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Sadira threw her knitting needles across the room with a shriek of frustration. They clinked and rolled on the wooden floor, coming to rest somewhere under the chaise lounge.
She looked down at the unfinished textile in her lap. Chunky burgundy wool knotted tightly and evenly- until the last few rows- which were haphazard and loose. A scarf for Cullen, something to keep him warm on the battlements.
For a few hours, Sadira had been ignoring the foreboding twinges of pain shooting up her left arm. Tingling numbness settled into her fingers like a storm rolling in. The anchor pulsed in a way that seemed to mock her. At first, she tried to push past it. She took shaky breaths and pushed down the urge to grasp her hand and shout. She sat in bed, knitting as she always had. Slouched over her work with awful posture.
The past few weeks, the anchor had been stable for a while, even quite good. Maybe it was finally settling out.
Sadira tried to shake her head against the thought. The pain was coming back again, and Sadira didn’t want to admit it.
Even rows of knots gave way to sloppy loops, a testament to the pain of the crafter. Still, she grit her teeth, shook her hand out, and tried to push through. It looked awful, but if she could just fix this row, it would conceal the disaster this craft was becoming.
On the last knot, a strike of lightning shot up her arm, seemingly to the core of her chest. She dropped her needles and wrenched her arm towards her, curling around it protectively. The anchor sizzled and sparked. Somehow both burning and shocking coexisted, and a deep skeletal pain she couldn’t quite place.
Sadira’s face burned with heat. She had been doing so well. Nothing changed, she did everything right, and still it pained her. She didn’t even need to use a poultice this week! When she sat down that evening to knit, she was so excited to work on Cullen’s gift. Rage and panic clawed its way up her throat at the thought of it getting bad again.
The pain flared and she grabbed her knitting needles and cast them across the room, the very outburst itself causing a new wave of pain.
A shriek came before the tears, the sounds melding into one agonized wail. Sadira curled around her hand and rocked as she sobbed, squirming and willing the pain to recede somehow.
If it got bad again, what would she do? How would she cope? What if the potions stopped working? Would she suffer forever? Thoughts spun in her head like a cyclone. She couldn’t run away from this, there was nowhere to hide.
Sadira squeezed her eyes shut and begged aloud, willing the Creators, the damn Maker, anyone, to just make it go back. Just make it recede and go back to how it was this morning. Why was this happening? What if she never knit again- oh Creators, what would she do-
“Sadie?”
A voice broke through her panic, startling her. Sadira snapped her head up and saw Cullen standing there at the edge of the bed, fuzzy through tears. When had he entered her room? He must have heard everything. His face wore a concerned expression. Thick brows knitted together over those soft, familiar eyes. Tears fell harder when she saw him; if it were even possible, her face crumpled even more.
Cullen was beside her in a moment, arms wrapping around her and pulling her into his embrace. Sadira sobbed harder against him. She turned her head into the soft fur of his mantle. It was strange, the only comforting thing that had happened all day was being crushed against his heavy chestplate. He was so strong, and he was here now, she needed him to fix this mess.
“What is it love? Is it your hand?” Cullen asked, pulling back and searching her face. He wore a concerned expression. Tenderness sat in his eyes as he looked at her. Everything felt confusing inside, but Cullen’s eyes held strength and reassurance.
Sadira could barely speak, squeezing her eyes shut and nodding as she sobbed.
“It hurts, Cullen.” She choked out. “I can’t use my hand. What if it’s getting worse? What if I can’t knit anymore I’ll be lost, I don’t know what to do.”
Sadira’s voice trailed off into a pained cry as she continued to sob and clutch her hand to her chest. She dug her fingernails into the skin, hoping that something, anything, would distract from the pain. Her breath came out in sharp gasps as panic rose in her chest.
“Sadira, take some deep breaths, alright?” Cullen spoke softly. He looked worried, Sadira knew she could easily become out of control, so it was understandable.
But This- there was no way for her to relax.
“I can’t calm down, I can’t , I’m never going to feel alright again, it’s getting worse , I can’t do this,”
“I didn’t ask you to calm down. Don’t worry about that right now. Just breathe with me. Can you do that?” He squeezed her shoulders, just how she liked.
Sadira nodded. She could do that.
Still clutching her hand to her chest, she watched as Cullen drew a breath through his nose and slowly let it out of his mouth. Through shaking sobs, Sadira breathed in sync with him as best she could. The urge to suck in desperate lungfuls of air subsided as she breathed through several cycles. His face was so kind, his eyes never leaving hers as he helped her calm down.
The pain was still strong, and the anchor still sparking. But Sadira felt less wound up as she breathed. A few jolting sparks set off from the mark, and she winced and groaned, but still she kept breathing with Cullen.
“Alright, you’re doing great, Sadie. Keep doing that. When is your next potion dose due?” Cullen’s soft eyes held her gaze and helped her focus.
“I didn’t… I didn’t take it last night or this morning.” Sadira said.
Cullen’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“Maker, why? Did you run out?” Cullen said, standing.“Dammit, Raleigh was supposed to be on top of this. I’ll visit the healer and get more.”
“No, Cullen, I have them.” Sadira shook her head and Cullen sat back down.
Cullen didn’t seem to understand. He opened his mouth to speak, likely something authoritative, but thought better. With Sadira, there was usually an underlying cause to her behavior.
“Why didn’t you take the potion, love?” He asked gently. He had his hands on her shoulders again, squeezing rhymically.
“I don’t want to depend on them.” As soon as Sadira said it, she knew it sounded nonsensical. “I want to just… be alright.”
She didn’t want to be this way, living with pain and waking in the night, crying out and squeezing her hand to her chest.
Samson and Cullen would help her, hastily opening a vial of potion deep in the night to relieve her pain.
But before all this?
She could knit for hours . Her hands didn’t so much as cramp up. Half the inquisition could have a scarf in a week.
Now she couldn’t even knit a straight row.
Cullen shook his head, frowning in sympathy.
“I know. But it’s alright to take them, the healer said that the reactions would be minimal. It’s safe, Sadira.” Cullen said. His voice was strained. She knew how this must wear on him, seeing her in so much pain. “Please, take it.”
Sadira nodded. She knew he was right. Guilt pooled in her chest like a swirling current.
“I’m sorry. For you. I- you didn’t sign up for this.” Her voice was small, barely audible.
Cullen’s amber eyes were deep with tender love as he knelt to meet her eyes.
“Maker, Sadie… Never apologize. You’ve shown your unconditional love for me. I could do no less. I want to be here for you.” He reached out and brushed his thumbs over her wet cheeks. A sweet smile played on his lips. “Whatever comes, alright?”
Sadira nodded against a fresh wave of pain. She squeezed her eyes shut against both the pain and the beautiful, tender words Cullen spoke.
Cullen then stood and went to Sadira’s dresser. The warmth of his hands still lingered on her cheeks.
Glasses clinked and he came back with a vial of the green liquid. Sadira stared at it with both animosity and gratitude as he uncorked the vial with a pop. It glistened as if it was alive. Small pieces of leaves floated in the mixture as Cullen shook it well.
Sadira spoke shakily. “My hand…” she said through tears. “It never will be better, will it? Oh Creators, I wish they could just cut it out.”
Cullen frowned as he handed her the vial. “I’m sorry Sadira, there’s so much we don’t know.”
Sadira took the potion with her good hand and downed it in one swallow. The bitter liquid washed over her tongue and she shuddered involuntarily.
“I hate this.” Sadira said. “I woke up one morning, and it hurt. It hasn’t stopped since.”
Cullen sighed and sat down beside her. “I know. We will figure something out, I promise. And I promise I’ll be here.”
The potion warmed her from the inside out. Sadira’s head swam as it washed over her. Cullen’s warm hand rested on her thigh. He was a reassurance in this horrible, horrible turn of events her life had taken.
“How will I do anything? If I can’t knit, I’ll be heartbroken… I’ll go mad.” Sadira sniffed.
The evening light played on the stained glass of her room. Sadira felt the pain beginning to ebb, the sensation seemingly drawing back into the mark. It was a relief, truly. A false, sickening sort of relief. The clock was reset; her pain would return again.
Sadira’s pain never truly subsided anymore, it just became bearable. She could breathe. For now.
“For now, Love, let’s get you rested. You don’t know the future any more than I do. We’ll work something out. I promise.” Cullen said warmly.
Sadira looked at him with tired eyes. How much longer could she deal with this? She figured she didn’t have much of a choice.
He stood again and began unbuckling his armor and setting it down on a nearby chair. She was still in awe just how quickly he could remove it, quicker still if she was the one he was removing it for.
Padding over in his underclothes, Cullen climbed into the giant bed with a grunt.
Cullen moved up the bed, settling down against the pillows propped at the headboard. He looked lovely sitting there- and maybe a bit inviting. Maybe quite inviting. He opened his arms and gestured for her to rest against him.
Realizing it would be hard for Sadira to push herself up, Cullen moved forward and pulled her to him. She slid easily to rest between his thighs, finding a comfortable spot to settle against him. Her head settled on his chest.
“Wait- what am I sitting on?” Cullen spoke, reaching under himself and producing a ball of yarn, attached to a half-knit textile.
A spear of unhappiness shot through Sadira’s chest. She hung her head and spoke bitterly.
“A gift. For you. But I guess that’s ruined. Forever.” She spat.
A great, sad sigh left Cullen’s chest. He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close. Cullen didn’t say anything for a while, just kissed her hair and squeezed her. It was better than anything he could have said.
Cullen was there. There was nothing in the moment that would have changed or bettered her situation. But she felt stronger, held by him, even as he sat and no words left his lips.
He bolstered her against the storm that raged in her mind.
Finally, Cullen spoke in a sad, small voice, lips muffled by her silver hair.
“I’m sorry, my love.”
“Me too.” She said simply.
Still clutching her hand protectively to her chest, she wiggled the fingers experimentally. Still sore, but more manageable. Sadira reached with shaky fingers to grip at his shirt. It felt good to run them along the soft fabric. She turned in his arms, resting the side of her face against his warm chest.
Cullen’s heart thudded steadily. A strong, steady rhythm for a stronger man.
It seemed the pair were always going to be steadying one another against difficult trials. Sadira wished for happier days, and prayed for them to come very soon.
“Cullen?” Sadira said, lifting her head to look at him.
He gazed down at her with those gold flecked eyes.
“What do you need, Love?” His voice was gentle, offering her anything. Offering her all of him.
“Can you tell me a story?” She asked. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be anything juicy , just something to distract me?”
That lovely scar pulled at the corner of his lips as he smiled down at her. It was almost enough to pull her out of her agony altogether.
“Of course, Sadira.”
He began a tale, not one worthy of a story book, but one that settled Sadira’s heart. His soft voice and warm arms were a safe place for the storms of her heart to crash against.