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Haera didn’t think much of Cullen being absent from his office. He had drills to run, recruits to train, endless tasks to perform. It wasn’t even strange that he was talking to Cassandra; they were both part of the backbone of the Inquisition. There was something wrong, though. It was just an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach, but it was enough. She walked out of Cullen’s office and through the ramparts to the courtyard. Harding caught her eye and jerked her head in the direction of the blacksmith. Haera gave her an appreciative nod and quickened her pace.
They were arguing. That much was clear, the way their voices streamed through the heavy wooden door.
“You asked me for my opinion and I’ve given it. Why would you expect it to change?”
“I expect you to keep your word. It’s relentless. I can’t-”
“You give yourself too little credit.”
“If I’m unable to fulfill what vows I kept then nothing good has come of this. Would you rather save face than admit-” Cullen’s voice cut off in a choke when Haera opened the door. She walked towards him, a hand reaching for his arm. He shied away and cast his eyes down, ashamed to look at her. After another sigh he made his way between her and Cassandra before pausing briefly to murmur, “… Forgive me.”
The door shut heavily behind him.
Cassandra snorted and rolled her eyes. “And people say I’m stubborn. This is ridiculous,” she said under her breath. She turned to Haera. “Cullen told you that he’s no longer taking lyrium?”
Haera lifted her chin and set her jaw. “Yes, and I respect his decision.”
“As do I, not that he’s willing to listen. Cullen has asked that I recommend a replacement for him. I refused. It’s not necessary. Besides, it would destroy him. He’s come so far.”
“Why didn’t he come to me?” Haera asked.
“We had an agreement long before you joined us. As a Seeker, I could evaluate the dangers, and he... didn’t want to risk your disappointment.”
"My disappointment?” Haera shook her head. Oh, Cullen. “Regardless of your agreement, shouldn’t it still be his decision?”
Cassandra looked into the flames of the blacksmith’s forge. “Mages have always made their suffering known. Templars never have. They’re bound to the Order, mind and soul, with someone always holding their lyrium leash.” She looked up. “Cullen has a chance to break that leash, to prove to himself and anyone who would follow suit that it’s possible. He can do this. I knew that when we met in Kirkwall. Talk to him. Decide if now is the time.”
She paused to rest a hand on Haera's shoulder, just a touch for strength, and left. Haera stared into the fire. Cullen was obviously suffering. He always did it so quietly, so discreetly. She understood why he didn’t come to her about it and she didn’t blame him, not one bit, but she still wished there was something she could do. Talking wouldn’t take away the pain he was in. It wouldn’t stop the aches and spasms. She had magic, magic she could use to heal, but it was the very thing that he had spent his life fighting and that had put him through an unimaginable hell. She couldn’t approach him with that. What could she do other than fan the flames? She paced before the fire, ruminating.
“You can do other things for him.”
Haera jumped, startled. Cole had settled on a chair in the corner without her noticing. “Oh, Cole. I’m sorry. I must have been thinking too loudly. I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“No, it’s alright. I want to help. Let me help.”
She smiled sadly. “I know you want to, dear, but this is something you can’t do for me. I have to do this. I just don’t know how.”
“But you do know how. You just can’t think of it right now. You’re worried, and that makes thinking so much harder.” He his gaze became unfocused. “ She’s hurting, hurting. Is it her head this time? Her back? That old, prickling, aching pain that makes her cry in her sleep. What to do? What to give her? Willow that weeps and eases the aching, feverfew flowers for the pounding head, elfroot that clears the mind of the haze of pain and settles the waves rolling in the stomach, honey to sweeten, to tell her it will be alright, I’m here, I can help. ”
Memories surfaced. A Dalish lullaby, hummed sweet and low. Warmth of home, arms she would always have a place in, the person she loved most in the world. “My mother?” Haera asked, blinking away a mist of tears.
“Yes,” Cole said simply.
“She was always in pain, either her head or her back. She always swore that the teas I made her chased it all away… Willow bark for inflammation, feverfew for the migraines, elfroot for her pain…” Haera trailed off. She jumped with a realization. “Cole, you’re wonderful, you know?”
He tilted his head.
She approached him and took his frail hands in hers. “Thank you. Thank you for helping me remember. Now I can help him.”
-
Her first stop was her quarters, where she kept her personal stash of herbs and medicines. She would make enough for him to have twice a day for a month. On a spare piece of parchment sitting on her desk, she scribbled down instructions- one heaping teaspoon steeped in hot water for five minutes, to be had twice a day, sweeten to taste. She paused to look at the statuette of Sylaise that her clan had sent her, sending up a quick prayer of thanks, a plea for strength. Satchel and parchment in hand, she flew down the stairs, through the grand hall and to the kitchen where she asked the cook for a jar of honey and a pot of hot water. After a moment, she turned to another servant and asked for a mug and a tray. Who knew if that man kept drinking ware in his office? Satisfied that she had everything, she hastened out the kitchen door and to the stairs that would take her to Cullen’s office. Balancing the tray on one arm, she reached to open the door only to be nearly struck with a wooden case that Cullen had sent flying with a roar.
They stared at each other for a heartbeat before he came back to himself and realized, remembered, who she was.
“Maker’s breath!” he gasped. “I didn’t hear you - didn't see you - enter. I- … Forgive me.”
Haera swallowed against her heart pounding in her throat before walking slowly towards him to set the tray down on his desk. “Cullen?"
He shook his head. “You don’t have to-” He stumbled and groaned, bracing himself against his desk. She rushed forward to grasp his arm.
“I never meant for this to interfere,” he panted.
Haera brushed a curl away from his forehead, stroked his temple. “Are you going to be alright?” she asked.
“Yes.” He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. “I don’t know.”
He gently pulled away and went towards the window to look out over the mountains. “Cassandra’s right. I should stay. I need to… I don’t know.” He looked back at her. “You asked what happened to Fereldan’s Circle. It was taken over by abominations. The templars… my friends … were slaughtered. I was tortured.” He swallowed. His gaze faltered and he turned away again.
Haera stayed silent.
“They tried to break my mind and I… How can you still be the same person after all of that? Still, I wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my Knight-Commander, and for what?” he spat. “Her fear of mages ended in madness. Kirkwall’s Circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets. Can’t you see why I want nothing to do with that life?” His voice broke.
She fought back tears. Now wasn’t time for her to cry. “Oh, Cullen… Of course I can. I-”
He turned on his heels. “Don’t! You should be questioning what I’ve done!” He sighed. “I thought this would be better- that I would regain some control over my life. But these thoughts won’t leave me… How many lives depend on our success? I swore myself to this cause. I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did to the Chantry. I should be taking it!” He punched the bookshelf. “I should be taking it,” he whispered.
Haera approached him as she had been taught to approach a wounded halla. He had nearly the same look in his eyes, and it broke her heart. She gently took the hand still curled into a fist and pressed it to her lips, inhaling the smell of leather and ink and steel. “Cullen… Look at me, my love.”
He brought his eyes to hers, eyelashes wet.
“I know you, I know your heart. You give your all to what you do here. But forget that for a moment, and think of how far you’ve come. So, so far from where you once were. After everything, the heartbreak and the pain… is that what you want, to take it?”
His breath left him in a rush. “No… but these memories have always haunted me. If they become worse, if I cannot endure…”
She cupped his face with her hand, stroking her thumb over his scarred lip. “You can. You have. You will.”
“All right,” he sighed, pressing his cheek into her hand.
“Do you need anything right now?”
“I need a moment.” Realizing he responded too hastily, he added, “Could… could you come back later?”
She smiled. “Of course.” She stood on tiptoes to kiss his forehead. “I brought the tea for you. There’s a piece of parchment with instructions on it. I’ll see you later.”
He watched her leave, towards the tower, watched her hair sway against her the leather of her vest and catch the afternoon sun. Maker, this woman. He drew his hand over his face and sat heavily at his desk. He picked up the parchment.
Cullen, it said in her rounded script,
I made this for my mother whenever she was in pain. It’s willow bark, feverfew, and elfroot. I hope it brings you some relief. Make it nice and sweet.
1 spoonful in hot water. Steep for five minutes. Drink twice a day.
Ar lath ma, vhenan.
Haera