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Draw your last breath, my friends,
Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky.
Rest at the Maker's right hand, And be Forgiven.
--Trials 1:16
He wasn't at the gate.
Maegwin frowned a little and scanned the busy courtyard again, certain she must have just missed his shock of golden hair, that he would not break the ritual: waiting for her just inside the gate, his crooked smile, eyes dancing, the low and surprisingly gentle tone of voice he saved just for her as he said welcome back, Inquisitor. Her cheeks would grow hot, laughter bubbling up as she replied thank you, Commander.
But he was nowhere to be seen. He wasn't at the gate.
The heavy feeling that had dogged her the entirety of the journey slowly bloomed into something sickening and sharp, a nameless fear the likes of which she had never encountered in battle.
Do what is necessary to stop him, but for my sake, make it quick. I knew him once, a long time ago, he had written, and she had not even had time to pen a reply; Varric, Blackwall, and Dorian were already headed out the gate, and she had to go with them. She had crumpled the parchment in one gloved fist and told the hapless messenger, "Please assure Commander Cullen that he has my word: it will be done as he requests."
That had been a little over a month ago. Anything could have happened in that time, anything at all. She reminded herself that she was being ridiculous: if something had happened to Cullen, someone would have told her. There would have been a letter. If something had happened, she would know. As she walked her horse to the stables, she reminded herself of that fact again and again. Nothing had happened. Nothing was wrong. Everything was fine. Everything was fine.
The stableboys were accommodating as always, taking her laden horse and promising to summon a servant to take her personal effects back to her quarters, and she thanked them effusively though her heart wasn't in it in the slightest. She forced herself to walk - not run, as she wanted - up the steps to the battlements, to Cullen's tower. Everything was fine.
He wasn't in his office. Maegwin ducked back out, certain she knew where he was, and sure enough, she found him further down the battlements, not so much walking them as pacing them like a caged animal. She fell into step beside him, tongue twisted upon the words he needed to hear but she didn't quite know how to say.
Cullen stopped, as if steeling himself. "So it's done?" he asked carefully. "Are you--"
"--completely mad?" Dorian wanted to know. "You're going to take that great hulking thing yourself?"
"Sparkler, 'that thing' is someone Curly knows personally. You do understand that, right?" Varric replied conversationally, loading a bolt into Bianca.
Maegwin leaned on her staff and squinted at the massive shape on the stairs, feeling nauseated as she contemplated who this man had been before the red lyrium had claimed him. "His name is Carroll, Dorian. And I promised Cullen I would do this. I told him I would make it quick. So what's the best way to do that, exactly? Any ideas?"
Blackwall, who had remained silent this whole time, finally spoke up. "Cut his head off, I suppose."
"I'm not sure I can reach his head. He is very... tall."
"Truly, I believe we've fought dragons smaller than this Carroll," Dorian observed archly. "And you want to have a go at him one on one."
"I didn't say it was smart, but a promise is a promise."
"And if you get killed, Posy? Why don't I just put an arrow through his eye and--"
"I'm not going to get killed, Varric," she said dismissively. "None of us are."
Again, Blackwall broke his silence. "Why don't we keep him distracted while you do that thing..." He waggled his fingers. "Fade Step, is it? Blow him to pieces."
Maegwin made a face. "You'll have to keep him in one spot. It's hard to control. I've not had much luck with that particular spell yet, remember."
"I'll cast a lightning cage, he won't be going anywhere," Dorian said.
"Okay, so we go in and you cast a lightning cage around him, then I fade step into him. But if it doesn't work, I want you all to focus on the guys around him, all right? Carroll is my responsibility. As long as I've got a good barrier and I can get a couple swings in with my spirit blade, that will have to be fast enough."
They rushed in with the practiced ease of a group who had done this many times before. When the lightning cage went up, Maegwin blinked out and ran into Carroll as fast as her legs could carry her, blinking back in when she felt that distinctive tingle on her skin that meant she was actually stepping through solid matter. There was a dull tearing sound and Maegwin found herself covered in gore.
So it had worked. She dove right back into the fray, hurling fireballs at the same man that Varric was turning into a pincushion. In the silence that followed the battle, she looked around at the bloody mess and said, "Just so we're all clear on this, we are never going to tell Cullen what happened to Carroll. He doesn't need to know the details--"
"--all right?"
She looked up at him, caught off guard by the question. The easy reply she had been about to give was forgotten in the face of the pain she saw in his amber eyes. "Are you?" she asked instead.
He hesitated a long time before admitting, "I don't know."
It was rare for him to admit weakness in such a manner: how long had it taken him to tell her about his lyrium withdrawals, after all? He might as well have just said no, because she knew that his I don't know meant the same thing.
Maegwin leaned against his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. "It's done," she assured him. "Just as you asked."
His sigh caught in his throat, coming out more like a sob, and he pressed his face into her hair, clinging to her as though there were nothing else left to him. She was taken aback to realize that perhaps that was true.
"Talk to me, sweetling," she prompted gently. "Tell me what's on your mind."
"Is this... is this what the Maker intended?" he asked brokenly. "Carroll was a good man. We gave him guard duty at the docks because it was easy: the lyrium was taking his mind and he couldn't be trusted with complex tasks. He only wanted to serve, Maegwin. That's all any of us wanted, and in the end, he and I were the only ones left. I should have taken him with me to Kirkwall. I should have--"
"Cullen, you couldn't have known--"
"I should have done something."
"You told me yourself that you were in a bad place; you couldn't have been expected to try and protect him from himself, as well."
"He deserved better. Is this really what the Maker spared him for? To twist him into just another monster for you to slaughter?"
"No, he was a man. A good man, as you said, and I did the best I could for him: I gave him the mercy of a swift death. Perhaps that was what the Maker intended."
When Cullen spoke again, some of the steadiness had returned to his voice. "Perhaps you're right. I hope you are." He kissed her forehead and she could feel his lips turning up into a tentative smile. "I almost forgot... welcome back, Inquisitor."
Maegwin's laughter was nothing more than a small chuff of breath. "Thank you, Commander."