Chapter Text
“And if I never held you
I would never have a clue
How at last I'd find in you
The missing part of me”-
“If I never knew you” sung by Mel Gibson and Judy Kuhn
Hope was not a feeling Cullen Rutherford was used to. Being motivated by duty all his years as a templar left no room for such philosophical ideals. Only when he turned away from the Order did he realize what it was like to have something to believe in. The Chantry was always holding his leash with a tight grip of his emotions. He was manipulated to believe that the Chantry was what provided him the idea of “hope.”
For him, though, hope was not in the Maker nor Andraste. For they did not find him when his world went dark again. There was one soul light in his life, for such a small but significant amount of time. The Inquisition.
He thought it would be his chance to do better, to atone for the terrible things he did as a templar, for all those he wronged. Things were going as smoothly as they could despite the giant hole in the sky.
The Herald gave him the perspective he never considered. The ultimate freedom of the mages: his former charges.
They left off on such horrible terms. He screamed because she’d screamed. She’d hurt him yet he later accepted that he deserved the lashes of her words. He was so busy defending his former brothers in arms that he didn’t consider his charges. Meredith’s power-hungry descent into madness was the reason he turned against her in the first place. She was branding mages tranquil and calling it a “mercy” while killing those who were “less worthy.”
While the Herald did not physically strike him, her anger was a sharp smack to the face. Instead of seeing stars, he saw bits of reason and just. Cullen was no fool, he knew the mages would never live freely, not completely. They’d always have their magic which meant they would always be at risk. But the former Knight-Captain was in no position to try trapping them in a tower again, nor did he want to. In the end, Cullen only wanted to protect others. Mages and non.
Athenna was right, though. Mages were not meant to be prisoners.
But he never got to tell her so. She died. It was very much in his destiny to always be too late. Too late to defeat Uldred. Too late to stop Meredith. Too late to save Athenna. He led the charge towards Redcliffe. He vowed to the Maker would not leave the castle until he found her; her or her body. He would bury her himself. It’s what the Dalish did with their dead, right?
Little did he know, he wouldn’t find her, but he would stay in Redcliffe seemingly to the end of his days with endless amounts of torture and corrupted lyrium. He tried to take his life many times, but Alexius found Cullen’s distress amusing enough to keep him alive. The magister fed him many stories of Athenna’s death, some contradicting others until all he knew was this: she died and was never coming back. He knew that because she would not go quietly.
His heart was broken. She was so young, full of potential and a fire that Thedas hadn’t seen since the Hero of Ferelden, he dared to think. The more he thought of her, the more he realized how strong and admirable of a person she was.
He began to idolize her posthumously. It was the least she deserved from him. Thinking of any part of her: her voice, her face, or—his personal favorite—her enraged violet eyes, gave him the only chance to breathe. The air was stale and hot in Redcliffe. It would burn down his red lyrium addled throat, but it still provided a relief.
Alexius found out about this obsession Cullen had with his deceased Herald and used it against him. Whenever Cullen refused to take more of the red lyrium, demons—who looked exactly like Athenna—would force the substance down his throat. Yet he couldn’t help but admire the likeness. It made it easier to take down the poison. But it grew old and eventually the demon began torturing him, beating him, abusing him with fists, blades, and of course, words.
The torture lasted a long time before he snapped, when he still had some semblance of hope, that he could get out of there alive.
The first time he fought back, he realized how much corruption had dug into his veins. It felt good to hit her. How dare she leave him behind in a place such as this? It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. The world had ended because of her failure. The anger helped him tear down the perfect, goddess-like image he’d made of her.
That was his routine for what seemed like forever. Until he found the demon before she’d found him. Finally! He had the advantage! She was digging through chests in what used to be Connor’s room. She stiffened when he unsheathed his sword. He wouldn’t let her have anymore warning and charged towards her.
It was too easy to take her down. He shield-bashed her twice and she was in his clutches, crushing her throat. Her skin was hot, and her breaths were stuttering quickly. She was trying to breathe in as much air as she could before he could cut off her airflow. Why? Demons don’t need to breathe. He always held her by the throat but more keep her from coming at him, not suffocation.
He took her by the neck and crushed her against the cobblestone, hard. She shrieked in hysteria. She was so shocked, so scared. Those were not the qualities her demons usually possessed. Was this a new trick by Alexius? It had to be. There was no way she could be alive.
Her hand ended up against his cheek and the mad haze over his eyes seemed to dissipate.
A small current of electricity passed between them. He hadn’t felt that since…
“You wave her in front of me, but I will not fall prey to it anymore!”
Then she did something he’d never seen one of the doppelgangers do: big fat tears broke through her eyes—the eyes he used to treasure. She began sobbing and apologizing, so much that it was nearly unintelligible. But Cullen shook his head, it was impossible.
“You’re dead,” he said uselessly. But she was so real. Her tears, her words…there was no film over her, something that could prove she was a fake. Then just as his doubt set in, the palm against his face tingled. A faint green light illuminated both of them. The Mark…
Athenna began to explain everything, how Alexius had sent her and Dorian forward in time. It made everything clear: why Alexius never had a body or proper story. It’s not that it wasn’t important, quite the opposite really, it was massively important. He was hiding the fact that he failed. Yet still, he was trying to wrap his head around the fact that she was here, and he was currently trying to choke the life out of her.
“Athenna?” he asked, still praying it wasn’t an illusion.
“Yes, Lethallin, it’s me,” both her hands were on his face, stroking him. Her eyes, they were full of hope and passion; emotions he hadn’t believed in in so long. He let her go immediately and while she caught her breath, his knees hit the ground. It was really her. She was there. She was alive. And he’d almost killed her.
Cullen pulled her in, she gasped—not in far but surprise—and held Athenna to his chest, tightly. Real. Strong. Warm. Alive. He mumbled something but he couldn’t hear it. He was holding his goddess, his hope. She was breathing heavily against him; her tears were soaking into the clean skin of his neck. It was almost refreshing. It was the complete opposite of the constant burning from the lyrium shards that had started growing out of him months before.
She made him believe…made him feel…human, for the first time in so long. If this were a dream, he would die before waking. Of that, he was sure.
Their moment was, however, cut short when Dorian found them. They separated quickly. Blush bloomed on Athenna’s cheeks. Cullen would have blushed too if the lyrium didn’t take so much of his blood to produce.
Dorian eyed Cullen with a protective stance over Athenna. He felt a pang of guilt as to why he felt the need to protect the woman. A jagged cut the size of the edge of his shield was slashed onto Athenna’s head. It would scar. If we survive, he thought gravely. The moment came and went when the Tevinter mage asked why Cullen was there.
Cullen gave them the rundown of everything they’d missed after he retrieved his sword and shield. He watched Athenna flinch when he mentioned Cassandra’s death. It was also a depressing and grim subject to talk about. He glossed over it the best he could.
In the end, Athenna defended Cullen’s honor—what little was left of it. Dorian clearly didn’t trust her word but had no choice but to abide by it. Cullen didn’t have time to prove himself, he just had to trust the mage would let him assist them. Cullen never took his eyes off Athenna once they were out in the open. He slashed through his enemies with a vigor and anger he thought were long lost with his sanity.
Cullen realized then why he felt so determined in his fight against the corruption now. He slayed a demon that tried to attack the Herald’s flank. It was Athenna. When he realized she wasn’t dead, all the hope and all of the motivation to save her came rushing back in a flood of emotions. Athenna looked back, daggers still in hand, a strong emotion was passing over her features, but he couldn’t pinpoint it. It was as if she was in pain, but she was happy about it. He straightened and she pivoted to keep moving down the hallway.
They reunited with Bull, Varric, and Leliana. It was hard for him to look at his former comrade. While he and Leliana tended to disagree on things, Cullen would never wish the torture she received on any of his enemies. Her face was permanently sunken and deformed. She’d survived on stubbornness alone. Cullen avoided looking at her too long. He’d rather remember her as she was. Leliana appeared to be doing the same. Though she did quirk a comment,
“Surprised you lived, Cullen.”
“I wouldn’t call this ‘living’, Leliana.”
There only came on moment where Cullen’s control came into question; the direct influence of Alexius. He used his magic to control the lyrium: to control Cullen, to try and get him to release Felix, but little did Athenna know how she’d saved him.
He broke through his chains.
Killing Felix was an afterthought but with Athenna’s blessing, Cullen sliced the his throat and felt a bit relieved for the boy. He’d been tortured enough with the Blight inside him being drawn out by his father.
Alexius was easier to take care of than he thought. Athenna sunk her blades into the magister’s chest. Cullen thought he would relax when he watched but nothing changed. He was still tortured, still corrupted. The Elder One was still coming to kill them all. Dorian didn’t have enough time to open a time rift. The Elder One couldn’t be stopped but maybe he could be slowed? Varric and Bull smiled knowingly, and he knew this would be the last time he saw them. Athenna burst into tears, begged them not to make their sacrifice. There was no choice though. Dorian just had to make all of their sacrifices worth it. Death…it seemed like such a sweet relief, to have it all finally be over.
After finally walking away from the templars, Cullen thought he would have a long life; free of his lyrium shackles. Then the world ended. But if Dorian could get the rift working again, then maybe it wouldn’t all be for nothing. Maybe…Cullen would live on in the past. It was too much energy to delve into what would happen to him in this time.
If he was going to die, he needed Athenna to know what she meant to him. However, he knew he couldn’t corrupt the past with a large declaration, especially in front of Dorian.
He didn’t stop himself, however, from crossing the space after Varric and Bull walked out to their deaths and holding her face in between his hands. She was so small, almost fragile if he never knew what she was capable of. Her tears dribbled over his gloves. Cullen did his best to wipe them, to comfort her. You’re going to live, why can’t you see this is a good thing? He wanted to ask her. They would all be alive where she was going. It would all be worth it, would it not?
But if the roles were reversed and he had to watch Athenna fight to her death for him to go back to his own time, would that not be painful? It would be excruciating, without a doubt.
But he reminded her anyway, “stay back, and stay with Dorian, do you hear me? Go back in time. Go home, to haven, to the Inquisition,” Cullen paused, she needed at least a hint though, “to me.” She looked at him with wide eyes and he wondered if the depth of his feelings for her had sunk in. One of her hands covered his and held on tight.
“Any last-minute advice, commander?” she asked.
He remembered her anger when she had left him then, the pain he’d caused her. He hated himself for it and all he wanted to do that whole time was ensure her of the one thing she always had: his trust. He let out a soft chuckle, how alleviating it was to tell her then, “just know, that I would follow you through the Void and back,” he said earnestly, “no matter what you choose to do.”
One last tear fell, “I’ll hold you to it,” she vowed. So, you will, he replied in his thoughts. He smiled softly at her promise.
Redcliffe Castle shook with the arrival of the Elder One. Athenna gasped quietly, and Cullen had to stop his fingers from turning to claws at the thought of letting her go. It was the last time he’d hold her, only the second time ever. He’d wished for so much more.
It is still possible, he reminded himself. But what if it’s not? he also argued. She looked at him, distraught and he knew he’d have to be the stronger of both of them. He would have to pull away. I need to tell her, was the thought rampant in his mind. No, a more pragmatic voice screamed. Let it happen if it’s supposed to. Organically. You are no longer part of her world. In all the internal anguish, he opened and closed his mouth several times, the words on the tip of his tongue.
He finally decided against telling her, he would not make it harder on any version of himself if she were to reject him. Instead he pulled her forehead to his lips and thought with fervency:
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
Cullen forced himself to pull away from her. It was painful, as if he were ripping off his own arm. She stared at him with shock, more blush took over her face. He let himself believe then that she felt it too; just a fraction of the swelling, absolute, fanatical love that he felt for her.
“Stay with Dorian!” were his last words to her.
Demons burst through the room and Cullen let his love for the woman behind him fuel his determination. They will not pass me, he thought with vigor. Him and Leliana recited the chant of light as they cut down their enemies. It helped him keep a rhythm to his killing spree and in a way, it was sobering. This was it.
He felt magic twinge and weave through the air. The time rift was opened. One demon came at him, and he felt his control slip.
“You move and we die!” Dorian shouted. Cullen knew the mage would be holding Athenna back from launching herself to help. He didn’t watch Leliana fall. She wouldn’t want him to be distracted either way. Cullen fought and fought and fought, he fought as long as he could. He would not let himself lose her.
Cullen heard a scream had erupted but it was too low to be coming from Dorian, too human to be from the demons. He realized it was his own. He was impaled.
“NO!” Athenna screamed now.
Cullen saw the demon’s long fingers through his chest. Yet he felt no pain. None. Was it the red lyrium? Did it provide anesthetic even in death? For that he was grateful because the last thing he saw was Athenna, particle by particle disappearing into the rift without the distraction of pain.
She was reaching out for him, more tears he couldn’t wipe were streaking her face. It’s going to be alright, he thought. He wasn’t sure if it was to Athenna or himself. The room was getting brighter from the back. You’re safe.
She was gone in an instant. The world was stopping. It’s going to be—
The thought was left in the distant future; a future that disappeared.