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Enansal knew she was running out of energy and mana, and all the lyrium in the world would do little to change it. Despite her best efforts, there were still wounded Inquisition soldiers and wounded Grey Wardens. She was only one woman, after all, and while she was loath to admit it, there was only so much she could do. Still, she had to try, seemingly incapable of pulling herself out of the recurring, internal mantra of, “Just one more… Just one more…”
“Nan?”
Cullen’s soft voice pulled her back to the present and she blinked a little at the Commander. “Hmmm?”
His brow furrowed. “You still haven’t gone to see a healer for yourself, have you?” he asked.
Enansal fell silent as she gave him a blank stare, thinking back over the past couple of hours and… Had it really only been hours? Since the Siege of Adamant had started, everything that had transpired had felt like days, maybe even weeks.
He sighed, once again bringing her back to the present, and held out a hand to her. “Come.”
“But the soldiers--”
“Have a host of healers to attend to them,” he reminded her in a soft voice. “You do not have to take on all their burden for yourself.
Enansal looked away from Cullen and back down to the individual on the cot beneath her, a young human man who looked like he had barely entered adulthood. Though dried blood still caked his bare chest, she had successfully managed to close the wound he had suffered from, and she took some solace in the fact that his breathing seemed easier. After letting out a soft sigh and nodding a little in defeat, she rose to her feet… only to find the ground falling away from beneath her.
Cullen’s arms caught her before she collided with the cobblestones and he let out a soft grunt of exertion as he bent over to scoop her up, cradling her in his arms.
“I-I can…”
“No, you cannot,” he responded, his tone both gentle and firm. “You’ve worked yourself to the bone.”
She pursed her lips together but did not try to protest further.
The tension in his posture seemed to relax at that and he then looked down to inspect her own injuries, some of which she had already tended to through some self-healing spellwork or through healing potions, but some of the larger gashes she’d sustained from her unexpected journey into the Fade had been overlooked. He clicked his tongue, almost in disapproval, and proceeded to carry her across the battlements to the Inquisitor’s tent, which had been set up haphazardly in the post-battle chaos.
Once they entered the tent, Cullen lay Enansal on her cot before turning to light a candle to better illuminate the interior.
Enansal attempted to push herself up into a sitting position, but found that in the short time she’d been in Cullen’s arms, her physical exhaustion had finally caught up with her; her limbs felt weighted and every part of her ached. Eventually, she had to let out a small sigh of defeat, settling back into the cot once more.
As the candle flickered to life, Cullen glanced back at her. “Do you keep medical supplies in your traveling trunk?”
She nodded in affirmation.
He returned the gesture with a nod of acknowledgement and stepped across the small space to open the trunk in question. He retrieved a couple of rags and a large roll of bandages from inside it and then returned to her side.
Enansal quirked a brow at him. “...What are you doing, vhenan ?”
“I’m tending to your wounds,” he replied matter-of-factly, but then his movements faltered and he glanced up to meet her gaze. “Er… I mean… May I tend to your wounds?”
“I admit that I’m surprised you’re not asking one of the healers to come and take care of it.”
“Well… I thought I could take some of the burden off their shoulders if I stepped in. But if you would rather have one of them…?”
She shook her head. “No, I trust your ability. You just may need to ask someone to fetch us water and alcohol for disinfecting.”
“A fair point,” he replied. “Will you be alright if I step away to look for them myself?”
“I should be, yes.”
“I’ll try not to be too long.”
With that, he turned and slipped out of the tent. After he had left, Enansal took a few deep, steadying breaths and once again tried to force herself up into a sitting position, ignoring the pain and the way her body protested. Once she was upright, she let out a few more steadying breaths–they were shallower than before--and moved to loosen the straps of one of her vambraces with stiff fingers. She’d barely gotten one off before Cullen returned to the tent with a wooden bowl and a dark bottle.
“Nan,” he sighed when he saw her. “You need to be resting .”
She huffed in frustration but immediately squeezed her eyes shut as her vision began to spin, a wave of dizziness washed over her. “I was trying to help…”
“Enansal.” The way he said her name was almost a sigh, a soft-spoken plea. “Could you let me help you , just this once?”
She blinked, a little surprised by the earnesty in both his tone and his expression, but she sighed and gave him a nod. “Yes… I can do that.”
“Thank you,” he replied and finally set down the bowl and the bottle with the rest of the supplies he had previously pulled out of her trunk. He then approached her and gently helped her out of the rest of her armor.
Once she’d been stripped down to her tunic and breeches, Enansal lay back on the cot and watched as Cullen shrugged out of his mantle and then proceeded to pull off his gloves and his own vambraces, before he rolled up the sleeves of his tunic. After picking up the bowl and one of the rags, he came to kneel next to her and started to wash away the blood and grime on her torso. As silence fell between them, Enansal had to take a moment to marvel at the tenderness in Cullen’s touch even as his expression burned with intense concentration.
“Where did you learn to tend to injuries?” she asked after a few moments of silence, hoping to ease his nerves through conversation.
At that, Cullen let out a snort. “Well, having any number of siblings leads to its fair share of scrapes and bruises.”
She laughed at that, but found herself wincing as the movement sent another twinge of pain through her ribs.
Cullen’s hands faltered and he glanced up at her, his brow furrowed.
Enansal shook her head slightly at his silent question. “No, no, you’re not being too rough.” With a sly but tired smile, she added, “You’re just not allowed to make any jokes.”
“My apologies, Inquisitor. Only serious conversation from here on out,” he replied with an equally teasing tone. After a pause, he sighed and his expression shifted from amusement to sorrow. “All jesting aside, there have also been several instances in which I had no choice but to step in to provide medical attention.”
“I see,” she said, her tone softening with sympathy. “I… suppose we all have seen more than our fair share of injuries within the past few years.”
“That may be a vast understatement, Nan.”
“Indeed.”
The two fell silent as Cullen continued to focus on the task at hand, perhaps with even more solemnity than even Enansal was used to seeing. While he may not have had the finesse of a trained healer, he was still knowledgeable and thorough in his work.
“Thank you for doing this, Cullen,” she told him, abruptly breaking the silence.
“Of course. After everything that has happened tonight… I believe it is the least I could do for you.” With that, he finished tying off the last bandage and pulled away.
She offered him a grateful smile and reached out a hand to caress his face, whispering, “I love you.”
He reached up to take her hand in his and pressed his lips to her fingertips. “And I, you.”