Work Text:
So don’t fall in love, there’s just too much to lose
If you’re given the choice, then I beg you to choose
To walk away, walk away, don’t let her get you
I can’t bear to see the same happen to you
Because life can do terrible things
- Terrible Things - Mayday Parade -
Cullen Rutherford shut the door to their - his - chambers, a sob trapped in his throat. A book was clutched to his chest with both hands, the worn binding twisting under the pressure.
Little Sasha had brought him the book. Cullen had not seen it in years. He had put it high on the shelf in his study, several years back. High enough that it was just out of his normal line of sight. The soft, halla leather bound book was too much to look at; to read it was completely out of the question when he’d shelved it.
Somehow, Sasha had grown to be smaller than her mother, but still inherited her love to read. Ellana would have been so proud of her. Sasha read everything she could get her hands on, and understand at nine years old. Naturally, she had gravitated to something that had reminded her of her Elven heritage. Sasha was forever curious about her elven heritage; something Cullen knew so little about despite his many years with Ellana. Sasha, with her long, rounded ears, showed her elven heritage, but Cullen was afraid to send her anywhere with it, with Fen’Harel’s influence becoming bigger, and drawing more to him. He was afraid of what that would mean to Sasha.
He hoped that Ellana would understand. That she wouldn’t hate his choices, like he does.
“Da,” she had said that night over dinner. “I found a book up high today. I have a question.”
“Do you have it with you?” Cullen looked at her, her blonde curls a mane around her small face.
She nodded and pulled it from her lap. She placed it on the table.
The glass Cullen had picked up to drink from fell from his grasp and shattered on the floor, the wine pooling at his feet. He didn’t flinch at the sound, or the cool on his feet. He heard the rush of blood in his ears, and his eyes focused on the soft pink journal.
“Da?”
Cullen blinked, and moved his chair back from the table, flinching away from the wine at his feet. His eyes never left the journal. Sasha was tracing the engraving of vines around the cover.
“Da?” Sasha repeated.
“Sasha,” he choked, not able to voice anything else past the knot in his throat.
“It’s Mum’s isn’t it? I can’t read it.” She picked it up once more. “The leather is halla, right Da?”
“Have –“ he paused, trying to swallow the knot keeping him from speaking. “Have you read any of it?”
Sasha shook her head. “I told you I can’t. I don’t recognize the writing. But you were mentioned a few times. And Uncle Dorian. And Uncle Mahanon, though not as often. That’s all I could read, names.”
Cullen nodded slowly, not having heard much of what she said past the roaring in his ears. “Give it to me,” he said, no louder than an exhaled breath. “Please,” he said louder, his voice cracking, “can I… can I read it first?”
Sasha nodded and pushed the book toward him. “It was Mum’s then?”
Cullen touched it slowly, as if it were a wounded animal that would lash out at him. “Excuse me,” he said, standing abruptly. He moved to the hall before he remembered who was in the dining room. “Finish your supper and ready for bed.” He left without looking for any sign of acknowledgement.
When the noise of the latch slipping in to place registered, he fell to his knees, a fist coming up to muffle the sob that escaped him. He curled into himself letting the sobs wrack him now that the dam had broken.
He had not let himself mourn Ellana when they had lost her five years ago. He needed to be strong for their little girl; she had needed the stability in a world that had just shattered.
A joke. Stability. Had he ever been stable without the aid of Ellana?
Now, five years after they placed her ashes next to the dock in Crestwood, he let himself mourn her. He clutched her journal to his chest, mindful of the pages and not to dirty them with his snot or tears. The last thing he had of Ellana. The one thing he had not allowed himself to think about, to touch, to read. Terror seized him about what may lay inside of the halla bound pages. About her. About the Inquisition. About the Lavellans. About him. About Fen’Harel and what he wished to bring to bear. Her last days with them. So much to hide in these pages of hers. So much he was unsure if he wanted to know.
He had no idea how much time had passed by the time he returned to himself, to the floor, next to his door. His knees throbbed in pain against the hard floor – the impact or time passed he didn’t know. His feet had gone numb long ago. The sobs had slowed long before he acknowledged his position on the floor, as if he deserved the pain he was in for the way he had handled the last five years of their life.
He sat back on his heels and slid to the floor, manually moving his legs in front of him. He rubbed feeling back into his calves before he dared to look at the book in his lap. He leaned against the door and sighed deeply before opening to the first page.
Her chicken scratch of a script sprawled across the first page. It was in elven. Of course it was in elven. The only thing he recognized on that first page was her name. Ellana Lavellan. He brushed his fingers across her name, cursing the fact that he had forgotten most of the elvish she had taught him in their twenty years together. He half hoped he would feel some of her warmth from the page; it was only a page.
The first half of the journal was kept in in elven. He recognized names, and dates as he flipped through the pages. He recognized names of the Inquisition, as well as the dates that head each entry. She was meticulous in the beginning. The first entry was dated shortly before the Conclave. If it was her idea, or her Keepers, he will never know.
Shortly after their relocation to Skyhold, they started to move into common.
---
I still can’t believe they made me Inquisitor. The only one who seems to really approve of my choices and decisions are Solas. I wonder if he too wants our people to be free. To not fear the chains of shems, to not live in filth in their alienages. I wish he would tell me more.
---
The irony to that sentence later killed so many people. Continued to kill so many people. He wondered if she came to truly hate Solas in the end.
Cullen that noticed that so many of the passages with his name were in elven. He once again cursed the Maker that he had forgotten so much of what she taught him. He should have known this for Sasha, make sure she never loses that part of her heritage.
---
He finally danced with me at the end of the night. I don’t know why it took so long for him to agree. Was he afraid of being seen with me in that way? Because I’m Dalish? Or is the magic he is still unsure of? I wish I knew. Or maybe I don’t. I’m afraid of the answer. I wish he would have danced with me in front of the whole court. What I picture we would have made. I treasure our dance on the balcony all the same. It was our moment of peace that whole night. It was the only moment I felt safe that night, in his arms, swaying under the Moon and stars.
---
Cullen wiped at the tears streaming down his face again. He stood, his whole body cracking in response, walked to the table and poured himself a full glass of whiskey. He downed it in two swallows, and poured another. He sat in the armchair, near the dying fire, and thumbed through the next few entries.
---
He’s still so religious. He sought solace today in the chapel. I found him there, mid-prayer. I felt like I had walked into something I wasn’t meant to see, but he didn’t mind. HE never does. I wish I could find that kind of solace in my own gods. Do they still listen? Was Corypheus right about the gods abandoning us? I can’t voice that to anyone, I have to look the righteous part, or the Inquisition would be for naught. I believe in him though. He’s moved mountains, and is so kind despite all that he’s seen. I’m not enough for him. He believes in so much, and I just believe in him. That’s enough, for me.
---
Cullen took another long pull of his drink. She was so much more. I had no idea… if I had known… He shook his head. There was once a time for ifs, and it had passed so long ago.
A knock startled him.
“Papa?” Sasha had not called him that in a long while. “Are you okay? Can I come in?”
“No,” he said, his voice no more than a rasp. He repeated it louder. “I will come tuck you in later.”
“It’s been four hours, Papa. Can I help?” She sounded so much like her mother, it hurt in that moment.
“No,” he repeated. “I’ll come see you in the morning. Talk to Eva, she’ll get you to bed.” It was a full minute before he heard her walk away from the door. He retrieved the whole bottle of whiskey from the table before he read the next entry.
---
He’s dead. We killed him. We can finally live in peace. We all made it. Now, I guess we go our separate ways. Solas was the first to leave, a fortnight ago, the moment Corypheus was sent through the Veil. I wish he hadn’t; I could use his knowledge now. Dorian only knows so much of the healing magic, and I even less. I wonder how long the elixirs I currently have will keep the pain at bay.
Dorian is the last to leave, Mythal bless him. He needs to attend to his homeland. He can achieve everything he dream of, I know he can. I hope he will find someone there that will love him as fiercely as I do. He deserves it.
Cullen has invited me home with him. He has a house near Crestwood. I think I’ll go. I’ve nowhere else to go. No one else. I hope he thinks of me as more than a burden. I do love him.
Maybe he’ll come home with me first. I wish to see my clan again. If only once. Maybe they won’t leave me an outcast.
---
The trip went as well as she thought it would, he remembered. They were pleased that the world was safe. Her Keeper initially embraced her with open arms. That changed when they realized he was more than her escort. Why had she brought this shem home with her? Was she not here to stay?
Ellana had wandered from their encampment that night. He had followed her to a clearing on the stream. Another elf was there with her, who now he knows as Mahanon, but at the time he hadn’t recognized their similarities.
“Are you happy with him?”
Ellana nodded, her eyes lighting like the stars above them. “I do. He is one of the few I ever felt truly safe with.” He had seen the moon reflect the tears on her face. “I… I am sorry I have returned so different.” Her voice broke, a sob escaping from her.
Mahanon swore in elvish. “Fen’Harel take them all, Ellana.” He pulled her to him, and she collapsed in his arms. “You’ve returned of a sound mind. You’re still the same Ellana I’ve always known. They only ever saw half your potential.”
Cullen had retreated then, knowing that she was safe with Mahanon. Ellana would wake him if she needed to. He was still awake when she returned to her bedroll. Her breath still hitched with unheard sobs. He wished he hadn’t left her to Mahanon, then.
He was still awake when the sun rose.
---
It hurts so much now. It’s all I can do, to keep from worrying him. It hurts to breathe now. I’m not sure how much longer I can hide how much it hurts. It looks bad. I cannot hide that. We leave for Lilliana’s Council on the morrow. I’ll tell him after, once we have figured out how that ends.
---
The next entry was nothing swears in all the languages she knew. Ones that Dorian had taught her in their camps across Thedas, her own, several colorful ones from Bull, and the flowery influence of Sara.
Cullen knew what happened before that entry.
It had been the day she left through the mirror… Eluvian she had called it. He paced for what felt like hours, waiting for their safe return to him. She had stumbled out first, and he caught her before she had hit the ground. She was off balanced in his arms, and it took him longer than he’d care to admit to find the reason. Her face was bathed in anger, but he could see the sorrow in her eyes.
Dorian had come through next. “Has she said anything?” he asked as Varric and Mahanon followed him.
Cullen shook his head. It was then he noticed her am. “Is it bleeding?” Panic had flooded his voice.
Dorian rushed over to the ground and knelt down, yellow starting to glow from his hands. Healing colors, he tried to reassure himself. “No,” Dorian had said in astonishment. “No. It isn’t. Why isn’t it?” He moved to enter her line of sight, she had been staring at the ground, eyes glassed over. “What happened, little bird?”
“Solas,” was all she said.
“He did this to you?” Dorian’s eyebrows shot up. “Vishante kaffas!”
Cullen had never been so glad to have Dorian with them. He thought of the important questions this time.
A bitter laugh escaped her. “Yes.” Cullen had never heard her sound so hardened to the world. “Yes. This is all. His. Fault.”
“What happened?” Cullen said softly, brushing her hair out of her face.
Ellana shook her head, her eyes clearing into a hard expression. “We need to end this damn farce of a council.” She tried to stand, but fell right back into Cullen.
“Give yourself a minute, love.”
“Will someone…” she trailed off and then looked at Cullen. “Would you roll up my sleeve, please? Once I get out of this damn armor.” Her hand went for one of the few buckles on her elven armor.
“We’ll leave you to it,” said Dorian, motioning the others to leave. “Take your time. I’ll talk to Josie, and get her to postpone anything important.”
“I can go now!” Ellena said when the door shut behind her brother.
“Ellana,” said Dorian, kneeling once more. His voice brokered absolutely no argument. “You’re going to let Cullen help you out of your armor. You’re going to let him help you wash all the grime and blood off of you in a warm bath. You’re going to wait until you can stand on your own two feet before you put on the formal clothes and end this farce.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll disillusion you both until you get to your chambers.” He handed a stone to Cullen, “Speak to this crystal when you’re ready to return. I’ll be ready when you are.”
“Fine.”
The door closed behind Dorian and Cullen felt her anger dissipate. “Come, let me help you out of this,” he murmured. He was quick and nimble disrobing her. His fingers knew her armor as well as they knew his own. He carried her to the bath Dorian had warmed for her and let her soak alone for only a moment. He undressed and slid in behind her.
She rested against him without resistance. She rested her head on his shoulder, breathing onto his neck.
He held her close, but said nothing. He didn’t know how to go about comforting her. He knew Solas was involved, but beyond that he was in the dark.
“Dorian was right,” she said after minutes or hours, Cullen didn’t know.
He brushed his fingers through her hair. “What about?” He was afraid to raise his voice above a whisper, as if she’d spook if he spoke with any volume.
“It was Solas.” Her voice was bitter; she spat his name with a vengeance he had not seen before. “From the fucking beginning. It was Solas.”
“You found him then?”
“Oh yes.” She rubbed water across her face with her hand. “It was his damn orb that Corypheshit had. His fucking orb that has caused me so much pain.” Her voice broke. “He never lied. That’s the worst part. It was an orb used by our gods. That held so much power it was killing me. He wanted to free our people too. To think, I wanted his approval! His! Of anyone, it had to be his.” She shook her head. “I am such a fool.”
Cullen was silent, he knew she had not paused for a response.
“Did you know that I had stopped believing? In my gods? The Maker? Andraste? The gods damned Stone the dwarves worship? All of them had no meaning to me anymore. I was so afraid that Corypheus was right, that there was no one left to hear us.” She sobbed, wiping at her face. “That night I found you in the chapel, do you remember? It was so long ago now. So insignificant now. That night I realized I hadn’t completely lost faith in everything. I believed in you.” She turned around and faced him, wrapping her legs around his waist. “Only you. I believed in us. But that was all. Fen’Harel,” she choked on her words, “Damn them all.
“I was wrong. My gods are as real as you and I are. I am such a fool.” She inhaled deeply, her breath choppy from the sobs she tried to contain. She exhaled and put her head on his chest. “Such a fool.”
Cullen had put it together then. “The orb. It belonged to Solas, you said. Who is he? Who do you know him as?”
“The one we are all warned about as children. It’s the first story they tell us, to frighten us into good, to follow Mythal, and her goodness. The one we curse. The only one free to walk the ground we live on.” She scoffed. “The Dread Wolf. Fen’Harel.” She shook her head and another sob escaped. “He was my friend. And he lied. He’s killing me.”
“He removed the poison,” Cullen said, rubbing her left shoulder.
“Yes. He said he’d remove my pain, buy me more time” she scoffed, but it was a sob. “You’ll leave me now. I’m not whole. Complete. You’ll deny it now, but you’ll come up with an excuse later. You’ll leave me to Mahanon, just like my clan did. And we’ll just be alone in the world.”
Cullen found her hand and squeezed it gently. “Ellana. I do not regret what happened earlier this week.” He swallowed and kissed her temple. “I could never love anyone as much as I you. You are no less than elf I fell in love with years ago, and married only days ago. My only regret is that it took us 10 years to get here. I am completely and wholly yours, Ellana. I won’t leave, please know that.”
Ellana started to cry then. She cried for a long time. He held her tightly, soothing her hair and kissing her softly. After a time, her sobs turned to hiccups. She pulled away, her blue eyes bloodshot with tears. “I am yours, and you are mine,” she whispered.
Cullen only nodded.
She kissed him softly. “Would you please wash my hair now?”
She had shut down the Inquisition that evening. Fire burned hot in her eyes.
Cullen had never been so proud of her than he was in that moment. At that time. He took another swig from the bottle and turned the page.
---
Dorian has confirmed my suspicions in his visit this month. I’m terrified. I won’t be good enough for them. I’ll mess it up. Dorian called my fears bullshit. He’s probably right – he usually is.
How do I tell Cullen? Will he be happy? Or will he hate me? Dorian assures me he’ll be so happy with the news. I’ve not seen a half elf baby. What if they don’t look normal. Gods, what have we done?
---
Cullen remembered that day. He’d been so excited that the staff they had picked up on what it was. They had prepared them a dinner served with candles and a juice that night. It wasn’t as good as the wine, but the thought was appreciated by both of them.
He had penned a letter to Dorian that night, after Ellana had fallen asleep. He thanked him for his company, and what he had done for her.
Once Sasha had been born, they had been perfect. She inherited most of Ellana’s features, thank the Maker. Her ears were smaller, and more rounded than Ellana’s, but that was the only oddity about their girl. She was perfect.
---
We celebrated Sasha’s year tonight. It’s been a perfect year. Sasha’s a perfect little girl. I think she’ll have magic. She acts like Mylva did when she was little.
It’s back again. It aches. I’ve started looking for ingredients for a rub, numb it a little. Maybe postpone the pain for a year? I don’t know how quickly it will progress. “It’ll give you more time.” Gods damn all to hell. It’ll be his fault when I leave early, leave my family behind. Damn him.
---
Cullen sat back in the chair, the book open in his lap. He took another long pull from the bottle. She… she had known that early? She had started a garden full of odd herbs shortly after the entry. Cullen didn’t comment on the herbs, he thought maybe Dorian or Mahanon needed them, and they wouldn’t grow in Tevinter. He had no idea.
He drank again before he dared to continue.
---
It’s starting to discolor now. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep it from Cullen. The pain is manageable, but he’ll notice when the lines start to track up my arm. Again. Just like last time. I would save him from this if I knew of a way. Any way. He deserves naught but joy. At least he’ll have Sasha, Andraste bless her. Not this. Anything but this, vhenan.
---
I’m not sure. It hurts. So much. Cullen, ma vhenan. He’s done so much. Maker grant him a place at your side. He deserves it, and so much more. Maker, forgive me. I don’t know how much longer I can manage. It’s so painful. Maker. Andraste. Fen’Harel. Anyone. Make it stop. Please. Bring us peace. I love them so. Bring them peace.
---
Ellana had passed a week after writing that passage. She had written in it until the end. She had found a faith again, in the end.
Cullen began to cry once more, but it wasn’t the heavy hysteria that overcame him earlier. This was a tired, old pain that hurt him.
He closed her book, fingers tracing the engraving on the front.
He knelt on the ground once more, his knees screaming in protest. He ignored it and offered a prayer to the Maker. To preserve Ellana until he could join her, when he could. To watch over Sasha, and guide her to the path she needed to follow in her life.
By the time he had finished his prayer, his tears had dried. He stood and placed her journal on her side of the bed. He stoked the fire, bringing it back to a little life and doused the candle he read by.
He opened the door to his chambers and found Sasha on her bedroll next to the door, their mabari next to her. Must have snuck there after Eva put her to bed, or she never looked for her. He woke her gently.
“Papa?” She roused from sleep slowly. “Papa? Are you okay?”
“I will be.” His voice was raw from tears and disuse the last several hours. “Come on, off the floor.”
“I’m fine,” she said, but her shivers betrayed her.
“You’ll catch sick if you stay there. The room is warm now, come on.” He left the door open and moved Ellana’s journal from the bed to his side table. “Sleep here tonight.”
Sasha nodded.
The room warmed further, lulling him into an uneasy sleep.
Dawn came far too soon, waking Cullen from his sleep. His head ached, and his mouth was full of cotton.
Sasha was still asleep, and Cullen covered her with the blanket she had pushed off in the night.
He got up, and winced at his joints that cracked like the fire that had died in the night. He grabbed the robe next to the bed, a gift from Dorian several years back, and pulled it over his shoulders on his way to the study. He quickly found a quill and paper.
Magister Pavus,
I have found something I could use Mahanon’s help with. Your assistance is also necessary. Sasha is getting impatient, wanting to learn more magic. When you have the time for an extended visit, Sasha and I would love to have you come. Perhaps we could make the trip there, if it is necessary. She keeps asking to visit you both. Respond with the best plan, and we will prepare accordingly.
All Our Love,
C. Rutherford
“Da? I thought you were making breakfast. Why are you in here?” Sasha rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Why are you up so early?” She yawned.
“It’s not early for me,” he said, rustling the hair on her head. “I had a letter to write.”
“It’s to Uncle Dorian!” Sasha looked up at him, excitement lit her face. “Is he coming to see us?”
“Perhaps, little bird.” Cullen sealed it and put it in a place he’d remember to take it to a bird.
“Can we eat now?” Sasha’s stomach rumbled.
Cullen laughed. “Let’s go find some pancakes.”
“What happened last night?” Sasha poured too much syrup on her pancakes, and wrinkled her nose. “You left so fast. I was worried I made you angry.”
Guilt washed over him. He hadn’t even thought of how he had looked. He had no thought at all, beyond he had to be alone. “You didn’t anger me, Sasha.” He sat back in his chair and looked at her. “You were right, last night. The book you found? It was your mum’s.”
Her eyes lit up, her breakfast forgotten. “It was! Can I read it? Or do I need to be older?” Her voice mocked the phrase; something she was tired of hearing already.
“It is an important book to your mum. I cannot read all of it. She wrote much of it in elven.”
“You can’t teach me that.” Sasha frowned. “Can Mahanon come with Dorian this time? He knows it!”
Cullen chuckled. “I hope he will. I need him to make a copy of it, for me. I hope to then be able to give it to you to read.”
Sasha crossed her arms in front of her and frowned more. “I have to wait ‘til I’m older then.”
Cullen ruffled her hair again. “Only for a time.” He took a sip of water, swearing to not drink a whole bottle by himself again. “I can tell you what it is though.”
Sasha looked up at him, struggling to keep the frown on her face. “Oh yeah? I bet it’s adult stuff, that I don’t care about.”
“I bet some of it is. But do you know what else it is?”
“No.”
“It’s a story of your mum, and her love for you. For us, all of us. How she saved the world once, and how she fell back in love with life. And how life can do such terrible things to those we love.” Cullen took Sasha in his arms and hugged her. “You can read it after Mahanon has taught you some of your language. So that you can read her words, not just what I understand from them. This, I can give to you.”