Work Text:
Crash.
The mirror broke into hundreds of slivers, pieces coming loose from the frame and falling to the floor. But not all of them fell, too many still clung to their places. Now her reflection was splintered, fragments of her face staring back at her from a hundred different places.
She screamed in frustration and agony then brought her hand up to scratch and claw at her face. Her nails breached the skin and the pain was almost a relief, something external to mirror the turmoil within.
The mirror fragments now showed a face marred by angry red marks mostly on the right side, blood oozing from the self-inflicted wounds. But the marks were still there. She could still see the dark green tattoos adorning her face.
They were to honor Sylaise, those tattoos. Despite training to be a hunter she had been drawn to the warmth and sense of home the hearth goddess represented. She could remember her mother’s smile, so proud, as she listened to her adolescent daughter’s explanation of her choice.
Her hand reached up to claw at her face again, this time on the left side. The pain from her gouging reminded her of that proud day sitting before the keeper, her teeth gritted, desperately bottling up every cry of pain to prove that she was an adult, worthy of responsibility and respect.
But no, they were marks of slavery. Brands of ownership to creatures unworthy of allegiance. Corrupt mages that deserved none of the worship they now received. She screamed again. This was an agony she wouldn’t bottle up.
She kicked the mirror again, loosening a few more shards of glass, but still her reflection showed her those dark green marks.
Quick steps beyond the door warned her of someone’s approach moments before the door flew open and Cullen came in.
“Myrlana?” he asked with quiet worry. She kept her face turned from him, but she knew she couldn’t hide. Broken glass surrounded her and her fingers were streaked with blood.
Cullen came up behind her and turned her gently toward him, gasping when he saw her face.
“Oh, my love,” he murmured.
“It’s all gone,” she said in a broken voice she hardly recognized as her own. “My clan, the Inquisition, the Creators. Everything I cared about is gone. I ruined it.”
“I’m here, Myrlana. I’m not going anywhere.” He reached up a hand to stroke her hair, her neck, her ears.
“But what if I lose you too?” Tears fell from her eyes, and she welcomed the sting of the salt in the scratches.
“I will fight every moment of my life to be at your side, Myrlana. I made that promise when I married you.” He put his fingers beneath her chin and tilted her face up so he could look in her eyes. “You made a promise too,” he reminded her with compassionate firmness.
“I made a promise to gods that were no such thing, Cullen. Beings that never deserved my reverence. What does a promise like that mean?” She felt the bitterness of her words.
“Does that make it mean less to you?” he asked.
“I...yes, it does,” she replied then felt her chest tighten as Cullen’s expression turned first sad then went completely neutral. She could barely breathe and she felt herself begin to tremble as she realized how her words had hurt him. If she hurt him and lost him… That would be the end. “Cullen, I didn’t…” she gasped out.
His eyes softened slightly as if he understood what she couldn’t say. “Oh, my darling, it will take more than a few words to chase me away.” He pulled her close and pressed his forehead to hers. “We could always get married again, you know.” He told her softly with a smile. “The first time was rather wonderful. I wouldn’t mind a repeat.”
She felt the beginnings of a smile form on her lips, the first smile in far too long. “I think I’d like that. To make a promise that isn’t bound to just another group of power hungry mortals.” Then she sighed. “But I have no gods now. No one to witness my oath.”
“I meant it when I told you that all I require is your promise to be true, Myrlana. Make your oath to me and to yourself.”
“I do promise. I swear to you that my heart is yours forever, Cullen.”
“And I swear the same, that I love you, truly and that won’t change. You won’t lose me because all I am is yours.” He kissed her then, softly at first then with more passion until she gasped with pain as his stubble scraped against her ravaged face.
He pulled away to examine the damage she’d done to herself once more. “I think we ought to get you cleaned up, dear wife.”
“Yes,” she said, disappointed by the interruption.
“And quickly,” he continued. “After all, now that we’ve made our promises again, I believe it’s time to relive our wedding night, yes?”
“Yes,” she repeated, far from disappointed now.