick wink in Gwyn’s direction as she stepped through the threshold.
Dinner was odd to Gwyn. Despite the friendships she made in the Inquisition, she still wasn’t used to being surrounded by family. When she watched Cullen eat normally and laugh as he shared story after story, she couldn’t help but feel like he’d lost ten years simply by being his family’s presence. Every so often, he’d reach for her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. He’d realized she hadn’t been saying much, that she’d only been pushing and pecking at her food. It wasn’t long before Alain pressed a kiss to Mia’s forehead and had the kids say goodnight before walking home. Seeing his chance, Cullen leaned over as Mia, Crispin, and Laurel stood to clear the table, his eyes consciously aware of Gwyn’s fingers fidgeting below the table.
“What’s wrong?” He wasn’t upset, but concern washed over his face as he held her hands in his. She chewed her lip until she realized Cullen’s mother had reentered the room.
“Could I—forgive me, but I was wondering if I could speak to Cullen for a moment,” she asked, a small smile on her face as she supported herself in the door frame. Gwyn stood, gathering the dirty dishes in front of her hurriedly.
“Right. Of course. We’ll talk later! I’ll…I’ll help Mia clean up,” she offered, nodding over at Cullen and disappearing into the kitchen before he could argue. His mother wrapped her shawl around herself before offering her arm to him.
“Walk with me,” she smiled. They walked in silence for some time, both admiring the dusk falling over the sky until Cullen realized the path they were on. The one he’d taken so many times before when his sibling’s voices were far too much for the thoughts in his head.
“I brought her here, you know,” Cullen found himself saying, watching the dock appear on the horizon. His mother wasn’t saying anything, which only made Cullen fear the worst. “I think she’s just nervous. Her mother and sister recently came to Skyhold and it was an absolute disaster. Aside from the Inquisition, this is the most normal family she’s really been around…” The words were falling out of his mouth left and right, his lips trying to defend whatever thoughts his mother might be having.
“Gwyn’s lovely,” she interrupted, giving Cullen’s arm a gentle squeeze. Cullen breathed a sigh of relief as his mother paused, drawing her shawl closer around her. “I used to watch you come out here when you were little, you know. I remember Mia shouting, pretending she was some kind of queen ruling her kingdom— Laurel and Crispin, her loyal subjects…then there was you. Shortly after they’d start playing, I would see you run out here. I’d be frantically following after you, worrying about where you’d run off to, only to find you with your feet dangling off the dock.” She was laughing at the distant memory until she turned to face him.
“There were times where I wished you didn’t leave. There were moments where I’m sure you know I argued with your father about trying to get you back, but I was wrong. It was what you wanted; it was all you talked about. I just wanted to be able to see my son grow up into a fine man, but you’ve managed to do that on your own. I…I wish I could have been a part of that more, but I am so, so proud of you.” She was wiping her face with her shawl until Cullen wrapped his arms around her.
“Thank you,” he murmured against her. He’d always known his mother struggled with his leaving the most. The way she had clung to him when the Templars came to take him, the way she heaved great sobs into his body and repeatedly told him that she loved him. Be a brave, good boy, and become a great young man. That was the last thing he remembered her whispering in his ears before he left.
“One thing, however. I know you’ll tell me not to pry-” she began, her tone of voice mirroring one he had recognized as when he had failed to complete one of his chores. The ring.
“I was planning on doing it here in Honnleath, actually. I mean, the original plan was to do it the night she came back from the Valley…then her mother came unexpectedly. It was a mess and it just seemed like the wrong time. I didn’t want to feel like I was trying to salvage something just because she was upset, I—” he sighed, “I just wanted it to be romantic, if possible.” His mother hooked her arm through his and guided him back towards the cottage.
“C’mon. She’s probably being pestered to death by Mia. We should probably rescue her,” the two walked together as the sun went down, casting shades of bright orange and reds across the sky.
Gwyn helped Mia at the wash bin, using a nearby cloth to wipe the plates off.
“There’s really no need, Gwyn. Laurel and I can get this on our own. You’re a guest, after all,” Mia offered, holding her hand out for the plate in Gwyn’s hands. Carefully, Gwyn continued to scrub at the dish until Mia smiled, working at the silverware in her clutches.
“I don’t mind it, really. At the Circle in Ostwick, I sometimes helped out in the kitchens. I liked watching the cooking and baking—not that I’m any good at it. I just thought it made it seem like more of a home.” The longer Gwyn was in Mia’s presence, the easier it felt for her speak. Her hands were already at work at the dishes in front of her, there was no need to fidget, to fumble over sentences.
“I imagine there was a lot to learn there,” Mia smiled, her voice quiet as she reached for the plates Gwyn had dried to place them in their proper storage.
“Of course, I was one of the lucky mages, I think. I mean, all Circles are not without their own problems—even Ostwick had…instances,” she chewed her lip at the thought of it, then shook the memory away. “I just…I know other Circles could be awful. I mean, I’m sure Cullen’s told you of—” She paused to glance over at Mia, who was standing by the counter, her eyes shut. Laurel looked confused, but continued to work at the silverware in her hands. Gwyn’s face fell as she lowered the dish back into the bin.
“Laurel, could you go check on father?” Mia’s voice was quiet as she rested a hand on the countertop. Immediately Laurel disappeared into a different room, sighing.
“I…I didn’t—forgive me, I shouldn’t have…” Gwyn took a step back, realizing she’d said too much.
“I’ve…heard things—never from him, mind you. But, bits and pieces. I never asked him. He…” Mia’s face paled as she looked up over at Gwyn. “He’s never told us everything, but I knew he wasn’t happy. I knew he wasn’t…it wasn’t him. I know you didn’t know him then, but he changed so much. I don’t…I wish I could’ve been there for him more? You know? I was his big sister and I felt like I had allowed something to rip him apart. So I wrote him—constantly. Every day, if I could manage it. I just wanted him to know I was there, but Maker knows that man made it difficult,” she forced a laugh, then looked over at Gwyn. Her brown eyes were filled with tears, rolling down her cheeks until Gwyn didn’t know what else to do but wrap her small frame around her. She patted the crown of Mia’s blonde head, trying her best to hold in tears.
“You’re a good sister. A great one that I wish I had, if I’m being honest. I—I even have a sister, but she won’t look at me, let alone write me. Cullen knows you love and care for him, Mia. He talks about you endlessly. What happened to Cullen, whatever you know of it…it will always be a part of him. It will prickle in the back of his mind until it’s heard and he may have to deal with it every day, but what you’ve done is more than enough. Your family gives him love, support…that’s incredibly important. You have never once let him down.” Gwyn took Mia’s hands, smiling as she gave them a gentle squeeze. A smile grew on Mia’s face as she gave Gwyn another hug.
“Thank you,” she spluttered. Mia released her as Gwyn returned to the wash bin. “Cullen is…he is very lucky to have found you.” Mia’s words were quiet, sincere as the two stood together at the wash bin, their pruned hands working on the few dishes left.
“You haven’t been prying too much, Mia?” Cullen entered into the kitchen, a smile on his lips as he leaned against the doorframe.
“Wouldn’t you like to know, brother?” A smirk played on Mia’s lips as she offered a wink in Gwyn’s direction.
“We’re getting along quite well,” Gwyn reassured him. Cullen’s mother moved to take the dry dishes from Gwyn, her eyes warm.
“I’ll take these, you go ahead and spend some time with Cullen,” she smiled.
“It’s no trouble, really,” Gwyn told her only to have Mia take the cloth from her hands.
“You go on, we’ll talk more tomorrow.”
“You sure?” Gwyn hesitantly walked towards Cullen only to have him grab her hand.
“It’s fine. Come, there’s something I want to show you.” No sooner was he leading her out the door and into the field. His hands carefully covered her eyes as she stumbled in front of him, laughing slightly.
“I feel ridiculous,” she mumbled as he guided her. He was careful with each step. Step over this, now small steps. Just wait. She listened to his voice, smiling at every word until Cullen pressed his lips to her cheek.
“I’m going to step away. Keep your eyes closed until I say so. Promise?” She could practically hear the giddy smile that was on his lips. “I didn’t hear you,” he whispered, his breath close to her face.
“Okay, I promise!” She laughed, feeling his fingers leave her eyes. She kept them closed tightly until she found herself hugging her body with her arms. “Are you ready yet?” She tried to listen to the elements, but could only feel a slight breeze against her face.
“Who’s the impatient one now?” Cullen chuckled—he was some feet away from her. He was in front of her, at least, she could tell. Her tongue darted in and out of her mouth, eliciting another laugh from him as she heard more movement. “Okay….open them.”
Slowly, her eyes fluttered open to a view of the night’s sky. She gasped at the view of stars filling the blackness, a swirl of bright light that Gwyn had never seen before. Her gaze moved to Cullen, who was standing not far from her in the field beneath the branches of a large tree, a small bouquet of cupid dart in his hand. Her face twisted in bemusement as she took a step towards him, a smile growing.
“What…what is all this?” She laughed, glancing up once more at the sky through the branches of the trees. She took the bouquet in her hands, taking in the scent of the blue flowers as she turned her back to him to get a better look at the stars. “Can’t get a view like this at Skyhold,” she murmured, her eyes studying the mountains in the distance. When she looked down the hill, she could see the familiar sight of the dock. The moonlight and the stars were shining against the water, casting a bright reflection that seemed to sparkle just from where she was standing.
“Thank you, this is just…absolutely amazing,” she breathed in awe. She turned round to face Cullen once more, only to see him giving her a strange smile. He reached for her hands, his thumbs running over the tops of them, then the knuckles. “What’s going on?” A puzzled expression washed over her face as she studied his, trying to gauge whatever thoughts were running through his mind. Finally Cullen took a deep breath and brought her fingers to his lips. They brushed against her knuckles gently until he brought his gaze back to her eyes.
“I’ve been trying to find of the right moment to do this, but the more I thought about it, I have come to the conclusion that our lives have never had a ‘right’ moment. We didn’t expect to find ourselves in the Inquisition, and we never once expected to find each other,” Gwyn smiled at him as he spoke, her eyes watching his lips form each word—the scar scrunching slightly as the corners of lips turned upwards. He took another breath, closing his eyes briefly before a low chuckle escaped his throat.
“I never thought I would find someone who accepted me despite the wrong I might have done, despite my…struggles. I never thought I could be deserving of a love so…” he laughed nervously, his eyes darting away for a second before Gwyn squeezed his hand. “You…you manage to see into parts of me I sometimes forget exist. You…Maker, I’m not very good at this,” he managed to stammer out as he reached into his pocket. Slowly Cullen bent to his knee, his fingers holding his mother’s ring. Gwyn stared at the silver band, her eyes studying the simple, small jewel on top as her hands covered her mouth.
“I…you? Is this really happening?” She managed to stammer out, her grin breaking out beneath her fingers. Cullen looked up at her, nodding as she made some kind of noise he could only describe as a loud squeak. Finally she gasped out a: “YES.”
Tears were streaming down her face as she began laughing and nodding her head repeatedly. Her elation was contagious; Cullen was grinning as he slipped the band onto her finger, and his lips brushed against her hand once more. She cupped his face with her hands, bringing him to his feet as her lips met his. In one swift movement, he lifted her feet off the ground and Gwyn gripped the bouquet of flowers in her hands tightly as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“I love you,” he murmured in between kisses. She buried her face in his neck, alternating between nuzzling his bare skin and the coarse hairs of his stubble.
“I love you too,” she laughed into his ears, causing his heart to pound wildly.
“Can you say that bit from before again,” he requested, chuckling as he planted a kiss on her cheek.
“You mean ‘yes’?” He nodded against her neck, his lips hovering over the exposed skin there. She laughed and took his face in her hands once more, her blue eyes practically twinkling as she met his gaze. “Yes, I will marry you.” He grinned as their lips met once more.
The couple sat together under the tree, Gwyn resting the lap of Cullen as they gazed up at the night’s sky in complete bliss. Every now and then, they’d glance at each other, sharing smiles until Gwyn sighed.
“How much do you think Josephine will fight me on us not having a large, public wedding?”
“I don’t think I want to be there for that conversation,” Cullen laughed, pressing a kiss to Gwyn’s head.
“I’ll let her down gently.” Gwyn’s fingers lazily traced lines up and down the length of Cullen’s forearm until he tipped her head back to kiss her forehead, her eyelashes, her nose…
“Good,” he murmured, his lips connecting to hers again. In the silence, their fingers interlocked and he couldn’t help but run his thumb over the silver band on her finger. Smiling to himself, he couldn’t shake the weight of those three letters and the value they meant to him. Simple, yet they spoke volumes. You are worthy. You deserve love. You deserve me. Yes.