Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

            Blood. Blood everywhere. Where is Castelo? Where– His hand. His hand: where’s the rest of him? Under the rubble? No. No, body. My leg. Maker, my leg hurts. Move, you have to move, Cullen. Get up. When will the ringing stop? Is that my blood or someone else’s? Open your hand. Open your hand, Rutherford. Open your hand and grab your weapon. Move, damn it! Whose shadow? Gun. Grab your– Jim. Jim, I can’t move. I can’t… this damned ringing! We have to call for backup. We have to find Castelo before he bleeds out. Why aren’t you listening to me! Why can’t I hear you? Why can’t you hear me?

            Maker, this pain! Jim, my leg. Jim, something is wrong with my leg. No. No, I have to stay. I’m not finished yet. They have to know. I have to tell them. Stay awake. Stay. Awake. Stay…awake. Stay…

~

            “Cullen! Cullen, stop fighting. Hold on. Hold on they’re getting it out.”

Something was in his throat. Maker it hurts. There were hands on his face, pushing his hair back, holding his arms down. Maker, the pain. He tried to push the hands away, but he could barely lift his arms.

            “Cullen, listen to me!”

            Cassandra. Cassandra, why can’t I talk? What is this? What’s happening?

            Hands stroked over his face, cupped his cheeks.

            “You’re in the hospital, Cullen. There’s a breathing tube in your throat to help you breathe. They’re going to take it out, but you have to stop squirming.”

            “I can’t do this. I can’t be here for this.”

            Celia? Celia!

            “Cullen, I’m going to pull the tube out. Okay? I’m going to pull it out on the count on the count of three and I need you to breathe out when I do, okay? Okay, here we go, one, two, three.”

            He exhaled and the tube was pulled out of this throat. He coughed as dragged up and out. It felt like they had wrapped razor wire around it. The first cough was painful and he felt tears leak out of the corner of his eyes.

            “Good job, Cullen. Good. Cough again for me.”

            Fading. He was fading again, slipping back into a dreamless sleep.

            “Cullen?”

~

            Maker, his head hurt. His face hurt. Fuck, his whole body hurt. He opened his eyes to see where he was and promptly closed them again. The light was so bright it nearly blinded him. From what he could see in the few seconds his eyes were open, he was in a hospital: white walls, white sheets, an incessant beeping noise.

            Find the call button. Makers, balls.

            He pushed it weekly, kept his thumb on it until he heard the quiet steps of a nurse.

            “Sir, can you hear me?”

            He cracked his eyes open and squinted before closing them again. Blessedly, the young woman flipped an overhead light off.

            “Can you open your eyes for me?”

            Cullen slowly slid them open again, thankful that the room was darker than it was before. A pleasant looking nurse leaned over him: she had light blue eyes and an intricate vallasin across her features.

            She smiled at him. “Good. My name is Rachel. Can you tell me your name?”

            He grimaced when he tried to work his vocal chords. His throat was raw like he had swallowed razor blades.

            “Here, try some water.” She pressed a straw to his lips. “Careful of your stitches.”

            Cullen drank nearly half the cup before she pulled it away.

            “Can you tell me your name?”

            “Cullen Rutherford,” he answered, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back against the pillow.

            “Do you know where you are?”

            “Hospital.” Makers balls, my head hurts.

            “Do you know what happened to you?”

            Explosion. Blood. Dust. Ringing. Pain.

            “Where is Celia? My fiancé, is she here?”

            The nurse frowned and pressed the straw to his lips again. “She hasn’t been in today. I’ll call her though and let her know you’re awake. How’s your pain?”

            “Seven.”

            “Okay. I’ll go and let the doctor know you’re awake.”

            She left so quietly that he barely noticed. The only sign she was ever there was the faint smell of her perfume: lilacs and mint.

            There was a scratching against his gums. He ran his tongue between his upper lip and his raw gums and felt sharp spines. Stitches. The nurse had mentioned he had stitches. Judging from the feeling it was deep. He turned his head and squinted at the dim light coming through the window: it was dismally stormy outside. Celia hated the rain. Maybe that was why she wasn’t there.

            “Ah, Mr. Rutherford, good to see you’re awake,” the doctor spoke quietly as he entered.

            The man was Cullen’s age, or appeared to be. His auburn hair was pulled back into a short ponytail. He looked as if he hadn’t shaved nor slept in a week. He was tall enough his head almost reached the doorframe and his build appeared to be athletic. The smile he flashed Cullen was bright and genuine.

            “My name is Anders. I’m your doctor. I’d like to do a quick exam before we do anything else.”

            Cullen gave an affirming ‘hm’ instead of a nod. His head throbbed with every movement he gave. Anders walked to him, as quietly as he could, and shined a small penlight into his eyes: it was too bright and Cullen had to resist turning his head away. He followed the pen as he was supposed to, touched his fingers to his nose and then to Anders’s fingers, counted back from one hundred by threes.

            “Okay,” Anders smiled, “good. I’d still like to get another c.t before you leave. Just as a precaution.”

            Anders wheeled a chair up to the side of the bed and took a seat with his back facing the door. His long legs crossed at the knee and he placed Cullen’s chart on them.

            “You were brought in last Monday. About nine days ago. You had been in an explosion at the capital building. Do you remember that?” He paused so Cullen could confirm. “You sustained a lot of injuries during the blast. Your left shoulder was dislocated severely. Surgery was performed to repair it. You’ll have to attend physical therapy once a week for a month or so. But you’ll gain full range of motion back. A piece of shrapnel hit you here,” he gestured to his own upper lip, “so you have fourteen stitches on the outside and nine on the inside. A nurse will apply bacitracin on the inside of your lip three times a day. That should help with irritation.” He flipped through the chair on his lap again and pursed his lips.

            “You have bruised ribs, so we have some lovely breathing exercises for you to do to make sure you don’t develop pneumonia. You have some lacerations, but nothing life-threatening. Only a few of those have stitches.”

            “And my leg?” Cullen asked him.

            The young doctor frowned and took a deep breath in. “Mr. Rutherford, we won’t know for sure–”

            “Don’t bullshit me, Doctor,” he growled. “I’m in pain and I just want the truth.”

            “Okay,” Anders nodded, “Okay. The blast injured your leg severely. There’s extensive nerve damage as well as damaged to the tendons and ligaments. You’ll need several nerve grafts and skin grafts. If I can repair–”

            “If?” Cullen interrupted him with a gruff tone.

            Anders nodded and shifted in his seat. “Yes. If I can repair it, you’ll need months of physical therapy. Even with that, you may never walk the same again. You could need a cane for the rest of your life.”

            “And if you can’t repair it?”

            Cullen was afraid to ask the question. There was a growing pit in his stomach: a black hole devouring him from the inside out. Lightning struck somewhere in the city and the sky lit up before going dark again.

            “We can focus on that when it comes to it.”

            Anders was avoiding the question.

            “No, we’ll focus on it now.”

            Anders pursed his lips and studied the man in front of him: Cullen’s face was hard, his eyes narrowed in defiance. He was putting on the airs of a commander.

            “If the damage to your leg cannot be repaired, if it rejects the grafts, amputation will be the next step.”

            Cullen sat stiffly and unmoving. His heart thundered in his chest, his stomach rolled and clenched, bile rose in his throat. Anders was still talking to him, but his ears were filled with cotton. Amputation. He would lose the leg and even if he didn’t, he would never be able to return to active duty.

            His face was burning, but there was a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. Breathing was becoming even more restricted. Cullen was shaking, his limbs no longer under his control.

            “Cullen, I need you to take a breath,” Anders instructed firmly.

            Except Cullen couldn’t take a breath. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move.

            “Cullen?” a soft voice asked from the doorway.

            He looked up, found Celia standing in the doorway. One of her arms was wrapped around her stomach, the hand gripping her upper arm. She looked perfect. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, makeup freshly applied and untouched by the rain. Even the jeans she was wearing looked as if she had ironed them. No matter how put together she looked, Cullen could see the fear in her large eyes.

            “Celia,” he breathed in relief.

            Cullen held his hand out for her. She hesitated for a few moments before she went to stand on the opposite side of the bed of Anders. Her lithe hands were kept by her sides. Cullen reached for one, but she stayed out of reach, no looking at him. His heart clenched tightly and he looked away from her.

            “Cullen, as I said, amputation is a last resort. We will do everything we can to ensure that.”

            “Amputation?” Celia snapped her brown eyes to Anders in shock. “Cullen, did he say amputation?”

            She finally looked at him then. He made sure to watch her face carefully: noticing every twitch every shift in her body language. Her brows were cinched together, lips drawn together in a pout, her hands were clenching her purse now.

            “I know you’re scared for your fiancé, but I assure you, we are doing everything we can. It’s going to be a long road and it won’t be easy. You’re going to need each other for support.” Anders stood and made a note in Cullen’s chart. “I’ll up your pain meds for now and check on you again before I leave, okay?”

            Cullen nodded and then stopped Anders. “Doctor? I don’t want to be on narcotics.”

            Anders frowned and studied Cullen. “I’m afraid the pain would only be worse off of them, Cullen.”

            “I’m an ex-templar. I don’t need a new addiction.”

            “You were never addicted, Cullen,” Celia huffed and straightened her already straight hair.

            “I was. And I don’t wish a new one. I can handle the pain.”

            Anders was quiet for a few moments before he nodded. “Okay. I’ll let the nurses no and amend your chart. If you change your mind, please let me know. These surgeries we have planned will be painful.”

            Cullen nodded and watched Anders leave the room, closing the door softly behind him. Then, against his will, his eyes focused on his leg beneath the blanket. What did it look like? Was it bruised? Maybe swollen and red? He wanted to rip the white blanket back and look, but at the same time was terrified to do so.

            “You weren’t here,” he finally said, “when I woke up.”

            Celia turned away from him and laid her purse on the couch. In true Celia fashion, she busied herself straightening the room.

            “I went to work. You were out for a while.” She flipped the lights on. “I didn’t see the point of me being here.”

            Cullen flinched at the sudden the sudden light and quickly threw a hand over his eyes.

            “Celia, darling, the lights. Can you turn them off? My head is splitting.”

            She sighed. “It’s just so dark in here, Cullen.”

            He couldn’t open his eyes to look at her, but he knew the look she had on her face. Disappointment. Still, even behind his hand, the light crept in and burned into his retinas. There was an icepick driving its way into the flesh behind his eyes.

            “Celia, please,” he gasped.

            Finally, blessedly, the light vanished with a click. Cullen released a breath slowly and moved his hand from his eyes. His bloodshot amber eyes found Celia sitting on the couch. She was watching him carefully, her eyes hyper-focusing on his legs. Had she seen them before they were covered? When they brought him in perhaps?

            “Come here,” he whispered to her.

            “I don’t want to hurt you.”

            Cullen frowned and reached his hand out to her. “You aren’t going to hurt me. Please, come here.”

            Slowly, very slowly, Celia stood up from the couch. Her high-heels clicked on the tile as she made her way over to him. When she finally reached the edge of the bed, Cullen picked up her manicured hand and kissed the back of it gently. A new pain bloomed in his lip, but he ignored it.

            “I know you’re scared. I am too,” he whispered. “But we can get through this together. Prosthetics–”

            Suddenly, she pulled her hand from him and stepped away from the bed.

            “They are not amputating your leg.”

            “Celia,” he started but then lost his words.

            “No. They’ll be able to fix it and you’ll go back to normal.”

            Normal. The way she said it made his skin feel too tight. Normal. In some way, he knew what she meant. Yet at the back of his mind he knew that if he lost his leg, she would view him as less than. Cullen would never be ‘normal’ again. No one goes through something like he did and still come out of it normal.

            “Has Leliana or Cassandra been in touch about what happened?” he asked her.

            Celia made a noise in her throat and turned away from him. “I don’t want to talk about that, Cullen. I just want to forget it happened.”

            “Forget it happened,” he parroted back.

            “Yes,” she straightened her already perfect hair, “I just want to put it behind us and move forward.” She looked back at him with a frown. “Can’t we do that?”

            No, he wanted to say. No, we can’t do that. We can’t put it all behind us because I am still living it.

            “I,” she hesitated. “I have to get back to work. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

            She stepped over to him and quickly kissed him on the forehead. Before he could say anything to her, she was out of the room and halfway down the hall. It suddenly felt like there was a hole in his chest. He could feel her pulling away from him. Like autumn fading away into winter: you could see it coming, could feel it in your bones, but nothing can stop it. In a way, he understood. Celia had been through a trauma too. He could have died and she could have lost him. She almost did lose him. It was her right to be scared.

            As soon as he closed his eyes again, sleep overtook him. Deep, dark, dreamless sleep.

~

            “No Celia, today?” Rachel asked as she changed the bandage on Cullen’s chest.

            “No,” he answered and looked up at the ceiling. “No, she’s back at work. I can’t fault her for that.”

            Rachel nodded. “Will she be here for the surgery today?”

            The tape stung when she peeled it off of his skin.

            “I, uh, I’m not sure. We didn’t really talk about it. This stuff kind of upsets her.” There was a moment of tense silence. “I understand though,” he rushed to Celia’s defense. “Dating me is a lot. This is a lot. No one expects their fiancé to get blown up.”

            The elvish woman carefully applied salve to the wound. “No one expects to get blown up either.”

            Rachel made a very good point. But Celia was just scared. Cullen knew she still loved him a great deal. Celia never asked him to put his career on hold for her, why should he ask that of her? It wouldn’t be fair of him to ask her to give up everything to sit by his bedside while he recovered. Besides all that, it wasn’t as if he was recovering alone. Cassandra and Leliana stopped by frequently to let him know updates on the investigation, and to check up on him. Josephine stopped by twice a day to check on him and to ask Anders important questions that Cullen didn’t always ask. Varric brought by food that wasn’t hospital food. The dwarf even brought by food that morning. Even though it was promptly taken away by nurses.

            “Cullen,” Rachel finished the dressing and put her hands on her hips, “are you sure you don’t want me to call your family?”

            Pale light filtered through the window parallel to his bed. Another stormy day of fall weather. All that rain could ruin a crime scene; like a flood wiping out an entire town, they could lose everything. There were no leads: it was as if a ghost planted the bomb. His family would have questions. One of them would be, ‘who did this?’ And he wouldn’t have an answer for them. If he called them, they would worry and fly out eight hours to be with him. And then they would never leave. His family weren’t rich nobles. They were poor farmers who couldn’t afford to take time off. Especially since he found himself no longer able to send money back to them. Cullen would already be tapping into his nest egg.

            “Cullen?”

            “Forgive me. My thoughts got the better of me. I’m sure, Rachel. I don’t want to worry them.”

            She sighed and tossed her blonde hair out of her face. “All I’m saying is that if you were my brother, I’d want to be here with you. And I would be beyond pissed if I knew you had surgery and didn’t tell me. If I knew you had been in a bombing and didn’t tell me,” she made an angry sound in her throat.

            Mia would be furious with him. Hell, they all would. He should call them. They were bound to see the news. Or maybe that hadn’t. The black phone Leliana had bought him hadn’t rung once. Cassandra hadn’t mentioned fielding any calls form them, nor had anyone else. Celia was unlikely to answer her phone. He should call them.

            Rachel left him shortly after to tend to her other patients. She was an incredibly kind woman. He enjoyed the fact that she said exactly what she was thinking. Grateful, he was grateful for it. This was the second surgery of many. There was no definitive word on how the first surgery went, but Rachel told him she felt positive about it.

            Positivity: that was something nearly every doctor he saw discouraged against. Hope was a dangerous thing in the medical field. They told him to prepare himself for the possibility of losing his leg. Rejoice in the healing process and how well he was doing, but to accept that it could get worse or stagnate. Hope had no place in a hospital. His few weeks spent in the CCU he learned quickly that situations could one-eighty in a matter of hours. Patients who were stable suddenly got worse. Patients who were circling the drain before could make a miraculous recovery. Cullen wondered which one he would be.

            With a sigh he picked up the new phone: it had a thick black leather case Leliana had picked out for him. It was a much newer phone than the brick of a flip phone he’d had since training. It was a good and loyal phone. One that got him teased endlessly. The new phone opened upon seeing his face. It was interesting if at the same time completely unnerving. He had seen too many sci-fi/ a.i movies in his youth to not be worried. Cullen had asked Celia if she could pick him up a new phone. Instead, Leliana had come in with one.

            It was getting harder and harder for Cullen to keep making excuses for Celia and her behavior. Cullen was just as scared, just as anxious for himself be out of the hospital as she was. As much as he didn’t want to tell her, Cullen needed her there. He needed the woman he loved to be there for him.

            His jaw clenched. She couldn’t “deal with all of this right now.” She couldn’t deal with it. He kept repeating the line over and over in his head like a cd that skipped. The vow he made early to be understanding was starting to splinter. He was at risk of losing his fucking leg and the woman he loved couldn’t handle it enough to be there for him. She couldn’t handle it! How, in the Maker’s name, did she think he could? The waters were surrounding him and he was sinking fast into the abyss.

            The urge to text her back and yell was so overwhelming that his hands shook. Instead, he locked his phone and set it back on the stand beside his bed. An ambulance pulled into the emergency bay. Its sirens mimicked those in his own head. The tick in his jaw was coming back full force.

            “My,” Leliana said from the doorway, “you look absolutely fetching when you’re angry, Cullen.”

            The glare he cast to her wasn’t meant for her, not really. It was meant for the general shit situation he found himself in.

            “Problems with Celia?” she asked, depositing herself in the chair beside his bed.

            Cullen rubbed his face, hissing when he made contact with his sutures.

            “She isn’t coming for the surgery,” he growled out. “She says she can’t ‘deal with all of this’.”

            He wanted to break something. His fist had the divine urge to go through a window or a wall.

            Leliana raised an eyebrow and crossed her legs. “She said that?”

            Cullen unlocked his phone again and passed it to Leliana. He turned his eyes back to the ceiling when it was in her hands and proceeded to count the 576 specks in the ceiling tile above his bed. He curled his fist tighter at the fresh wash of pain through his leg. Pain was a good sign, Anders said. The nerve grafts were taking.

            After a few moments of quiet reading, Leliana set the phone back down.

            “She has been very distant, no?”        

            Cullen sighed. “How is the case going?”

            Deflection. And Leliana was likely to see right through it.

            “It’s going. We are still combing the scene. So far we have found 12 fragments of the device we think was used. What is most unnerving,” she added coolly, “is that no group has come forward to claim this attack.”

            That was strange. Normally, terrorist groups were rushing to lay claim to something of that magnitude. The fact that not one was leaping forward to take the glory meant that something deeper was happening.

            “His Majesty wants to gift you with the Medal of Ferelden.”

            Cullen snapped his head to look at her smirking face. “For what?”

            Leliana chuckled and leaned back in her seat. “For your heroism, Cullen.”

            The Lion of Ferelden rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. I hardly consider being blown up heroism. He should give the medal to Jim,” Cullen added. “Jim was the one who found me first. He triaged me and eight other people. Are they giving medals now for simply surviving?”  

            Leliana laughed and put a hand on her cheek. “You sound like one of those old people. You know,” she gestured, “the ones who complain because kids get medals just for participating.”

            Culled chuckled and rubbed his eyes. She was right: he was sounding more and more like the people he hated when he was growing up. Part of that he chalked up to the pain, the other, his frustration with Celia.

            “Are you still refusing pain medication?” Leliana picked up his chart and started to flip through it.

            “Yes. I don’t need a new addiction, Leli. I’m taking pain medication, just not narcotics.”

            Ever since he had stopped taking lyrium, he had strayed away from narcotics. The last thing he needed was something else to become addicted to. Many former templars who attempted to quit lyrium were often prescribed narcotics for the pain. And then they often became leashed to a new lord and master. It was not a life Cullen was willing to go back to.

            “You’re one my dearest friends, Cullen. I only want to make sure you aren’t taking on more than you can handle.”

            She reached out and took his hand in hers. Cullen squeezed her hand reassuringly and smiled at her. The two friends had been through a lot together. Leliana had seen him through withdrawals. Not once did she ever leave his side. The Orlesian woman had seen Cullen in every horrible moment of his past. Yet still, she stayed his friend through it all. And there she was again, sitting by his bedside.

            A short time later, a young nurse came in and stood quietly just inside the door.

            “Mr. Rutherford?” he asked hesitantly. “I’m here to take you up for surgery now.”

            Cullen nodded to him and kissed the back of Leliana’s hand. “I will be fine,” he whispered.

            “Cassandra is going to be so angry she did not get to wish you luck.” Leliana smiled and stood up. “I did tell her traffic was blocked on 45^th.”

            Cullen smiled and let the young man get him ready. “She never listens.”

            Leliana walked with him to the surgical wing doors. There was a tense silence along the way. Neither knew what exactly to say to the others. Words of comfort would feel empty when they were both worried and the future was so unsteady.

            “I’ll be here when you wake up,” Leliana called after him, pressed a hand to her lips, and briefly reached out to him.

~

            Bright lights shone down over him, nearly blinding in their intensity. Someone was talking to him, touching him, monitors were beeping, someone was crying, someone was throwing up.

            Maker, these lights.

            “Sir, can you tell me your name?”

            “Rutherford,” he croaked.

            “Mr. Rutherford, you’re in the recovery room. We’ll take you back to your room soon.”

            He wanted to ask how the surgery went but his jaw felt so heavy. The edges of his vision were fading to black; his eyelids felt heavy and inoperable. It was a losing battle to stay awake, but he struggled to win. All his brain wanted was to rest for a time.

            “Rest, Mr. Rutherford. Rest.”

~

            Sometime later, he awoke in what he assumed was his hospital room. Rain was slamming against the large windows across from his bed. The light outside had shifted, darkened the room to a faint blue hue. The only light that broke through was from the partially opened bathroom door. He felt sweat roll down his temples, even though his forehead was freezing.

            “Cullen?”

            Leliana. He turned his head slowly to find her: the movement felt like he was a four-month-old baby trying to get control of their neck and large head. His throat ached and he groaned out what he hoped was her name. Her warm hand stroked over his forehead and he leaned into the touch. His quiet whimper barely reached her ears.

            “I’m here, Cullen.”

            “Cullen, can you hear us?” Cassandra asked from somewhere in the room.

            “Celia?”

            “She’s not here yet, Cullen. I will call her,” Cassandra tried her best to reassure him.

            “Sleep now, Cullen,” Leliana whispered, stroking her fingers over his face. “We’ll be here when you wake.”

~

            “Cullen! Glorious Denerim weather we’re having, isn’t it?” Castelo smiled from his post.

            The taller man smiled and shook the rain out of his hair and off his jacket. Hell of a day to forget his umbrella. The sudden downpour left him soaked clean through. Even his shoes squelched when he left.

            “Yes, absolutely glorious!” he answered back.

            Castelo laughed and walked over to check his credentials. “Big Papa is in the house.”

            Cullen groaned and handed over his id. “Have I told you how much I hate it when you call him that?”

            “Sir!” Castelo yelled to a man behind Cullen to get his attention. “You’ll have to check that bag.” He turned back to Cullen. “I know. Which is what makes it hilarious. He’s upstairs waiting for you.”

            Blood. Blood everywhere. Where is Castelo? Where– His hand. His hand: where’s the rest of him? Under the rubble? No. No, body. My leg. Maker, my leg hurts. Move, you have to move, Cullen. Get up. When will the ringing stop? Is that my blood or someone else’s? Open your hand. Open your hand, Rutherford. Open your hand and grab your weapon. Move, damn it! Whose shadow? Gun. Grab your– Jim. Jim, I can’t move. I can’t… this damned ringing! We have to call for backup. We have to find Castelo before he bleeds out. Why aren’t you listening to me! Why can’t I hear you? Why can’t you hear me?

Maker, this pain! Jim, my leg. Jim, something is wrong with my leg. No. No, I have to stay. I’m not finished yet. They have to know. I have to tell them. Stay awake. Stay. Awake. Stay…awake. Stay…

~

Cullen startled awake. He jerked up in bed, yanking the iv in his hand and jarring his shoulder. He hissed quietly, reaching up to rub at his sore shoulder. He looked around the darkened room, the faint light from a street lamp outside casing an odd orange glow around the room. There was a female form curled up on the couch under a blanket. For a moment, he hoped it was Celia, however, when he looked closer he saw it was only Cassandra.

Deciding to let her sleep, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed at his forehead. Maker, he had to piss. With a quiet grunt, he grabbed his iv pole and pushed himself off the side. And then he fell. He barely took one step before he fell face first to the floor. A loud beeping noise emitted from his bed. Lights danced in front of his eyes and bright pain bloomed across his chin.

“Cullen!” Cassandra reached for a weapon that wasn’t there. “Maker, Cullen where are you?”

“Here,” he groaned as he sat up.

The sleep-addled woman hit the call button on the side of his bed and rushed around to him.

“I forgot,” he whispered quietly.

There in the dark, he stared at his leg stretched out in front of him. He stared at it intently, trying to will some kind of feeling into it. Cassandra knelt her body next to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. She was scalding compared to the coolness of his skin.

“I can’t feel it.”

“Cullen,” she whispered.

All he heard in her voice was pity and he resented it with every fiber of his being. At that moment, he knew he was going to lose the leg. His eyes never left his leg, the snarl on his face felt like home.

“Cullen, you’re still numb from surgery. This is normal. Anders said it would be normal.” Cassandra kissed his temple when she finished speaking. “For Maker’s sake, you aren’t even supposed to be walking on it yet.”

A nurse entered the room quickly, worried she’d find her patient bleeding on the floor. She was partially correct. With a gasp, she rushed over to them. Together she and Cassandra helped Cullen back up onto the bed, careful of his shoulder and ribs. He leaned most of his weight against Cassandra. She was strong, maybe even stronger than he was: although he would never admit it. Once he was settled in amongst the pillows and sheets, the Nurse turned the fall risk alarm off.

“What were you trying to do?” Cassandra asked him.

Cullen sighed and let them mother him into being comfortable. “I was trying to use the bathroom.”

“Oh,” the young nurse nodded, Cat, he thought her name was, “I can get you a bedpan–”

“I don’t want a bedpan,” he growled out.

Cassandra put her hands on her hips and nodded curtly to the nurse. Cat left quickly and Cullen was suddenly very worried.

“Cass,” he started.

She held up her hand and stared intently at him. “Cullen, you cannot walk right now. How do you propose that you make it to the bathroom?”

“I’ll crawl.”

“You are being stubborn.”

“I will not use a bedpan.”

“You will,” she said, “or they will put a catheter in you.”

            Cullen grimaced and resisted the urge to rub at himself. Getting a catheter was not a pleasant experience. He felt like a child or some feeble old man who could no longer use the bathroom by himself. If they asked him to wear a diaper, he was certain he would kill them. With his iv pole. He grit his teeth and looked back up at her. She was right: there was no way he could get to the bathroom by himself. But the thought of having to rely on other people to help him relieve himself was humiliating and degrading.

            The nurse brought the bedpan and a urinal in. Cullen glared but took the urinal from her. The pair of women left together so he could relieve himself and preserve what little dignity he had left. Which, at that moment, was not much. He was grateful for once that Celia wasn’t there with him. What would she think?

            Their last text returned to leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

            After that, he couldn’t return to sleep. Instead, he stayed quiet and watched the rain on the window. Cassandra had managed to fall back asleep only a few short moments after laying back down. Watching her made him envious. Even when he wasn’t in the hospital, Cullen found it difficult to sleep. Nightmares were made worse by lyrium and they kept him from sleeping at all.

            After all their time knowing each other, Rylen could still make him laugh at himself. The two had been stationed together more than a few times and had remained close friends. The night in question took place when Cullen was twenty-three. He remembered that the Starkie had gotten them both so plastered that Cullen could remember nothing. Including how he wound up naked from the waist down, on the floor, with his ass high in the air. Pictures were taken.

            Then, against his better judgment, he pulled up news about the bombing. It took him hours to read through every article and watch every newscast. Every picture from the bombing he combed over for any details. There were pictures of bodies being pulled from the rubble. Alistair being led out of the back; he was covered in ash and streaked with blood. Then, there was a picture of himself being carried out by two soldiers. At first, he didn’t recognize himself: the news station had been decent enough to blur his face. Then he saw his leg, that mangled mess of raw meat. Bile rose in his throat and saliva filled his mouth the longer he looked at it. He shut his phone off and tossed it away from him.

            He counted the seconds that turned into minutes, minutes that turned into hours. All the while the rain fell.

            When Anders finally came in, Cullen was beyond exhausted. He had spent the previous six hours chasing his thoughts in circles like a dog chasing a rabbit. Josephine had arrived at eight am with a home-cooked Antivan breakfast for him. He ate like a man starving. Cassandra had arrived just as Josephine was leaving for work for the day. Against his anger, he sent Celia a text to tell her Anders would be telling them how the surgery was later that morning. She had yet to answer him when Anders walked in.

            “Heard you had a fall last night,” Anders said with a smile.

            Cullen nodded and sat up further in the bed. “I forgot.”

            Anders nodded and carefully started unwrapping the bandages from Cullen’s leg. “It happens, especially when you’re still coming off anesthesia. Cassandra, it’s lovely to see you again.”

            “And you as well, Dr. Anders. How is he?” She stood up from the couch and approached the side of Cullen’s bed.

            “Anders, please, Cassandra. We’ll find out. The surgery went well. Now, it’s just a waiting game.”

            Cassandra and Cullen waited and watched while Anders worked on Cullen’s leg. The stoic woman had her arms crossed in front of her, one hand resting on her chin as her face remained impassive. They listened quietly as Anders explained the surgery in as much detail as he could.

            “Am I too late?”

            Cullen and Cassandra looked up to find Celia standing shyly in the doorway.

            “No,” Cullen said with relief despite himself. “No, you’re just in time.”

            The older woman held Celia’s gaze with scrutiny. Cullen may have forgotten her absences, maybe even forgiven her for them, but Cassandra would not. Despite her feelings of anger towards the young girl, she would not stop her from being with Cullen. At least, not until he decided she was not worth the pain of disappointment.

            Anders continued explaining the surgery, gently moving Cullen’s leg as he went. His voice was soothing, even though what he was saying sparked worry in the three bodies around him. The more Anders moved his leg around, the more it hurt Cullen. Cullen reached for Celia’s hand and squeezed it when she took hold of it. Finally, he looked down at the bruised and iodine covered flesh. The leg was swollen and angry looking, bruised in some places. The grafts were large and left his leg looking like Frankenstein’s monster. The diamond-patterned graft made him sick to his stomach and he had to look away quickly.

            “So he won’t lose the leg?” Celia finally asked, keeping her eyes off of Cullen’s exposed leg.

            Anders frowned and began putting new bandages on Cullen. “I can’t say for certain. The risk of infection is lower since we used his own skin. However, there is still a risk that the grafts won’t take or if they even heal properly.”

            “When do I start physical therapy?”

            “Well, your leg needs to heal for at least thirty-six hours. Minimal movement if you can. After that, a physical therapist will come in and speak with you about stretches you should be doing until your leg heals. You won’t be doing any heavy work for a while. And I would like to keep you for a full five more days before we talk about release.”

            “Five days?” Cullen groaned.

            “Five days,” Anders answered back with a smile.

            Cassandra chuckled and rubbed her forehead. “Push it, Cullen, and he may make it a full week.”

            Cassandra left after that, pressed her lips to Cullen’s temple before she left. She gave a short nod to Celia on the way out. Celia was Cullen’s fiancé and therefore his problem. Though if that woman hurt him, she would have Cassandra to deal with.

            Celia brushed Cullen’s hair out of his face and smiled. “You’ll be home soon then.”

            Cullen nodded and turned his gold gaze up to her. She looked perfect, perfect as always. Her blonde hair was tied up in a smooth bun: he never could understand how her hair didn’t frizz. Cullen’s curls exploded at any hint of moisture. Her colorful blush gave life to her pale skin. Her lips were painted in a nude color: she rarely wore anything other than that. Warden Nude was the shade. Cullen had bought it for her on several occasions when she needed it.

            “We have got to get you a shower,” she said with a wrinkled nose.

            “You’re right about that,” Cullen chuckled. “My scalp itches. I’m fairly certain I still have blood in it.”

            Celia made an ‘ugh’ noise and retracted her hand. “You tell me that after I put my hand in it. So this could be the last surgery.”

            Cullen shrugged and scratched his jaw. “Let’s hope so.”

            She grew very quiet after that and busied herself cleaning a perfectly clean room. Cullen watched her, knowing that she cleaned when she was nervous or unsure of herself. It rarely happened, but when it did things around her tended to sparkle like a cleaning add. When he had asked her to marry him, she cleaned for three days straight before she said yes. Everyone he knew looked at him like he was crazy when they found out.

            “It took her three days to accept?”

            “Maker, Cullen. Why did you even ask her?”

            “Three days? She didn’t answer you for three days?”

            So she needed time to figure it out. Cullen had been perfectly okay with that. They had talked about marriage before. Even though Celia had never mentioned marrying Cullen. There was no, ‘when we get married’.

            “I’ll see if the nurses can help you.”

            “No. Absolutely not. I’d like to be able to wash myself.”

            “Cullen,” she sighed, “you stink. Terribly. You need a shower and you can’t take one by yourself.”

            He smirked and pinched her butt when she bent over to check under the couch.

            “Why don’t you give me one?”

            “Absolutely not.”

            The way she said it wounded him a little. He was joking. Partly. Honestly, he would have rather her give him a bath rather than a nurse he didn’t know. Hell, he’d rather Rylen give him a sponge bath than someone he didn’t know. Yet, she sounded so turned off at the idea. Weren’t people supposed to take care of the ones they loved? True, they didn’t always have to enjoy it, but it was something they did.

            “I should get back to work,” she said and grabbed her purse.

            “Sure…”  

            “What is it, Cullen?” she asked him as one would ask a child.

            “Nothing,” he said quietly.

            Celia huffed and crossed her arms as she faced him. “Cullen, don’t be a baby.”

            Cullen looked at her, trying his best not to glare. “Celia, I’ve seen you two times while I’ve been awake. I miss you, for Maker’s sake! And then when you’re here you leave within ten minutes.”

            “It’s not my fault you’re here,” she yelled back at him. “Why should I be punished for it?”

            Amber eyes blinked rapidly and his body recoiled from her. The words were caught in his throat, too many trying to come out at once. They bottlenecked there and began choking him.

            “I have to go,” she said quickly.

            Then she left. Cullen listened to her heels click loudly down the hallway. The force of them sounded almost like they were going to break the tile. He wouldn’t be surprised if he saw cracks in them later.

            “Why should I be punished for it?” She asked him as if it were somehow worse for her than it was for him. As if coming to see him was a punishment. Being with him in the hospital was a punishment. Maker, he wanted to hit something. He was trapped in a bed unable to use the bathroom by himself, but she was being punished. Rage and hurt slivered in his chest like a tiny splintered mirror.

~

            Pale morning light filled Cullen’s hospital room with an eerie glow. The ex-templar yawned and rolled over to his side. And then promptly screamed. For a few seconds, the man beside the bed also screamed.

            “Stop screaming! It’s just me!” Alistair ripped his hood back and pulled off of his sunglasses.

            Cullen’s fist was raised, ready to drive into his friend’s jaw.

            “Makers hairy balls, Alistair!”

            “I’m sorry! I’m sorry. Too much? You know I had wanted to wear a fake mustache, but they told me that would never work.”

            Cullen’s eyes narrowed. Alistair slowly grinned a smile that said, ‘please not the face.’ The shorter man, only by one damn inch, sighed and shook his head.

            “I wanted to come sooner and not under the cover of darkness, but security said, ‘No, your highness, you can’t do that~ your highness, you can’t enter like a normal person, your highness.’”

            Cullen laughed and stretched. “They have a point, Alistair. I mean Maker, someone just tried to assassinate you.”

            The king took a seat, crossing one ankle over his knee. “For all we know, that could have been meant for you. I mean you did root for The Wilds and not The Mabaries.” He sucked his tongue against his teeth. “Very bad form, my friend.”

            “And that’s an offense punishable by death?”

            “Oh, of course. I’m trying to make it law.”

            Alistair smiled and then grew very stoic as he watched Cullen. His cognac eyes grew morose the more he looked at Cullen’s obvious injuries. The sigh he let out was regretful in nature.

            “It isn’t your fault,” Cullen told him.

            Alistair looked back up at his face and frowned bitterly. “No? You weren’t in that building because I asked you? That bomb wasn’t there because I was?”

            “Fine, but it’s still not your fault.” When Alistair still said nothing, Cullen persisted. “Okay, look, I’m supposed to be the one that’s depressed and angry, not you. We both can’t have the same emotions at the same time. Men don’t do that.”

            Finally, Alistair snickered. “They’ll have to commit us for hysteria.”

            “And then where will we be?”

            “In an asylum most likely. How did you manage to swing time for this visit?”

            “Oh, I promised some things I’m sure I will regret later.” Alistair steepled his fingers. “I hear Celia hasn’t been around much. Want me to deport her? She’s a Marcher, isn’t she? Say the word.”

            Cullen hummed and pretended to consider it before he laughed. “It’s tempting. Especially since I’m so mad at her, but no. No, I think I’ll keep her.”

            “Well my offer still stands.”

            Cullen nodded. Alistair was one of his oldest friends. They had gone through templar training together until Alistair left to join the military. Many times Cullen found himself wishing he had done the same. Alistair was an Andrastian, but held not love for what the chantry had become.

            When Alistair was put on the throne, Cullen pitied him. Alistair had never wanted the responsibility of having other people under his command. Yet, Cullen was grateful. Had Alistair remained in the Warden branch of the military, he’d be dead by now. It was selfish, but Cullen was glad he still had his friend: even if they didn’t get together as often as they used to.

            “Do you regret it?” Cullen finally asked.

            “This outfit? Yes.”

            “You know what I mean, Alistair.”

            “Of course I know what you mean, dearest.” Alistair sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Some days, yes. But other days I remember that I would likely be dead had I stayed where I was. I think people need someone in charge who doesn’t want the power. They’re less likely to become like Orlais then.” He smiled. “It’s a revolving door of emotion, Cullen. You can’t get off.”

            “No matter how many times you get sick.”

~

            “Come on, Cullen. One more rep!”

            Cullen wanted to punch the physical therapist in his perfect face. Sweat rolled down his back and forehead, soaking the shirt he wore. Never in his life would he have thought simply moving his leg would have caused him so much pain. It was nearing the forty-five-minute mark and Cullen had hated every second of it. One more blasted rep and it did nothing to lessen his hatred for the therapist.

“Good! Now you can sit,” Antonio said with a smile.

            The urge to punch him did not leave. Cullen dropped himself into the chair beside the bed before he acted on his urges. Josephine made a few notes in the little black book she always kept with her before asking the therapist several questions. Cullen said nothing, preferring to have the attention off of him for once. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

            “Damn. I missed you doing jazzercise!”

            Rylen smirked from his place in the doorway. In his hands, he held the most glorious thing Cullen had seen in two weeks.

            “Tell me that pizza is for me.”

            “Nah, it’s for the lovely Josie,” Rylen answered, winking at the Antivan when he entered the room fully.

            “You are a terrible flirt,” Josie laughed with a blush dusting her cheeks.

            “Get out,” Cullen pointed back at the door, “get out and come back with food.”

            Rylen chuckled and sat the pizza on the bed. “How’s he doin’?”

            “Well,” Antonio started, “as long as he keeps this up, he should keep at least 70% of his range of motion.”

            Cullen’s jaw cracked. He leaned back in his chair and let the glare take over his face. Seventy percent. He would never be able to run the same. Kick-boxing would be significantly harder. In the back of his mind, the rational part, he told himself that it was better than nothing. And it was better than nothing. It was better than not having a leg at all.

            Rylen nodded and moved to the side so that the shorter man could leave. Josephine straightened her skirt and slipped her notebook into her purse.

            “You’re leaving us, Josie?” Rylen asked and handed a slice of pizza to Cullen.

            The Antivan smiled and pushed her hair back. “I’m afraid I have to. There’s a conference at one to discuss the investigation into the bombing. Leliana suggested she could handle it, however, I question her capabilities at not scaring everyone.” She made a disapproving noise. “She makes this face.”

She tried to imitate it, making Rylen laugh.

Cullen chuckled and took a bite of pizza. “That’s just her face, Josephine.”

“Precisely my point.” She leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “Do call me if you need me, Cullen.”

“Thank you, Josie.”

Cullen took her hand and kissed the back of it before she left quietly; her heels hardly made a sound as she left.

“You smell,” Rylen teased when she was far enough down the hallway she wouldn’t hear him. Because if she had heard him, she would have marched right back and smacked him over the head with a fan. Or something else entirely ladylike.

Cullen groaned and reached for another slice of pizza. “Tell me about it. I feel disgusting. It’s almost as bad as when we were stationed in the Hissing Wastes.”

Rylen grimaced and shuddered. “Maker, the varghasts.”

“Maker, the fifty men on water restrictions.”

They were silent for a while after. The pizza was a good gag for the both of them. For Cullen, it was nice to just not be alone. To not have someone ask him every five minutes how his leg was, or how he was feeling. For a moment with Rylen, it felt normal. Like their monthly pizza nights all over again. Only minus the beer and the cheesy action films they both loved.

“No Celia?”

Cullen gave him a side-eyed glance. “Let’s just assume that if you have to ask, she isn’t here.”

“Sorry.”

Cullen sighed and looked out the window. “It’s fine. I just,” he paused. “Maker, Ry, I am pissed at her.”

Rylen shrugged and picked up another slice. “You’re allowed to be pissed, Cullen. She’s been here, what? Three times in how many weeks? I’d be pissed too, that’s for sure.”

“I know she’s scared, but fuck if I’m not scared too.” He set the pizza down, appetite completely gone. “If I lose the leg– don’t give me that look, it’s a possibility. If I lose my leg, I think she’ll leave me.”

His old friend whistled and leaned back in his seat. “That’s a serious worry.”

“It is.”

Silence.

“Maker, man, I can’t take serious conversations when you smell like that.”

The Ferelden tossed a pillow at him. “Piss off. You don’t like it, do something about it.”

Rylen sat there for a few moments and then smiled. “Fine. Get up. You’ve a shower in that bathroom, yeah?”

“Yes, but–”

“Then I’m getting’ ya in it. Now where’d that cute nurse go?”

Before Cullen could object, Rylen was out of his chair and out to the nurse’s station. Rylen had an annoying habit of getting whatever he wanted because he was charming. Really, he was only charming because of his accent. It drove Cullen absolutely mad. The man didn’t even have to try.

It wasn’t as if the nurses hadn’t offered to help him shower. He was just uncomfortable with the notion of someone he didn’t know helping him with something so intimate. They had offered and he, stubbornly, had stuck with the wipes they had given him. All he needed really was someone to help him get undressed and then dressed again. Maybe wash his hair since he still couldn’t raise his shoulder up high enough to wash it without pain.

The nurse had come in and given him fancy plastic-wrap for his leg so the grafts wouldn’t get wet. Rylen had helped him get undressed and situated in the shower chair. It wasn’t the first time he had seen the other man naked and it wasn’t likely to be the last. Rylen washed his hair for him, joking about how he always wanted to be a hairdresser. He held the mirror while Cullen shaved, occasionally teasing with ‘you missed a spot.’ Sharing a barracks with someone for years often resulted in disappearing boundaries.

“Hey,” Rylen said while he helped Cullen dress, “at least it didn’t ruin your tattoo.”

Cullen chuckled and straightened the shirt around his hips. The lion head tattoo on his left pec had remained unscathed. Years ago, when he was only nineteen, he had gotten it on a drunken night with Alistair. Cullen considered himself lucky though: Alistair wound up with a griffon on his ass.

“And your mother called me.”

His heart dropped in panic.

“Breathe. I didn’t tell her anything. But you will. I told her you’d call her back. She’s worried, Cullen,” Rylen added. “She saw the news, they all did. Call her.”

“I will call them.”

After Rylen left, he did call them. His mother cried, he cried. Mia insisted she was going to call off to come and stay with him. It took him a half-hour to convince them he didn’t need them to come. Even though he did need them to come. But he knew that no one could afford it. His heart ached with missing them. He had meant to fly out later in the next few months, but it appeared that it would not happen. He told them everything would be okay. It felt like a lie, but he said it regardless.

Everything will be okay.

Chapter Text

            “Curly, are you sure you don’t want me to walk you up?” Varric had stepped out of his sports car and yelled across the roof.

            Cullen eyed the steps of his apartment. The building was at least two hundred years old with additions and updates dating up to the present. Yet still, it had retained much of its quirks: there was no elevator, the only parking was three blocks down – Maker, did anyone bring my car home? The top four floors were added in the last hundred years. Cullen lived on the seventh floor, the very top.

            “I’ll be okay,” Cullen assured him.

            Varric smirked and raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I’m sure you will.” He frowned and looked at the building behind Cullen. “Are you sure you don’t just want to stay with me? My apartment has an elevator.”

            Cullen shook his head and stepped up onto the curb. “I’m sure. I’d like to just be home.”

            “I get that. Look, you will call me if you need me,” he gave the best stern voice he had.

            The younger man laughed and nodded. “I will call you if I need you. Thank you, Varric. For everything.”

            Cullen stood by his decision to stay at his apartment. Right up until the third floor. The eighth step to be exact. He was completely breathless, his leg was throbbing and in excruciating pain. Leaning there against the banner, he regretted every choice he had ever made in his life. Soul patch in high school? Regretted. The stew he had last night? Regretted. Skinny jeans? Regretted. The pancakes he scarfed down for breakfast? Re. Gret. Ted.  

            There were echoes on the stairs behind him and he groaned.

            Please, Maker, let them pass quickly.

            “Oh!” A brunette rounded the banister and smiled at him. “Cullen, you’re back from the hospital!”

             Lorelai, the woman who lived next door, smiled up at him. She came up the last few steps so she was eye-level with him and adjusted the purse on her shoulder. She pushed her brown bangs out of her face and then her smile quickly faded.

            “Hello, Lorelai,” he said with an attempted smile.

            “Cullen, are you alright?”

            He took more weight off of his leg. “I,” he started to lie to her. “It’s my leg, I injured it. I just need to rest for a moment.”

            “And your arm? And your face? Why didn’t you take the service elevator?” She raised her groomed eyebrow at him and cocked her hip out to the side.

            “We have one? It was dislocated. I have to wear the sling for another two weeks.”

            Her laughed echoed brilliantly in the corridor. “Yes, Mr. ‘I’m a health nut so I only take the stairs’, we have an elevator.”

            Her hazel eyes looked him up and down slowly. The ex-templar felt like she could see right through him. It felt like he was flayed open under her gaze and in a glance, she would see every scar, every tender wound, every frayed edge, and know. She intimidated the hell out of him without even trying.

            “Do you need help getting up this flight?”

            His brow furrowed as he looked down at his feet. He did need help, but it pained him to admit it. Surely, this woman had better things to do.

            “No,” he finally said, “I’m okay.”

            “For someone in security, you are a terrible liar.”

            It was hard not to smile with her.

            Lorelai stepped up beside him and put her arm around his waist. “Lean into me,” she said. “I’m stronger than I look.” Cullen leaned a little closer to her. “I’m surprised the hospital didn’t send you home with crutches.”

            Cullen walked with her, refusing to lean his whole weight on her. His leg still burned and the throbbing was the most horrendous thing. The hospital did give him crutches. He simply forgot them. On purpose. It was bad enough they made him be wheeled out in a wheelchair.

            “I’m not going to break, Cullen.” She took his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. “These old buildings have the worst stairs. But the views are so wonderful.”

            “They are. I see you sometimes in the morning on your balcony.”

            She nodded and continued to support him up the stairs. “It’s my favorite place. Part of the reason I chose this building was the views of the ocean.”

            “And the other part?” He tried not to gasp it out.

            “It’s close to work. I’m head of the restoration department at the art museum,” she explained when he cast her a curious glance. She let him rest for a few moments on the second flight. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that. We’ve only been neighbors for four years now.”

            He suddenly felt ashamed. “I’m not one for small talk.”

            Lorelai made a thoughtful noise and helped him up the rest of the flight in silence. Every step Cullen took was methodical and carefully placed. He wanted to collapse in gratitude when they reached the third-floor landing. She let him rest again before they started walking down the wood hallway. He kept his arm around her as they walked and she her arm around his waist. If anyone were to pass them by, he was certain they would appear as if they were having an affair.

             “Can I ask about your leg? All Celia said was that you were in the hospital.”

            He shifted and his hip pressed against her waist. She was about six inches shorter than he was, yet she made him feel so small.

            “I was involved in the bombing.”

             He felt her tense against him. When he looked down, he caught a glimmer of tears in her eyes. Maker, he didn’t mean to make her cry.

            “I’m so very sorry, Cullen. You lost a lot of good people.”

            Cullen nodded but said nothing. He missed a lot of funerals while he was in the hospital. He hoped that Celia remembered to send flowers for him. He would have to send a personal letter to Castelo’s wife. Shit, Maria.

            Lorelai let him set the pace as they made their way down the hall. This close to her, he caught the faint whiff of oil paint and old books, mint shampoo. She led him to the end of the hallway and into a small alcove where an elevator sat.

             “You’re home early,” he said.

             “Mm. There’s a storm blowing in and I didn’t want to get stuck at the museum. If we lose power, the doors lock and there’s no way in or out until the power comes back on.” She shook her head and pressed the up button. “Well, there’s one way out, but you have to set a fire. I think that would be frowned upon.”

            “Maybe a little,” he said with a smile. “I didn’t think this place had an elevator.”

            The brunette nodded and waited for the doors to open. “Yeah. Mrs. Hornigold said they put it in when they built the upper floors. Easier to move in furniture.”

            Cullen leaned against the inside of the elevator when they stepped inside. Mrs. Hornigold lived across the hall from them. She was a grumpy old biddy, who was not particularly fond of Cullen. She told him that he was as loud as a horse when he walked down the hallway.

            “I wish I would have known that. Moving a couch up those stairs is difficult, to say the least.”

            She smiled at him and tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her pierced ear. It was the only thing about her that really seemed out of place to Cullen. The young woman seemed so reserved and dressed so nice that the multiple earrings in her ear jumped out at him. Was it a rebellious phase when she was a teenager?

            Openly, and without shame, she surveyed him. His face was blushed a deep coral, and there were a few beads of sweat on his forehead. He obviously favored right leg, practically taking all of his weight off of it as he stood across from her. The golden curls that haloed his head were unkept and loose. It made him look boyish in a way, more relaxed. He was out of breath but tried desperately to take shallow breaths.

            “Did you hurt your ribs too?”

             Cullen blinked and then sighed. There was no point in lying to her. “A few bruised ones. They are better, but still ache.”

            “Have you tried royal elfroot salve? I know it’s technically holistic, and most people see it as an imaginary treatment, but it does help.”

            “Are you a naturalist, Lorelai?” He tried not to sound judgmental when he asked the question.

            “Please call me Rory. Lorelai is my cousin.” Full lips pursed as she thought about the question. “I suppose so,” she finally said. “Though, I’m not as extreme as to think certain medications aren’t better than natural herbs. Some illnesses can’t be treated naturally.”

            Cullen nodded, relieved. So she wasn’t completely crazy.

            “I have some if you’d like to try it.”

            “Oh, I… I couldn’t put you out.”

            “Nonsense,” she said with a smile. “I have a few jars. A cousin of mine makes it.”

            “In that case, I’ll take you up on the offer.”

            Maker, her smile sent his stomach clenching. Enough, Rutherford. He had a fiancé he loved. Yes, they had been having a few problems, but that was no reason for him to go and get butterflies for another woman. Butterflies. Like he was a teenager looking at Shelby Matherson all over again. Maker, he was a grown man. A grown man in a committed relationship.

            Maybe his stomach was clenching because of the small space. That was most definitely it. The small space. Ever since Kinloch, he hated small spaces. They made him nauseous and unable to breathe properly. He could feel the sweat bead on his palms.

            “Good. I’ll run it over when we get in.”

            Maker, he couldn’t breathe. Every short breath he took was pained by his ribs. Rory was speaking to him, something about the salve. Cullen’s skit was getting hotter and hotter in the space with so little air-circulation. He rolled his good shoulder under his shirt and had to stop his hand from rubbing the back of his neck. All he could see were bars. Rory was fading further and further into the background, her voice growing even more muffled.

             When the elevator doors finally opened, Cullen couldn’t get out fast enough. He returned his arm around Rory’s shoulder and went as quickly as he could out of the elevator. She wrapped her arm around his waist and stumbled with how quickly he made his exit. Her face was pressed close against his side the more he leaned on her. And the more they walked, the closer he got. He smelled like oakmoss and elderflower, but his clothes smelled like lavender. Probably Celia’s fabric softener.

            Leliana stood waiting patiently at his door, a pair of crutches leaning on the wall beside her. The blue-eyed raven watched them round the corner together. With the raise of her eyebrow, she said everything without opening her mouth. Cullen cast her a look that screamed, ‘don’t you fucking dare’.

            “Varric called and said you had left your crutches at the hospital,” Leliana said, tsk-ing her tongue as she finished. “Hello,” she turned her gaze to Rory, “I am Leliana.”

            Rory smiled and shook her outstretched hand. “Rory. I live next door to Cullen.” She caught the subtle gaze between the two friends and tried to ignore it. “Forgot you crutches hm?”

            Cullen smiled sheepishly and fished his keys out of his pocket. “Accidentally. On purpose.”

            “Impossible,” Leliana sighed.

            Rory stepped out from beside Cullen and adjusted the purse at her side. “I’ll leave him to you then,” she said, smiling to Leliana. “And I’ll get the salve over to you later today.”

            Cullen nodded adjusted his stance without the small woman to lean on. “Thank you for your help, Rory.”

            The pair of friends watched Rory retreat back down the hallway and enter her apartment. It struck Cullen how gracefully Rory actually walked. Especially when she did not have a 6’3, 215-pound man hanging off of her. She moved like a dancer. Her long hair swished with every light step she took. Cullen tried not to focus on her hips as she walked back away from him.

            Leliana politely cleared her throat and took Cullen’s keys from him. “If you’re quite finished staring.”

            “I was not staring,” he growled out and let her open the door.

            His apartment was dark, letting him know Celia had left the curtains closed for him. With floor to ceiling windows completely overtaking the east wall, the large apartment got bright very quickly. In his second month, he invested in blackout curtains to go behind the heavy blue blinds he had bought. Maker, he missed his apartment.

            As soon as they were in, Leliana passed him the crutches and walked down the hallway and around to his kitchen. She grabbed the black kettle from off the stove and began filling it with water. Sometimes the setup to his apartment annoyed him, but he still wouldn’t trade it for anything. There was a small foyer area just on the other side of his door. A closet nestled in the wall to the right. The kitchen and dining room area sat behind the left wall. There were defined spaces, yet it was a largely open concept.

            Their apartment was mainly kept bare. Cullen had a few pieces of art he had collected over the years. There weren’t many throw pillows or blankets around the furniture. There were no decorations: Celia didn’t like decorative objects that didn’t serve a purpose. Clutter is how she described it.

            Cullen used the crutches and maneuvered himself over to the couch so he could prop his leg up on what pillows they did have. It was good to be home, he thought, good to be in a place where he could be in pain in peace. A pain he was quickly reminded of when his leg continued to throb painfully. Pain was a good sign, yes? It meant he still had nerve function in his leg. Bright sides, Rutherford, bright sides.

            “I want to go over what happened if you don’t mind,” Leliana’s voice flittered over the silence of the large apartment.

            “Okay.”

            He had already answered all of their questions that he could. Despite his annoyance at having to answer the same questions over again, he knew the importance of getting everything. There was always a possibility of a victim remembering something– His breath caught in his throat. Victim. He was a victim. The thought didn’t settle well with him: it rolled around his head like a ball on a sloped floor. Maker’s balls, he was a victim.

            “I can hear you thinking all the way in here,” Leliana remarked playfully. “It’s a terrible habit, you know.”

            “I am well aware.”

            He waited patiently for Leliana to finish brewing the tea. His body sunk deeper down into the plush leather couch. Celia hated the couch with a passion. It was ugly, she said. It looked like it belonged in a cabin. He had wanted to get a fur rug, part out of spite, part because he really wanted one. A fur rug and a mabari.

            Leliana entered the room quietly. She needed a bell; he told her that quite often. For Satinalia the year before, he had bought her a belled collar. A present that was meant to be a funny joke, but Bull had turned into something completely dirty. Cullen blushed for days and Celia had ignored him. It took him two weeks to convince her that there was no romantic attraction between him and Leliana.

            “Drink this. It’s good for you.” She passed him a warm mug and sat down at the end of his feet. “Are you ready to go through it again?”

            Cullen took a drink of the scalding hot tea and nodded. “Might as well. Are you recording this one too? Good,” he added when she nodded and turned on her phone. “I woke up at five that morning. I wanted to get a run in before the meeting with Alistair.” He set his tea down on the side-table. “I returned home around seven and took a shower. I left the house around 8:30 or 8:45. I drove to the Capital, I didn’t want to take the metro. I parked at 9:00, the stub should still be in my console. I got to the building at 9:15. My meeting with Alistair wasn’t until 9:45, but I like to be there early. Morris Castelo was on duty at the time. We engaged in conversation before…”

            Cullen trailed off and with his eyes traced the geometric shapes on the wallpaper. It had been cold that day. Colder than usual. There was a kind of static in the air that lightning storms bring with them. Everything about that morning was normal, it was expected, routine. Mike was working the parking booth, as usual, Racine was behind the coffee cart.

            “Cullen?” Leliana reached and took his hand in hers. “Cullen.”

            He squeezed her hand and cleared his throat. “Nothing was out of the ordinary. Everything about the place was routine. I showed each guard at each checkpoint my badge. Castelo and I had a short conversation. He looked behind me, towards the south entrance, and said to someone, ‘Sir, you’ll need to check that bag.’” He stopped again, closing his eyes and trying to see more that he missed. “He didn’t look worried. He turned back to me and told me that Alistair was upstairs waiting for me.”

            “And after that?” Leliana gently pushed.

            Cullen closed his eyes again and willed himself to remember everything he could.

            “There was an explosion. At first, I thought it was thunder, but then there was heat on my back.” What else? Heat. On his front. There was a second explosion. One that sent him flying backward. “There was a second explosion.”

            “You’re certain?”

            “Yes. Yes, this one from my front. And,” he faltered.

            Cullen remembered nothing more. The blank space of memory left him with a taste of bitter anger on his tongue. He tried; he focused until his head hurt and his jaw clenched painfully.

            “That’s all I can remember. When I woke up, I was looking at the ceiling. My ears were ringing, I couldn’t feel my leg or move my arm. I tried to find Castelo, but I couldn’t. Then Jim was there.”

            Leliana turned the voice recorder off on her phone and sat back in her seat. She traced the pain on his features carefully, marking each line and crease as it appeared. He looked so much older than he was.

            “Do you want me to stay with you?” Leliana asked quietly.

            Cullen sighed and shook his head. “No. No, I’ll be alright. I’m just looking forward to taking a nap on my couch.”

            “I would wait until after Rory comes by with that salve.” Leliana smiled sweetly and slipped her phone back into her purse.

            “Don’t smile at me like that.”

            “Like what? I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

            Cullen narrowed his eyes at her. “She was just helping me.”

            “And you were helping yourself to her.”

            “I was not!”

            Leliana laughed. “Yes, you were! You were looking her up and down all smitten.”

            Cullen could feel his cheeks turning a bright red. Leliana was not completely wrong. That did not mean, however true it was, that he was going to admit it.

            “Don’t worry, I won’t say a word. She is very pretty. Maybe I’ll ask her out.”

            “By all means.”

            Leliana smiled again, that knowing smile that drove Cullen to near murder. She stood up and kissed Cullen on the forehead.

            “Call me if you need anything, dear.”

            “I will. Celia will be home at three. I won’t be alone.” He chuckled. “I feel like a pre-school teacher reassuring a distressed mother that I am capable of taking care of her child.”

            “Except you are the child assuring me he can take care of himself.” She looked him over and frowned. “Use the crutches. Anders said you had to.”

            He nodded and Leliana left. It was the first time he was alone in the quiet in weeks. There were no beeping monitors, no coughing, no nurses or doctors running around. Finally, he was alone with his thoughts. At that time, he hadn’t yet decided if it was a curse or a blessing. The faint sound of rain pattering against his windows offered him a brief respite. The throbbing in his leg was finally starting to subside to a faint pulse.

            One thing was certain about his new phone: it was entertaining. He had downloaded several games and he had access to all of his emails and current news. Current news that he avoided. He pulled up a zombie game Rylen had downloaded for him. If he wasn’t careful, he could lose hours to the game and had quite frequently in the hospital.

            The knocks on his door almost blended in with the rain.

            “Just a moment!” He called out as he started to stand up.

            “It’s just me!” Rory called back to him from the other side of the door. “Leliana said she left the door unlocked. Can I come in?”

            Bless the spy.

            “Yes, that’s alright!”

            Cullen straightened himself up. He picked up the faint sound of the door opening and closing.

            “Oh! I love your wallpaper,” Rory remarked as soon as she entered the living room.

            Cullen had picked out the wallpaper without Celia. Needless to say, she hated the geometric squares that decorated the south wall. They were too distracting and dizzying.

            “Thank you. I thought it went well with the green.” He wasn’t sure what else to say to her.

            Rory nodded and turned to face him with a smile. “It does. Though to be honest with you, I expected…more?”

             Cullen kept the look of surprise off his face. He wondered if her outspoken nature had ever gotten her disliked. Though, he sincerely doubted if she had ever said something truly cruel or inappropriate to anyone.  

            “Celia doesn’t like a lot of clutter. I have a few pieces of art I’m fond of.”

            Rory nodded and walked closer to him. “I noticed you have a copy of ‘Kiss of Deliverance’.” She sat on the end of the lounge, next to his feet. “It’s one of my favorite paintings. I have a copy of it in my bedroom.”

            He tried very hard not to picture her bedroom. Maker, what is wrong with you, Rutherford?

            “It’s a great painting. Have you ever seen it in person?” Cullen asked.

            The woman at his feet shook her head and brushed her brown hair behind her ear. “No. It’s not in any museum that I know of. Rumor has it that it’s in a private collection somewhere in Orlais.”

            “Bloody Orlesians. They ruin everything.”

            Rory giggled and then nodded. “It would seem that way. No, but I would love to see it in person. Lavenmile was a very talented painter, wouldn’t you say? Did you know she was actually a woman?”

            Cullen blinked and sat up a little more. “I didn’t, no. I always thought he– she was a man.”

            The art-restorer smiled sadly and sighed. “I did my dissertation on her. It took me a whole two years to discover that she was actually a woman, and not a man like it was said.”

            “You discovered it?” Cullen was in awe

            A proud smile took over her features. “I did. Though, it made a lot of people very angry. And I still get emails and DMs telling me how terribly wrong I am and,” she deepened her voice, “’How just like a woman to take away a man’s accreditation.’” She rolled her eyes. “I found her self-portrait in an old barn if you can believe it.”

            “You’re joking!”

            “If only! I was there in Bestaile, that’s a small town in Orlais near the coast– she used to live there, or it was rumored she used to. Anyways. I went to the house where she was reported to have lived, but when I got there it just didn’t seem right. Lavenmile was poor, yes? Yet the house Orlais claims to have been her home is a mansion. It’s an incredibly large estate. There was no conceivable way that she could have lived there!”

            Cullen nodded, watching her fling her hands about as she talked.

            “So, I started doing some more digging. I found absolutely nothing. I was going to go home, but I decided to stay just a little longer. One night I was looking at her landscapes and then I saw it. Half of her landscapes were in the same area!” She smiled excitedly. “I kept seeing the same rock or tree, the same shape of the shoreline. So the next morning I started…” she faltered with a frown. “I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear this,” she said with a quiet little laugh.

            Cullen sat up more and put his hand on hers. “I really do. And I’m not just saying that to be nice.”

            “Really?”

            “Yes. Please keep going?”

            Rory nodded. “If you’re sure. Where was I? Oh! So I started walking the shoreline. I kept looking for certain rocks and trees. And then finally I found it.” She started leaning forward as she talked. “There was this old two story house nestled back among some trees. The view from that area matched her landscapes. I went up and knocked on the door, just to see what I could find out. An old woman answered and when I explained, she invited me in for some tea. Which, I detest tea, but she was so cute I couldn’t say no.”

            Cullen laughed and shook his head. “Of course, that would have been rude.”

            “Extremely rude!” she chuckled. “Her family had lived there for ages. So she was telling me about how her great-grandfather rented their barn out back to a painter for fifty crowns a month. Now, here’s where I get a lot of flack, she was an elvish woman.”

            “You’re joking! They erased that part about her too?”

            “Well of course,” Rory sneered. “They are inferior, my dear Cullen. Well, I asked her if I could take a look around and she said she’d be happy to let me. She gave me the key to the lock on the barn and told me to help myself, but to come back when I was finished for lunch. I took a flashlight with me and started digging.”

            “If you tell me you found the painting lying out in the open.”

            Her hazel eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled. “No. No, that I had to dig for. I was on the first floor when my foot fell through the wood. Which is strange, since most barns don’t have space under them. I pulled my foot out and shined my light down. To tell you the truth, I was half expecting to see a darkspawn.” She smacked his thigh when he laughed at her. “Well, I don’t know! It was dark and scary. As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” she cast him a withering glare. “I shined my light and saw that it was just a large hole dug out of the dirt and covered by the wood.  There was a large piece of cloth covered in dirt, so, I pulled it out and carefully unwrapped it and there it was. At first, I thought it was just a portrait of an elvish woman. But then I saw her signature at the bottom.”

            “My heart nearly stopped, Cullen. It felt like I was having a panic attack. I carefully flipped it over and there it was on the back. It was her self-portrait. Would you laugh at me if I told you I cried?”

            “No.”

            “Good, because I did cry. I picked it up and rushed back to the house. I explained to the woman what it was and who it was by. She told me to take it with me on the condition that I would not tell people where the house was located until after she died. The government would have kicked her out of it for certain and that was her family’s home.”

            “Did you tell anyone?”

            “I absolutely did not. I kept her as an anonymous source and refused to disclose the exact location. Which also lets people believe I made it all up.” She rolled her eyes. “Now if someone were especially determined, well they could find it. But mostly, people don’t want to believe me.”

            “I believe you. Do you still have the painting?”

            Rory nodded. “I do. It’s at the museum though. It’s on loan exclusively to the Denerim museum. I won’t send it to Orlais. I’m terrified that it will go missing or something will happen to it. I don’t trust them to keep their grubby little mitts off it.”

            Cullen smiled. “That’s probably smart. So ‘The Kiss of Deliverance’, that’s her and another woman?”

            Rory smiled brightly. “It is. That’s one way to piss off the chantry, wouldn’t you say?”

            Cullen laughed loudly and then winced. “Damn.”

            “Oh! Cullen, I’m sorry. Here,” she passed him the small blue jar of salve. “Two or three times a day. Really whenever you have pain.”

            “Thank you,” he said, taking it from her. “And thank you for telling me that story. I can’t believe you were that lucky.”

            “Neither can I. And thank you for listening. Most people don’t get very excited about things like that.” She grew very quiet and looked down at her longer paint-stained fingers.

            He shrugged and palmed the jar. “Most people are idiots.”

            “That they are,” she smiled again.

            Maker, the woman’s smile could stop the next blight.

            “So,” he finally snapped out of it, “I just rub this on what hurts?”

            “That’s the idea. I wouldn’t get it in any broken skin though.” She winced slightly. “Could sting a bit.”

            He opened the jar and brought it up to his nose. It smelled like it had lavender and embrium in it.

            “I’ll leave you to it then. And I apologize for taking up your afternoon. You must be exhausted,” she frowned deeply as she spoke.

            Cullen put the lid back on and smiled at her. “No, the company was nice. I enjoyed the conversation. And thank you for this,” he held up the jar.

            “Any time, Cullen. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to knock.” She stood up gracefully and straightened her shirt.

            “Goodbye, Rory.”

            The younger woman smiled and nodded before she left his apartment quietly. Cullen wondered why he had never taken the time out to talk to her before. They usually left the building at the same time. The more that he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t really know anyone in the building. He knew Mrs. Hornigold, of course, because she always went out of her way to tell him he was too loud in the hallway.

            With careful precision, Cullen opened the jar and began smearing the salve over his ribs. It tingled the longer he had it on before it faded into a gentle warmth. He brought the thick substance up onto his shoulder as well. The thought of putting some around the stitches on his lip crossed his mind, but he held off until he knew what exactly it would do for him. He pulled his shirt back down, spread a throw over himself, and settled deeper into the couch.

            Sometime later, he woke up with a gasp of pain. The apartment was dark save for the flashes of lightning that graced the sky. His leg felt like it was being stabbed over every inch. Tears sprung to his eyes and he reached down to cup his calf.

            “Celia?”

            When there was no answer, he searched the blanket for his phone. He had one message sent an hour before from Celia. All it said was she was working late and would not be home. He could hardly think to text Cassandra. His mind kept shifting to the sharp pain in his leg. When he tossed the phone on the cushion beside him, he wasn’t sure exactly what the message said. He had hope though that Cassandra would get the hint and come over. It was only ten, it was unlikely she was in bed.

            For what felt like hours, he focused on taking deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth. Solas always told him he needed to meditate more. Then, the suggestion seemed pointless, Cullen didn’t believe in meditation. But there, sitting on the couch while in excruciating pain, he was willing to believe in anything.

The door shut quietly and Cullen opened his eyes. He wondered if it would be Cassandra or Celia. To his relief, Cassandra appeared at the end of the hallway.

            “Maker, Cullen.” She rushed towards him and put her hand on his forehead. “Your leg?”

            He managed to nod and then dropped his head back against the couch.

            “Cullen, you need to take the pain pills. Don’t shake your head no at me. Cullen, you can’t heal like this.”

            “No,” he croaked.

            Cassandra left his side and he wanted to reach for her. He heard her in his kitchen, opening drawers and then the sound of ice breaking. She came back a few moments later with two blue pills, a glass of water, and a makeshift ice pack.

            “It’s over-the-counter,” she said as she passed him the pills.

            He took them gratefully and downed the water in two large gulps. Very carefully Cassandra lifted his leg and pushed several more pillows under it. She laid the icepack on next, resting it as gently as she could.

            “Have you eaten?” she asked, pushing hair out of his face.

            “Not hungry.”

            His close friend sat next to him and folded her feet under her and to the side. Cullen shifted so he could lean against her and sighed heavily.

            “Thank you, Cassandra.”

            “Go to sleep, Cullen. I’ll be here when you wake.”

            She draped her arm behind his head and over his shoulders so she could pull him in close. His calloused hand found hers and intertwined their fingers together. After Kirkwall, the pair of them had become very close friends. Varric called it a bromance, much to Cassandra’s annoyance. Cassandra had been with him through the worst of his lyrium withdrawal. He wasn’t sure where he would be had she not pushed him through it. Cullen discovered in that time, that the quickest way to make or break a friendship was to vomit on a person. It had made he and Cassandra’s relationship. And there she was again, taking care of him like he was her child. The thought made him bitter.

            He should tell her…

            He should tell her…

Chapter Text

            “What are you doing here?”

            Celia?

            Cullen tried to open his eyes, but sleep weighted them back down again.

            “The question is why weren’t you here?” Cassandra’s voice held daggers. “I am here because you weren’t. You assured all of us you would be home by three, four at the latest! He woke up in excruciating pain, Celia, and there was no one here to help him.”

            “I told him I was working late,” Celia snapped right back.

            “You should have told one of us! Celia, this was his first day back from the hospital. He needed someone here. He needed you here!”

            “I am not a nursemaid, Cassandra! I have a life outside of him!” Then, more quietly so he wasn’t sure if he heard it, “I didn’t ask for this.”

            There was silence in the dark room. It was so heavy Cullen could feel it pressing into his chest like a thousand-pound weight.

            “Neither did he,” Cassandra hissed. “No one asked for this, Celia. Least of all Cullen. Are you aware he could have died? That people did die? Cullen’s friends died. He is lucky to even be breathing. And here you are, resenting him for what? For being injured and needing you?”

            Keys being picked up, a door opened.

            “I can’t do this right now. I have a huge presentation at work, my boss has been riding me for months about–”

            “You’re leaving?”

            “I’m going to my mother’s for the night.”

            “Coward! You selfish, selfish, little girl. How dare you! This man has done everything for you and you’re leaving him for the wolves!”

            “I’ll be back tomorrow evening.”

            “You–” Cassandra was cut off by the door clicking closed.

            Cullen’s heart clenched in his chest. At least, he thought, at least it took his mind off the pain in his leg. Cassandra’s weight settled next to him on the couch and her long fingers brushed his hair back.

            “Cullen? Would you like to move to the bed?”

            He shook his head and felt her pull the covers up around his shoulders. Thunder shook the windows of his apartment. He wanted to open his eyes and watch the storm, but his lids were cement. Just a few more hours. Just a few more.

~

            The smell of strong coffee, bacon, sweet bread, and eggs woke Cullen from a rather vivid dream. He was still on the couch, his leg still propped up from the knee down. The swelling had gone down, and Cassandra had appeared to change the bandages while he was sleeping. Vaguely, he remembers her waking him to take more pain pills.

            Very carefully, he pushed himself up onto the crutches. His leg throbbed painfully for the few seconds he had it held down, but then quickly righted itself. Using the bathroom was going to be quite the adventure. At least if he fell on his ass, Cassandra was there to help him up again. He left the lights off in the bathroom. The skylights above the tub and shower let in just enough light that he didn’t have to stumble.

            Using the bathroom was trickier than he thought. He had to balance himself on the right crutch and try to undo his pants with his left hand. Things would have been made so much easier if he were ambidextrous. After several minutes of swaying and cursing like he was a drunk in a bar, he finally managed to relieve himself. After he was done, he closed the lid and sat down so he could lean over to the sink and brush his teeth. He was certain Cassandra would not appreciate morning breath.

            He exited through his bedroom, idled thinking about changing into different clothes, but then deciding against him.

            “I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” Cassandra said when he walked out into the kitchen, “but you are going back on that couch.”

            “I’m not allowed to eat at the table?”

            She put her hands on her hips and stared him down. “No. You need to keep your leg iced and elevated. Like Anders said.”

            “Okay, okay.”

            His head was too foggy to argue with her. He made his way back into the living room with Cassandra carrying a tray of food behind him. When he returned back to the couch, he shoved a few pillows under his leg.

            “How is your leg this morning?” Cassandra asked while she sat a tray of food on his lap.

            “Thank you. It’s better. Still a little sore, but better than last night.” He picked up his fork and started eating slowly. “Stairs are not a good idea.”

            Cassandra smacked him upside the head gently. “Leliana said your neighbor helped you.”

            “Rory. Eat something.”

            “I already did. Leliana also said she was quite pretty.”

            Cullen gave her the side eye and sat his fork down.

            “What? That’s what she said. I am only relaying information.”

            “You are both ridiculous,” he grumbled. “What time did Celia get in last night?”

             Cassandra grew quiet before she curled up on the opposite corner of the couch. “Around midnight.”

             “And she went to her mother’s?”

             “Yes… I am sorry, Cullen. You should not have heard that fight.”

             He shrugged and took a drink of his coffee. “I’m glad you said it. You weren’t wrong, Cassandra. Just,” he sighed, “just take it easy on her? She’s under a lot of stress and I’m sure this isn’t helping.”

            “And what about you, Cullen? This whole time it has only been about Celia’s struggles, her stress. And what about yours? You went through the bombing, Cullen. The least she could do is be here when you need her.”

            Cassandra held him down with her stare until he finally managed to look away. Damn her. And damn him too.

            “We need to talk,” he finally admitted.

            Cassandra made a thoughtful hum and turned the tv on.

            “Don’t you work today?” he asked.

            She shook her head and found a smiling talk show host to watch. “No. Well, yes. I took the morning off. Josephine said she can come and sit with you.”

            “I will be fine. I just did too much yesterday.”

            “Obviously. I’m afraid to leave you alone again. You could try to run a marathon.”

            “If it’s any consolation, I’m sure I would come in last.”

            There was a soft knock on the door and Cassandra got up to answer it. Cullen continued to eat his breakfast, the food settling his stomach.

            “Ah. You must be Rory.”

            Cullen stopped chewing and quickly ran his fingers through his messy hair.

            “Hi. Nice to meet you…”

            “Cassandra. Cassandra Pentaghast. Come in.”

            Rory entered the room before Cassandra and smiled brightly at Cullen. Maker, she looked young. Her cheeks were flushed a rosy pink, her hair was tied up in a loose bun, she had stained her lips so it looked like she just got done eating a popsicle. She had a few library books tucked into the crook of her arm.

           “Good morning, Cullen.”

           “Good morning, Rory.”

           Cassandra rolled her eyes behind Rory at Cullen’s bright smile. He ignored her as best as he could.

           “Thank you for the salve,” he said, “It helped a great deal.”

           “Oh good! I was hoping it would.” She took in the state of him and then grinned. “You look like a boy with your hair like that.”

           Cassandra chuckled and shook her head. “You should see what happens when he sleeps in an actual bed.”

           “Is it ridiculous?” Rory asked, ignoring Cullen’s groan.

           “Oh, completely. It sticks up and curls around at odd angles.”

           Cullen huffed and crossed his arms. “Can we please not make fun of the invalid who is only trying to enjoy his breakfast?”

          “Well I think it looks good on you,” Rory explained, trying to save his dignity. “I stopped by because I’m running a few errands and wanted to know if you needed anything?”

            “Oh. No, you don’t have to do that.”

            “Well I know I don’t have to, Cullen.”

            He nodded. “I don’t think I need anything, but thank you.”

            Cassandra looked at him and rolled her eyes. Rory noticed and smirked.

            “I think Cassandra thinks you do.”

            “He does. He’s out of most everything he actually eats.”

            It was true, he knew it was. Celia and Cullen did separate grocery shopping. Celia bought mostly organic and no potatoes. He couldn’t fault her that. She was a Free Marcher. Free Marchers could never understand Ferelden’s love of potatoes. She didn’t understand his love of potato bread either.

            “Well pass me a list and I’ll pick it up when I get my groceries.”

            Cassandra nodded her thanks. “Have a seat, I’ll make up a list.”

            “Don’t you think I ought to make the list? Since they’re my groceries?”

            Rory took a seat on the sectional across from him and smiled at the two friends. They continued to argue about who was going to making the list all while Cassandra went into the kitchen.

            “You’re insufferable!”

            “You’re a petulant child!”

            Rory laughed and shook her head at them.

            Cullen smiled an apology and shrugged. “I’ve known Cassandra for years.”

            “I can tell.”

            “She thinks she’s my mother,” he mumbled.

            “I think she loves you and wants you to be taken care of.” She played with the rings on her fingers. “That has to be nice.”

            Cullen frowned but said nothing for a while. She looked far off in thought and it seemed rude to disrupt her. When she finally seemed like she had come back to herself, Cullen spoke.

            “Bacon?”

            Maker, Cullen, really? Bacon? That’s what you say to her?

            “I’d love some.”

            Rory reached over and plucked a piece off of his plate and took a bite. A pleased sigh left her as she savored the bacon. He couldn’t help but smile at her.

            “Cassandra, my compliments on the bacon!” the brunette called out.

            Cassandra came back into the living room and sat next to Cullen. “Thank you.”

            Cullen took the paper and pen from her and wrote down three things he could not live without. And then Cassandra took it back and continued writing.

            “Don’t give her an entire list.”

            Cassandra didn’t look up from her list. “You need an entire list. I can’t have you living off takeout.”

            “I mean, I could live off takeout forever,” Rory said as she came to Cullen’s defense. “But I really don’t mind getting your groceries.” She did her best to reassure him, but Cullen still frowned. “Really, Cullen, it’s not a problem.”

            “I’ll pay you for it. There’s some cash in my wallet,” Cullen offered.

            Cassandra nodded and kept writing. “I’ll get it for her when I finish. You just relax and eat your breakfast.”

            “Mm. I agree. It’d be a shame to let that bacon go to waste.”

            “I just don’t want to put you out.”

            “Cullen,” Rory said smiling, “I pick up Mrs. Hornigold’s groceries every week on my way home from work. You’re not putting me out.”

            He finished his breakfast without saying another word about putting her out. Rory sat patiently and chatted with Cassandra while she made out a list. Apparently, they both liked the same trashy novel, a fact Cassandra was very embarrassed about. ‘Smutty literature,’ she called it.

            “’The Rider In The Storm’ is probably my favorite,” Rory said.

            Cassandra gave a dreamy sigh. “It’s so…”

            “Perfect?” Rory offered. “There’s soul mates, reincarnation.”

            “Adventure. Suspense.” Cassandra groaned and ripped the list off of the pad of paper. “I hate to say it, but Varric didn’t an excellent job. Rutherford, if you tell him I said that.”

            Cullen laughed and put his fork down on the empty plate. “I won’t tell him.”

            “Wait,” Rory looked between the two of them, “you know Varric Tethras?”

            The two friends nodded, Cassandra with a grimace.

            “Unfortunately,” she confirmed.

            Rory’s entire face lit up, her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open in an ‘o’ shape. Cullen smiled at her and let Cassandra take the plate from him.

            “I’ll get you an autograph next time I see him,” Cullen promised.

            After Rory left, Cullen sighed and looked at Cassandra. “Go on.”

            “Hm?”

            “Go on. Say what you’re dying to say,” Cullen offered. “One time shot here.”

            “You are an idiot,” she said.

            “There it is! Well, keep going.”

            He sat back on the couch and drew the comforter up to his chin. There was a feeling in his chest that she could go on for hours. Especially with what happened the night before with Celia.

            “Are you still in love with Celia?”

            The question was unexpected. Cullen blinked slowly before he answered.

            “Yes, Cassandra, I am.” He shrugged his good shoulder and looked back to his friend. “I’m mad as hell at her right now, but I still love her. She’s having a hard time is all. I’m not going to stop loving her just because she’s not at her best right now.”

            “I’ll say,” Cassandra grumbled. “I mean, honestly, Cullen. Does she think that you aren’t also having a difficult time? I understand she’s upset, but Maker.”

            “Give her time, Cassandra.”

            Cassandra left around noon: she had a meeting downtown she couldn’t miss. He assured her that he would stay on the couch unless he had to use the bathroom, or get a drink. He had her bring him his laptop before she left. When she had gone, he pulled it into his lap and began his work. There was no reason he couldn’t catch up on paperwork while he was couch-bound. He answered dozens of emails, half of them from his family. More flooded in as soon as he answered what was in his inbox and still relevant. It felt good to be useful again.

            A half hour of answering emails and he was finished. And the next object on his to-do list made his stomach knot. Call Maria. He had written it in shaky script. Call Maria, it said. Like it was the easiest thing in the world to do. The black phone was heavy in his hand. Maria’s contact information was up. All he had to do was push a button.

            “Garden Gate, Margot speaking!”

            Cullen cleared his throat. “Yes, I…I need to send some flowers.”

            “Certainly! Who are they going to?”

            Cullen gave her Maria’s contact information. He waited while she scribbled everything down on her end and thought about what he was going to send her.

            “Great! So, what would you like to send?”

            “I…I’m not sure,” he admitted quietly. “My friend…Maria, she…Maker. Her husband was killed a few weeks ago. He was a close friend.”

            “I’m very sorry to hear that Mr. Rutherford. We have a number of sympathy gifts here: flowers, live plants, wind chimes, we have garden stones, religious knick-knacks.”

            “She’s…I don’t think she’s any good with live plants.”

            “Okay. Well, I’m going to assume she received plenty of knick-knacks and such at the funeral. They’re usually what everyone sends. We could send fresh in a vase. Then she won’t have to decide if she wants to keep anything or get rid of it.”

            “That…that sounds perfect, thank you. Would eighty be enough? Or would that be too much or…?”

            He could hear the smile in her voice. “Eighty would be plenty. We could use some higher end flowers. We’ll make sure it’s very respectable. Would you like a card message?”

            What would he say to her? What could he possibly say to her to make it better? Nothing. There was nothing he could say. Nothing he would even want to say.

            “Mr. Rutherford?”

            “I’m sorry. I just…”

            “Difficult to find the words.”

            “Yes,” he sighed. “Yes, it is. Just…With my deepest sympathy, Cullen Rutherford.”

            “Okay, Mr. Rutherford. We’ll get that out for you tomorrow. You have a good day.”

            “You too,” he said before she hung up.

            It wasn’t enough. He knew that it wasn’t enough, but Maker help him if he knew what to do. It wasn’t like he could face her, not yet. He would, just…later. Much later. When he could stand on his own. When it didn’t still hurt. To distract himself, he flipped the tv on and browsed the channels. Eventually, he settled on a house flipping show. By the time Rory arrived back, he was on his fifth couple.

            “It’s just me! Cassandra tapped a note on my door with your key.”

            Cullen watched as she went into his kitchen, her arms full of bags. “Rory, I can help–”

            “You,” she called back, “can sit on the couch while I bumble about your kitchen and put things away! Let your leg heal.”

            “Is there any point in arguing with you?”

            “Absolutely not!”

            When she was done putting the groceries away, she brought him in a bottle of water and two pills.

            “The note said I had to make you take them.”

            Cullen sighed but took the pills from her. “I’m sorry.”

            “Hm?”

            He swallowed the pills. “We’ve kind of kidnapped you, haven’t we?”

            Rory smiled and sat across from him. “I don’t mind. I don’t have a lot of friends here, so it’s nice to have someone. Even if they did kidnap me.”

            “You sound like a Marcher.”

            Rory nodded and crossed one leg over the other. “Yeah. My mother was Ferelden though. My father is from Ostwick, but we moved to Hercina when I was a baby.”

            “You said was?”

            “Mom left us when I was eight. I’m not sure where she is or what she’s doing. Then again, I’m not sure if I care to know. She’s made no effort to be in touch with me.”

            She spoke very matter-of-factly, but there was a hint of sorrow behind her eyes. He decided not to push the matter further. Instead, he gestured to the tv and started a new conversation.

            “Every couple on this show has such unrealistic expectations.” He pointed to the man named David. “Apparently he is a copy editor and she is a stay at home dog-mom. Don’t laugh, they’re serious! Their budget is 2.5”

            Rory laughed and shook her head. “Of course it is! Oh, but look how beautiful.” She sighed dreamily as the final house was revealed to them.

            “They have good taste; I’ll give them that. Oh, oh, here we go.” Cullen wiggled in his seat as a new couple was introduced. “’My name is Katherine and I raise chickens,’” he voiced over the rather hippie free-love looking older woman.

            “Oh, that’s not fair. She looks nice. Now, what about him? ‘My name is Ed and I yodel part-time at dive-bars.”

            Cullen laughed at her deep voice. They talked over the entire episode, each adding the most absolutely ridiculous dialogue. At one point Cullen had Rory laughing so hard she was in tears.

            “Did you not have work today?” he asked while she got up to get him a drink.

            “No! Thank the Maker. I’m off most weekends.” There was a pause and the clinking of ice in a glass. “Am I intruding? I think I might be intruding. This is the second time I’ve sort of invited myself to stay.”

            “No!” Cullen rushed. “No, you aren’t intruding.” If you leave I’m left alone with my thoughts. “I enjoy the company.”

            She brought his drink back in and sat by his feet. “You can tell me if I’m intruding. Or being a bother. My cousin tells me I’m too friendly.” She shrugged with a smile.

            “I like it. It’s refreshing.”

            There was a faint blush on her cheeks they both ignored. “Are you hungry?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

            “I am starving.”

            “Takeout?”

            “Pizza and wings.”

            “Cheese. Beer?”

            “Craft in the fridge.”

            “Slice of Heaven or Griffon Keep?”

            “Neither.” He smiled at her confused expression. “Real pizza. Safe Harbor. I’ll call and order.”

            “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of them.”

            “They’re a dive-bar a few blocks down. They don’t have a sign, so you have to know they’re there.” He pulled his phone out and pulled up their contact.

            “That’s your bathroom?” She pointed to the door behind the couch.

             When Cullen nodded, Rory stood up and left the room.

            “Safe Harbor, what do you want?”

            “Hey, Hack.”

            “Cullen! Haven’t seen ya around in a bit.”

            Hack and Cullen first met when Cullen transferred back to Denerim from Kirkwall. Varric took Cullen out for drinks to Safe Haven. Hack was an ex-templar, just like Cullen. The old man was probably in his sixties or seventies. He looked like an old sailor that longed for the sea again. His white beard was always kept cropped close to his face. The wrinkles around his deep blue eyes looked like caverns on his tan face. Hack spoke with a voice of expensive whiskey and cheap clove cigarettes. He took no shit but gave plenty. Truth be told, he was one of Cullen’s favorite people.

            “Yeah, sorry about that.”

            “You want the usual?”

            “No, actually,” Cullen said smiling. “I need an extra-large cheese with the garlic stuff you put on the crust. Then I need a large order of barbeque wings, sticky mango, and then the honey bourbon. Oh, and send two packs of whatever craft beer you have. A pale lager.”

            “You’re getting picky, Mr. Rutherford.”

            “I have a friend I’m trying to win over for you.”

            The older man made a noise and Cullen chuckled.

            “You need people to like you Hack.”

            “Bullshit. I’ll have Nat run it over when it’s done.”

            Cullen hung up with the smirk still on his face. Really, he wanted the beer for later. If he was going to be stuck inside his apartment for who knows how long, he would need the beer. He would need a lot of beer. Out of reflex, he checked his email and saw fifty new waiting for him to read and reply to. On the one hand, he itched to work again, but on the other, he didn’t want to rush Rory to leave. Work could wait.

            Rory came back out of the bathroom and curled up in the opposite corner from him. She smiled at him and drew his discarded blanket around her.

            “I could turn the heat up?” he offered.

            “No, I like it cold. Makes it cozier, don’t you think?” She turned her head to look out his window. “I’ve always loved Denerim in the fall. Hercina doesn’t really have fall. Or winter. It gets chilly, but nothing like this. I think I only saw snow five times before I moved here.”

            Cullen blinked. “Five times?”

            “Mm. They used to cancel school when it would snow. It hardly ever stuck, but no one knows how to drive in it up there. You’re going to laugh at me, but the first time it snowed that I was here, I fell eight times on my way to work.”

            Cullen laughed and shook his head. “Eight times? And you still went?”

            “I am very persistent,” she smiled, “and I wanted to make a good impression. Unfortunately, I had a bruise the size of a cantaloupe on my backside. I couldn’t sit for a week. Welcome to Denerim.”

~

            “Cullen Rutherford, are you trying to get me drunk?”  

            Rory looked down at the four six-packs with a raised eyebrow. She looked at Cullen and smirked. Nat wagged his eyebrows at Cullen and then winked.

            “You look like shit, bro.”

            “Thank you, Nat. I feel so much better.” He looked back at Rory. “And no, those are for me.”

            “So,” Nat rocked back on his heels before he entered the apartment to put the pizza and wings down. “You’re Cullen’s friend?”

            “Rory, nice to meet you.” She extended her hand politely and waited for Nat to take it.

             Nat sat the food down and took her hand in his. “Nat. Good to meet you.”

             “Rory is my neighbor,” Cullen offered.

             “Well, I hope that means I’ll be seeing more of you.”

             Nat was a fucking charmer. Every woman he ever met, he tried to flirt with. Truthfully, it had never bothered Cullen until he pulled his antics with Rory. Rory was a nice girl and Nat would only use her. He had classic good looks that everyone seemed to fall for. His bright green eyes always held a tinge of mischievousness. Every time he smiled, large dimples formed craters in his cheeks. And women fell for it every time.

             “You might if the food is as good as it smells.”

             “Why did Hack send four?” Cullen asked curiously while Rory took the beer into the kitchen.

             “Yeah,” Nat replied, watching Rory walk, “he said you’d probably need it, so he sent extra.”

             “Maker bless him,” Cullen groaned.

            Rory came back in and started to hand Nat a folded wad of cash. Nat flashed his pearly whites and held up his hand.

            “It’s already been put on Cullen’s tab.”

            “At least let me give you a tip.”

            “How about you keep your money and maybe give me a phone number?”

            Rory smiled and crossed her arms over her chest, her hip cocked out to the side. “Sure, Nat. You ready?” She ignored Cullen’s look of surprise. “It’s (248)-434-5508.”

            Nat plugged the number into his contacts and grinned victoriously at Cullen. “I’ll call you. We’ll catch a movie.”

            “Sounds fantastic. Thank you, Nat.”

            Cullen sat flabbergasted on the couch as Nat left with a new swagger in his step. He wasn’t sure why he cared, but Rory deserved better than a cheap one-night-stand with Nat. Rory’s laugh slowly flooded the apartment. It started out as a quiet giggle and then turned into sobs and snorting. She put her hand over her mouth at the first snort and then laughed harder at Cullen’s bewildered expression.

            “I’m sorry!” she gasped out, one arm over her stomach. “Oh, Maker. Oh, he’s going to be so mad.” She laughed again.

            “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

            “Call the number,” Rory instructed.

            Cullen picked up his phone and dialed the number she gave Nat. A popular song used to troll people suddenly came on over the call. Cullen stared at her with wonder and then joined in her dorky laughter.

            “Oh, oh, I shouldn’t have done that. That was a terribly mean thing of me to do.” Rory said as her laughter died off, only to have it start up again.

            “That was by far the best thing I have ever witnessed,” Cullen laughed out. “I wish I could be there to see his face when he calls.”

            Rory left the room still laughing and came back in with a cold six-pack. Cullen had sat forward and opened the boxes of food in front of him. She sat next to him and put the six-pack between them, pulled out two beers and opened both, passed one to Cullen. They picked up their conversation with mouthfuls and happy moans. Together they ate every slice of pizza and every wing in the boxes. When they were finished, Rory leaned back against the couch and groaned.

            “Maker, I ate too much,” she sighed.

            Cullen hummed in agreement and adjusted his leg on his pillows. “Give me some of that blanket,” he said.

            Rory scooted closer and spread the blanket out over them both. “I should go,” she sighed quietly.

            “Can you even move?”

            She giggled and stretched her legs out next to his. “I don’t know. I might be able to waddle.”

            “I’m glad you liked it.”

            Rory closed her eyes and leaned her head further into the cushions. Cullen looked at her and smiled, his hand itched to brush the hair out of her face. Her cheeks were flushed a rosy pink from the beers they had drunk together. She still had a smile dancing on the corner of her mouth.

             “I’m just going to rest my eyes for five minutes,” she whispered.

             He smiled and picked up his phone to get more work done.

~

            “Cullen? Cullen.”

            An angry voice pulled him from his slumber. Cullen blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. His gold eyes opened and he found Celia standing in front of him, her arms crossed. She was glaring at him, the left side of her jaw clenched tightly. Rory was still curled up beside him, just the top of her head visible.

            “You’re home,” he said with a smile. Then that smile faded the more he looked at her glare.

            “Who’s this?”

            “Oh!” He laughed and shook his head. “Rory. Our neighbor. She stopped by this morning to see if I needed anything from the store. I bought her lunch as thanks.”

            Celia looked around at all the six empty beer bottles on the table and her jaw ticked. Was she jealous? Rory and Cullen were just friends. Neighbors? Was it absolutely crazy to call themselves friends after two days? Rory was a hard person not to like though. He pushed those thoughts aside and once again focused on the angry woman in front of him.

            “I’m working and you have friends over and get drunk.”

            “I did not get drunk. And that’s hardly fair. I did work today. I answered my emails, I returned phone calls. It’s not like I can get up and walk into work, Celia.”

            Rory stirred beside him and Celia went into the kitchen.

            “Hey,” Rory said with a stretch.

            “Hey,” Cullen said awkwardly.

            A cabinet shut harshly and Cullen sighed. Rory sat up and looked in the kitchen where Celia was making a cup of tea. She gave Cullen an apologetic smile and stood up quietly.

            “I’ll get going. Thank you for lunch, Cullen. Let me know if you need anything.”

            She grabbed her purse and left the apartment quickly, shutting the door silently behind her. A silence that was shattered when Celia sniffled.

            Ah, fuck

            Cullen ran his hand through his hair. He grabbed his crutches and lumbered his way up. Celia was standing at the counter, a teapot of water steadily heating up on the stove. Maker, she looked tired. He stepped up behind her and could see her tense slightly. Ignoring the protest from his leg, he sat the crutches to the side. Gently, he turned her around to face him and frowned deeply at the hurt on her face.

            “Celia,” he whispered.

            She said nothing and looked down and away from him. When he brought his hand up to cup her cheek, she shut her eyes tighter. Cullen leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her wrinkled forehead.

            “I’m sorry,” he said while he pressed his forehead to hers.

            He drew her into his arms and put his hand on the back of her head. She shook slightly against him with the effort it took to hold her tears in. He hurt her. His arms held her tighter against him when she finally started to cry. The defeated noises broke his heart and filled him to the brim with shame. She had only cried once in their relationship because of something he did. It was their first fight and he had yelled at her. For weeks he apologized to her. He couldn’t even remember what the fight was about now.

            “I’m so scared, Cullen.” Her voice was barely a broken whisper. “I’m not strong enough for this.”

            “I am,” he assured her, holding her closer as her arms came up to wrap around his back. “I’m strong enough for both of us.”

Chapter Text

            The next few days passed by in a monotonous blur. Each morning he woke up, changed the bandage, took his pills, did his stretches, had breakfast, and then…Well, that was the problem. The and then. There wasn’t much he could do. Answering emails only took up so much of his day. Daytime television held no intrigue for him anymore. That was partly his fault. He went through every episode of the house shows in the first two days he was home. Rory had kept her distance, no doubt worried about putting a strain on Cullen and Celia’s relationship. Cullen hadn’t wanted to push her towards speaking to him. Except now, Cullen was standing at Rory’s door, hoping he caught her before work. He knocked and returned to balancing himself on his crutches.

            “Just a second!”

            Maker, seeing her was going to be awkward. Her door opened and ripped him out of his thoughts. She was wearing a summery yellow dress that hit just above her knees, her boots she had in her hand. Rory’s eyes crinkled up and he found himself smiling back.

            “Hi,” he said.

            “Hello. Good to see you up! Come in.”

            She opened the door wider for him and stepped to the side. Cullen shuffled his way in awkwardly and waited in her living room.

            “Maker’s balls, your place is so much bigger than mine.”

            Rory laughed and shut the door. “Yeah. But I moved in here before you, so I got dibs.” She sat on her blue velvet sofa and started slipping her boots on. “Have a seat, Cullen.”

            He sat down next to her, carefully lowering himself with one leg. Her entire apartment felt like her. In the main room, she had one large sofa, two loveseats, and two large plush chairs. There was a piano in the corner between the kitchen archway and the floor to ceiling windows. There were throw pillows and blankets on every seat. She had dozens of pictures and paintings all over her walls. It smelled like sea air and warm bread.

            “I wanted to apologize,” he finally explained.

            “Whatever for, Cullen?” She leaned over her knees and started tying the laces on her boots.

            He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “The awkwardness that happened when Celia came home.”

            Rory laughed and shook her head. “Cullen, if you thought that was awkward, you should come to family dinners. That is a whole mess of awkward.” She sat back up and looked him over. “Are you hungry? I was just about to pull the croissants out of the oven.”

            “You made croissants? Doesn’t that take like,” he tried to remember how many days it was.

            “Two days. You missed fresh ones last night.” She stood up and motioned for him to stay seated. “Coffee?”

            “Yes, please.”

            He wanted to ask her for milk and sugar, but it felt too imposing, even if she did offer. She left the room and disappeared into the kitchen. Okay, so it wasn’t as awkward apologizing as he thought it was going to be. He had worked it up so much in his head, he was certain she would slam the door in his face. Yet, she invited him in and was feeding him.

            Rory came back into the living room carrying a serving tray loaded with croissants and coffee. She looked like an angel.

            “Oh, really? Or are you just happy to have food?” Rory put the tray down on the coffee table and sat back down, tucking her skirt under her as she sat.

            “Both.”

            “Smart answer,” she laughed. “There’s cream in that one and sugar in that. Personally, I take both in mine.”

            “Me as well. I don’t like bitter bean juice. I still have my taste after all.”

            “Bitter bean juice? That is the best way to describe coffee I have ever heard.”

            There were various jams on the tray as well: orange, strawberry, raspberry, something that looked oddly like kiwi… There was a chocolate sauce as well. Rory said she made it that morning.

            “So you like to cook?”

            Rory nodded with a smile and drizzled chocolate over her croissant. “I do. It helps unwind me after a long day.”

            “A long day as an art restorer? Sorry, that sounded judgmental, didn’t it?”

            “Haha! Yes, but I know what you mean. It can be, yes. See, since I’m head of the department I have to deal with people. A lot of people. People who think they know how to do my job better than I do.” She rolled her eyes and took a large bite. “Because I don’t have my doctorates or anything.”

            Cullen cracked open his croissant and smeared a spoonful of strawberry jam on it. It smelled like home, like the pies his mother used to make and let cool on their open window. He used to lay in the strawberry field and eat strawberries until he couldn’t move, soaking up the sun until his face and arms were splattered with freckles.

            “Well if I knew strawberry jam was the easiest way to get you to smile, I would have given you some earlier,” Rory mused.

            Cullen gave a sheepish smile and licked jam off his thumb. “Just old memories. My parents had a small strawberry field in Honneleath. I used to lay out in it and eat the warm strawberries.”

            “Do you freckle when you tan?”

            “I do. I also burn like a lobster now if I’m not careful.”

            “Haha. I burn. So, so badly. And then I go right back to being the color of a marshmallow.” She took a drink and crossed her legs. “Your home sounds nice.”

            “It is. I haven’t been back in some time though.”

            He missed his family. He would be a lying fool if he said that he didn’t.

            “So, do you work today?”

            “I do. I have to be there,” she checked the delicate watch on her wrist, “in about an hour.”

            “I shouldn’t keep you then.”

            “Nonsense. Cullen, it’s only a fifteen-minute commute from here.” She smiled at him and took a deep sip of her coffee. “I hope it’s okay, but I sent Celia flowers.”

            Cullen blinked in surprise. “You sent Celia flowers?”

            “I did. To her office. I felt terrible for Saturday and wanted to make amends.” She added some more chocolate sauce. “I know Mondays are busy for her, so they should be delivered today.”

            “She’ll like that, but you didn’t have to.”

            “I know that. Eat your croissant.” She checked a few emails on her phone and smiled at him. “So what are your plans for today?”

            Cullen shrugged and picked up a second pastry. “I don’t know. I’m due at the hospital at nine for a meeting with the physical therapist. Then…nothing. I thought I might stop by the office, but I think my think my three mothers would kill me.”

            “Your three mothers?”

            “Cassandra and Leliana, you met them. The third is Josephine.” He smiled fondly. “They’re three of my closest friends. And if I show up at the office…”

            “You’re done for.”

            “I am so done for. I’m on paid sick leave right now, so I don’t have to be there. It just,” he paused and sighed.

            “Feels weird?”

            “Yeah. Since I was ten all I’ve ever done was work. First, it was the templars and then security.”

            “That sounds exhausting.”

            It was. It was excruciatingly exhausting. He hadn’t had a proper nights sleep in fifteen years. Not since the bombing. Not since Kirkwall. Not since the circle. His nightmares often drove Celia crazy. Not that he blamed her. He always felt terrible for waking her with them. It was bad enough that he suffered them, but then Celia had to as well.

            “How is your leg feeling today? Is someone taking you to the hospital?”

            “I’ve called a Gryphon. They’ll take me to and from. And it’s…okay. Better now that I’ve been using the crutches. That salve has helped immensely with my ribs and shoulder. I thank you.”

            “My pleasure, Cullen. I’m here for whatever you need.”

            “How about a new leg?”  

            “I’ll get right on that.”

~

            Cullen hadn’t noticed at first how the city had changed since the bombing. Now, out in the crisp morning light, everything seemed so different. People huddled in their coats like they were wearing plate mail. Heads turned down towards the sidewalk, avoiding eye contact. Or, their wide eyes, panicked, flashed rapidly to each person that came towards them. Everyone was waiting for the person next to them to push a button and kill them all.

            He watched them carefully as they drove past, waiting to see something. It wasn’t as if he knew what he was looking for, but he still looked. Relief coursed through him when the driver took them two blocks around the Capital Building. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to see what they pulled him out of. At least, he wasn’t ready to see it in person. Things never look as bad as they are when they’re in pictures.

            The physical therapist appointment was an absolute bitch. All they did was mild flexing and stretching, but Maker did it hurt. By the time he left, he was sweating through his shirt. After, he didn’t go to his office. Instead, he wound up at a bookstore. He had meant to go home, honestly, but then the light reflecting off of the windows overtaking the face of the store caught his attention. It had been so long since he had finished a book, since he had even bought one.

            The inside smelled as one would expect a bookstore, but there was also a hint of incense lingering in the air. The old woman behind the counter smiled at him when he walked in but said nothing. Cullen nodded to her regardless and made his way through the aisles. In the first aisle, he found six books he wanted to read. Yet there he stood, at the end of the aisle with six books in his hand and no way to get them to the counter. He needed both hands to work the crutches, and he didn’t want to make the old woman come back and forth to help him. He could just put the books back and come again with Celia–

            Woof.

            Cullen blinked and looked down to his knees where a brown mabari waited patiently at his side.

            “Hello,” Cullen spoke slowly.

            The dog sat and waited patiently for Cullen to notice the basket at his paws. Carefully, Cullen leaned over and sat the books in the basket and watched as the dog picked it up and walked it to the counter. Handy, Cullen thought as he made his way to the next aisle. By the time he reached the art section, he had thirty books up on the counter. Then he found it. A book of Lavenmile’s paintings. It was huge and Cullen wondered if the dog could even get it to the counter in one piece, but sure enough, he lumbered away with the basket.

            I wonder…

            He made his way over to the biographies and searched for Rory’s name. And then it hit him. He didn’t even know her last name. T, he knew it began with t. Trevelyan! There, at the bottom of the shelf was her book. ‘The Hidden Lavenmille.’ Cullen smiled and picked it up and carefully made his way to the counter. He was afraid to hear the total and instead just passed over his card.

            “And how did King help today?” Joy, the old woman, asked him curiously, taking a moment to pass a bone to the mabari at Cullen’s feet.

            Cullen patted the young mabari on the head. “Fantastically. He was a great help.”

            “Good. We like to hear that. He’s a rehabilitated military dog we’re fostering. We’ve learned that he likes having a job to do, so, he carries books for us.”

            “You’re fostering?”

            “Mmhm. He’s up for adoption at the animal shelter on Calenhad St.”  

            Cullen looked back at the dog and smiled.

~

            Mrs. Hornigold carried his books from the cab to the apartment for him. It was a stroke of luck that she was at the doors when he was. At first, he wasn’t going to let her carry the several bags for him, but she snatched them out of his hand and started to trek up the front stoop.

            “I’m just as stubborn as you are, Mr. Rutherford. Only, I’ve had many more years of practice. Come on, keep up with the old woman.”

            Inside his apartment, she went through every book he got before placing them on the shelf in the living room. She smiled fondly when she reached Rory’s book, her fingers tracing the cover lightly.

            “She’s a talented woman, that Rory. She signed my copy, did you know that? Embarrassed her to death, poor humble thing.”

            The patron saint of hallway silence left shortly after that and Cullen got started on dinner. Once he sat down, he knew he would not get back up and the aches of the day would settle in like termites in wood. He turned the news on while he cooked: the talking heads were arguing over whether there would be another bombing or not. There would, it would only be a matter of time. Usually, string bombings happen rather quickly, one right after the other, but given how long it had been since the first, he doubted it would be any time soon. Which meant one of three things: they were waiting for a bigger political gathering, the next bomb was going to be bigger, or, they were waiting for Alistair’s birthday. Or there was another possibility that he wasn’t thinking of. They could–

            “Cullen?”

            The front door shut and he quickly turned the tv off.

            “In here, love.”

            Celia came around the corner while Cullen busied himself setting the table. In her arms was a large bouquet of flowers. Rory had excellent taste; he wasn’t surprised. The bouquet was exactly Celia’s style: clean and simple. There were a few white roses, eucalyptus, dawn lotus, and some other kind of white flower he didn’t recognize, but was rather pretty.

            “Our neighbor sent me flowers for the other night,” she said with a smile.

            “Did she? Those are lovely,” he murmured against her temple when he kissed it. “Dinner should be done in two minutes. The biscuits are almost done.

            Celia smiled and sat the vase of flowers down on the counter. “Did you get out today? I noticed some books on the shelf.”

            Cullen nodded and slipped an oven-mitt on. “I did. I didn’t want to come back right away after my appointment and the driver went by a bookstore, so I figured why not. I found one you might like too. ‘The Royal Deep.’ It’s in there somewhere.”

            “Thank you,” she whispered walking to the fridge. “And your leg?”

            Cullen pulled the baking sheet out of the oven and carefully started throwing the biscuits into a bowl.

            “Good,” he answered. “Still not allowed to do any heavy work, ice and elevation. But, I’m working on the exercises like I’m supposed to, so they think I’ll heal properly.”

            Celia pulled out a bottle of wine from the fridge and smiled. “Good. I can’t wait to ravage you again.” She kissed the back of his neck before getting a bottle opener.

            “That makes two of us.”

            That night they curled up together on the couch. Celia went through some of her papers and Cullen read Rory’s book. She was witty and sharp and had a way of describing things that made him feel like he was there. It wasn’t long after that Celia fell asleep against his side and Cullen kept reading. It reminded him of being a child and staying up way past his bedtime to finish a book he was reading. Back in Honnleath there was a small storage closet above his bed that he would crawl into and read until dawn. It’s where he hid his candy stash as well.

            He missed home.

~

           “Cullen! Glorious Denerim weather we’re having, isn’t it?” Castelo smiled from his post.

            The taller man smiled and shook the rain out of his hair and off his jacket. The sudden downpour left him soaked clean through. Even his shoes squelched when he walked. Hell of a day to forget his umbrella. Still, he had time. He could go back to the car and get it. Then he’d have to go through all the security again. Not worth it.

            “Yes, absolutely glorious!” he answered back.

            Castelo laughed and walked over to check his credentials. “Big Papa is in the house.”

            Cullen groaned and handed over his id once again. “Have I told you how much I hate it when you call him that?”

            Castelo laughed and checked Cullen’s weapon and id before passing them back. Something felt off. Just there, at the back of Cullen’s neck. There was a tightness, a bruising sensation he couldn’t quite shake. His eye shifted to over Castelo’s shoulder. Something wasn’t right. What was it? Think, Rutherford, think. What is it? What’s different?

            “Sir!” Castelo yelled to a man behind Cullen to get his attention. “You’ll have to check that bag.” He turned back to Cullen. “I know. Which is what makes it hilarious. He’s upstairs waiting for you.”

Blood. Blood everywhere. Where is Castelo? Where– His hand. His hand: where’s the rest of him? Under the rubble? No. No body. My leg. Maker, my leg hurts. Move, you have to move, Cullen. Get up. When will the ringing stop? Is that my blood or someone else’s? Open your hand. Open your hand, Rutherford. Open your hand and grab your weapon. Move, damn it! Whose shadow? Gun. Grab your– Jim. Jim, I can’t move. I can’t… this damned ringing! We have to call for backup. We have to find Castelo before he bleeds out. Why aren’t you listening to me! Why can’t I hear you? Why can’t you hear me?

Maker, this pain! Jim, my leg. Jim, something is wrong with my leg. Why are you smiling? No. No, I have to stay. I’m not finished yet. They have to know. I have to tell them. Stay awake. Stay. Awake. Stay…awake. Stay…

“Sleep.”

~

            Maker, his head was pounding. Celia was still pressed against his side, her soft breath setting fire to his already scalding skin. Carefully as he could, he moved her from him and covered her up when she stretched out beside him. He wiped sweat from his brow. The contents of his stomach rolled. For a moment he thought he would have to hurry to the toilet. Memories of the boat ride over to Kirkwall brought a new wave of nausea to the surface. Air, he needed air.

            Stiff muscles protested when he pushed himself up on his crutches. He hated the Maker damned things, but they were useful. Even if they did make his underarms burn and ache. As quietly as he could he exited the room to the balcony. His crutches made an annoying noise every time they made contact with the floor. The instant the cold night air hit his flushed skin he felt free. He slid the door closed behind him and made his way to the railing to lean against it. The city looked untouched from where he was. Dozens of tiny speckled lights made him feel bigger than he was, made his problems feel bigger than they were. He ran his hand through his hair again: it was an old habit from templar training. It felt like he was nineteen and trapped in that tower again. Maker, it felt like years before they finally got to him–

            “Can’t sleep either?”

            Cullen jumped at the sound of Rory’s voice next to him. She was curled up in one of her lounge chairs, a heavy wool blanket tucked around her legs. A pair of thin metal glasses were perched on the tip of her nose; he wanted to reach over and push them up for her.

            “Sorry,” she whispered, “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

            He nodded and turned back towards the lights and sea. After a few moments, he sighed and sat on a deck chair.

            “No. I was asleep, but…” he waved his hand beside his head.

            Rory nodded, a silent understanding of how nightmares work. “Did Celia like her flowers?”

            “She did, very much. Why are we whispering?”

            She laughed quietly and ran a hand through her long hair. “There’s a boy on my couch.”

            Cullen raised his eyebrow. “Do you know this boy?”

            “Of course! I mean… well, not well. But yes. His name is Greer.”

            “Boyfriend?”

            “No. Yes.” She sighed and leaned her head back. “I don’t really know. He says yes, I say…well, I say I don’t know. It’s complicated? He’s gone a lot. And I know he sees other people when he’s gone. Which is why I say we’re not dating.”

            “That’s fair.”

            Rory nodded. “That’s what I said.”

            “If he can’t stay faithful, then you shouldn’t be in a relationship.”

            “Thank you!” she said a little too loudly. “Thank you,” she added again, much more quietly. “That’s what I told him.”

            Cullen watched her watch the sea in the distance. “Forgive me, but you don’t seem…attached to him.”

            “I’m not. Not really. He’s a nice guy. The sex is good.” She winced. “Sorry. Was that too much information? And he’s smart too. I just,” she pulled the blanket up further around her, “I just don’t feel a connection with him.”

            “Why are you with him then?”

            Rory smiled sadly and played with the ends of her hair. “I guess,” she finally answered, “I guess I’m just afraid of being lonely. Of not finding anyone else. Maker, I’m nearly thirty and I’ve never had a steady boyfriend. I’ve never even lived with a man.”

            “What’s stopping you?”

            “Me? At least I think it’s me. I think it’d be nice to have someone.”

            Cullen smiles and puts his foot up on the table in front of him. “It is. It is nice.”

            Rory returns his smile and angles her body towards him. There was a foot of free air between their balconies, but it felt like they were right next to each other.

            “When did you and Celia meet?”

            “Twelve years ago,” he answered. “I met her at The Hanged Man in Kirkwall. I was very drunk,” he admitted sheepishly. “I asked her to dance. And you should know I can’t dance to save my life.”

            “That’s a shame. I love a man who can dance. And did she fall immediately in love with you?”

            Cullen laughed and shook his head. “Not hardly. Took me a few weeks to win her over.”

            “Rory?” a sleepy voice called out from inside her apartment.

            Rory sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I should,” she gestured to inside.

            Cullen nodded and watched her get up. She offered him her blanket which he declined politely. His neighbor left quietly, her folding doors closing silently behind her. He sat in the dark for quite some time, eventually the sun started to peak up over the horizon. The sky turned that hazy sort of blue just before it changes to orange.

            It wasn’t Jim!

            With shaky fingers, he pulled his phone from his pocket and quickly sent a text to Leliana. It was doubtful she would answer it right away, but he had to tell someone. The only question that he had was: if it wasn’t Jim, who was it? Their face was in front of him, but they were blurry. It was almost as if he were looking at them through a fogged over mirror.

            “Sleep.”

Chapter Text

            A few weeks had past and he still remembered nothing more from his dream. A white fog had settled over him and the more he fought it, the thicker it got. Anders finally gave him the go head to do light upper body exercises, nothing above ten pounds for now. The first day he worked out his frustrations so long that his arms were noodles the next day. They had told him he could finally be rid of the crutches, as long as he took it easy. They urged him to use a cane, but he always ‘forgot’.

            Cullen knew eventually he would find himself at the steps of the museum, he just didn’t think it would be so soon. The architecture was a sight to behold: two large gryphons adorned the stairs that led up to the massive archways into the courtyard. He walked through the gardens and into the building to buy his ticket. It was strangely empty that day: only a few people were scattered on iron benches.

            The girl selling tickets asked if he were military and he said no out of reflex. He wasn’t sure why.

            “Cullen!”

            Cullen looked up from making sure his phone was on silent and saw Rory making her way across the spacious lobby.

            He returned her smile and slipped his phone into his pocket. “Are you keeping tabs on me, Rory?”

            “Oh, always Mr. Rutherford.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I was in Kent’s office and saw you come in on the monitors.” Delicate fingers pointed to the cameras in the corner.

            “Kent is your security manager?”

            “He is. Very good too. We’re getting a new portrait from Genetivi in tomorrow and I want to make sure security is tight.” She tilted her head at him. “I have some time if you’d like a tour? It’s your first time here, yes? When did you get rid of your crutches?”

            Cullen nodded and looked around the main room. “It is my first time. I didn’t realize it was quite this big.”

            “Six wings and a large sculpture garden out back,” she explained proudly.

            “I don’t want to take up your time.”

            “You won’t. If they need me they’ll find me. Come on, photography is up first.”   

            She led him through the first wing: showed him the photography, the miniatures, the exhibit of paintings they had on loan from Rivain. They walked slowly, Rory careful of Cullen’s leg. His leg which as throbbing by the end of the first wing. They were headed towards the second wing when someone finally came and found Rory.

            “Rory, Demarchiler is here. Again,” the tall elvish woman rolled her green eyes up towards the ceiling, “He refuses to listen to me, he wants to hear it from you.”

            Rory groaned and rubbed her fingers across her forehead. “Fantastic. Cullen, would–”

            “Oh, you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll wander around.”

            “I was going to ask if you wanted to see the restoration department?”

            He blinked in surprise. “Oh. I mean… that would be wonderful, but if you have a meeting…”

            “You would be saving us,” the blonde woman interjected. “Really. Besides, you look strong enough to hold Rory back if she tries to stab him.”

            Rory quirked her lips up and gave a short rapid nod. “Lexie does have a point. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

            Cullen followed the two women down a small corridor to an elevator. Lexie wasn’t exactly who he expected to work at the museum. Her blonde hair was cropped close to her head, a pixie cut he thought, only shaved on the sides. She was wearing a red lipstick so dark it looked almost black. Dark green combat boots laced all the way up to her knees, her black jeans were ripped at the thighs. Her shirt was some rock band he had never heard of. She had several piercings in each ear, her septum was pierced, as well as the dip between her nose and lips. The closer he looked, the more he could pick out pastel streaks in her hair. Maybe he should set her up with Rylen? She was his type. And Rylen had mentioned how lonely he was.

He listened to them chat idly about a painting Lexie was working on: matching the paint was giving Lexie fits. The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside.

            “I’ll take a look at it before the end of the day.”

            The doors shut with a squeak.

            “Someone has to, or I’m liable to set it on fire. I don’t even like Gudeness,” Lexie grumbled.

            Cullen breathed slowly in and out through his nose and mouth. Fucking small spaces, he thought bitterly to himself. There was a reason he avoided them like they were disease. He focused on the continuing conversation to distract himself.

            “I don’t care how much that painting is worth. Gudeness was only a brilliant painter for knowing everyone would buy what he did as ‘art’. He threw paint on a canvas, Rory. That’s it.”

            “He didn’t throw paint on a canvas.”

            “Well, that’s what it looks like. Except, no,” she said, “no, because that’s an insult to Chamen because Chamen’s artwork is actually good and he did throw paint on a canvas.”

            Rory laughed and shook her head. “Lexie here isn’t a fan of modern art.”

            “No, I like modern art. I just don’t like someone slapping a bunch of shit together and then telling me it’s art.”

            Cullen nodded and breathed a sigh of relief when the doors opened. He expected the lower levels of the museum to be dark and musty, but instead, they were well lit and smelled like lemons. They passed by the security office, Rory and Lexie waving to Kent as they passed. He looked Cullen over and gave a short nod before turning back to his computer. Kent was a large man, tall and wide, with black hair and dark brown eyes. His dark tan skin stood out against the bright blue of his shirt.

            The restoration department was at the back of the building in a large room. There were windows on the north side at the very top towards the ceiling. Several tables and large easels took up most of the floor space. There were about four other people working quietly, few wore headphones.

            “Ms. Trevelyan.”

            “Mr. Demarchiler.”

            A man who looked to be about Cullen’s age approached them from the center of the room. His Orlesian accent was thick and rich sounding. Most likely a noble from Val Royeaux. Brown hair was slicked back with far too much pomade that made him look like he dipped it in wax. Even Cullen had to admit his eyes were striking: a bright blue rimmed in a green ring. There were a few wrinkles at the outer corner of his eyes, but other than that his face was untouched by blemishes or lines.

            “Please, Ms. Trevelyan, call me Henri,” he crooned with a smile.

            Cullen resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

            “What can I do for you, Henri?” Rory managed to ask with a polite expression.

            Henri sighed and shook his head. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to pull the painting, Ms. Trevelyan.”

            Rory balked at his sudden confession. “I,” she hesitated, “You’re going to pull it? May I ask why?” she asked when he nodded.

            “There’s an issue with the restoration–”

            “You mean there’s an issue with the one performing the restoration.” Lexie narrowed her eyes.

            “Your race has nothing to do with the issue, Ms. Starling. I’m sure you are more than qualified–”

            Rory held up her hand and narrowed her eyes. “Mr. Demarchiler, I can assure you that any racism or sexism will not be tolerated here. And the fact that you have apparently acted in a way to make my best restorer question your motives is unacceptable,” she snapped. “Now, Lexi has been working in her field for ten years and specializes in this type of medium. She has never been questioned before by anyone. If you are that uncomfortable with her performing the restoration, then you are more than welcome, and in fact encouraged, to remove your painting from our care.”

            Cullen did little to hide his smirk from where he was watching a painting being cleaned.

            “Ms. Trevelyan, I assure you that is not the case.”

            “Then you should have no problem with Lexi finishing her impeccable work. Now, if that was all you needed, I’m afraid I have a very important benefactor to get back to.” She didn’t wait for Henri to respond and instead turned her attention back to Cullen. “Mr. Rutherford, please forgive the interruption. Shall we get back to it? Martin, if you would be so kind as to see our guest out.”

            When Henri Demarchiler was out of the room, Rory let out a long breath of air. Lexi muttered a few obscenities and sat back down on her padded stool. She rested her chin on her hands and huffed.

            “I’m not sure I would have held you back from stabbing him,” Cullen admitted.

            “At least you’re honest,” Lexi responded. “I’m tempted to just cover this in a portrait of an elf. Just to piss the little wanker off.”

            Rory kissed Lexi’s temple before she went to stand next to Cullen. “Do you like it?” she asked, gesturing to the painting of the forest before him.

            “I do…not, actually,” he chuckled.

            “I don’t either. Henson was never my favorite painter. There’s no emotion in his work. It’s just…there. Come, I’ll show you what I’m working on.”

            Rory led him over to a corner under the windows to a large statue next to a step stool. The marble statue was of a naked man, his arm drawn up above his head. The entire block was covered in graffiti.

            “This glorious specimen of man is ‘Titus Triadus.’ I’ve been trying to identify the age it was sculpted, but I’m having quite a few difficulties.”

            As Rory explained how it came into their possession Cullen walked around the eight-foot sculpture. It was so incredibly lifelike that Cullen thought for a moment he could see it breathing.

            “It’s been slow going getting all the spray paint off.”

            “And the lipstick print on his cheek?”

            Rory smiled and traced the spot gently with her fingers. “Not paint. See, marble, though beautiful, is very porous. Though, I suspect someone used magic to keep it on. Don’t give me that face. There is plenty of proof that magic existed.” She ignored Cullen’s smirk. “It seems wrong to try and remove it. We’ve someone coming in to test it, see if they can date it. And someone else coming in to try and date the whole sculpture.”

            Cullen nodded and carefully reached out to trace a finger over the marble. He smiled to himself when he found it cold, half expecting it to be warm.

            “Oh,” he stammered and took a step back. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t have touched it.”

            Rory shook her head and placed a hand on Cullen’s upper arm. “Statues were made to be touched. Paint, not so much. But Titus here? Made to be worshipped.” She smiled at Cullen and jerked her head to the side. “Come on, let’s finish the tour.”

~

            They got through only half of the museum before Cullen’s leg started to burn. They sat down on a bench in the gardens and enjoyed the cool air. For some time, neither said anything. It was a comfortable silence that seemed like it could stretch on for eternity. Rory sat close to him, her thigh almost touching his. Whenever the breeze would pass through her hair, Cullen could smell her conditioner.

            “Are you doing well then? Are things better with Celia?”

            Cullen thought about that question for a moment before he answered. “They’re getting better. I’m getting better. I think that’s helping. She got scared when I got injured.”

            “That’s understandable.”

            And it was. It was perfectly understandable for her to be afraid after he was hurt. People react to fear in different ways, and she got distant. They were getting better. The fell into silence again.

            “I probably shouldn’t keep you from work any longer,” Cullen finally sighed, shifting on the marble.  

            Rory nodded with a smile and stood up. “It was nice to see you, Cullen.”

            Cullen stood up with her and then stopped. Across the courtyard was a man watching them. He had a smile drawn across his face, white teeth standing out against his skin. The way he was watching them made him nervous.

            “Cullen?”

            He tore his eyes away from the man and looked at Rory. She watched him, bit her lower lip in worry.

            “Sorry, there was,” his words died when he found the spot where the man was empty. “I…I thought I saw someone I knew.”

            Rory nodded. After a few moments with him staring in the same spot, she gripped his upper arm gently. “Cullen, would you like me to call you a Gryphon?”

            “I can. Thank you though.” He smiled at her reassuringly.

            “Okay. I could wait with you?”

            “That isn’t necessary. I’ll catch you around, Rory.”

~

            Rory watched him walk away with a sad expression on her face. The entire walk back to the restoration department was spent worrying about the man.  He didn’t look well: His skin was clammy and he had a faint sweat breaking out on his forehead. The large man looked relatively paler than normal. Maybe she should tell Cassandra?

            “Well,” Lexie said when Rory came back in, “that was a handsome man.”

            Rory blushed and gave a nervous laugh. “He is. He is also engaged, Lexie.”

            “Well damn. He the neighbor?”

            “Mm. I’m worried about him. He doesn’t look well,” she explained. “I would tell Celia, but… I’m worried there’s tension between us.”

            “I hope it’s of the sexual kind,” Dorian cut in, entering the room.

            Rory laughed. “You don’t even know who or what we’re talking about.”

            “No, but sexual tension is always the best kind.” He kissed her cheek. “Any luck with Titus?”

            “Oh, you two can get to that in a minute,” Lexie said on her way over. “I want to hear about this tension. Is it because you fell asleep on Cullen at his place?”

            Dorian raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at his dearest friend. “Oh, I beg your pardon?”

            Rory sighed and sat down on her stool. Completely eye level with Mr. Triadus’s penis. She pursed her pink lips together and turned back around to her friends.

            “I went grocery shopping for him and when I came back he bought takeout and we had some beer. I ate too much and got sleepy. So we fell asleep. Completely innocent.”

            “Mm. And that’s why there’s tension.” Lexi pressed.

            “There’s tension because Celia walked in on it and I suppose it could have looked very incriminating.”

            “Darling, I love you, but that is the most boring story. I’m sorry!” Dorian held up his hands when Rory glared. He started messing with her tools on the table. “But let’s face it dear, the closest you’ve been to a naked man in a while is while you’re polishing that statue’s manbits.”

            Rory scowled and refused to tell them about Greer. Lexi and Dorian both hated him and wanted her to cut off all ties, but Greer was so easy. And in a world where everything was hard, it was nice to have something that was just easy.

            “Well, it doesn’t matter because I’m not going to get that close to Cullen.”

            Lexie wrapped her arms around Dorian’s shoulders from behind and put her chin on his shoulder. “Which is an absolute pity.”

            “Big?” Dorian asked.

            “Huge. Tall. He could give Titus here a run for his money.”

            Dorian gave an appreciative noise and sighed dreamily. “If only.”

            “You’re both terrible.”

            “She fed him croissants,” Lexie added.

            The Tevinter gasped. “Not the croissants!”

            Rory put her head in her hands and groaned.

            “With her homemade chocolate sauce.”

            Dorian fanned himself. “Maker, the divine romance of it all.”

            The two of them laughed when Rory tossed a brush at them. It was hard not to smile with them.

            “He stopped by a few mornings ago to apologize for the awkwardness with Celia. I was eating breakfast, I offered him some. It was not that big of a deal.”

            “Mm,” they collectively hummed.

            “He’s engaged.”

            “C’est la vie,” Lexi grumbled.  

~

            “Come on, Rory. Let’s go. It’s Friday. Let’s go out,” Lexie was laying on her back across a bare table, leaning over the edge with her head upside down.

            Rory chuckled and put her brush down. “You’re a child.”

            “Probably. Come on! Let’s go get tipsy and make fun of people.”

            Rory turned on her stool and smiled at her friend. “You really want to go out that badly?”

            “I do. I think we deserve it after having to deal with Demarchiler.”

            She hummed her agreement and looked down at her clothes. The dress she was wearing wasn’t exactly going out material. Returning home and changing was an option, but it would take at least another hour for them to get anywhere.

            “Come on. I live around the corner; you can borrow some of my clothes.” Lexie sat up and spun around to face her. “Pretty please?”

            “Oh, alright. Come on then.”

            Lexi’s apartment was always a source of wonder for Rory. Over the years she had lived in the large loft, she had accumulated several interesting pieces. There was a large, vintage, wood and gold airplane propeller attached to the brick of a large fireplace in the center of the room. On one wall she had carefully written out every line of her favorite novel in black ink. In the corner was a large white rowboat held aloft from the ceiling that served as a day bed. Another wall had been painted with a large mural of the constellations and a moon about five feet around. Every time Rory went to visit, Lexi had something new.

She followed the blonde up the stairs and to her room. Lexi unzipped Rory’s dress for her and then started to find something to wear.

            “Where are we going this time?” Lexie asked, picking up a leather mini and then tossing it behind her.

            “Cullen introduced me to this dive bar by the docks. Amazing food. We could go there?”

            Lexie tossed Rory a pair of leather moto jeans. Rory looked at them skeptically.

            “Should I put on baby powder first?” she joked.

            Lexie bent over to pick up a bra and looked between her knees at Rory. “They’re silk lined.”

            “Ooh!”

            Rory started slipping them over her bare legs and shimmied to get them over her butt.

            “Should we invite Cullen?” Lexi poked the bear.

            “I’m sure he has better things to do. Hand me that black cami.”

            “Party pooper.” She tossed the article at her and picked up a pair of fishnet tights. She slipped out of her jeans and started pulling the tights over her legs.  

            “Those underwear are cute.” Rory

            “Nothing better than Antivan lace.”

            “Orlesian lace?”

            Lexie scoffed. “I’m getting you lingerie for your birthday next month. You need to see what you’re missing.”

            By the time they got dressed, the sun was disappearing behind the cityscape. Lexie wheeled her motorcycle into the elevator with them before they left. It was one of the good things about living in a loft she said: you could take your bike or motorcycle up with you. There was no need to worry about parking it, or it getting stolen once you did. Rory looked up directions on the way down to the street.

            “I can’t find it. They must not be listed,” Rory said confused.

            “What’s the name?”

            “Safe Harbor. Cullen said it was a dive bar down along the docks.”

            “Call him and ask him.”

            “I don’t have his number. It can’t be too hard to find.”

            Lexi wheeled the bike down the ramp and then looked at Rory. “You don’t have his number.”

            “Don’t start.” She put the helmet on and got on the bike behind Lexi.

            “Unbelievable.”

            “Engaged.”

            Safe Harbor was harder to find than they thought. There were no cars parked out front, most were probably in the garage around the corner. A small sign above the door was faded and grimed over with years of wear. The sound of water lapped loudly at the brick holding the road up and gulls called softly into the night.

            “Congratulations,” Lexie said and took her helmet off, “you’ve brought us to get murdered.”

            “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

            “Not in a horror movie.”

            Rory slid off the back, putting the helmet on the seat. “Come on, you’re a big bad bi biker, you can take any monster.”

            “You know,” Lexi laughed and got off her bike, “I wish I had as much faith in me as you do.”

            “Come on! I can hear music even!”

            Rory headed to the metal door and pulled it open with a creak. The music flooded out into the night and the brunette smiled. She held out her hand for Lexi and pulled her inside. The bar was busy, crowded to an extent Rory didn’t expect from a place like that. There was a band on stage, some kind of rock mixed with folk. A crowd of people pushed around the bar, throwing drink orders out left and right.

            “Rory!”

            She turned in circles, looking for the one screaming her name. Lexi stopped her and pointed to a booth that held Cullen and another man waving at them. She waved back and led Lexi through the crowd of people.

            “I got guns in my head and they won’t, spirits in my head and they won’t go.”

            “Hey!” Rory leaned up and kissed his cheeks when he stood. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

            “Rylen convinced me to go out.” Cullen held his hand out for them to take the seat he was in and then sat next to Rylen. “Celia’s working late again.”

            Rylen smiled at the pair and took a swig of his beer. “Trying to keep him from becoming a hermit.”

            “A Starkie!” Lexi laughed. “My Da would love to meet you.”

            “Lexie’s dad is from Starkhaven,” Rory clarified, flagging down a waitress.

            Rylen leaned across the table to hear her better. “Good to know I’m not the only bastard in the city.”

            “Oh, definitely not,” Lexie confirmed. “I’ve dated many of them.”

            “Starkies or bastards?” Rylen asked with a wink.

            “Both, but that’s easy when they’re one in the same.”

            Rylen threw a hand over his chest and feigned injury. Lexi smiled and slipped her jacket off.

            “Those are some tattoos,” Rylen remarked, tracing the intricate lines of her half-sleeve tattoo. “Got any more?”

            “Oh, for that answer, you have to buy me a drink.”

            Rory smiled at Cullen while their friends continued their flirting. The Marcher had always been jealous of Lexie’s ability to flirt so well.

            “Oh, it’s been getting so hard living with the things you do to me.”

            Rory ordered she and Lexie a drink when the waitress managed to swing by. Cullen looked a little better than he did when she last saw him. He was still pale but didn’t look quite as haggard.

            “So do you two come out often?” Cullen asked over the music.

            Rory nodded and shrugged the leather jacket off. “Usually every Friday.” She tried not to notice the way Cullen’s eyes traveled over her bare shoulders. “What about you two?”

            Rylen laughed and leaned across Cullen to talk closer to Rory. “Not hardly. Getting this one out of the house is like pulling a tooth from a dragon!”

            “I am not that difficult,” Cullen grumbled.

            “Oh, please!” Rylen rolled his eyes. “It’s always, ‘No, Rylen, I have to get this report finished. No, Rylen, I have to send these emails off. No, Rylen, I have to wax my chest. No, Rylen, I have to practice my broody face.’”

            “I do not wax my chest.”

            Rylen gave a pointed look to Lexi and Rory. Rory laughed and pulled her hair out of her face.

            “You better watch it. He may be feeble, but I bet he could take you.” Rory took the drinks from the waitress and made sure to give her a generous tip.

            “I can.” Cullen agreed. “I’ve always been able too.”

            “Lies!” Rylen yelled.

            Cullen took a drink and smiled over the bottle at Rory. Mouthed, ‘I totally can’, before he took another drink.

            “I saw that.” Rylen elbowed Cullen and looked back to Lexie. “So what do you do, Lexie?”

            “Art restorer with Rory. Roller derby every other weekend.” She picked the cherry out of her drink and sucked it off the stem.

            Rylen gave an awed open mouth smile and looked at Cullen. “I’m gonna marry this girl.”

            “If you can catch her,” Rory chuckled. “Lexie here has an issue with commitment.”

            “Excuse you,” Lexie pointed her finger at Rory, “I have an issue with people. Not you though: you’re wonderful,” she told Rory. “She’s wonderful,” she confirmed to Rylen.

            “I am starving,” Rory cut in. “We need to order foo–”

            “Ladies and gents, it’s the girl who broke my heart!” Nat screamed from the bar, looking at Rory with heartsick eyes.

            Several patrons booed and blew raspberries. Rory’s face turned bright red and she sunk down in the booth. Lexie picked up Rylen’s bottle cap and with expert precision nailed Nat in the forehead with it. Rylen laughed so hard beer came out of his nose and he reached quickly for a napkin. The blonde held up her middle fingers and banged her fists together.

            “Makers balls, Lexie!” Rory screamed.

            Cullen hid his smile behind his hand while Rylen gave Lexie a high five.

            “And she has excellent aim. Now you must marry me. I’m lost without you,” Rylen pleaded.

            “I’ll give you a compass.”

            “Oh!” Cullen laughed and clapped Rylen on the back.

            A bottle cap dropped on to the table and all four of them turned to see Nat standing beside it. There was a smirk on his lips and his arms crossed over his chest. Rory laughed nervously and fidgeted in her seat.

            “Hey, Nat,” Cullen sighed, leaning back in his seat.

            “Nice aim,” Nat said to Lexi.

            “It’s easy when there’s a large target.”

            “Are you saying I have a big forehead?”

            Lexi smiled sweetly and batted her eyelashes, “No, darling, of course not. I’m saying you have a big ass head.”

            Rylen laughed and shook his head. “You aren’t gonna win this one, mate. And I don’t blame the hostility. Embarrassing poor Rory because you got rejected.”

            Cullen hummed an agreement and gave Rory a sympathetic smile.

            “That was cold, Rory,” Nat sighed. “Very cold.”

            Rory smiled sheepishly. “I am sorry, Nat. I should have just said no.”

            “Likely he wasn’t to take no for an answer,” Rylen snapped. “Don’t make her feel guilty because you can’t handle rejection.”

            Nat sighed and had the decency to look ashamed. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you. That wasn’t my intention at all, I promise.”

            “It’s okay,” Rory assured him. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

            “Maybe, I can buy you a drink to make up for it.”

            And there it was. She knew it would happen eventually. Cullen said he was persistent. He was attractive, Rory would give him that. And he seemed easy. Someone she could have a little fun with, without attachments. It’s not like she had to talk to him if she decided to fool around with him.

            “Nat!”

            An older gentleman screamed from the bar. His white hair was smoothed back out of his face. He glared at Nat until the young man finally went back to the bar, muttering apologies. Cullen waved at him and the man held up a finger before heading back to work.

            “That’s Hack,” Cullen told Lexie and Rory. “He’s a good man. Nat is his cousin’s boy.”

            “He’s very distinguished,” Lexie said, stirring her drink. “Rugged.”

            After a few moments, Hack came over to the table and sat down on the stool he had brought over.

            “Good to see you in, Cullen.” He clapped Cullen on the back and shook Rylen’s hand after. “You too Rylen. Now, who are your friends?”

            “I’m Rory,” she shook his hand gently, “and this is Lexie.”

            Lexie gave a short wave and a nod.

            “Ah, you’re the girl who took Nat down a few pegs. I owe you dinner, my girl.” He smiled fondly at Rory. “I’ve been waiting for someone to do that.”

            “Your place is busier than usual,” Cullen commented, surveying the crowded bar.

            Hack growled and waved his hand. “Ah, Nat’s idea. Booked us a few live bands tonight.” His expression soured. “I didn’t expect this many…unsavories.”

            Cullen laughed deep in his belly. Rory tried not to smile at him. Maker, why was she always smiling with him? She never smiled that much. Or at least she didn’t think she did. Why was she noticing it now?

            “You are an unsavory, Hack,” Cullen suggested.

            “Not the hipster kind,” he turned to Rory and Lexie, “That’s what you call them right? Hipsters?”

            Lexie laughed and put her hand over Hack’s on the table. “Oh, I do like you. Yes, that’s what you call them.”

            “He’s here five minutes and she likes him more than me,” Rylen joked. He leaned back in the booth and swirled the beer in the bottle around gently.

            Hack shrugged and patted Lexie’s hand. “I’m a charming guy. I’ll send your usual out.”

            The older man picked up Lexie’s hand and kissed it before he stood up. He leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on Rory’s offered cheek before he left them.

            “He seems like a good guy.” Rory picked up her drink and sipped it slowly.

            “He is. One of the first people I met in Denerim thanks to Varric.”

            The brunette sighed dreamily and put her chin on her hand. “I still can’t believe you know him.”

            “I’ll get that book signed for you,” Cullen promised.

            “You better. You remember I know where you live.”

            “You couldn’t hurt me, Rory,” Cullen smiled slyly.

            “No,” she said looking down at the table, “No, I don’t think I could.”

            Rylen had turned his attention back to Lexie. Rory wanted to tell him it was hopeless, but it felt wrong to crush his spirits. Lexie could do enough of that on her own. Still, she shared some of Rylen’s hope. Lexie had been hurt before, Rory knew. It wasn’t something the other woman could just move on from, but Rory hoped one day it didn’t hurt as badly.

            “You look like you’re feeling better.” Rory reached and took Cullen’s hand in hers. “I was worried about you at the museum today.”

            Cullen gave her soft hand a squeeze and shrugged his shoulders. “Just got tired is all.”

            She nodded and kept her hand with his.

            “Oh, why you wanna break my heart? Sometimes what seems wrong seems so right. Sometimes when we shouldn’t we might, but all I ever wanted was you.”

            “How, uh, how did it go?” Cullen swallowed. “With the statue?”

            “Oh! Dorian took samples, pictures. He said he’ll be back next week with more instruments to try and help figure out what we’re dealing with. He also thinks the kiss is held there by magic.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and Cullen laughed.

“I hope you two are prepared to be disappointed.”

“You are so cynical,” Rory chuckled.

“I’m just being a realist.”

“No imagination.”

They continued to tease and not flirt. Not one once of flirting. The food came and the group quieted a little. Rory finished her drink and then Cullen’s beer with a smile. He said nothing, just smirked and ordered more. Greer sent her a flirtatious text asking if she was home. She politely turned him down and slipped her phone back into her purse.

The band on stage was leaving and a new one slipping on. A soft guitar played a few notes. Rory gasped and snapped her head to the stage.

“I smoke weed in the city of a Netflix nation, laying in bed all day stay naked. Never gonna stop until I have it all.”

 “Are you okay?” Cullen asked, his hand reached out and grabbed hers.

“I love this song!” she screamed over the noise. “Come dance with me!”

Before he was protesting, she was pulling him up and towards the floor in front of the band. It was already crowded with people and she weaved her way through them to get closer.

“I want what I want not what I need! Even if it kills me I’ll be free!” Rory sang loudly, wrapping her arms around Cullen’s neck and swaying with him.

He couldn’t help but smile at her. Despite not knowing how to dance well, he held his own. She took his hands in hers and drew them in an arc up towards the ceiling. Her delicate hands pushed and pulled his whatever way she pleased. Maker, he was stunning. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, tossed her head from side to side.

Every now and again, she sang to him, leaning in close and moving her head. Lexie and Rylen eventually joined them; Rylen sliding up behind Lexie as she danced in front of him. The crowd moved with them and for once Cullen didn’t feel closed in. All he could focus on was the woman in front of him. She didn’t seem to care how she moved, just that she did. It was hypnotizing to watch. His gaze kept falling on the bit of skin that showed when her shirt pulled up above her jeans.

Suddenly, the music stopped and everyone clapped in a one-two rhythm.
            “I like it bigger, faster, stronger! Give to me louder, harder!” Rory threw her hands above her head as she sang with the crowd.

They kept dancing well into the night. Rylen and Lexie got as close as they could to each other. Their fate was sealed when Lexie leaned up and kissed him fiercely. The band started packing up soon after: a few girls bought them drinks at the bar when they made their way over. Rory was breathless and she grinned wildly at Cullen from across the booth. Lexie let Rylen buy her another drink. She told him he could go home with her, but only if he didn’t get attached. Both Rory and Cullen knew he was lying when he said okay.

“Well I have to give Cullen a ride home,” Rylen said. “I could meet you after.”

“I can get a cab,” Cullen said, finishing his beer.

“I can share one with him. We live in the same building.”

Lexie looked at Rory and frowned. “I don’t want to abandon you.”

Rory chuckled and patted her hand. “You aren’t abandoning me.”

The blonde elven woman turned back to Rylen. “This is just a one-night stand. Just sex.”

Rylen gave her a salute and a boyish smile. He was attractive, there was no denying that, and his smile only made him all the more so. He was just Lexie’s type. Even if she didn’t know it. Rory winked at Cullen.

Their friends left them hesitantly. Cullen and Rory ushered them out with reassurances. Rory called a Gryphon and she and Cullen left together. They said nothing in the back of the black sedan. Eventually, Rory’s head dropped against Cullen’s shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into his warmth, and thought of Celia. The ride through the city was quiet. It was late enough there were hardly any other cars on the road. Cullen woke Rory with a gentle hand on her cheek when they reached their apartment building.

“We’re here, Rory,” he whispered when she stirred.

She stretched and made a purring noise like a cat.

“Already?” she yawned.

“Yes, already.” Cullen smiled and helped her out of the car.

They walked quietly to the elevator, occasionally elbowing the other playfully. Cullen didn’t feel panic in the elevator. Instead, he listened to Rory hum. She watched him happily, the left corner of her lips pulling up. They walked as quietly down the hall as they could. Giggling when they passed Mrs. Hornigold’s room and Cullen walked a little louder.

“Goodnight, Cullen,” Rory said at her door.

“Goodnight, Rory.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek before he retreated down the hall to his apartment.

Chapter Text

            A few days after the bar Rory sent over a handwritten invitation for dinner. She had addressed it to both Cullen and Celia and had slipped it into their box downstairs. The envelope was a pale blue with gold flecks in the fibers. The back was sealed with a gold wax impression of a ship on the water. Cullen got a knife from the kitchen and carefully sliced the seal away from the paper. It smelled like lavender the more he handled it. He pulled out heavy weighted paper that had a gradient of white to a light blue at the bottom. Rory’s script danced elegantly across the page.

            She was inviting them to a dinner party she was having on Friday night at six. The words small and intimate caught his attention. He quickly sent Celia a message telling her to save the night so they could attend. Naturally, she declined but told him she would pick up a bottle of wine for him to take in her place.

            He sighed and rubbed his face and decided that it wasn’t worth the argument. The signed copy of Varric’s newest book sat next to him and he decided to wait to give it to her. He had brown paper to wrap it in somewhere. And maybe a bow left over from last holiday.

            Rylen had texted him: he had spent the entire weekend with Lexie before she sent him on his way home. He swore he had fallen irrevocably in love with her. The proclamation of love was nothing new for Rylen, Cullen knew. The man was like Alistair in that sense: they both fell quickly in love.

            Cullen gasped and grabbed at his calf, rubbing it gently through his pants and bandages. It was starting to ache more and more. He put it off as doing too much too soon. Regardless, he made a note to call Anders and come in for a checkup on it.

            It’s just your nerves regenerating, Rutherford.

~

            Friday came quicker than he thought it would. He stood in front of the mirror in the hallway and straightened his silver tie for the eighth time that night. The book for Rory was wrapped in brown paper and tied with a soft purple velvet bow– Celia’s touch. A bottle of white wine sat next to it. It was fifteen to five, but he couldn’t wait any longer than he already had. He picked up the book and the bottle of wine, slipping both under his arm so he could use the cane.

            He felt like an old man using it, but it was better still than the crutches. There was a soft music already coming from Rory’s apartment. It drifted dreamily out into the hallway. He knocked twice and waited a few minutes before the door opened.

            Rory greeted him with a smile and kissed his cheeks before drawing him in.

            “No Celia?” she asked with a hint of disappointment.

            “Afraid not,” Cullen said. “She had to work late. She did send her apologies though.”

            “Well, I’m glad at least you could come.”

            Cullen returned her warm smile. “I have something for you.” He passed over the bottle of wine and then the book.

            “Oh, thank you! Come in and I’ll put this in to chill and then open your present. Dorian and his fiancé should be here shortly. Lexie is also coming, but I doubt she’s bringing anyone,” she explained on her way through to the kitchen. “She said Rylen stayed the whole weekend.”

            “He’s in love with her, he said. ‘Irrevocably.’”

            Rory’s laugh was soft and held a tinge of pity. “I shouldn’t fault Lexi. I think I’m doing the same thing to Greer.”

            “Stringing him along?” Cullen winced at the bite in his tone. “Sorry, that came out harsher than I meant.”

            Rory smiled faintly and put the wine to chill. “Maybe, but you’re right. To be fair, I think he’s doing the same to me. Or, he at least thinks he is.”

            She sat at the table in front of the floor to ceiling windows. Cullen joined her and looked out towards the sea. Her lithe hands carefully untied the ribbon on the package.

            “Was the ribbon Celia’s idea?”

            “It was. She said the paper looked too plain. I hope you like it. I had to sell a kidney to get it.”

            “Oh dear.” Rory slipped the brown paper covering off and then gasped softly.  “Is this…” she opened the cover and laughed excitedly. “It is! Oh, Cullen, it’s perfect!”

            “He sent it over a few days ago, but I decided to wait until tonight to give it to you.” Cullen watched her eyes trace over the cover of the book. “He said he’s pretty sure you and Cassandra are the only two that read that series of his.”

            Rory reached over the table and took Cullen’s hand in hers. “Thank you so much, Cullen.”

            Cullen nodded and felt a blush rise slowly on his cheeks.

            “Now I have a favor to ask of you,” he said and withdrew his hand from hers. “I recently purchased a copy of your book, did I tell you? When I’m finished reading it, I’d like you to sign it.”

            Rory groaned but looked pleased nonetheless. The front door opened and she stood up to go greet her guests.

            “Darling? We came early in case you needed help with anyth– oh, there you are. Anyway, we came early to see if you needed help with anything.”

            “Cullen?”

            “Bull!”

            Cullen stepped forward around Rory and took Bull’s hand in his own. Bull pulled him in for a one-armed hug and laughed.

            “So this is Dorian?” Cullen asked when they let go of each other.

            “I’m hurt that you haven’t talked about me enough that all your friends know who I am,” Dorian joked.

            Cullen caught a brief glance Dorian threw at Rory. It was one that made her blush faintly. He turned his attention back to Bull and clapped him once on the arm before he let go of his hand.

            “It’s good to see you,” he said.

            “And you as well. You don’t look as shit as you did,” Bull said with a smile. “Celia ditch you again?”

            “She did not ditch me.”

            Dorian and Rory left Cullen and Bull to speak in the living room. In the safety of the kitchen, while Rory was flittering around preparing the rest of the food, Dorian started his questioning.

            “Cullen Rutherford. That’s your neighbor?”

            “What do you know about him?” Rory asked curiously.

            Dorian scoffed and pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge. What did he know about him indeed. He took two glasses from the cupboard.

            “That Bull can’t stop talking about him.” He opened the wine with a pop. “Apparently he’s an excellent strategist. Works in “security” with Bull. But I think you and I both know that’s code for something.”

            Rory pulled the lamb ribs with honey and tamarind sauce out of the oven to rest.  

            “Bull respects him, so I know he has to be a good man.” He poured two generous glasses and sat one in front of Rory.

            “I could have told you that.”

            Dorian hummed and leaned against the counter. The wine was sweet and crisp and slid over his tongue. He crossed one arm over his chest and sighed. It was a sigh that signaled playfulness.

            “So Cullen is the one you fed croissants?”

            “Yes. I fed him. Now we must be married on the morrow.”

            “If only,” he teased. “He’s very handsome.”

            “He is. He’s a good friend.” Rory took a drink of wine and then stepped closer to Dorian. “I’m worried about him though,” she whispered. “He’s been acting odd. The other day at the museum he stared off into space for a few moments. He said he saw someone, but there was no one else in the courtyard. And he’s much paler than usual.”

            “You’ve mentioned, but have you told him?”

            “That I’m worried about him? No. I’m just going to keep an eye on him. I have Cassandra’s number, she’s his friend, I can tell her if I get too worried.”

            “You two talking about us?” Bull asked when he entered the room.

            “Always, my love,” Dorian replied before he kissed Bull.

            Cullen took a deep whiff of the air. “I don’t know what you’re cooking, but it sounds amazing.”

            Rory nodded her thanks and laid out the menu for them. Zucchini, fennel, and mint soup for starters. Followed by a chicory and blood orange salad. The main course was lamb ribs with honey and tamarind sauce with jeweled rice. For dessert, she was serving a pulp cake with mascarpone frosting and blueberries and an apple cake.

            These once a month dinner parties offered her the chance to explore other cuisines and refine her cooking. This dinner, however complicated it may seem to outsiders, was tame compared to her previous endeavors.

            “She cooked twelve courses once,” Dorian explained.

            “I ate so much I couldn’t move for two days,” Bull said. “I even called off work. Totally worth it.”

            “The one time I think I’m early!” Lexi calls out from the living room.

            Rory and Dorian sat the table. Cullen tried to help, but he was swiftly made to sit down. Bull opened a few more bottles of wine and sat them on the table. Lexi sat beside Cullen and drained her glass of wine.

            “Where’s this fiancé of yours, Cullen? I’m beginning to think you made her up.” Lexie held her glass up and Bull refilled it with a chuckle. “Rory says she’s real though. It’s not just you in a wig, is it? Because that is a level of weird I can’t handle.”

            Cullen took a sip of his wine with a smirk. “I’m afraid I’m not very pretty as a woman. She’s working late. There’s a big project coming up at work so she’s working overtime.”

            Lexie gave a nod and let the subject drop. He was thankful for that. The more he talked about it, the angrier and more annoyed he got.

            The soup was delicious. Rory said it could be served hot or cold, but she preferred hot. There was fresh bread on the table that reminded Cullen of his mother’s. It was at dessert, seated around the large sectional sofa, that the conversation got heated.

            “I just don’t understand,” Rory started, “how you don’t believe in magic.”

            Dorian nodded and gestured with his hands.

            Cullen shrugged and took another bite. “I just don’t. There’s not nearly enough evidence for me to believe it.”

            “Are you a chantry man, Cullen?” Dorian asked curiously.

            “Of course.”

            Dorian nodded and took a sip of coffee. “Do you know there are dozens of old chantry endorsed books that talk about magic? ‘Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.’”

            “Yes, but what they saw as magic, we see as science,” Cullen explained. “Our ancestors saw a lot of things that they didn’t understand, so they called it magic.”

            Lexie and Bull sat back in their seats and watched the discourse take place. Neither of them really cared about the arguments taking place.

            “Have you figure out anything about the sculpture?” Cullen asked, trying to change the subject.

            Dorian nodded excitedly. “Rory and I determined it to be from the Divine age.”

            “I still haven’t been able to figure out who sculpted it though. I don’t know if we’ll ever know,” Rory added. It was disappointing that they didn’t know who created it, but it wasn’t terribly uncommon with pieces that old.

            “And the lipstick print?”

            Dorian sighs and leans back, declining another piece of cake. “No. We’ve tested it, but the results won’t be back for another few weeks. Short of chipping off a piece– A small piece!” he added hastily when Rory glared. “It’s hard to say exactly how the lipstick is still on it. It might not even be lipstick. It could be paint.”

            “Could be,” Cullen added.

            “Wouldn’t it be just fascinating if it weren’t?” Dorian asked with a gleam in his eyes.

            “Look, reading about demons is enough to make me hope that they never existed in the first place,” Bull grumbled. “That’s some freaky shit I never want to deal with.”

            Rory laughed and cut herself another slice of cake. “Of course, but think of the usefulness!” Her entire face lit up. The wine had left a lovely flush to her cheeks. “Medicine would forever be changed. The possibilities are endless.”

            Cullen would admit that it did sound wonderful. But there were too many unknowns. Too many what-ifs. And those were dangerous.

            Dorian cuddled up against Bull and sighed happily. Cullen felt a well of envy spring forth in himself. They looked so completely happy together. Bull was never late for their dinner: he always insisted on leaving the building at five. On more than one occasion, Bull stopped and bought flowers on his way home. Cullen envied them.

            That night he laid awake in bed watching the lights on the ceiling. Celia didn’t come home until the dawn hours. Cullen pretended to be asleep as she slipped into bed.

~

            The next week was hectic for Rory. Six new paintings had been accepted into the museum. They had to be authenticated, submitted into the database, and then cleaned. Every restorer Rory had was already at work on at least two paintings already. More people were needed, but convincing the museum to hire more was nearly impossible. They were already working over time. There was little else they could do.

            Rory stayed later than normal that night. She was the last employee in the building beside the security. Normally, she wouldn’t have stayed so late, but she wanted to get ahead on the Titus sculpture and get started on the new paintings they just got in. The tests Dorian had done on the lipstick print came up null. It was frustrating, to say the least.

             She found Gabe in his office and ducked in to say goodbye before she left. He offered to walk her out, but she declined. The museum never scared her at night. It was peaceful. The only area that really creeped her out was the sculpture garden with all the lifelike pieces. If you weren’t careful, it could look like they were moving. She avoided it.

            Edgar let her out of the building and told her to be safe, get her pepper spray out. She did. No matter where she was going, she always kept her hand on it. The street the museum was one was referred to as the college strip. Denerim University, the art museum, the annex, the history museum, the science and industry building, were all on the same street. For the most part, the twelve blocks where peaceful.

            In hindsight, she probably should have called a Gryphon or tried to catch a cab. Hell, she probably should have taken the train instead of walking. But the night was calm and cool. It was quiet and she could think without interruption. And the train held distractions and just as much danger as the streets. She took her phone out and sent Lexi a quick text before she slipped it back into her coat pocket.

            Five blocks from home thunder rolled over her head. It almost drowned out the sound of footsteps behind her. Almost. She hurried quicker, went to turn a corner and then she was shoved into the brick wall of a building. She cried out, the rough surface of the brick scraping her cheek and chin. She was spun around, a harsh grip bruised her arms. She drove her foot into the man’s groin, then quickly turned to run down the street. She should have pepper sprayed him, but all that was in her head was running. She got ten feet before he pushed her.

            It always seemed strange to her that in action movies, the characters dramatically fell in slow motion. Yet, there she was, falling as if she were in slow motion. Thunder rolled slowly. She saw her hands stretch out in front of her. The sidewalk rose up to meet her hard. Delicate knees busted open, palms grated on the concrete. The pepper spray rolled out of her purse and she grabbed it, clutching it in her hand like it was the only thing to save her.

            Her body turned, arm stretched out and she held the nozzle down, emptying the can into his approaching face. He grabbed at her with a scream but she was already gone. All that time running track in college paid off. She turned the corner just as the first few drops of the storm started to hit. Her skin vibrated with the adrenaline that coursed through her veins. She pushed her way past a group of college students and kept running.

            Home, she needed to get home. The apartment building came up before her sooner than she thought. With shaky fingers, she fought with the doorknob before it finally opened before her. She ran up the stairs, tripping as her feet got caught underneath her. First floor, second floor, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and then finally the seventh. She reached her door with gasping breaths and stuck her hand down into a purse that wasn’t there for her keys.

            Her soft cry was muffled in the hallway. Her purse, she must have dropped her purse. Straightening her skirt and top as much as she could, she made her way to Cullen’s door. She wrapped her coat around herself and then carefully knocked on the door. Celia’s muffled laughter wormed its way through the door before it opened.

            Rory wiped frantically at the tears on her cheeks and straightened what she could of her hair.

            Celia’s smiled faded the minute she laid eyes on Rory’s disheveled state. “Rory? Maker, what happened? Come inside.” She reached forward and pulled Rory in by her hands. “Cullen! Cullen, come quick!”

            Rory sniffed and let Celia pull her inside gently. “I’m sorry, but I…I dropped my purse and I’m locked out.”

            Cullen quickly came into view, his face steeled. Rory tried to smile at him when she saw him. Instead, all that came out was a soft sob. Cullen rushed forward as best he could and took Rory into his arms.

            “Celia, can you find the first aid kit?”

            “Yes. Find out what happened. I’m going to call Rylen.”

            Rory responded to Cullen’s hug stiffly at first, then wrapped her arms around him. She sobbed against his chest, her gasps shook her body against him.

            “Shh, it’s okay. Come now, love.” He stroked his hand over her mussed hair. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

            His voice took on an edge that almost scared her. It threatened pain to whoever laid a hand on her. The longer he held her, the harder she cried against his chest.

            “I knew better. I should h-have taken the t-train,” she gasped out.

            “What happened, Rory?”

            She told him. Every little detail she could remember about what happened, she told him. All the while he held her closely, drawing his hand over her back. Celia was waiting by the couch, a deep frown pulling the corner of her lips down.

            “Rylen’s on his way,” Celia said. “You’ll stay here tonight.”

            Cullen nodded his agreement but kept hold of Rory.

            “I don’t think any of my clothes will fit you, so I brought out a couple of Cullen’s things. Would you like to shower? You could shower…”

            Rory shook her head. She could feel herself slowly calming down. The warmth of Cullen’s body was fighting the bitter cold in her bones.

            “Call Rylen back, tell him to send a squad down to the corner of the strip and Calenhad. He’ll be blind for about forty more minutes.”

            She picked up the shuffle of Celia’s feet back into their bedroom. A soft sigh escaped against Cullen’s shirt. Slowly, she pulled herself back from him and wiped at her eyes. Cullen looked down at her with a delicate frown. She wanted to reach up and smooth out the crease between his eyebrows.

            “Come on,” he said quietly, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

            Cullen moved her to the couch, carefully making sure not to hit her with his cane. She sat down, wincing as the scrapes on her knees pulled open. He sat down on the lounge and drew her legs into his lap carefully. His fingers undid the zippers on her boots and pulled them off.

            “It’s not your fault,” he finally said to her. “It was not your fault.”

            Slowly, he rolled her stockings one at a time down from mid-thigh, carefully over her knees, and over her feet. Rory shuddered when his knuckles brushed against her chilled skin. He was being so careful with her. Before she knew it, she was crying again, huge heaving gasps. Her hand covered her mouth and she squeezed her eyes shut so as not to see the frown on Cullen’s face.

            “I’m sorry,” she shuddered out. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

            Cullen smiled and pulled a few cotton balls and the alcohol out of the first aid kit. “Adrenaline,” he said. “It’ll wear off.” He soaked the cotton in alcohol. “This might sting a little.”

            Rory nodded and watched as he gently wiped at the blood on her knees. She hissed and jerked her knee. Cullen tenderly took the back of her knee in his hand and held it while he worked. Honestly, she hadn’t expected him to be so tender with her. Each time she jerked from the sting, he rubbed his thumb in soothing circles on the outside of her knee.

            “Rylen did as you asked,” Celia interrupted. “I’ll go down to the super’s office and leave a note that you need your locks changed, Rory.”

            “Thank you, Celia,” Rory whispered.

            The black-haired woman left quietly, submerging the apartment in the quiet muffles of the news. Cullen still worked diligently on Rory’s knees, not looking up when Celia left.

            “I’m sorry I ruined your night,” Rory whispered.

            “You didn’t. Rory, I’m glad you came to m-us for help. Really. I’d hate to think of you being alone out there right now.”

            Cullen placed salve and a bandaid before he moved on to the next knee. He worked in silence after that and Rory let him. Every so often, her breath would stutter a little too hard and he’d look up at her with concern. She didn’t bother smiling. Instead, she focused on his hands: they were big, much bigger than her own. His fingers were long, some of them slightly crooked from being broken. There was a scar across the back of his left hand. Judging from the paleness of it, it happened a long time ago.

            Cullen cleared his throat before he spoke, “You’ll want to report your cards stolen.”

            Rory nodded numbly, trying not to think about everything she’d have to do. New i.d, new cards, new everything. Why did she drop her purse?

            “Don’t. Don’t do that,” Cullen said as he moved to the cuts on her palms. “You had one thing in mind and it was to survive. And you did. Everything else can be replaced.”

            Her stomach tightened as he held her hands to work on them. She pushed the feeling down. He’s engaged, Rory. Maker, he smelled so good.

            “Cullen?”

            “In here, Rylen.”

            Rylen entered the apartment quietly, slipping keys into his pocket. Crystal clear teal colored eyes sharply took in the state of them: Rory with her legs still in Cullen’s lap, his hands holding hers. There was no doubt a blush on her cheeks.

            Rylen shook the rain out of his hair and stepped over to them. He smirked at Cullen, who quickly glared in a way that said: “knock it the fuck off.”

            “Are you alright, Rory?” Rylen sat next to Cullen and observed her carefully.  

            She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

            Cullen patched up her hands and moved on to her face. He leaned in close so he could see what he was doing. His breath ghosted over her lips and she tried not to shudder, or blush.

             “Can you tell me what happened?” Rylen asked softly, taking one of her hands in his.

            Rory nodded and tried to look his way when Cullen turned her face back to his.

            “Cullen… Can you wait? I…Maker, I’m worried my breath smells and you’re all in it.”

            Cullen chuckled and wiped at the blood on her chin and cheek. “Your breath doesn’t stink. Besides, even if it did, it couldn’t be worse than Rylen’s morning breath.”

            “Now that is just a rude thing to say.” Rylen glared. He ignored Cullen’s chuckle and proceeded with his questions.

            Rory answered them all as best she could and tried to give a good description of the attacker. She was looking out of the corner of her eyes at him. When she looked back to Cullen her breath stopped in her throat. His amber eyes were staring straight into hers. Before, she always thought it was cheesy and an exaggeration when romance novels described getting lost in a person’s eyes. They were just eyes. But Cullen’s… Maker, there was something about him that just stopped her thoughts.

            She swallowed and looked away quickly.

            “Ow!”

            “Sorry,” Cullen murmured. “Hold still.”

            “Well,” Rylen sighed, “have some good news: your purse was found in the alley you were attacked in. The only thing missing is the cash in your wallet and your keys. So whoever he was was smart enough not to take your cards.”

            “But he could have her address,” Cullen added.

            Rory swallowed her worry.

            “Thank you, Captain Dread. Yes, that is a possibility. Rory, what were the keys for?”

            “The apartment and the museum. But the keys only work inside the museum and only for filing cabinets. Everything is key-code now.”

            Rylen nodded and jotted down a few notes.  

            “I left a note with the super,” Celia said as she shut the apartment door behind her. “In the meantime, I think you should stay with us.”

            “I agree,” Cullen finished putting the band-aid on her face while he spoke.

            “So, he’s still out there?” Rory whispered.

            “Aye, he is,” Rylen answered honestly. “But, he can’t see worth a damn. They found the pepper spray you used. High-grade stuff. He won’t be able to open his eyes without pain for at least an hour. If he’s close they’ll find him.”

            “My purse?”

            “We’re going to check it for prints and get it back to you by tomorrow. I’ll make sure of it.”

            Cullen nodded and ran his hand soothingly over her calf. Rory swallowed and tried not to draw attention to it. She tried, but she was so cold and his hands were so warm that she couldn’t help but to pay attention to it. It was a comforting gesture, she knew that, but all she wanted to do was curl into him.

            Rylen stood up and motioned for Cullen to walk him out. Rory slid her legs off of his lap and let him follow. She sat there for a little longer and let the chill take over her again.

            “Here,” Celia said gently. She had picked up Cullen’s clothes and was holding them out for Rory to take. “You’re more than welcome to any of my face wash and things… there’s an extra toothbrush in the drawer beside the sink.

            “Thank you, Celia,” she whispered and took the clothes from Celia’s hands.

            “Of course, Rory. I’ll get some extra blankets and pillows for you.”

            Rory murmured her thanks again and headed for their bathroom. The door shut softly behind her and she took a few minutes to lean against it. After a few moments, she pushed herself away and set the clothes on the vanity. The face looking back at her in the mirror was a sight to see. Her hair had fallen out of its tight bun, her mascara had smudged off under her eyes, her lip and chin were starting to swell. The scrapes Cullen hadn’t covered with a band-aid were red and angry, but they had stopped bleeding.  Small blessings she knew. She didn’t wash her face, there was no point yet. Her lips hurt when she brushed her teeth, but she did it anyway.

            The clothes Celia gave her hung off of her. She pulled the drawstring as tight as she could on the plaid pajama bottoms. She resisted the urge to smell his shirt as she slipped it on.

            Cullen came back into the apartment just as she was settling in on the couch. Her entire body was starting to hurt now. She felt raw and flayed open. Cullen sat next to her and sighed. She dropped her head to his shoulder and sat quietly. After a few moments, he slipped his arm around her.

            “You’ll be okay,” he murmured against her hair.

Chapter Text

Strong rolling thunder shook the large glass windows in Cullen’s apartment. Rory stirred slightly on the couch and felt her body ache in protest. When she moved her knees she could feel the scabs opening up under the bandages. Her face felt swollen and busted open. The dried blood on her chin flaked when she yawned.

            “Morning,” Cullen whispered. “How are you feeling?”

            Rory pushed herself up and grimaced. “Sore. Embarrassed.”

            Cullen frowned but passed her a mug of coffee. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s not your fault.”

            Rory took the coffee gratefully and let it warm her hands. “What time is it?” She didn’t feel like arguing.

            “Eight,” he snapped. Then, a little more gently than before. “It wasn’t your fault, Rory.”

            She looked at him then, long and hard, let the silence stretch on between them. Finally, after some time, she turned her gaze away and swallowed. The coffee mug was burning her fingers, but she held fast to it.

            “That’s a hard thing to come to terms with. I knew better, Cullen. I don’t know what came over me.”

            He sighed and took a drink of his own coffee. “You thought what everyone thinks. That you’re safe. Do you think I expected to walk into that building and have a bomb go off? You were just walking down the street. I was just going to work.”

            “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she mused.

            His chuckle was coated in sleepiness. “My point is: no one ever thinks anything bad will happen to them.”

            “Maybe for a man. Or a very naïve woman. I am neither, Cullen.” Rory sighed and curled her sore legs under her. “Cullen, every day I leave the house I make sure I have my mace. Lexie makes sure she has her switchblade. On my walk back to the apartment from the train station, I make sure I have my keys between knuckles.” She watched him take the information in. “Women are always prepared for something bad to happen to them. We’ve been conditioned since we were little girls. Don’t walk alone at night. Don’t go to a party alone. Don’t wear revealing clothing. Don’t get drunk. I knew better. I slipped up and got smacked down for it.”

            The feeling of idiocy crept up again. She knew better. Her thoughts spiraled down a rabbit hole and she went unwillingly. Hazel eyes unfocused on the rain outside the window. Instead, she focused on the pain, grounded herself in it. New scars for a new lessons, she told herself.            

Cullen’s hand on her wrist snapped her out of it. Her eyes struggled to refocus on his in front of her.

“Rory.”

For a moment, it almost sounded like he was begging her. Begging her to forgive herself, to accept it wasn’t her fault. She knew, somewhere that it wasn’t her fault. That men should be held accountable for their actions. She knew this and still, still she struggled with it. Years of ingrained internal misogyny refusing to give up its hold.

“I need to call Lexie.”

Cullen let the conversation slide away and went limped heavily into the kitchen. Rory dug her phone out from the couch cushions. A quick swipe of the screen told her she had six unread texts and four missed calls. Two from her brother, one from Dorian, and one from an unlisted number. The texts she would worry about later, for now, she tried to focus on calling Lexie. Lexie who would panic, Lexie who would no doubt drive halfway across the city to check on her. Still, she pulled up her name, hit send, and waited.

“Morning, babe! I expected you to be here already. Actually, I expected you to have slept here with all that’s happening.”

“No, I’m…I’m taking a sick day today.”

“What’s happened?”

Rory could practically hear Lexi stop in her tracks. “I’m alright.”

“You tell me what happened right now.”

She pulled the thick blanket up around herself and breathed in Cullen’s cologne. How best to tell Lexi so she didn’t panic?

“I was attacked on the way home last night. I’m okay, I used my pepper spray. Rylen had everyone out looking for the guy. I haven’t checked my messages to see if they caught him or not.” She quickly continued before Lexie could interrupt. “My locks are being changed today. He didn’t take any of my credit cards or anything.”

There was silence on the other end of the line for some time. Rory’s ears barely picking up the museum activities in the background. She could picture Lexie standing in the hallway, in the middle of everyone’s way. Most likely drumming her nails against her hip.

“Lexie?”

There was a hum on the other end. “Still here.” She cleared her throat. “I’m still here. I’m just trying to figure out how to find him first and kill him. I bet I could get Rylen to let me have a shot at him.”

“Don’t manipulate that man. He’s sweet.”

“You’re really okay?”

Another sigh. She shoved her hair out of her face and rested her forehead against her forearm.

“No. I’m busted and bruised, but that’s the worst of it. Cullen tells me I’m not to blame myself–”

“Cullen is a smart man. You shouldn’t blame yourself. You are never responsible for the actions of someone else. They make choices, you make choices. You are not responsible for theirs. Do you hear me?”

Rory smiled despite herself. “Yes, Ma.”

“Look, I’ll handle shit here,” the whoosh of the doors opening, “don’t worry about that. I’ll come by after work. Don’t tell me I don’t have to. I know I don’t, but I’m going to anyway because that’s what you do for people you love.”

“I love you too, Lex.”

“You know you’re the only one I’m committed to.”

“I know that–”

There was a large crash in the kitchen followed by a hiss. Rory jerked her head towards the arch and waited.

“Lexie, I have to go. I’ll call you.”

She hung up quickly, tossing her phone next to her. Getting up proved more difficult than she had anticipated and her body protested loudly.

“Cullen?”

“I’m alright!”

Slowly, she shuffled her way into him, her wounds opening under her bandages. At first glance, she saw no sight of Cullen. Then, on the floor behind the counter, a foot stuck out to the side.

“Oh!” Rory rushed as quick as she could around the side and knelt down next to him.

“I’m okay.” He scooted himself to rest up against the cabinet and sighed. “Just…my leg. It’s been acting up.”

Rory reached out and put her hands on his calf. It felt hot to the touch, even over the bandages.

“What’s the doctor say?”

“That it’s just the nerves healing or making connections or something. It’s just this shooting pain up my leg.” He rubbed it beside her soft hand and grimaced. “I just wish it wouldn’t hurt so badly.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. It’s not so bad now.”

As much as she could, she helped him stand. Between the two of them, it only took a couple of minutes before he was upright and braced against the white countertops.

“Look at us,” Rory chuckled.

“C’mon,” Cullen dropped an arm around her shoulders, “let’s get you clean bandages.”

~

The super came by just before lunch and changed the locks on Rory’s door. She and Cullen stood behind him and watched, noticing how he replaced the screws on either side as well.

“Thank you, Charlie.”

“Ah,” he said, waving his hand, “You two are some of my best tenants. Just sorry I couldn’t get up here sooner today. 2C had a pipe leaking under their sink and their whole floor was soaked. Gonna have to redo the floors.”

Rory nodded sympathetically and tried to keep from picking at the new scabs on her hands. Cullen shifted his weight next to her and grimaced. She wanted to push him into going back to the doctor but knew it would be futile. The man was stubborn. Still, it didn’t seem like nerve pain to her. It couldn’t hurt to double check. Maybe he should talk to the surgeon instead, she wondered.

“There you are. New locks. You’ll be okay up here?” Charlie asked, looking between the two of them standing so close.

Rory nodded, “I will, Charlie, thank you.”

The older man nodded and passed her a key before he turned down the hall and left.

“Thank you, Cullen,” she said turning to him, “For everything.”  

He nodded and then she was hugging him. Her arms wrapped tight around his chest, hands fisted in the back of his shirt. Cullen hugged her back, resting his chin on the top of her head. He felt solid against her. His arms were heavy against her back, his hand cradling her neck, fingers rubbing at her hairline.

“Anything you need, Rory. I’m here.”

“You’re a good friend, Cullen.”

Rory looked up at him, eyes lingering over his lips a moment too long. She opened her mouth, eyes darting back to his full bottom lip. Maker, what is wrong with me! Cullen leaned forward, his eyes searching hers for some unspoken permission. A sign it was acceptable, it was wanted.

“Rory?”

The moment snapped, the thread connecting them burnt in the flames. Rory stepped back quickly, nearly stumbling. Greer approached her at a run, concern twisting his pleasant features into something else.

“Maker, love! What happened? Are you okay?”

His hands gripped the tops of her arms tightly when he reached her. Cullen stepped back, rubbed his neck and swallowed.

“I’m okay. Cullen helped,” Rory explained quickly. She glanced at Cullen, her eyes flashing with fear at what almost happened between them. “Thank you, Cullen. I’ll– I’ll call you.”

She took Greer’s hand in hers and pulled him into the apartment. The door shut on Cullen with a soft click.

“I’m okay,” she whispered.

~

             “You kissed him,” Lexie gasped.

            The two were curled up under a large blanket on Rory’s blue couch. Lexie brought over Antivan and three bottles of wine. Greer saw himself out, needing only a look from Lexie to know he was dismissed. After a short cry on Rory’s part, they sat down and ate.

            “I didn’t. No. No, there was no kissing. But…there almost was. He leaned in and I leaned in and…and then Greer showed up. Maker, Lexie if he wouldn’t have shown up,” she trailed off, biting the pad of her thumb. “He’s engaged. Celia is actually really nice. They helped me. That’s all he did. Maybe that’s why I nearly kissed him. What is that, white knight syndrome? You fall in love with your rescuer.”

            Lexie shook her head and picked up a bottle. “No, that’s not what happened here.” She took a swig and then continued. “You like him. And he likes you.”

            “No.”

            “Yes.”

            Rory’s face scrunched up and her eyes started to sting. “I can’t like him. It’s not an option. I’m not going to be what ruins them. He’s a good man, Lexie.”

            “Good men aren’t tempted, Rory.”

            “That’s not fair.”

            “It’s not. Unless things aren’t going great with he and Celia. But even then. Rory, you don’t want someone who will fall in love with another person.”

            “Are you trying to make me feel better or talk me out of my feelings?”

            “Both. Maybe he wasn’t going to kiss you. You could have misread the situation.”

            Rory nodded and took the wine from her blonde friend. That’s what happened then: she misread the situation. Just because she wanted to kiss him at that moment, didn’t mean he wanted to kiss her. Cullen was happily engaged to Celia and that was most certainly what he was going to tell her in the hallway. She would apologize to him then; tell him it was a mistake. They should have a coffee date and she would explain what happened.  

            “Liking a taken man isn’t the end of the world, Rory. It happens. More than you would think. But you aren’t the kind of girl that goes after them. I am, but you aren’t.”

            Rory laughed and put her head on Lexi’s shoulder. “You are not.”

            “Nah, I guess not. I just break their hearts.”

            “You should call Rylen,” Rory whispered. “He likes you.”

            “I know he does. That’s the problem.”

            “How is that a problem?”

            “I don’t do commitment, Rory.”

            Rory held Lexi’s hand and sighed. They were quiet for a few moments, the thunder outside rolling, the movie reaching its climax.

            “Not everyone will hurt you, Lex. Rylen won’t hurt you.”

            “That’s what Eric said. And look where I wound up.” Lexie dropped her head to Rory’s. “I’m not willing to risk that again. No matter how much I like Rylen.”

            Rory smiled at the small victory and snuggled in closer to Lexie. “Let’s just marry each other.”

            “Anything for you, darling.”

~

            The day after, Rory invited Cullen for coffee on her lunch break. She gave him the time and place she would be having lunch and asked if he would meet her. No loss if he couldn’t. That morning she did her best to cover the bruises on her face. From the looks she got on the train, she didn’t hide them well. She felt assaulted all over again. She dodged questions at work, telling everyone she slipped in the rain and fell down her building steps. They bought it, for the most part, most people content to just let it lie.

            Rory threw herself back into her work and tried to keep her thoughts from turning to the awkward conversation she would soon be having with Cullen. For the first two hours, she constantly checked the clock. Until Lexie moved it so she couldn’t anymore without being obvious about it. Maybe she was making a bigger deal out of it than she needed to. That was a very real possibility, yet there she was. Stressing over a misunderstanding. Which is what it was. A misunderstanding.

            Lexie handed her her purse before she left. “You will be fine. Go have coffee with the pretty man and continue being friends.”

            Cullen was already at the restaurant when she arrived, a cup of coffee and a cookie in front of him. He smiled and waved when she approached. She smiled back and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

            “How are you, Cullen? Your leg feeling any better today?” She sat across from him and set her purse on the chair between them.

            He nodded and toyed with the rim of his cup. “It’s okay so far. Still aches, but what else is new?”

            Rory nodded and rested her elbows on the table. “Listen, I wanted to apologize for yesterday. In the hallway. Almost kissing you. I just…It didn’t mean anything. I was really vulnerable and I tend to make stupid decisions when I’m like that,” she chuckled nervously.

            Cullen blinked and put his hands under the table. “Oh. Yeah, of course. No need to apologize, Rory. Really.”

            Hazel eyes looked from the empty plate in front of her. “Really really?”

            Cullen nodded with a smile and shrugged. “It happens, Rory. I hope you won’t let that come between us? I’d…I’d still really like to be friends.”

            “Friends,” she smiled, “Definitely still friends.”

Chapter Text

Maker his leg hurt. He had called the doctor again: take elfroot for pain, it’s normal. Normal didn’t feel like that for Cullen, or it shouldn’t have felt like that.

“I don’t know, Cullen,” Bull had grumbled the day before. “Doesn’t seem normal to me. Call the doctor again.”

“I have. He keeps saying it’s normal. Maybe it is.” He rubbed at his thigh and frowned. “How’s the investigation going?”

Bull shrugged and took a sip of his beer. “Not much to go on. Bomb looks sophisticated but clearly homemade. What we’ve been able to reconstruct of it at least. Place was a mess.”

“Still no one coming forward to claim responsibility?”

“Nope. Which bugs me.”

He was left itching for some work to do. Leliana denied him now that he had personal involvement in the case. All he could do in the meantime was answer emails and shuck his work off onto someone else. Usually Bull and Krem. Every now and again, Bull would attach information in the guise of something else to keep Cullen updated.

He laid on the couch, his leg propped up with ice. Celia had left for work, another important meeting kept her busy. A phone call from Rylen busted him out of his thoughts.

“Hey, man. You doin’ okay?”

Cullen grunted and turned the tv down. “I’ve been better. What’s up?”

“I called Rory, figured I’d call you. We caught the guy that attacked her. He got another woman pretty bad in the same area. We ran his prints and they were a match to the ones on Rory’s purse.”

“That’s great, Rylen, thank you. She’s been a nervous wreck since it happened.” Cullen adjusted his position with a wince. “Calls me every night on her way home from work and we talk until she gets in her apartment.”

Rylen chuckled softly and Cullen heard his turn signal on in the background.

“And how does Celia feel about that?”

Cullen ran his hand through his hair and was silent.

“Celia doesn’t seem to notice,” Cullen sighed. “She’s just been busy.” Another pause. “I nearly kissed her.”

“Who? Your wife?”

“No, Rory.”

“What!”

“The day after we were in the hallway and…I don’t know, Ry. She leaned in and I leaned in and…And then Greer showed up. And I’m glad he did. Rylen, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I proposed to Celia. I love her. I shouldn’t be trying to kiss other women.”

“Cullen, you know I hold no love for Celia, but this Rory thing? You need to settle it. Your relationship with Celia is already rocky. Jesus, Cullen, she took three days to answer your proposal.” He paused like he was struggling with what to say. “Cullen, you need to be sure that Celia is the one you want. Really sure. We all saw what happened when you were in the hospital.”

“She’s a good woman, Rylen. And I do love her.”

“I know you do. Get your head in the right place.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t you back talk me, old man,” Rylen playfully snapped.

“Rylen. Rylen, we are the same age.”

“Yes, but see, you look our age, I don’t.”  

“That’s just rude.”

After the phone call with Rylen, Cullen stared at his ceiling. It didn’t feel like a good sign that he was questioning his engagement to Celia. There should be no doubts that far into a relationship. And the fact that he was starting to feel something for Rory was worrisome. Especially since she didn’t share those feelings. Still, he questioned. Celia had been working more and more recently. There was a distance between them that was growing into a chasm.

Maker, he felt like an asshole.

~

            “Hello?”

            “Oh, shit, did I wake you?”

            Cullen sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “No, no. I was awake. Just watching that show on the history of Ferelden.”

            “So you were sleeping,” Rory laughed.

            “Hey. Hey, you watch your mouth.”

            “Oh, yes, sir. Are you feeling any better?”

            Cullen looked down at his leg and frowned. “No. I’m thinking of calling my surgeon. Dr. Anders? I might get further with him.”

            “I’m worried about you.”

            “Someone has to,” he chuckled. “Rylen called,” he said ignoring her annoyed huff. “Feel better?”

            There was a pause and the sounds of the subway doors opening. “Yes? No? I mean yes because he’s caught. No, because it still happened and what if it happens again? And then I feel like a bitch complaining about this to a guy who got blown up.”

            “Hey, I only got partially blown up. And just because I may have had it worse, doesn’t mean that what happened to you is any less terrible.”

            “Stop making sense,” she grumbled.

            “I can’t. It’s the only thing I have left. What did you grab for dinner?” He flipped the tv off and turned the side table lamp on.

            “Entirely too much takeout.”

            “Is there such a thing?”

            “Six bags. I had a stressful day at work.” He could hear her settle into the train seat, quiet mummers around her. “What did you have?”

            “Elfroot and a craft beer.”

            “I’m coming over and you’re eating this food with me. Is Celia not home?”

            He grimaced as he adjusted his seating. “No. Work again. I think Cassandra is planning on making me break up with her.”

            Rory chuckled. “That sounds like Cassandra. She’s very intimidating.”

            “She is. She made Bull squeak once.”

            “That I would pay to see.”

            A comfortable silence fell between them as the moments passed. The train was clicking on the rails in the background, a soft murmur of voices fading just before they reached his ears fully, Rory’s soft breathing. Could she hear him breathing? Was it as comforting for her as it was for him?

            “Any luck with the new exhibit? Or Mr. Titus?” Cullen finally asked.

            Rory sighed softly on the other end. He could picture her brushing her hair out of her face.

            “The new exhibit is stressful. They all need to be cleaned or repaired in some way. And Titus…Titus is still an enigma. We still know nothing about him. Dorian is trying his hardest, but no luck yet. It’s absolutely maddening. Every time I think we’re close, it slips through.”

            “And what about Mr. Orlesian?”

            “Still an ass, but we have his painting on display now. It is quite gorgeous.”

            “Quite.”

            “Quite.”

            Cullen chuckled and pushed his hair out of his face. “Seen much of Greer lately?”

            There was a quiet pause and the ding of doors opening. “No… No, there hasn’t been. He didn’t like how close I was to you in the hall. I told him he didn’t have a right to complain when he’s busy shtupping girls in Tevinter.”

            “And how did he take that?”

            “He suggested we were both just tired and worried. Which, he wasn’t wrong. I suggested we take a break from whatever this thing is. He doesn’t get to decide who I’m close or not close to. Especially since he can’t even be faithful in a relationship he invented. Ya know?” She paused and then continued. “I feel like I’m leading him on.”

            “You’re not leading him on, Rory. You’ve told him how you felt about things.”

            “I suppose.” She gasped and Cullen tensed at her fear. “Shit.”

            “Rory?”

            “Fine. I’m fine. Maker, the train just hit a rough spot I think. Hey,” she continued as if nothing had happened, “do you want me to pick up beer?”

            “I’ve got some. You bring the food, I’ll bring the drinks.”

            “Okay. I’ll…”

            “Rory?”

            “Will you stay on the phone with me until I get there?” she asked quietly.

            “Of course I will. Are you okay?”

            “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll explain when I get there.”

            They stayed on the phone with each other. Rory asking him about his boring day at home while she interjected enthusiastically. She made him feel better about being boring. While he was on the phone with her, he checked his email once again: only spam and an email from Celia that she would be late. Again. Rory arrived ten minutes later.

            “Hey!” she called out as she let herself in, hanging up the phone.

            “You okay?”

            “Yeah!” She slipped her shoes off by the stand in the hall and shrugged her coat off. “Yeah, I’m fine. There was just a creepy guy on the train that was looking at me funny.” She sighed. “I don’t know, ever since that night happened I just can’t seem to shake this feeling.”

            Cullen nodded and stood to help her with the food.

            “You sit,” she said at his wince. “I know where everything is.”

            When she set the food down on the coffee table, Cullen straightened and emptied it all out on the table. “Thank you for the food.”

            “Thank you for the beer.”

            She brought back four bottles, two plates, and two forks. She pulled her skirt up to her thighs when she sat and Cullen tried not to look at the scabs on her knees.

            “Maker, I’ve been on my feet all day,” she said rubbing the soles of her hosed feet.

            “Maker, I’ve been on my ass all day.”

            Rory laughed and playfully punched his shoulder. “Does your ass hurt as much as my feet?”

            “Oh, yes.”

            They ate dinner together. Rory laughed loudly at some of his jokes, Cullen at hers. She untied her hair from her braided bun and Cullen gave it a good ruffle. It was soft and thick between his fingers and smelled of lavender. In a span of a few heartbeats, she leaned and rested her head against his shoulder.

            “Cassandra called me,” she yawned. “Apparently you haven’t called her recently.”

            “Shit. Sorry.”

            “Don’t be sorry,” she smiled up at him. “Don’t be sorry. I like Cassandra. And she’s just worried about you, Cullen.”

            “I know she is. I need to have them over for dinner.”

            “Your three mothers?”

            “Mm. You would like Leliana and Josephine too.”

            Rory was silent for a few moments under the rise and fall of his breaths. “You have good friends, Cullen.”

            He resisted the urge to place his lips against the top of her head. “I do. I like to think you’re one of them.”

            “I do too.”

~

            She must have fallen asleep at some point. The city outside Cullen’s window was bright and hazy.

            “Maker,” Cullen’s pained whisper just barely reached her ears from the bathroom.

            “Cullen?” Rory stood and placed the blanket on the couch. “Cullen?” She knocked on the door lightly. “Are you alright?”

            “I need you to call Bull.”

            “I’m coming in.”

            Rory pushed the door open gently and found Cullen sitting on the floor across from the door: his pajama bottoms were rolled up to the knee on his right leg: it was red and swollen, the bandages wet with a clear liquid. Sweat beaded on his forehead and dampened his curls.

            “Maker, Cullen…” She knelt down next to him and put a hand to his forehead. “You’re burning up. Unlock your phone, I’ll call Bull.”

            She waited until Cullen unlocked it after a few tries and then found Bull in his contacts.

            “Yoooo, Cullen.”

            “Bull?”

            “Not Cullen.”

            “This is Rory.”

            “Hey, Rory!”

            Dorian yelled something in the background but she hardly heard him.

            “Cullen needs help. It’s his leg, he needs to go to the emergency room, but I don’t think he can walk down to the elevator.”

            “I’m on my way, stay put.”

            Rory leapt up and pulled out a bottle of fever reducer and wet a washcloth with cold water.

            “Bull is coming. I need you to take these, we need to get your fever down.” She fed the pills to him and pressed the glass to his mouth. “Why did you tell me?”

            “Wasn’t this bad,” he croaked.

            “You are soaked. I’ll be right back.”

            Rory stood and quickly left through the second door to his bedroom. She found his clothes in the second drawer of the dresser and pulled out a new long-sleeved t-shirt. With Cullen’s cooperation, she stripped his sweat-soaked shirt from him and wiped him down with the washcloth. His ribs were yellow with the healing bruises, the stitches were finally out of his shoulder and the scar was red and puckered. She leaned his chest against hers while she wiped his back down, occasionally rewetting the cloth.

            It took Bull fifteen minutes to make his way to the apartment. Rory was still running the cool cloth over Cullen’s face, chest, and back when Bull opened the bathroom door.

            “Maker, man.” Bull crowded into the entrance and squatted down next to the couple. “Why didn’t you call me?”

            “I did,” Cullen grumbled.

            “I meant before this.” He pulled Cullen forward so Rory could slip the shirt on him.

            “How should we do this?” Rory asked, standing.

            “Bridal style. Dorian’s downstairs with the car.” Bull slipped his arms under Cullen’s legs and stood gingerly. “Don’t puke on me.”

            Cullen groaned and slumped his head against Bull’s shoulder. “That was one time.”

            “I’m going to need context to that story sometime.” Rory quickly slipped her shoes on and grabbed her coat.

The emergency room was overflowing with crying children, adults flushed with flu-like symptoms. Cullen was placed in a room at the back with a man losing the contents of his stomach every ten minutes. Rory took deep breaths and stroked Cullen’s hair between the breaths. Bull watched them from the corner, Dorian pacing the floor in front of them.

            “Did you call, Celia?” Rory whispered quietly, fearing waking Cullen.

            Bull nodded and rubbed his face. “Not sure if she’ll actually show up though. She didn’t answer. Cassandra is on her way.”

            Dorian cursed in Tevine under his breath. Cullen stirred against Rory with a groan.

            “Bull, hit that call button.” Rory was going to have words with the nurses.

            A half hour later, a nurse meandered her way in. “Did he need something?”

            Rory looked up from her place behind Cullen, her hand never pausing in his hair. Bull sucked his tongue between his teeth and gently pulled Dorian out of the line of fire.

            Rory smiled sweetly. “Yes, he does. Pain medication. We were checked in an hour ago. No one has been in to see him yet, no one has taken his symptoms down. He’s in excruciating pain. And for some reason, you all have ignored his call light for the last half hour. The man is a victim of the recent bombing. He nearly lost his leg. He’s gone through numerous surgeries to repair his nerves as well as skin grafts. His leg is swollen and red, he has a discharge coming from it, he’s running a fever, and he is extremely nauseous. Now, to me, that seems like he’s got an infection in an already compromised leg and should probably see the doctor right away.”

            “Well, I can’t give him anything until the doctor sees him.”

            Rory’s smile widened. “Then go get him, before I do.”

            The nurse left the room quickly and Bull chuckled. “Remind me not to get you angry.”

            “You haven’t seen angry yet.” Dorian smirked and began pacing the room again.

            Rory made a mental note of the time and resigned herself to wait fifteen minutes before she would begin looking for the doctor herself.

            “Call Celia.” Cullen turned his face against Rory’s chest.

            “We called her, Cullen.” Rory smoothed his hair down again and frowned.

            The door opened and Cassandra emerged looking as regal as ever. She shut it softly behind her and approached the bed Cullen and Rory occupied.

            “Hello, Cassandra,” Rory whispered.

            “How long has he been like this?” she asked, taking Cullen’s hand softly.

            Rory shook her head. “I don’t know. He’s been having pains for some time now, I think. But this is the worst I’ve seen him.”

            Bull leaned forward in the small metal chair and placed his elbows on his knees. “You know he downplays shit like this, Cass.”

            “Can hear you,” Cullen’s mutter came sluggishly. “Get Anders.”

            “We’re working on it,” Bull assured him.

            Cassandra took up pacing with Dorian, the two of them working on wearing the green and white tile down to a matte finish. Just as Rory was about to pass Cullen to Cassandra in order to find a certain nurse, so they could have a ‘come to Andraste’ moment, when an auburn haired man walked in.

            “He was my patient; I should have been notified,” he snapped to a cowering form behind him before letting the door shut.

            “Anders,” Cassandra said as she stood from her seat.

            “Cassandra. How long has he been sick?” Anders pulled the blanket back from Cullen’s leg and began removing the bandages.

            “A few weeks now,” Bull answered, watching Anders remove the bandages.

            “He said he’s called his doctor,” Rory chimed in, holding Cullen tighter when he winced.

            Bull crossed his arms and glowered, “Told him this was normal.”

            “Clearly it’s not,” Dorian huffed.

            Anders frowned at the bandages in his hand. He pressed his fingers gingerly around the wound and Cullen whimpered. He stood, walked to the door, opened it, and barked a few orders for blood tests, cultures, and pain medicine.

            “Well, needless to say, this is infected. I’m going to start him on antibiotics as soon as I find out what it is. We’ll also be keeping him a few days.”

            Cullen groaned.

            “It’s not like you’re going back to work any time soon,” Cassandra sighed.

            Rory smiled and put her chin on top of Cullen’s head. “I think that’s part of his problem.”

            “It is exactly my problem.”

            “Too bad,” Cassandra snapped.

~

            Cullen woke once again in a tan, purple, and white hospital room. The bed under him was damp with sweat and his pillow was far too hot for his liking. He was growing accustomed to the muffled noises from the hallway when a large snore erupted from beside his bed. Bull was asleep in one of the purple chairs, his head tipped over the back, legs spread out from the seat, arms hanging over the side. Dorian was in his lap, legs dangling over the armrest, head pushed against Bull’s arm. Cassandra looked as if she had fallen asleep sitting up on the couch: arms crossed over her chest, chin dropped down to her neck.

            There was a twinge of disappointment in his chest until from his other side came a quiet sigh. Rory. She had fallen asleep contorted in a twin purple chair next to his bed. Her hair was falling out of the knot she had put it into long stands falling down around her face. He reached his hand out, gently brushing a piece from her nose.

            “Hm?”

            He froze, his fingers resting gently behind her ear, when she opened her eyes and smiled sleepily at him. The heart in his chest froze with him.

            “You should be sleeping,” she whispered with closed eyes and a smile.

            “I was,” he whispered back, taking his hand away, “but the freight train in the room woke me.”

            Rory chuckled and uncramped her legs. “I’m telling him you said that.”

            “Oh, he knows.” Cullen looked out the window when Rory drew her arms over her head and stretched. “Did Celia come? From your silence, I’m guessing no.”

            Rory sighed and took his hand on the bed. “I’m sorry, Cullen. We called. Cassandra yelled. Dorian threatened murder. She said–”

            “She couldn’t get away from work. What time is it?”

            He watched the ceiling and knew from the silence next to him that it was the truth. Once again, he was in the hospital and Celia was gone.

            “It’s about six in the morning. The pain meds knocked you out. Are you hurting?” Rory moved closer to the bed.

            “No.”

            “Are all Ferelden’s terrible liars, or is it just a quality you possess naturally?”

            Cullen turned his head towards her, ready to snap, when he saw her smile. Her hazel eyes were bright with sleep and mischief. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to grab her and bury himself in her.

            “Marcher, I’ll have to ask you not to insult my people. We’ll deport you.”

            She laughed at him and stood up to stretch. “If it means I no longer have to smell you all? By all means.”

            “Now she insults our smell.”

            “It is very strong, Cullen.”

            He waved her off and struggled to get comfortable in the bed. His leg ached dully, an annoyance he was certain would be permanent. He could feel Rory’s eyes on him.

            “What?” he asked without looking at her. He couldn’t look at her.

            “You should have told me sooner, Cullen. You have to tell me. You have to tell me because I–”

            “Oh, good, you’re awake.”

            Cullen startled at the sound of Celia’s voice and looked from Rory to Celia standing in the doorway. She was dressed for work, every hair in place as usual.

            “Work let you leave?”

            “Cullen, I’m sorry.”

            Rory stood from her seat and smiled at him. “I’m going to go get some coffee.”

            “I’ll go with you,” Cassandra startled the trio when she spoke and stood gracefully from the tan couch. “Dorian, Bull, let’s go.”

            Bull took a breath in through his nose that came out as a snort. “What’s happened?” He looked around bleary-eyed.

            Dorian yawned and surrendered to a cat-like stretch before he stood up. “Celia, how nice of you to drop by.”

            Rory scooped up her purse and looked to Cullen. “Do you want anything?”

            “A new leg.”

            “I’ll see what we can dig up.” She paused briefly at his bedside, gaze lingering on him for just a few moments before she followed Cassandra out of the room.

            Dorian stood, extending a hand to Bull so he would follow. The room cleared and Cullen was left with Celia and silence. He watched her continue to stand awkwardly off to his side, just out of reach if he wanted to hold her hand. Which he didn’t.

            “Celia, you and I need to talk.”

            “Are you breaking up with me?” It could have been the drugs, but he sore he saw a flash of relief in her eyes.

            “No. No, Celia, I don’t want to break up with you. I want to figure out what the hell is going on with you.”

            “Cullen Stanton Rutherford, don’t you curse at me.”

            He sighed and rubbed his stubbled face. “I’m sorry. I just…Maker, Celia what is going on with you?” He watched her look away from him. “I genuinely want to know. Is it something I did? Do you not want to marry me?” The thought of her not wanting him pierced his heart through his anger.

            Celia picked a piece of lint off of her skirt. “Of course I want to marry you, Cullen. It’s just,” she took a breath in, “this is a lot, Cullen. You being sick is a lot.”

            “It is a lot, Celia, which is why I need you now more than ever. I can’t do this alone. I need you here. Don’t you get that? I need your help, and you are constantly gone. I need help.” Saying it made him feel weak, childesque.

            “What am I supposed to do, Cullen? I don’t know how to deal with this. I’m not strong enough to deal with this.”

            Cullen wished she would just sit down instead of standing behind the chair, her fingers digging into the back of it.

            “And you think I am?”

            “You always have been!”

            Cullen stared at her in admonishment.

            “You always have been, Cullen!” Celia tossed her hands up. “It’s part of the reason why I fell for you. You’ve always been strong enough to deal with things! I’m not. I’m not and I never have been. This scares me. Seeing you like this, it scares me. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I can’t fix your leg, Cullen. I don’t know how to take care of another person.”

            “And that makes it okay for you to just vanish? Celia, if you want out of this relationship all you have to do is say. I’m scared too. I’m scared and I need you.”

            She looked away from him, studying the way her fingers sunk into the leather fabric of the chair. Cullen dropped his head back on the pillow and mentally cursed himself. He looked at her again, taking in the way her face had fallen, her lower lip caught between her teeth, tears in her eyes. A sharp ache took up residence under his sternum.

            “Come here?”  

            After a few tense moments, she approached the side of his bed. Cullen scooted to the side, patted the bed, and waited for Celia to climb in beside him.

            “Cullen, I don’t have time for this.”

            “Celia. Get in this bed.”

            She sighed, popping her hip out to the right. Their eyes locked until she rolled hers and slipped her shoes off. Cullen smiled cockily and wrapped his arms around her as she got in. She placed her head on his shoulder and kissed the side of his neck.

            “We’ll get through it,” he murmured into her hair.

            He took no offense at her silence. There were some things that didn’t need saying, some things that needed no response. They laid there for quite some time, content in the embrace, before it was shattered.

            Cassandra barraged in the door, face chalky and eyes wide.

            “Cassandra–”

            “Shut up.” She picked up the remote from his bed and turned the tv on, flipping channels.

            He could hear Rory in the hall sobbing, gasping for breath.

            “What happened to Rory?”

            Celia sat up, eyebrows stitched together.

            “Cassandra, talk to me!”

            The clicking stopped. Cassandra took a breath in and didn’t let it out. The news flashed on the screen like strobe lights. The Free Marches. Markham. Explosion. His eyes traced the images as they flashed on the screen: people screaming, fire, ash, rubble, children without shoes, shoes without feet. Red. Blood. Maker, the blood. His hand clenched Celia’s tighter. Bull came in next, half carrying a now silent Rory. He guided her to the couch and pressed her into his chest, shielding her from the tv.

            The smell of blood filled his nose. His skin hurt. Maker, his fucking leg burned. There were radio frequencies in his ears of Castello screaming, someone talking to him. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Cassandra’s phone broke through the noise in his head.

            “Pentaghast. I see it, Leliana. I’m leaving now, let me check on Cullen.” She hung up and turned to face the ashen man on the bed. “Cullen, will you be alright?”

            He nodded, only partially hearing her, desperately trying to cling to the present that was slipping from him. He knew somewhere that he was squeezing Celia’s hand too hard, but he couldn’t control his body. Cassandra stared at him a few moments longer, he tried to focus on her face, but he couldn’t.

            “Dorian?” he finally croaked out.

            Bull cleared his throat, “Trying to get through to his cousin. The lines are tied up. Probably will be for a few days.” Rory made a noise against his chest and Bull held her tighter.

            “Maker,” Celia whispered into the room.

            Cullen wanted to turn the tv off. He needed to turn the tv off, but he couldn’t move. Every cell was frozen to the spot, his eyes trapped tracing the images on the screen. It seemed no one could move. Rory curled into Bull’s chest like she was trying to escape into him. Celia watched with wide eyes and calm breaths. It seemed the entire hospital was encased in ice: No one moved, no one spoke. Finally, someone turned the tv off. Cullen assumed it was Celia, but he never saw her move; he was concentrating on pulling air in and out of his lungs like machinery.

            Dorian finally came in, shut the door calmly behind him, and swallowed. His brown eyes looked around the room, trying and failing to settle on something or someone. A few times his mouth opened and shut, but speech evaded him. Finally, he sat next to Bull and Rory on the couch, tucking himself under Bull’s free arm.

            “I…I should call work,” Celia whispered after clearing her throat. “I…shouldn’t I? I should call…Let them know I’ll be late.”

            Cullen said nothing, but let her slip from his grasp. He was fine. He was in the hospital. He wasn’t back there. There was no blood. There was no ash. Nothing. He was fine.

            “You doin’ okay there, Rutherford?” Bull’s gruff voice pulled him further out of himself.

            “Just keep talking to me. How’s Rory? Rory?”

            Bull shook his head. “She didn’t say much.”

            “She has family in Markham.” Dorian shifted so he could hold her hand. “Cousins. A niece. An aunt and an uncle I believe.”

            “Shit.” Cullen traced the curve of Rory’s side.

            “Our cousins married. We introduced them. They have three kids,” Dorian continued numbly. “Liza the youngest plays the piano. She wants to be a professional.”

            Bull leaned and pressed a kiss to Dorian’s hair. “I’m sure they’re fine. We’ll try to call again later, okay? Or we can try sending them an email? Phone lines may be down, but we could try getting through that way.”

            Dorian nodded and pressed himself closer to Bull. He was a pillar of comfort and support that Dorian desperately needed. Images of his cousins kept entering and re-entering his thoughts: garden parties to celebrate a new birth; Liza running barefoot through the grass with the flower crown he had made her, that she refused to take off; Santinalia spent at the coast, the ocean driving forward the chill from the south; Funalis costumes hanging in the closet, Daniel begging Dorian and Rory to paint his face like a spirit; Summerday spent at the beach in skimpy suits. Lizbet and Rumi had always been so accepting of Dorian and Bull. His own family, specifically his father, disapproved of so many things. Dorian dating a Qunari was one of them. The fact that Bull was also a man was another issue entirely. Yet, Lizbet and Rumi had welcomed them with open arms.

            The first they had ever met Bull was on Summerday. Dorian was so nervous he sweat through his white linen shirt. Rory had held his hand the entire boat ride. Bull had stayed close, giving him his space, but also giving him the assurance that he was there.

            “Lizbet and Rumi love you,” Rory promised him. “They don’t hold the same prejudices as our other family.”

            “And your father?”

            Rory had sighed and looked out to the water. “My father…I don’t know, Dorian. He’s very hard to read. He can be nice to your face and then turn around and speak some horrible things. What my father believes does not matter. You have people who love you.”

            “What she said.” Bull smiled and kissed his temple.

            And now, the thought of them lying in some street, killed by some explosion, Lizbet reaching out for Rumi, her hair fanned around her like a halo, would not leave him. Liza’s tiny little body broken on some sidewalk. Daniel alone in a hospital. Phillip lost in the rubble of some building–

            “Hey,” Bull whispered against him, “come back to me.”

            “Always.”

Chapter Text

~

            It had been three days since the explosion in Markham. Three days and Rory had been unable to reach her family, phone lines still tied up. Three days and Cullen’s infection had only gotten worse. The antibiotics were doing nothing to stop or even slow the infection. His fever never dropped below 101­ºf. It had also been three days since Rory had seen Cullen. It was that day she decided to walk into the hospital and leave her own drama at the door. He needed people. Maker knew if Celia had been with him.

            Rory opened his door to a dark and stale-aired room that smelled of sweat and infection. Cullen was on his side in the bed, sweat beading on his face and arms. Without waking him, she searched the wall for the thermostat and turned it down to 60ºf. Next, she went into the bathroom and wet an ice-cold washcloth to wipe him down with. When she came back into the room, Cullen was on his back, his iv-ed arm draped over his eyes.

            “Celia?”

            “No, it’s Rory.” He removed his arm at that, eyes searching for her in the dim room. “Hi,” she said with a smile.

            “Are you alright? Have you been able to get ahold of your family?”

            She shook her head gently and started wiping him off. “Phone lines are still down…Dorian thinks they were at Hercinia with my father and brothers.”

            “You have brothers?” And then, “You don’t have to do this.”

            “Three: Antony, Eliot, and Liam. And yes I do. You smell and this will help with the fever.”

            Rory said nothing more, instead washed him with a quiet detachment. Her mind worked quickly and viciously, throwing images from the bombing up without remorse. She could feel Cullen’s eyes on her, watching her face for any sign of life.

            I hope they’re alright. They have to be alright. Lizbet lying in the rubble, blood coagulating in the dust, Liza in a morgue, Rumi digging through stone to­––

            Cullen took her hand in his and squeezed it tightly, his other coming to cup her cheek softly. She didn’t look at him, not right away, could already feel the tears on her cheeks. It was unclear how long she had stood there motionless before she raised her eyes to Cullen’s. He was wearing a soft frown, his eyes were watching her with a sadness that made him look so much younger than he was.

            She broke.

            The sobs came out before she could stop them and they wrecked her entire body with their force. Cullen pulled her into his lap, mindful of his leg and iv, and held her tightly. She tucked her head under his chin and heaved with giant gasps and whimpers. He held her tightly, his arms crossing over hers and squeezing her into him as much as he could. He shushed her, kissed the top of her head, rubbed his cheek over her hair.

            “It’s alright, Rory. It’ll be alright. We’ll find them. I promise you,” he whispered as he rocked her, “I promise you we will find them.”

            They sat in the quiet together: Rory holding her fist between their chests, Cullen still rocking her gently.

            “How is your leg?”

            “It’s fine.”

            “Maker damned liar.”

            He chuckled weakly. “It hurts. All the time. The morphine isn’t doing much to take the edge off. And it burns. Maker, does it burn. They’re still trying to figure out what kind of infection it is. They think the drugs are working though. I have to stay in here until they’re sure.”

            “Am I hurting you?”

            “No. No, you’re not hurting me. Stay here as long as you need.”

            As long as she needed felt like an eternity. As long as she needed would see them as bones before she was ready. Even when he was injured she felt safe in his arms. The outside world faded away, the heart monitor, the blood pressure cuff, the beeping from the next room. All that was left was his heartbeat and their breathing.  It was several hours later when she roused herself from his lap, careful of his leg.

            “I need to get back to the apartment.”

            “Rory?”

            “Hm?” She slipped her shoes back on her feet and slipped her jacket over her shoulders.

            “Will you stay with me tonight?” He sounded like a child lurking in the doorframe of his parents’ bedroom. “I’ve been getting nightmares and–”

            “Say no more.”

~

            A few days later Cullen woke in a near scream. His leg felt like it was being sawn from his body. A serrated blade catching on bone and sinews of muscles.

            “Cullen?” Rory was at his side, wiping his face with a washcloth. “Cullen, can you hear me?”

            “Rory.” His voice was rocks in a blender. “Maker, this hurts.”

            “Anders is on his way in. Breathe, Cullen. Maker, can’t you get him some pain medicine?”

            “I put a rush on it.”

            His eyelids were weighted down, eyelashes stuck together by dried drainage. He tried to focus on Rory’s hands wiping a cold cloth over his forehead, but the pain was all-encompassing.“Celia?”

            “She’s on her way, Cullen. Everyone is on their way. Deep breaths, darling.”

            “Cullen! Glorious Denerim weather we’re having, isn’t it?” Castelo smiled from his post.

            The taller man smiled and shook the rain out of his hair and off his jacket. The sudden downpour left him soaked clean through. Even his shoes squelched when he walked. Hell of a day to forget his umbrella. Still, he had time. He could go back to the car and get it. Then he’d have to go through all the security again. Not worth it.

            “Yes, absolutely glorious!” Cullen answered back.

            Castelo laughed and walked over to check his credentials. “Big Papa is in the house.”

            Cullen groaned and handed over his id once again. “Have I told you how much I hate it when you call him that?”

            Castelo laughed and checked Cullen’s weapon and id before passing them back. “I know. Which is what makes it hilarious. He’s upstairs waiting for you.”

 Something felt off. Just there, at the back of Cullen’s neck. There was a tightness, a bruising sensation he couldn’t quite shake. Something was different. He felt like prey. His eye shifted to over Castelo’s shoulder. Something wasn’t right. What was it? Think, Rutherford, think. What is it? What’s different?

            “Sir!” Castelo yelled to a man behind Cullen to get his attention. “You’ll have to check that bag.” He turned back to Cullen. “Seems like a big meeting today.”

            “Well you know I can’t comment on that.”

            What was off? Something behind Castelo. By the stairs. What was it? The statue. The statue wasn’t supposed to be there. Why had they moved it?

            “Sir! I won’t tell you again, that bag can’t come–“

Blood. Blood everywhere. Where is Castelo? Where– His hand. His hand: where’s the rest of him? Under the rubble? No. No body. My leg. Maker, my leg hurts. Move, you have to move, Cullen. Get up. When will the ringing stop? Is that my blood or someone else’s? Open your hand. Open your hand, Rutherford. Open your hand and grab your weapon. Move, damn it! Whose shadow? Gun. Grab your– Jim. Jim, I can’t move. I can’t… this damned ringing! We have to call for backup. We have to find Castelo before he bleeds out. Why aren’t you listening to me! Why can’t I hear you? Why can’t you hear me?

Maker, this pain! Jim, my leg. Jim, something is wrong with my leg. Why are you smiling? No. No, I have to stay. I’m not finished yet. They have to know. I have to tell them. Stay awake. Stay. Awake. Stay…awake. Stay…

“Sleep.”

Cullen’s scream ripped through the silence.

~

            Rory paced the waiting room floor. Bull was on his way with Cassandra. Celia was supposed to be there an hour ago, but Rory had yet to hear from her. They took Cullen back nearly forty-five minutes ago to try and improve the condition of his leg.

            “Hey,” Bull said as he pulled Rory into his chest and stopped her pacing. “You good?”

            Rory nodded and stepped back from his hug. “He’s been in nearly an hour. Anders thinks the infection spread, but they aren’t sure…”

            Cassandra took a seat in the corner. “Celia?”

            “I called her. She said she’d be here. But given her fucking track record.” Rory ran her hand through her hair and sighed. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

            “No,” Cassandra smirked and crossed her legs, “it wasn’t.”

            “Dorian’s on his way. He’s picking up Varric and they’ll be here.” Bull forced Rory onto the bench with him and put his hand on her knee. “Any word from your family?”

            “None yet. They said,” she cleared her throat, “they said that the phone lines are still tied up. I’m keeping an eye out for emails and letters.”

            Cassandra gave a sympathetic nod.

            “You stay with Cullen again last night?” Bull pulled his phone out and glanced at Rory out of the side of his eye.

            Rory nodded and bounced her leg. “Yes. He sleeps better when someone’s with him. Celia said she was going to but something came up. Again.”

            Varric and Dorian arrived twenty minutes later; Dorian sporting five cups of steaming assorted coffee drinks. He took Bull’s place next to Rory and placed a hand on her thigh as he drank his coffee.

            “You must be Rory.” Varric took a seat across from them and smiled.

            “And you must be Varric. Thank you so much for signing the book for me.”

            “Don’t mention it. I was surprised someone of your caliber read those books. They’re probably the worst I’ve ever written.”

            “No, I think the worst is Swords and Shields. But, those are a guilty pleasure.” Rory smiled and shook her head. “Besides, nothing is as bad as 50 Shades of Blue.”

            Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “Is that the Warden based…pornography.”  

            Dorian laughed. “Don’t get Bull started on the relationship in that book. Look, the vein on the side of his neck is already protruding.”

            “I hear you’ve been taking care of Cullen,” Varric asked with a smile.

            “Well, as much as one can. He’s very stubborn.”

            “Always has been,” Cassandra confirmed.

            Varric took in the state of Rory’s face and frowned. “He’ll be okay, Rory.”

            She nodded and sank down the bench, placing her head on Dorian’s shoulder.

~

            When Celia arrived, no one greeted her. Rory gave a tight-lipped nod of her head and focused back on the magazine article she had been trying to read for the past two hours. Cassandra had taken up the current round of pacing and did not halt for Celia. When Anders finally entered the room the tension could be carved like marble.

            Rory raised her eyes and took in the state of the young doctor: “He lost it, didn’t he?”

            Anders swallowed and sat down on the coffee table in front of them.

            “Lost what?” Celia asked, looking between the pair.

            Bull muttered a curse and slumped back in the seat he shared with Dorian. Cassandra put her fist to her mouth and watched over her knuckles.

            Anders swallowed again and leaned forward, forearms on knees. “We did everything that we could, but the infection had gone too deep. The only option we had was to–”

            “You took his leg!” Celia cried as she stood up from her seat.

            Anders sat up a little straighter. “We had no other choice.”

            “You could have left it!”

            “If they left it,” Rory sighed, giving her body over to the tension in her shoulders, “it would have killed him.”

            “Maybe that’s what he would want.”

            Cassandra was up and halfway to Celia before Bull managed to stop her. Rory stared at Celia. For a moment, the room was quiet. Rory said nothing but stared at Celia with indifference. She had been angry with her, to be sure, yet she felt nothing at that moment. Rory could no longer bring herself to care about Celia or Celia’s relationship with Cullen. Bull was ushering Cassandra back into a seat. Rory could hear Dorian’s muffled voice yelling at Celia, Varric heatedly joining the fray, saw Cassandra struggling against Bull’s hold to murder the woman.

            Rory sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Leave.”

            The room grew silent, Celia’s hand positioned in midair pointing at Cassandra. Varric looked at Rory before he looked at Celia. His face reading, ‘she meant you’.

            “Excuse me?”

            “Do you even love him?” Rory asked calmly.

            “Of course I do!” Celia stamped her foot.

            Rory shook her head. “No, I don’t think you do. You would rather he die slowly from an infection than lose a leg. You’ve never been here, Celia. You show up for a few hours, maybe, and then you leave. He’s needed you. And you’ve abandoned him. Get out.”

            The small group of friends an Anders waited with curious glances cast towards Celia.

            “He is my fiancé–”

            Rory laughed. It started out as a quiet chuckle in her chest and then blossomed into a gasping cackle. She will later blame it on sleep deprivation. She could feel them all staring at her: Anders seemingly understanding where the laughter came from, for he said nothing as he remained seated.

            Rory wiped the tears from her eyes and gave a laughing sigh. “Anders, please continue.”

            Celia made a gasping noise and motion almost like a fish, but remained silent.

            “We performed a knee disarticulation. All that means is we amputated at the knee. No bones were cut and major muscle groups were left intact. This will be better for him,” he ignored Celia’s snort, “in the long run. Prosthetics will be easier to deal with. The wound should fully heal within four to eight weeks. That being said,” he made a point to look at everyone in the room, “Cullen is in for a lifetime of healing psychologically. Losing a limb is extremely traumatic, but especially given Cullen’s activeness and age. I’m going to suggest a counselor for him to help with the adjustment. Physical therapy is, of course, required.”

~

            They sat in Cullen’s dark hospital room shrouded in silence. He was asleep, blessedly, the effects of the pain medicine and anesthesia still clinging to him. Rory and Cassandra sat on opposite sides of his bed. Rory had situated herself in the stiff chair after Celia took herself as far from Cullen’s bed as she could get. When the nurses would come in to check on Cullen, the group of friends would shuffle themselves around the room until they could slide back into their positions. Rory watched as Cassandra would reach her surprisingly delicate hand up to brush the hair from Cullen’s forehead. The display of friendship warmed Rory’s heart.

            “I will take first watch,” Cassandra whispered.

            “That’s noble of you, Cassandra, but I don’t think any of us are going anywhere,” Varric chimed in, finally taking a seat in a wingback recliner.

            It was several hours before Cullen struggled himself to semi-consciousness. The city lights cast an orange hue over the room, giving Cullen the illusion of a healthy color of skin. He made a noise low in his chest and turned his head towards the beeping of the monitor.

            “Cass?” His voice was gravely and slurred. “Cass, need to tell you.”          

            “I’m here, Cullen.” Cassandra moved her body closer to the bed and smoothed the hair from his forehead.

            Cullen swallowed and turned his head to her, he struggled to open his eyes under the weight of the drugs. “The explosion,” he struggled to trap the next words, “the man, the statue. Wasn’t supposed to be.”

            “What’s he talking about?” Bull sat on the edge of the couch and studied Cullen’s face.

            Cassandra shook her head and tried to shush Cullen.

            “Celia?” he asked. “Celia, she here?”

            “She’s here,” Rory said quickly before Celia could leave, and moved out of the way to grant her access.

            Celia glared at her but went to him nonetheless. “I’m here. Try and rest, Cullen.”

            “Did I lose it?”

            “Lose what, Cullen?” Celia let him find her hand on the bed.

            Varric swallowed and took a breath through his nose.

            “Yes,” Cassandra spoke first and watched Cullen’s face for any sign of distress. “They tried everything they could, but yes.”

            “Should we wait for the doctors?” Dorian paused his pacing.

            “It’s too late now,” Rory said.

            “How far?” Cullen blinked an eye open finally and found Cassandra.

            “To the knee. Anders said it would be easier–”

            Celia cut Cassandra off with a scoff. “Easier. Easier. He doesn’t have a leg anymore.”

            “Yes, he does,” Bull snapped. “Three-quarters of a leg to be exact. Rory shot Bull a “you’re not helping” look. “Well, he does.” 

~

            Celia had left again that night. “I’ll return after work,” she said before she left. Cullen had fallen asleep again, the pain medicine weighted his limbs down to the hot hospital bed. That night Rory curled up on the couch with Bull and Dorian, Cassandra slept spread between two chairs next to Cullen’s bed, and Varric snored soundly in the recliner. By six am they were awake, trying to swallow down burnt coffee from the waiting room and day-old doughnuts with stale rainbow sprinkles.

            “We could just leave the floor and get something,” Varric commented, but no one moved.

            “Stop,” Cullen choked.

            The room stiffened; Cassandra rushed to his side, taking his hand in her own.

            “Watching me sleep,” he grumbled with a dry throat.

            Rory smiled and shook her head, sat her coffee cup on the nightstand. Bull laughed and relaxed into the sofa, crossed his legs and watched three smiling heads deliver the news.

            “We can’t help it,” Dorian held a straw to Cullen’s lips. “You’re gorgeous when you sleep. Aside from the snoring.”

            “I don’t snore.” Cullen took a drink and finally opened his eyes to the room. “Was it that bad?” he asked after he took in the worried looks from those around him. “How did the surgery go?” The room grew quiet and Bull turned the tv off. “Well. Shit.”

            “We should wait for Anders. I saw him rounding when I got the coffee. He should be in any moment,” Rory explained as she went to the door to check.

            Cullen didn’t want to move the blanket, but somehow, he knew. There was a strange relief he felt: no more burning pain he couldn’t escape, no more knotted aching he felt clear up his spine. He wanted to ask where Celia was, but he already knew. He always knew.

            “You’re awake,” Celia shifted in the doorway and adjusted her purse, “I didn’t think you would be.”

            Cullen smiled but no one else in the room made a move to acknowledge her.

            “Ah, just in time for the party I see.” Anders smiled and waited for Celia to enter the room before he did. “And you found yesterday’s doughnuts. How’s the patient?”

            Cullen hit the button to move his bed into a sitting position. “You had to take it, didn’t you?”

            “We did. Cullen, we tried everything we could, but the infection was too far spread. If we left the leg there was a risk it would spread further. This was your best option.” Anders sat on the small rolling stool and waited for a reaction.

            “Well,” Cullen started, “I guess next years All Soul’s Day pirate costume is set.”

            Bull laughed and then glared. “Seriously though, I’m not lending you an eyepatch. Pirate is my thing.”

            The group dove into costume ideas, Anders suggesting a few costume ideas of his own: flamingo, the lamp from Satinalia Story. Cullen laughed while Bull said he could definitely get Cullen a lampshade skirt. Semantics came into play when Varric mentioned that Cullen still had half of his leg.

            “Are you fucking kidding me?” Celia’s voice cracked.

            The group stopped and Cullen’s smile faded as he took in Celia’s face.

            “I can’t do this.” Celia stood up and pulled at her clothes obsessively. “This is not what I signed on for. I can deal with you being in a dangerous job even though you never tell me what you do. I can deal with the late nights. But I can’t… I am not strong enough. You’re clearly better off with your friends,” Celia glared at Rory, “than me.”

             Cullen struggled to sit up.

            “Cullen, stop!” Cassandra pushed back on his shoulders to try to keep him in bed. “You can’t walk!”

            “You’re leaving me?” Cullen’s voice hid its crack. “After all of this, you’re walking?”

            Cassandra pressed his shoulders back into the bed.

            “I can’t–– Look at you, Cullen! You lost your leg and you’re joking about it! Everyone is acting like it’s fine, but it is not fine! Halloween costumes. Really? That’s what’s happening now? We’re just going to pretend this didn’t happen? That you just let them take your leg? What about work, Cullen? What about having a job? Do you think you can go back to what you’re doing with a missing limb? And what about me, Cullen? Am I just supposed to drop everything and look after you while you heal and learn to walk with a prosthetic? I’m just supposed to put my work on hold?”

            “I didn’t ask you to do that,” Cullen snapped.

            “Yes,” Rory laughed. “Yes, because that’s what you do for the people you love.”

            “Oh, and you know all about loving my fiancé, don’t you?”

            “Ex,” Bull said around a mouthful of donut.

            Rory raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

            “I see how you two look at each other. The quiet stares, the innocent touching,” Celia smiled. “It’s how it started with Cullen and I.”

            “Celia, I’m not in love with her.”

            “I’m sorry, Cullen.” Celia picked her bag up from the chair. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you.”

            “Celia! Celia!”

            The room grew quiet until Anders cleared his throat, made his excuses, and left quietly. Cullen sat, looking at the place under the blankets where his leg should be. This never should have happened.

            “Cullen, I’m–” Rory started.

            He held up his hand, slowly raised his head and looked at her. His gaze was glacial anger. Rory looked away from him, down to her clenched hands in front of her hips.

            “Get out,” he commanded quietly.

            Varric picked up his coat and tucked his phone into his pants. Cassandra started to tell him no, they weren’t leaving him like this, when he yelled his command again.

            Cullen looked to Rory, held eye contact for a few seconds before he spoke. “Do not come back.”

            Rory’s heart clenched painfully in her chest. She felt the tears rising in her eyes and quickly grabbed her things before anyone could see them fall. She heard Dorian behind her, rushing to catch up with her. Her boots clicked loudly and rapidly as she rushed to the elevator, hoping to the Maker that Celia had already left the building.

            “Rory.” Cassandra placed a hand on her shoulder, coming to stand between her and the elevator doors. “Rory, he didn’t mean…well, maybe he did,” she said at Rory’s incredulous look, “but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to see you again. Just right now…”

            “I didn’t mean to, Cass. I didn’t… It was just one time. We almost kissed once and it wasn’t even in front of her! It didn’t…I didn’t mean anything. I was upset and hurt and he was there and he was nice, and I…”

            Rory flung herself forward and wrapped her arms around Cassandra. Bull held in a snort at Cassandra’s uncomfortable face and pushed the button for the elevator again. Varric motioned for the taller woman to hug her back and rolled his eyes when she gave her a firm pat on the back.

            “Cullen is a grown man who made his own choices,” Cassandra said firmly.

            “I fucked it up,” Rory whispered. “That’s what I do.”

Chapter Text

Cullen’s apartment was empty when he returned home. All of Celia’s things were removed from the apartment. Every book, every article of clothing, fuck even some of the artwork was missing. Her stash of shampoos and conditioners, makeups and brushes, everything cleared out of the bathroom. Even the pads and tampons she kept under the sink. Cullen stood in the cold and empty desolation of his apartment and stared out the window at the sea. The sky was dark gray and heavy with the idea of rain. There were a few ships being tossed about on the choppy waters.

            It felt as if Cullen could just reach his hand back, back, and take hold of his past and bring himself to it. To rewind time. To take a step back before all of this happened. To take the time to go back and get his umbrella. To get that coffee, to take Celia to work. If he would have just done that he would still have his leg. He would still have Celia. He would never have met Rory.

            He would never have met Rory Trevelyan.

            “Cullen…” Rylen looked around the living room and sighed. “I’m sorry, mate.”

            “Just…” Cullen rubbed his face. “Just go home.” He made his way into his room and sat on the edge of the bed.

            “I can’t just leave you.”

            “Rylen, I’m fine. I’d just like to go to bed.”

            Rylen left him unwillingly. Leliana had called with news and a request for him to come into the office. Cullen looked down at the space where his leg used to be and stared. He could still picture it as there. The scar on the side of his calf he got when he was twenty. The middle toe that was crooked from being broken. He swirled his hand between the space. He picked up his phone, wondered if she would answer.

            “It’s Cullen… Celia, please just…” Cullen ran a hand over his face. “Please come home. I love you. I know we can work this out. Rory doesn’t mean anything to me. Celia, she’s a friend. She’s not even that anymore. Just…just call me back.”

            A few days later, he opened his door to find Rory standing there with strawberry pastries in her hand. She chewed her peach-colored bottom lip and looked away from him.

            “I… I thought you might like some real food.” Cullen stared at her. “Cullen, please? I don’t know what I did–”

            “I find that hard to believe.”

            Rory shifted her weight. “Cullen that kiss was an accident. And it didn’t even happen.”

            “If Greer hadn’t have interrupted–”

            “You leaned in.”

            “What?”

            Rory looked back into his eyes. “You leaned in, Cullen. You put your hand on my jaw and you leaned in.”

            “No.”

            “I won’t take all the blame in that kiss. I was vulnerable. You were there, you knew better too and you still leaned in. We agreed to be friends after that. You said we could be friends–”

            “I lied.”

            “You don’t lie, Cullen. I’m sorry she left you, but Cullen, she didn’t love you.”

            Cullen stepped forward into Rory’s space and growled. “How would you know? Because you saw us at a stressful time? Because you know what love looks like?”

            “Yes!”

            “Because you and Greer are a model couple.”

            “That’s not fair. And at least if I were as injured as you were, Greer would be there for me!”

            Cullen threw his hands up. “You never gave Celia a chance to be there for me!”

            “She was constantly working, Cullen! How could she be there for you when she never wanted to be!” Cullen jerked back like she had slapped him. “She wasn’t there for you before I even found you on those stairs. Where was she then, Cullen! I only ever wanted to be your friend.” She shoved the plate of food at him and left him standing in the hall.

~

Rory sat on her couch, watching snow fall softly onto the stone floor of her balcony. She should have brought the cushions on the furniture in before it started snowing. But with two inches on the ground, it was already too late. She sat with whiskey in one hand and the other curled on between her breasts. Three weeks. Three weeks since Cullen had told her to not come back. Not that she listened. For two weeks she tried to see him, tried to fix what she had done.

            “You haven’t done anything, Rory.” Varric caught her in the hallway as he was leaving Cullen’s apartment with clothes for him.

            Rory gave a bitter chuckle. “Didn’t I?”

            Varric shook his head. “It takes two people to fuck up a relationship,” then quietly, “You can’t help who you love, Rory. I should know.”

            Rory’s heart jumped when a knock sounded on her door. She got up with a sigh and resigned to keep her whiskey in her hand. She knew better than to think it was Cullen. The knock was too soft anyways. Cullen was timid but firm.

            “Who is it?”

            “It’s Cassandra.”

            Rory put her forehead against the door and closed her eyes.

            “I will not leave until you open the door.”

            With a huff, Rory unlocked the door and swung it open. Cassandra stood in jeans and a burgundy sweatshirt. It was the most casual Rory had ever seen the woman. Beside her stood Leliana in a navy blue and silver suit. Both of them were gorgeous and Rory shifted her weight between her feet. She felt like a slob in her three-day-old pajamas and unwashed hair piled on top of her head.

            “Come in then.” Rory gestured with her whiskey hand and shut the door after them.

            “Hello, Rory.”

            “Hello, Leliana.” Rory smiled and nodded. 

            Cassandra frowned as she took in the sight of the messy apartment and the half-empty bottle of brown liquor on the glass coffee table. “Leliana has news for you. And I wanted to check on you. It’s been three weeks, Rory, and none of us have heard from you.”

            Rory sat on the couch and pulled her robe tighter around herself. “Didn’t think we could be friends anymore.”

            Cassandra sighed and took the bottle back into the kitchen. “Just because Cullen has decided to be an idiot does not mean the rest of us have to follow suit.”

            “He hates me.”

            “He doesn’t hate you,” Leliana interjected and took a graceful seat across from Rory in a blue velvet chair. “Celia was just looking for a reason to leave him and she found it.” She paused while she took Rory in, from top to bottom. The younger woman wore loose matching silk pajamas, some kind of birds across them. Her long brown hair had pieces escaping and flying away from the once bun she had it in. There were bags under her eyes, newspapers strewn about the top of the coffee table, a computer open to Rory’s email. A list of dead over the top of it.

            “Do you love him?” Leliana asked, crossing her legs at the knee.

            Rory sputtered her drink and put a hand on her throat. “What? Of course not. Not romantically. He’s…he’s a good friend.”

            “Mm.” Leliana smiled.

            Cassandra entered the room once again, saving Rory from the knowing smile of the woman across from her.  “We have some news for you. Cu–”

            “We found your family,” Leliana interrupted and handed Rory a thick envelope. “They’re alive. They were in the city, but suffered only minor injuries and are now in Hercina with your father.”

            Rory took in a sharp breath and took the envelope from her. Her cousin’s dainty writing decorating the front of it. “They’re alive.”

            “They are. And doing well. If you wish to write to them, send the letters here and I’ll be sure they get them.”

            Tears burned Rory’s eyes and she put a hand over her mouth, then curled it under her nose. “Thank you. Does Dorian know?”

            “He does,” Cassandra said, casting Leliana an indecipherable look.

            Rory nodded and clutched the letter to her chest. “Thank you again. Really. This means the world to me.”

            Leliana stood and straightened her shirt. “We’ll leave you to read your letter then. It was a pleasure seeing you again, Rory.”

            Rory stood up and hugged Cassandra tightly to her. “Thank you, Cass.”

            Cassandra patted her back before Rory let go. “Talk to Cullen.”

            “I’ve tried, Cassandra. I can’t try anymore.” It hurts too much.

~~~

            Cullen’s bedroom door opened and two of his three mothers stood next to his bed. Leliana looked impassive as always aside from a slight judgment in her eyes. And Cassandra looked repulsed at the sight of him.

            “Maker’s breath, Cullen look at you.” Cassandra wrinkled her nose while Leliana went to raise the blinds.

            Cullen’s hair was greasy, there was a decent beard growing on his jaw, he smelled sour and stale at the same time. There were three pizza boxes beside the bed, coffee mugs, glasses.

            “You’re taking a shower,” Cassandra snapped.

            “I’m fine.”

            Leliana smiled. “If you’re fine then you won’t mind if I call your family? Perhaps Mia?”

            Cullen glared and huffed. “Fine.”

            Leliana entered into the bathroom leaving Cassandra to try and clean up Cullen’s room as much as she could.

            “This is ridiculous, Cullen.”

            “My fiancé left me.”

            “And you sent Rory away.”

            “Rory is the reason my fiancé left me!”

            Cassandra stood up and threw an empty plastic bottle at Cullen’s head. It hit with a satisfying bonk. “Your fiancé left because you lost your leg, Cullen! She had been wanting to leave for months–”

            “That’s not true.”

            “For months, Cullen! You were the only one who couldn’t see it.” Cassandra sighed and put her hands on her hips. “Cullen, you know this. Even before you lost your leg, even before the bombing, she was like this. Look how long she took to answer your proposal.”

            Cullen looked away from her and out of his windows. Snow fell softly outside and he wished he could go out in it. He loved the snow.

            “I’m sorry,” she said softly and sat on the edge of his bed. “I’m sorry, but Cullen. . . you need friends. And Rory is a friend. Who cares about you.”

            Cullen said nothing, simply continued to sit and watch the snow fall.

            “Are you at least keeping your leg clean?”

            “Of course,” Cullen growled and rolled his eyes.

            “Leliana, come get him before I kill him.” Cassandra stood up and walked to the bathroom door. “If he rolls his eyes at me one more time, I’m going to strangle him.”

            The women switched places: Leliana started going through Cullen’s drawers and Cassandra…Well, Cassandra focused on not murdering a man.

            “I don’t need help,” Cullen snapped.

            Leliana smiled and shook her head. “Of course not. That’s why your room looks like a dumpster.” She paused and looked him over. “Does that make you a trash panda? No, no you’re not a raccoon. An opossum. Yes. That’s it. Where’s your prosthetic they sent you home with?”

            “I’m not supposed to wear it in the shower.”

            “Then where is your shower chair that Rylen brought over?” Leliana watched Cullen watch her with a raised brow. “Cullen. Where is the chair?”

            Cullen shrugged and turned the tv back on.

            “Fine. I’ll just have to hold you up in the shower. While you’re naked.”

            “Damn you, woman. It’s in the closet!”

            While Cullen showered after a few minutes of growling and grumbling, Cassandra and Leliana cleaned his apartment. Leliana muttered in Orlesian as she picked up dirty laundry and bed linens. Cassandra made disgusted noises while she picked up the pizza boxes to be recycled. Or burned. She hadn’t decided.

~

            “Makers balls, Cullen.” Rylen closed Cullen’s apartment door behind him and grimaced. “It smells like corn chips and stale beer in here.”

            Cullen spared two seconds to look away from the tv and glare before he went back.

            “I mean, Andraste’s tits.” Rylen watched Cullen from the opening into the living room. “Cassandra called me. Told me to get my ass over here and make you look like a human being again. I’m not sure if that’s at all possible.”

            “I’m fine.”

            “The hell you are.” Rylen went into Cullen’s bedroom and grabbed a pair of jeans, a sweater, and Cullen’s prosthetic. “Get up, we’re going shopping. No more pizza.”

            “I like pizza.”

            “Everyone likes pizza, Cullen. But you need a vegetable.” Rylen paused and placed his hand on his forehead. “I sound like my Mum. Do you see what you’ve done to me?”

            Cullen turned the tv off and looked at Rylen. His brows knitted together at the sight of his old friend. Rylen had dark circles under his eyes, he looked like he had lost a bit of weight, a longer stubble than Rylen usually kept made a home on his jaw.

            “Rylen–”

             “No. Get up, get dressed, get your damn peg leg on and we’re going shopping.” Rylen dropped everything on the couch next to Cullen and crossed his arms. “And then we’re gonna talk about Rory.”

            Cullen stripped his shirt off over his head and picked up the clean one. “No, we’re not. There’s nothing to talk about.”

            “There is plenty to talk about.”

            “There really isn’t. We aren’t friends anymore. I never should have gotten so close to her in the first place. And now, I’ve lost my fiancé.”

            Rylen rolled his eyes. “For fuck's sake, man. You lost her before you got blown up. Even I saw that much. I mean look how long she took to answer your proposal after being together for so long. Look, if she didn’t want to ever get married, fine. She coulda told you that. But she told you when you first started dating she wanted to be married with three kids by the time she was thirty-five.”

            “She’s only thirty-two.”

            “I’m going to throttle you. We’re getting your hair cut today too. And a shave.”

            Cullen sighed and lifted his hips to slide his sweats down. There was no point in arguing with Rylen. He turned his liner inside out and began to roll it over his knee.

            “Don’t say it,” Cullen sighed.

            “Say what?” Rylen asked innocently, watching his friend roll the flesh-colored liner up his leg. “That it’s almost like putting a condom on?”

            Cullen tried to hold his laugh in but ended up snorting instead. “Thank you, now every time I put this on, I’m going to think of putting a condom on.”

            “Glad I could help.”

            The pair went and got a shave and a cut first. Cullen had to admit that the scalp massage the young elven woman gave him felt amazing. He almost fell asleep in the chair as she worked her fingers and nails over his scalp. She cut his hair down a little further on the sides than he would have liked, but he didn’t mind: it would grow out eventually. He ended up buying the mint and elderflower shampoo and conditioner and some sort of silicone scalp massager that was supposed to help stimulate blood flow and suds up his hair. It looked ridiculous, but it felt nice on him. His stylist left him with a bit of scruff and he was thankful for it; he looked like a teenager without facial hair.

            “So,” his stylist, Regan, started while she raked her nails over his scalp, then brought her fingers to the nape of his neck, “what’s her name?”

            It took Cullen a moment to snap himself awake enough to answer, “Who?”

            Regan smiled above him and went back to massaging the nape of his neck. “The woman who has you looking like a Neanderthal.”

            “Celia. My fiancé– ex. My ex.”

            “Oh, I’m sorry.” Blessedly, Regan let the conversation die and Cullen relaxed once again.

            His leg started to ache at the grocery store: a faint pain that he made a note to mention it to Anders. There was a pull at the base of his neck again. He felt watched by something he couldn’t quite see. Each time he turned his head, or a corner, he felt like there should be someone there waiting for him to see them. And yet each time, the space was blank. It drove him crazy, made his skin tight, and his attitude foul.

            “Cullen…” Rylen picked up some broccoli and tossed it in Cullen’s cart. “I’m sorry. About Celia. I know you love her.”

            Cullen nodded and looked over a bunch of carrots. He could still feel Rylen’s eyes on him. “Rylen.”

            “I just. Damn it, Cullen. Don’t take it out on Rory.”

            Cullen stiffened and bristled like a porcupine.

            “She doesn’t deserve it. Cullen, she took care of you when Celia wouldn’t.”

            “Or Celia didn’t take care of me because she felt threatened–”

            “That woman,” Rylen threw onions in the cart, “has never felt threatened a day in her life. She wanted an out and she found one.”

            “Can we not talk about this.”

            “Fine. But you’re being a right fucking bastard about this.”

            Rylen let Cullen retreat back into his hole after their shopping trip. They carried the copious bags of groceries up the stairs together, Cullen insisting it was good for him to learn how to go upstairs with his leg. It wasn’t hard, just…different.

            “I didn’t realize how out of shape I had gotten.”

            Rylen laughed and adjusted the bags in his hands. “Well, you’ve been down for what? Four months? Five?”

            “It feels like eight years. I need to see if I can get a prosthetic for running.”

            “We could hit the gym tomorrow. Get you back into shape.”

            “I’m supposed to meet Leliana tomorrow, to see if I can get back to work.” He shifted the bags. “I’m getting tired of just answering emails.”

            “I’m getting tired of picking up your slack.” Rylen smiled. “You know how I know you care about Rory? You had me handle her mugging instead of the cops.”

            Cullen glared but said nothing. It would be like Rylen to throw that in his face. The bastard. Someone was giggling on their floor. Most likely the teenager with her boyfriend at the end of the hall. What was her name? Christine?

            “I’m just saying.”

            “So, the gym tomorrow.” They rounded the landing of the stairs on Cullen’s floor. “I need to get strength back up in this leg and–”

            Rory was in the hallway with Greer, her back pressed against the door of her apartment. She had her hands fisted in Greer’s hair, pulling his mouth down to hers. Cullen clenched his hands in his bags and locked his jaw. Rylen gave him a smirk before he whistled. Rory pushed Greer away from her and looked at the two men with wide eyes, a blush on her cheeks.

            “Rylen! Cullen… Hi.”

            “Rooory,” Rylen said in a sing-song voice with a  smile on his lips.

            Greer smiled and cleared his throat. “Gentlemen.”

            Cullen watched Rory with narrowed eyes before he moved past the couple.

            “How you been, Rory?” Rylen set the bags down on the hallway and intended to make the conversation last as long as possible.

            “Uh, good? Good,” Rory straightened her skirt.

            “Why aren’t you at work?”

            “I took a personal day.”

            Cullen scoffed beside them as he looked for the keys in his pockets. Rory turned her head and took an angry breath in.

            “Nothin’ wrong with those,” Rylen said and sent Cullen a glare. “Some people should take more of them. How’s Lexie?”

            “She’s good. She’s good. I’m sorry she hasn’t texted you. She’s…”

            “I’m still waiting for her. I’ll break her down.” He smirked and ran his hand through his hair.

            Rory smiled. “I’m sure you will, Rylen.” Greer cleared his throat. “Oh! Rylen, this is Greer. Greer, this is Rylen.”

            “Nice to meet you,” Greer answered and outstretched his hand. “A firm handshake you have there.”

            “My da was a farmer and retired military. I’m used to a firm shake.”

            “I’ll tell Lex–”

            Cullen shoved his door open and cleared his throat. “Rylen. We should let Ms. Trevelyan get back to her very important business of entertaining Greer in the hallway.”

            Rory faced Cullen with an open mouth. “Excuse me?”

            “It was rude of us to interrupt your very personal day.”

            “What is your problem, Cullen?” Rory stared at him with disbelief.

            Rylen picked up the bags and put a hand on Cullen’s chest, pushing him back towards his apartment. “Don’t, Mate.” Rylen pushed him over the threshold, made an apologetic look to Rory, and shut the door behind him. “What the fuck was that?”

            Cullen carried the bags into the kitchen and sat them down on the counter.

            “You gonna answer me, or just ignore me?”

            “She was making out with him in the hallway–”

            Rylen scoffed. “I really don’t think that’s making out. And even if she was making out with him in the hallway, what business is it of yours?” Rylen ignored Cullen’s grunt and continued. “No, really. What business is it of yours anymore? You’re not friends with her remember? She tried to be friends with you again and you just kept pushing her away. Look, I know you’re hurting. I know you’re pissed off because you lost your leg and your fiancé on the same day, but none of that is her fault. She was here to take care of you when Celia wouldn’t– which by the way was more often than not!”

            “Rylen, that’s enough.”

            “That’s not enough. Because you’ve been shitty to everyone who tries to snap you out of this fucking mood.” Cullen slammed the cabinet door shut and turned to face Rylen. “You know I’m right!” He started putting food away. “You’re pushing people away. No one is saying you can’t be angry, Cullen, but you’re angry at the wrong person.”

            “I knew better, Rylen!” Rylen stopped and turned to face him. “I knew better… I knew something was off, I felt it, and I still went in. I should have just… I should have just had that coffee with Celia like she asked. I should have gone back for my umbrella. I should have retired like she asked me too. She was having a hard time and I… and then I threw Rory in her face. Rylen, I knew better.”

            Rylen hugged Cullen tightly. “You didn’t. Know one knows they’re going to get hurt. You couldn’t have known, Cullen. It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault.”

            “She left me.”

            “Yeah.”

Chapter Text

The record crackled softly through the speakers and Rory got up to start it over again. The morning light cast a smooth glow over her apartment and she felt at peace for the first time in weeks. The smell of croissants and fresh strawberry jam blended with the tobacco candles she had burning. It was Saturday, she could have slept in if she wanted, but by seven am she was wide awake and antsy. Peace. That is until there came a banging on her door. Rory wrapped her robe tighter around her body and rushed to open the door before the banging woke the whole floor.

            “Hello–”

            “Do you have any idea what time it is?” Cullen was in his pajamas, his hair disheveled and a heavy stubble across his jaw.

            “Nine in the morning.”

            “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

            “I’m sorry, Cullen. Did you need something?”

            Cullen glared. “Turn the music down.”

            “Fine.”

            Cullen stood there watching her until Rory sighed and went to turn the music down lower than it already was. She wasn’t in the mood to argue with him. Though he seemed like he needed one.

            “Thank you.” He started to turn away and then stopped. “And another thing. When you have your boyfriend over, could you try and keep it down? Your bedroom is right next to my living room.”

            Rory blushed and crossed her arms. “Maybe next time you should turn the tv up.”

            Cullen blinked and sputtered a few moments. “Or you could just try and control yourself–”         

“That was going to be my advice to you! You came over here to yell at me at nine in the morning. You could have just called.”

            “I deleted your number.”

            “Fine. Then knock on the wall like a normal person!” Cullen turned and started to walk away, but Rory wasn’t done. “What is your problem! You’re miserable so you have to make everyone miserable too?”

            “My problem? You. You are my problem, Rory! Since I met you. Since that stupid elevator ride.”

            “So what, I was just supposed to leave you on the stairs?” Rory crossed her arms and sent daggers at him.

            “Yes! I wish you had. I wish I had never met you. I would still be with Celia. You wouldn’t be in my life, I would be married.”

            “Yes, and I bet you’d still have your leg too.”

            Cullen swallowed and grit his teeth. “That isn’t fair.”

            “It isn’t! Nothing is fair, Cullen! You got dealt a shit hand. It’s terrible. You don’t deserve it. You’re a good man. It isn’t fair. And neither is treating me this way.”

            “Did you ever think that you’re part of my shit hand?”

            Rory shut the door.

~

            Rory drug the soaked cotton applicator across the painting with slow deliberation and watched a layer of grime and varnish come away from the canvas. Titus stood solemn as always in the corner and watched her with indifference. It was four am when Rory went into the museum, now the light was starting to peek in through the high windows of the basement art restoration department. Rachmaninov played softly through her headphones and helped to drown out the voice echoing through her head. The interaction Rory had with Cullen in the hall the week before played through on a loop. He looked so angry when Rylen pulled him back into his apartment. What right did he have to be angry? She had tried to be friends with him and he threw it back in her face.

            “If you keep thinking that hard you’re going to blow a blood vessel,” Lexie said as she leaned over Rory’s shoulder and kissed her cheek, setting a cup of coffee next to her.

            Rory hummed and took a drink of the coffee and slipped her headphones out. “Probably. You’re here early.”

            “So are you.” Lexie dropped her bag and helmet at her station. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured you’d be here in need of some coffee.”

            “Copious amounts of coffee. Why couldn’t you sleep?”

            “I’ve been having these weird dreams.” She sat cross-legged on her chair and spun to face Rory. “There’s this green flash of light and it feels like an earthquake and then I wake up.”

            “Don’t ask me. I’ve been having dreams about fighting with Cullen.”

            Lexie sighed and crossed her arms. “Let it go.”

            “I can’t.”

            “Are you in love with him?”

            “No. I just…” Rory threw her swab away and grabbed another. “I don’t know. He was a good friend for a while there, Lex. And I just…I hate how we left it.”

            “You didn’t leave it. He did.” Lexie stretched her arms over her head. “How’s family?” she asked, diverting the subject.

            “I got another letter yesterday. They’re okay. The kids are still traumatized, but they’re safe with my father and brothers. Everyone sort of returned home after the bombing. Except me.”

            “Would you go if you could?”

            “Maybe? I don’t know. Dad,” Rory straightened, “hasn’t forgiven me for leaving.”

            “I want all of that story someday.”

            “It’s not incredibly interesting. We’re both just very stubborn.”

            Lexie paused and watched Rory work. “Rylen called me.”

            Rory smiled coyly and continued to work. “Did you answer?”

            “Don’t smile at me like that,” she paused, “but yes. We have a date Saturday.”

            Rory concealed her excitement. “I’m glad you’re going. I like Rylen.”

            “He’s alright.”

            Rory threw the used applicator at her and picked up a new one. Lexie laughed and began to start her own work.

            “You should give him a chance, Lex. He’s… he’s great.”

            “Yeah?”

            “He’s been calling to check up on me.”

            Lexie stopped and leaned forward. “He’s what?”

            Rory nodded and emptied her hands. “He’s been calling to check up on me. He said just because Cullen is being a ‘right fucking bastard’ doesn’t mean that we aren’t still friends. I call him now, on my way home when I get off the train.”

            “I said I could take you home.”

            “I’m not making you stay four hours after you get off to take me home.” Rory sipped from her cup. “Besides, he carries a gun and can arrest people.”

            “I carry a knife and can stab people.”

            “That’s fair.”

~

            Cullen knew the office was speaking about him because all conversation stopped the minute he entered the room. He cleared his throat and made his way as quickly as he could back towards his office.

            “Rutherford,” Jameson reached out into the aisle between desks to grab Cullen’s arm. “I’m sorry. About everything.”

            Cullen nodded and murmured a ‘thank you’ before he made a b-line for the safety of four walls and a door. As soon as his office door shut with a soft click behind him, Cullen leaned his back against it and sighed heavily. He had been dreading coming in to face everyone in the office. He begged Leliana to sway any parties from happening. He just wanted to get back to work with some bit of normalcy. Cullen took a few deep breathes in and out, his eyes closed against the light from the windows beside his desk. When he opened them again, he took in the sight of his familiar space.

            Someone had been coming in to clean it from the looks of things. Other than the lack of dust he expected, everything was as he left it the day before the accident. There was a file, still closed, on the left corner of his desk, a closed hardbound notebook with a fountain pen still on top. The pen, he remembered, was a gift from his mother when he joined the Templars. His black landline still in the cradle on the right side of his desk. His computer was still shut down, the screen black. A Lavenmille landscape hung across from his desk between two large bookshelves and a few locked filing cabinets. There was a safe behind it. The brown leather chairs across from his desk on the red and gold rug were slightly askew. He wondered if Leliana and Josephine came in here to sit while he was in a coma.

            Cullen lowered himself gently into his leather desk chair and stared at his computer. It felt strange, a tightness in his chest. It wasn’t sadness, grief. Maybe fear, he supposed. He logged on to his desktop. The screen taunted him. His last worked on file expanded from the bottom in a balloon-like manner. His amber eyes flitted back up towards the Lavenmille and he frowned. It only made him think of Rory. Rory who had done nothing to deserve his ire, he supposed. He pulled her Instagram up on his screen and scrolled through. The latest picture was of Lexi and Rory making snow angels in Denerim Park. Rory’s hair was spilling out of her blue beanie into the soft wet flakes around them. He scrolled on to the next: croissants with an assortment of jams and two coffee cups, there was a man’s hand in the background of the picture. Greer, Cullen thought. It left a sour taste in his mouth. A picture of Titus, up close to get the lipstick stain on his cheek in.  Then his breath caught in his throat. There was a series of pictures of her and Cullen. On the couch together, Rory’s feet shoved under his ass because they were cold, their beers meticulously placed on his coffee table.

            “You should just call her,” Josephine commented from the doorway.

            Cullen jumped and quickly closed the screen. “Call who?”

            Josie smiled and came into the room, closing the door behind her. “How are you feeling?” She took a seat across from him, her tablet resting in her arms. “Are you sure you’re ready to be back to work?”

            He nodded and leaned back in his seat. “I’m sure. I need to get back into some kind of routine.”

            “Tell me you’re taking the elevator and not the stairs?”

            “I took the elevator,” Cullen chuckled. “But even with two good legs, Josie I don’t think I could climb fifty-two flights of stairs.”

            “You’ve done it before. Remember we had that charity fundraiser?”

            Cullen did remember. He remembered how badly his lungs and legs burned by the time he made it to the top of the building. And that was when he was in better shape. He and Rylen had a bet going as to who could make to the top first. Cullen won by four steps. Afterword they made their way down to Safe Harbor for pizza and beer. And then they both promptly threw up into the canal outside when it didn’t sit right.

            “We passed your cases on, I’m sure Leliana told you?” She continued when he nodded his understanding. “Right now, his Majesty just wants you working on paperwork. Interviews if you feel up to it.”

            “What about the bombing?”

            Josie frowned and wiped something off her skirt. “We all feel that it’s best for you to not work on the bombing case.” She took in Cullen’s slight glare and his mouth opening to protest. “It’s not just me! Cullen, you have a personal tie to this case. Maker forbid we catch the ones who are responsible and the case gets diminished because you had involvement.”

            Cullen knew she was right, but it didn’t make him any less pissed. No, frustrated. “Josie, I have to do something.”

            “All you can do is try and remember. I’ve sent you some paperwork, mainly follow-ups from previous cases.”

            “Yes, I’ll be sure to have a word with his Majesty,” Cullen grumbled.

            Josie stood and smiled. “It’s nice to have you back here, Cullen. Oh,” she said, pausing in the doorway. “I RSVPed for you for the royal Satinalia ball.”

            Damn it. He had almost forgotten about that Maker damned ball. Every year Alistair invited him. This would be the first year without a date. Celia had gone with him for the last five years and before her, he had always had a girlfriend or a casual fling that went with him. He wasn’t sure if he could go alone this year. Perhaps Rylen would go with him as moral support. Cullen sighed and pulled up the paperwork Josephine had forward to him and got to work.

~

            A few weeks later, the blues singer’s croon echoed solemnly throughout Safe Harbor. Rory sat in a booth sipping gingerly on an Old Fashioned with extra orange peel. The alcohol warmed her throat and cold bones as she waited for Greer to meet her. She set her drink down and swirled it with the black straw that came with. She smiled when Hack approached.

            “Hello, Hack.”

            “Rory.” He sat a basket of cheese curds in front of her. “On me. You’ve had three of those and no food. Can’t let you wander out of here drunk.” He slid into the seat across from her. “Waiting on Cullen?”

            “Ah,” Rory said and looked down at her drink. “No. Cullen and I… well, he doesn’t want to see me.”

            Hack nodded and let it drop. He never was one for getting into someone else’s business. He watched Rory pick up a few curds and pop them in her mouth.

            “I have a date,” she said, “but I think he’s standing me up.”

            “He’s a fool.”

            Rory smiled and brushed her bangs out of her face. “I think so too. But he’s convenient. Oh,” she gasped. “Oh, that sounded terrible.”

            Hack laughed, leaned back in his seat, and folded his arms over his chest. “Well if it’s the truth. But,” he added, “did you ever think that you’re convenient for him? And that’s why he’s standing you up?”

            “I did indeed, my good man.” She sighed and took another sip. “But, he’s all I’ve got. I don’t date much. I work too much. And… well, I’m not good at flirting. I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” she giggled.

            “Because I imagine I remind you of your father and you’re our way on your way to drunk.”

            Rory laughed out loud and then put a hand over her mouth and cleared her throat. “Oh, you most certainly do not remind me of my father.” She took another drink. “My father would disown me if he knew I was in a bar like this. It’s not ‘dignified’ or fit for ‘a lady of my standing’.” She rolled her eyes. “Whatever that means. You and I have also spoken more. So no. You do not remind me of my father.”

            “Good. Say, this date of yours? Pretentious looking fellow? Thin wire glasses? Very well-coiffed brown hair? Maker’s balls, a sweater vest.”

            “That would be him,” Rory nodded slowly with her eyes closed.

            “Andraste’s tits you can do better.” Hack stood from his seat and gave Rory a pointed look again. “Eat more or I’m cutting you off.”

            “Yes, sir,” she barked with a salute and a smile.

            Greer gave Hack a strange look as they passed each other. “Darling, I’m so sorry I’m late.”

            “It’s okay. Hack kept me company,” she smiled and accepted a kiss on the cheek. “Long day at work?”

            Geer nodded and flagged down a waitress. “Unfortunately. And I’ve been looking forward to this, to you, all day.” Greer leered in what was likely supposed to be a charming way.

            The things I do for an orgasm. Rory sipped her drink again and looked around the bar. “Do you have plans for the holiday?”

            “Yes,” Greer settled back in the booth and slipped his suit jacket off, “in the mountains with my family. It’s tradition. We’ve been celebrating at the family cabin for decades. You?”

            “A cousin invited me to a rather lavish party… Which I still need to buy a dress for.”

            “You’ll need a date for that,” Greer said before ordering a soda water. “I could ask my cousin for you.”

            “That’s…okay.” Maker, his cousin? “I’ll ask Lexi to go with me. Or maybe Rylen would want to come.”

            “Rylen?” There was a hint of a jealous tone in his voice.

            Rory nodded and ate another cheese cured covered in ranch this time. “Rylen. You met him in the hallway, remember? Had the firm handshake.”

            “Right.”

            “Hack! Could I get some fried pickles and mushrooms please!” Rory smiled her ‘thank you’ when Hack nodded. “You want some?”

            “No, I’m good.” His lips were crinkled in disgust. “So Rylen. You two are…”

            Rory smiled. “Friends.”

            “Good.”

            “But if we weren’t, Greer would it be a problem?” She ate another curd. “Because you’ve been sleeping with other women too.”

            Greer shifted in his seat and swirled his glass. “How– There’s Rylen now.”

            Rory turned awkwardly in the booth and looked for Rylen in the crowd. “Rylen!” She yelled when she saw him. She waved dramatically and motioned for him to come over.

            Rylen smiled at the sight of a drunk Rory and elbowed the body beside him. Rory turned back in her seat and smiled at Greer.

            “Come sit next to me so Rylen can sit across from us.”

            When Geer did as she asked, she patted his thigh and kissed his cheek.

            “Fancy seeing you here, Rory.” Cullen stiffened beside him and Rylen shoved him into the booth before quickly sliding in next to him. “Are we interrupting a date?”

            “Nope,” Rory answered cheerfully. “Just a fun night out.” She smiled at Cullen.

            Cullen clenched his jaw and slammed his elbow into Rylen’s fourth and fifth ribs. Rylen grunted but kept his smile on and swiped a cheese curd.

            “You get that sculpture your museum was after?” Rylen flagged down a free waitress and ordered two beers.

            Rory nodded excitedly. “We did! It’ll be here next week. I’m so excited to get my hands on it. I like how the marble feels.”

            Greer watched Cullen pretend to be engrossed in his phone. “Rory, come dance with me, darling?”

            “Fine, but we’re coming back as soon as Hack brings that food. Rylen, do not eat all my cheese curds.”

            “I make no promises, lass. Go have fun.”

            Greer slid out with Rory and pulled her onto the dance floor.

            Rylen sighed and turned his head dramatically to glare at Cullen. “Really?”

            “What?”

            “If you’re going to pout all night long so help me, Maker.”

            “I’m not pouting.” He was. He was pouting. No, actually, he was pissed off. This was his spot. He never should have turned Rory on to this place. “Will you let me out so I can go home?”

            “No. You had a shit day at work and this is what we do on shit days.” Rylen watched Rory sway her hips into Greer’s and watched Cullen’s face sour. “Don’t care about her, huh.”

            Cullen glared and sipped his beer. He did have a shit day. The office managed to plan a welcome back party and Cullen was stuck at it for hours. There were questions about his leg, about Celia, condolences, well wishes. It was exhausting.

            All my life I’ve been searchin’. Lookin’ for only you.

            The blues song flowed out of the speakers and across the murmuring voices of the bar. Rory ground her hips into Greer and wound her arms around his neck with a smile. Cullen took another drink and looked away from the scene before him. He could feel Rylen smirking beside him. His first date with Celia they danced like that. Her perfume and whatever she had put in her hair wafted up every time she moved against him.

            “Just go dance with the woman,” Hack bit out as he set Rory’s food down.

            Rylen shook his head. “You’re fighting a losing battle, Hack.”

            “Okay, I’m going home.”

            “Don’t be such a baby. Stay, we’ll leave it alone,” Rylen assured him. He reached to swipe a fried pickle and Hack smacked his hand to the table. “Ow.”

            “He’ll leave it alone. I won’t. Now, I like this girl. You’re not going to drive the only classy thing out of this bar. Hear me?”

            “Yes, sir,” Cullen mumbled.

            “You make her cry I’ll break your good leg.” Hack smacked Rylen again when he headed back for the basket.

            After a few minutes, Rory and Greer came back to the table. Rory’s cheeks were flushed and she was breathless, her smile stretching her lips tight around her white teeth. Rylen swiped a few pickles and laughed at Rory’s indignant scoff.

            “Order your own! How rude.”

            “Why order my own when I can just mooch off yours?”

            Cullen desperately needed another beer. He couldn’t feel Rory looking at him and he wasn’t sure what was worse, not feeling it or not being able to get away from it.

            “Rylen?” Rory let him take another pickle. “What are you doing the night before Satinalia? I got invited to a fancy party my cousin is throwing and I need a date.”

            “Greer won’t do?” Cullen asked, swiping his empty beer bottle for Rylen’s full.

            “Greer has a family vacation.”

            “Oh, and you’re not invited? I thought you two were close.”

            Rylen jabbed his elbow into Cullen’s ribs. “I would love to, Rory, but I’ve already got plans to be Cullen’s date for a fancy party. I’d much rather be yours though.”

            “I like to know where I stand early on in a relationship. I mean think about how it would be if we got engaged and we didn’t love each other? Or he didn’t love me as much as I loved him.”

            Greer cleared his throat and motioned quickly for another round. Rylen choked on a pickle and cleared his throat loudly. Rory’s blue eyes found Cullen’s amber and stared him down with a polite but terse smile. Cullen’s jaw clenched tightly and he was certain he felt it pop.

            “How–” Cullen started to raise his voice when Hack interrupted him.

            “I know I wasn’t about to witness your infamous temper, Rutherford.” Hack set a pizza on the table and smiled at Rory’s gasp of pleasure, a small pizza, coming from her.

            “No, sir.” Cullen sat back and took the beers from Hack.

            “Hack, will you be my date?”

            “Date to where?”

            “A fancy party? Free food, expensive booze.”

            “Sure, Classy.”

            Rory’s face beamed and she sat up straighter. “Really?” she asked excitedly. “You’ll really go with me? You have to wear a tux though.”

            “I’ve got one.”

            Rylen chuckled and looked confusedly at his empty bottle. “One that isn’t from the dark ages, Hack.”

            “I’ll have you know, I had to buy one for my niece’s wedding last summer. So shove it, Starkie.” Hack looked at Rory and smiled. “I would be delighted to accompany you.”

            Cullen snorted. “I thought you hated, parties?”

            “I do. But Rory is good company.” Truthfully though, he wasn’t about to let Rory go into the fire alone. He’d been in that position and if his suspicions were right she would need some support.

            Rory ‘awwed’ and scarfed down a slice of pizza. She liked Hack. “Thank you, Hack. I’ll meet you here?”

            “Don’t be foolish. I’ll pick you up like a proper gentleman.”

            Rory smiled as he left and stuck her tongue out at Rylen. “Looks like I don’t need you after all.”

            Rylen kept Cullen trapped in the booth for the rest of the night. Cullen drank, beer after beer, until his head started to grow fuzzy and his eyelids heavy. Rory leaned on Greer most of the night, occasionally making him get up and dance, and when he wouldn’t, she made Rylen. Every time Cullen thought about getting up to leave, Rylen would come back and box him in the booth. He should be with Celia, on their couch, watching cheesy reality shows.

            “Darling,” Greer said as he turned to Rory, “I do have to be going. Early day tomorrow.”

            “It’s Saturday.”

            “I know, but I have a project at work. Are you coming home with me or…”

            Rylen finished his swallow. “We can take her home.”

            Rory shot him a look. “I’d love to go home with you.”

            Rylen slowly turned his head to look at Greer. The look he gave screamed, ‘she is drunk, if you lay a single hand on her that isn’t strictly friendly, I will personally shove my boot so far up your ass you’ll have to buy shoes for your teeth’. Greer looked away from him quickly and back to Rory’s big blue eyes gazing up at him.

            “Actually darling, since I have to get up so early, maybe it’s best if you let Rylen and Cullen take you home.”

            Rory kicked Rylen underneath the table before sliding out to let Greer make his way home. She gave him a slow lingering kiss and threaded her fingers in his hair. “Have a goodnight, Greer.”

            Greer stumbled a goodnight and grabbed his coat from the booth. He cast Rory one last look before exiting into the snowy night.

            “Thank you, Rylen,” Rory sighed and sat back down, “for ruining my orgasm.”

            Cullen choked on his beer and wiped his mouth.

            “Aye, couldn’t have been much of a good one.”

~

            Rory’s level of drunkenness increased tenfold before they reached the apartment building. She had curled up in the backseat of the car and snuggled up in her fur stole. Cullen sat in the front with Rylen, his forehead pressed against the cold glass. The city passed them by in a snowy, sleepy haze. The flakes were huge and fat, the size of an old gold piece. Cullen loved the snow. It reminded him of home and playing with his siblings until their fingers grew numb and their noses red and frozen. Hot chocolate next to the fire with the family mabari, Watcher. Some nights, when the power would cut out, he would sit next to the fire at his mother’s feet and listen to her read. He couldn’t remember the last time he was home for Satinalia. Before his nephew, Jack was born that much he knew.

            “I can hear you thinking over my music and Rory’s snoring.” Rylen looked in the rearview and rolled his eyes. “Even her snoring is delicate.”

            “Thinking about home.”

            “You should go back for a visit.”

            “I don’t even think they would recognize me, Ry.”

            Rylen shrugged and turned the corner. “More reason for you to go back. Do they even know you and Celia broke it off?”

            Cullen soured. “I don’t know.”

            “I’m sorry,” Rylen sighed, “I’m not trying to rub it in. I’m just curious.”

            Cullen moved his face from the window and rubbed it. “It’s not your fault.”

            “It’s not Rory’s either.”

            The conversation fell into silence again and Cullen checked his emails and texts for the 100^th time that night: still nothing from Celia. Two months. Two months since he had heard anything from her. She hadn’t returned the ring yet, so surely there was hope. He didn’t mention it to Rylen.

            “Can you get her upstairs?”

            “Hm?” Cullen snapped out of his daydream.

            “Rory. Can you get her upstairs?”

            “You aren’t coming up?”

            “Lexi called. I’m headed to her place and if I’m not there before she changes her mind, I’ll be pissed.”

            Cullen sighed and got out of the car, shutting the door a little too hard. Rory made a sleepy mumble when Cullen opened her door and reached in to grab her arm.

            “Lorelai, come on,” he said it a little rougher than he meant to, than he should have.

            She stumbled out, her heels slipping in the snow. Cullen caught her, pulling her against his chest with a sigh as he shut her door. She leaned against him, rubbing her chilling nose against his sweater.

            “You got her, mate?”

            “Yes. I hate you.”

            “Love you too.” Rylen drove away, leaving Cullen and Rory standing in the snow on the sidewalk.

            Rory yawned. “Rylen, I’m tired.”

            Cullen looked down at the top of her head with a frown. “Come on then.”

            As carefully as he could, and without touching her more than needed, he led her stumbling up the steps to their building. Hack should have cut her off sooner. Hack should have cut Cullen off sooner. Rory leaned against him, tucking her head against his side under his armpit.

            “Love the snow. Ry, did you have snow in Starkhaven? We never had it.”

            Cullen let her ramble about the snow and unlocked the front door before squeezing them both through the small frame. After what happened with Rory, the building super started locking the front doors after seven pm so only the tenants could come and go.  Rory stumbled again and cursed her shoes.

            “Why did you wear them if you hate them?”

            “Make my butt look good. An’ I was ‘posed to get lucky tonight.”

            Cullen clenched his jaw and regretted asking. He walked them back to the elevator, pressed the button once, twice, four times with an angry flourish before he saw the sign: closed for maintenance. Sorry :(

            “Fuck.”

            Rory giggled and slid away from him. “Uh oh. Stairs for us.” She pirouetted away from him and started to stagger towards the stairs. “Did you know I took ballet? Mmhmmmm. Tha’s why my posture is so good.” She stood up straighter and pulled her shoulders back, chin level with the floor, and then laughed when she stumbled.

Cullen rushed forward and caught her, cursing in a hushed tone as he straightened her. “Then Momma…” She trailed off and Cullen didn’t push. “I just didn’t love it anymore.

Of course my father on the other hand.” Her voice deepened. “ ‘I didn’t spend all this money so you could just give up.’”

            Cullen lead her to the stairs and looked at them with disdain. Surely two drunks with three good legs could make it up the stairs without incident. By the first landing, Cullen determined that was a falsity. Rory stumbled on every step, giving a soft ‘ow’ when her ankle bent sideways in her heels.

            “Fuck.”

            “I like how you say ‘fuck’,” she giggled.

            Cullen blamed the blush that graced his face on the booze. With a huff, he swooped his arms under her and jostled her to a comfortable position.

            “Oh, no.”

            “Do not puke on me, Trevelyan.”

            Rory breathed in deeply through her nose and out her mouth. “I have the spins.”

            “Of course you do.”

            By the time Cullen got to their floor, Rory was asleep in his arms, her breath tickling the side of his neck. Or it was the fur from her stole. That was most definitely it. Lorelai stepped up beside him and put her arm around his waist. “Lean into me,” she said. “I’m stronger than I look.” She smelled like mint and old books. Stop it, Rutherford. He reached her door and carefully set her down, keeping an arm around her until her legs locked.

            “Lorelai. Lorelai I need your key.”

            “’S in my purse.” She pulled the clutch out from under her arm and handed it to him. “Tired.”

            Cullen sighed and rifled through the bag. He pretended he didn’t see the two condoms. He found the keys at the bottom next to a tube of lipstick and mace. The door opened with a near-silent creak and Rory stumbled in, trying to kick her shoes off. Her shoes that had straps. Cullen followed her around the room, arms out and on either side of her, ready to catch her stumbling frame.

            “Help.”

            Cullen sighed and followed her to her bedroom. Rory flopped back on the bed and let her legs dangle off the side.

            “Foot,” Cullen grumbled.

            “Thank you. He would never take my shoes off for me. He hates me.”

            “Greer does not hate you.” You deserve better than that putz anyway.

            Rory sighed and threw her arms over her head, her foot slipping out of Cullen’s hand in the movement. “No, not Greer. Cullen. Cullen hates me, Rylen. I can see it when he looks at me.”

            Cullen grew quiet and continued to fumble with the strap. It would be so much easier if he weren’t drunk. And if the damn buckle wasn’t so dainty. His eyes snapped towards Rory’s face when he heard her sniffle. It was just the cold surely.

            “He hates me so much, Ry.” Her breath stuttered and she wiped her eyes. “I miss him,” she sighed.

            He swallowed and slipped one shoe off her foot. He practically had to fight her to get her other foot in his hand, stumbling a few times as he reached for it.

            “I just don’t understand.” She sniffed and yanked at her bun, trying to pull her hair free. “What did I do? I didn’t…I didn’t break them did I?” She hiccupped and gasped at the same time. “I didn’t mean to. I really didn’t.”

            Cullen sighed and continued to fight with the buckle in his hand.

            “I just wanted to be his friend.” She broke, the levy busting at the seams and large sobs escaping from it. “I miss him so much.”

            “He doesn’t hate you.” He slipped the shoe off her foot. Carefully, he swept her legs onto the bed and pulled a blanket over her. “He misses you too,” Cullen whispered.

Chapter Text

“Are you dead?” Lexie poked Rory’s butt.

            She groaned and rolled over, pulling the blankets tighter around her head. “No.”

            Lexie laughed and sat on the bed next to her. “Rylen said you had a night. Even asked Hack to be your date.”

            Rory let out a groaning laugh “I don’t know how I would have made it up the stairs without him.”

            Lexie raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

            “Oh, the elevator was broken so Rylen carried me up the stairs.”

            “No, he didn’t. I know because he told me he let you and Cullen off so he could come and meet me.”

            Rory stopped and slowly moved the blanket down off of her face. “What?”

            Lexie pulled her lips in and watched the realization cross over Rory’s face. “Yeah.”

            “So Cullen.”

            “Was the one who carried you up the stairs.”

            “Ooooooh Maker.” Rory pulled the blankets back up over her head. “No, no, no, no.”

            Lexie laughed and slapped Rory’s hip. “What happened?”

            “Kill me.”

            “Not before you tell me what happened.”

            Rory sighed and pulled the blankets down to her eyes. “I made a fool of myself. I didn’t even… Old Fashioneds.”

            Lexie laughed and Rory hit her with a pillow. “You know you get white girl wasted on those.”

            “They didn’t hit me right away! I fell asleep in the backseat of Rylen’s car. And I thought Rylen was helping me upstairs. They’re the same height! And I couldn’t really see straight.”

            “Okay, but like, what happened?”

            “He had to carry me up the stairs. And then…We got to my apartment–”

            “Did you sleep with him!”

            “No!” Rory smacked her again. “No. I… Said I missed him. And I cried. A lot.”

            Lexie held back a laugh and placed a hand conveniently over her mouth. “Maybe he doesn’t remember.” Rory’s look screamed, ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ “He might not!”

            “Kill me.”

~

            Cullen’s phone shrilled through the darkness of his bedroom. His head thundered with every throb of his heartbeat.

            “Hello?”

            “Cullen?”

            “Celia?” Cullen sat up and immediately regretted the decision. “Are you okay?”

            “Yes. I’m fine. I… I wondered if we might get coffee.”

            “I…Yes, please. Coffee would be nice.”

            “Do you remember that place I like? On Cousland Ave?”

            They hung up. Cullen laid back in bed and looked up at the ceiling. “Call Rylen,” he said to his phone. The line rang and rang again.

            “You better be losing another leg.”

            “Celia called.”

            “What?” There was a rustling as Rylen sat up. “Celia?”

            Cullen rubbed his face. “She wants to get coffee. I said I’d go.”

            “What does she want?”

            He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s going to give my ring back.”     

            “She still has it?”

            “I didn’t want to tell you.”

            “Mm,” Rylen growled. “So you’re going then. Should I go with you?”

            Cullen laughed. “No. No, I’ll go alone.”

            “How hungover are you?”

            “I think my blood has been replaced with razor blades.” He paused. “Rory thought I was you.”

            “Oh? Did she try and make passionate love to me?”

            “She told me she missed me.”

            “And you’re going to pretend it never happened.”

            “It might be easier for her. But I…” Cullen sighed. “Fuck it. I miss her too.”

            “Tell her that.”

            “I can’t. She thinks I hate her.”

            “You have been a giant asshole.”

            “I know. I know.” Cullen rolled over to his side and adjusted the pillow under his head. “I think I ruined it.”

            Rylen sighed. “You did not ruin it. Not yet. But if you don’t say anything, you’re going to. What time are you meeting Celia?”

            “A few hours on her lunch break.” Rylen grew silent. “Rylen?”      

            “Am I dead?”

            “No? Why?”

            “I’m still in Lexie’s apartment. She let me sleepover.”

            Cullen chuckled. “Is she still there?”

            “No, I don’t think she is… Cullen, I’ve never been in her apartment alone before.”

            “Step in the right direction maybe.”

            “I love this girl, have I told you that?”

            “Many many times. Rylen, I need a shower to try and scrub the beer out of my pores.”

~

            Caffeine Bunny was a sickly sweet coffee shop that Cullen hated. The walls were blush pink, the tables looked like old school desks. There were gold stars on a light blue ceiling (which he actually liked). There were stuffed bunnies on every shelf and available counter space. The floral patterned curtains looked like the ones his grandmother had hanging in her bedroom. The staff was nice though. The coffee was mediocre. It was a fight he and Celia had often. They over roasted their beans and added too many sugary substances to coffee. Mocha chocolate chip caramel cookie, caramel vanilla bean with rose, sea salt caramel with java chips. Thinking about it gave him a toothache. He ordered a plain black coffee with milk and one sugar, and Celia’s caramel honey vanilla bean latte. He thought about ordering food, but everything left was only dessert and he needed actual food.

            He sat and waited, ran his hands through his hair, bounced his leg up and down. For a moment he caught himself almost chewing his fingernails, something he hadn’t done since he was a child.

            “Cullen?” Celia’s voice broke through his racing thoughts.

            He stood up, his chair scraping too loudly against the purple-tinted marble floor. She was wearing her red skirt outfit. It was her favorite he remembered. Her armor she called it. Cullen smiled at her, actually happy to see her. Celia smiled weakly at him and took a seat across from him before he could pull the chair out for her. Cullen sat back down awkwardly, shifting in his seat.

            “I ordered your favorite. I got here early so…”

            “Thank you.”

            They were silent for several minutes, each sipping their coffee quietly in the murmurs around them. Cullen wanted to reach out and take her hand in his, but he grabbed his cup each time instead.

            Finally, Celia spoke. “You look well.”

            “I am. I got back to work a few weeks ago. They snuck a surprise party past Leliana yesterday.”

            “I’m amazed they managed that.”

            Cullen nodded and took another drink, waiting for Celia to say something.

            “I wanted to…” She reached in her purse and pulled out a small box. “The ring.” She slid it across the table to him.

            Cullen’s heart clenched tightly in his chest and didn’t release. It really was over then. Slowly, he reached out and took the box in his fingers.

            “Thank you...”

They were quite a few more moments.

            “Cullen I have to tell you.” She paused and took a breath. “I didn’t call it off because you lost your leg.”

            “You could have fooled me.” “I was going to break up with you the morning of the bombing.”

            Cullen jerked his head up and stared. His thoughts raced around a track in his head, a sweat started to break out on his forehead. “What?”

            Celia looked into her coffee cup and refused to look back up. “I was going to break up with you that morning. I… I didn’t want to marry you, Cullen.”

            “Then why did you say yes?”

            “Because you wanted it!”

            “Are you having an affair?”

            Celia scoffed and set her cup down a little harder than she meant. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

            “Answer me.”

            “No. I was not having an affair. I just didn’t love you.”

            “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

            “That I could have cheated on you but I didn’t? Yes. I may not have loved you, but I wasn’t about to be unfaithful. Unlike you and Rory.”

            “I never slept with Lorelai.”

            “You were having an emotional affair with her, Cullen.”

            Cullen rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat. “That’s bullshit. She was a friend when you weren’t there.”

            “I was always there.”

            “Bullshit!” Several patrons turned towards their table and Cullen quieted. “Bullshit. Celia, I remember waking up in that hospital. You said you couldn’t do this and you left. You left. You visited me maybe six times in that hospital. And then you were never home. And when you were home you were working or you slept. We hardly talked, Celia. It wasn’t until I started hanging out with Lorelai that you started getting angry.”

            “You kissed her.”

            “I did not. I never touched her, Celia. You were gone. You were always gone and I needed someone and Lorelai was there… Rory was there. The whole time. She bought me groceries, she helped me change my bandages, she kept me company, she fed me. You… you worked. You left me alone. The first night I came home from the hospital, I needed you. Fuck, Celia I… I was scared. I was terrified and you were nowhere. The only thing you thought about was yourself.”

            Celia swallowed and looked away from him and out the window. The snow was falling heavily, a few inches already accumulated on the sidewalk. Cullen watched her eyes trace the snow as it fell.

            “What’s his name?” Cullen finally asked.

            Celia sighed. “Andrews. Miller West Andrews.”

            “Did you sleep with him?”

            “No. It was…Like you and Rory.”

            “Nothing happened with us.”

            “And nothing happened with Miller and I.”

            “You fell in love.”

            “And you’re telling me you didn’t, Cullen?”

~

            “I can’t believe you asked Hack to take you tonight and not me,” Lexie whined from Rory’s bed.

            “You don’t even like these parties!” Rory yelled back from her bathroom before she walked out of it in a blue silk dressing robe. “You told me last time you hated them. And you don’t even have a dress to wear.”

            “I could have got one.”

            Rory gave her a look. “Does my makeup look okay?”

            “Okay, I could have worn yours from last year. No. You need a darker lip. Go for Opulent Red from NARS.”

            Rory nodded and sat back down at her vanity. “Can you do those fancy braids for my hair again? Hack will be here in like a half-hour.”

            Lexi rolled herself off the bed and moved to stand behind Rory. “Fine, but I’m leaving tendrils out. Don’t give me that face. You’re always so buttoned up. Little tendrils look wispy. And with that dress…it’ll match perfectly.” Lexi brushed out Rory’s long hair. “Have you talked with Cullen?”

            “Not since the night I got drunk.” Lexi carefully applied the lipstick. “But, I think we’ve been avoiding each other. He hates me so why would I bother?”

            “That man does not hate you. He’s hurting is all.”

            “You might be right.” Rory leaned back and let Lexi weave her fingers through her hair. She was probably right. “I do miss him though.”

            “You love him.”

            “I don’t know. I’ve never been in love, Lexi.”

            Lexi hummed and continued her work.

            “Speaking of love. Rylen says you let him sleep in your bed. The night we got drunk.”

            “I did. I don’t know why.” Lexi sighed and pushed a bobby pin in place. “He’s…different from the rest of them. Most men get tired of chasing me by now, but Rylen,” she trailed off.

            Rory smiled and picked up a pair of delicate blue sapphire earrings. They were small, larger ones would kill her ears by the end of the night. And the dresses neckline spoke for itself.

            “You really like him.”

            Lexi playfully tugged on a strand of hair and smiled. “I think so. He’s sweet, but he doesn’t take my shit. He’s kept up with me. The chase I mean. I turn from him and he spins with me.”

            “I told you he was a good guy.”

            “You did. And the fact that he’s Cullen’s best friend is okay with you?”

            “Of course it is. Just when you two get married don’t make me walk down the aisle with him.”

            Lexie glared but a smile pulled at her lips. It took her twenty minutes to braid and twist Rory’s hair up. Carefully, she took gold seashell hairpins with pearls in the center and twisted them in place.

            “You never did tell me where you found these.”

            “An antique shop in Orlais.” Rory turned her head to get a look at her hair. “You always do such a fantastic job.”

            “I know. Now come on. Let’s get you in that dress.”

            The dress was tailored to hug every inch of Rory from the hips up. The light blue dress was one-shouldered, ruching following the flow of the strap over Rory’s right shoulder. There were two inches of sequined material around the edge of the bodices strap and around the waist before the skirt flared out. The skirt was ruffled and wispy, bits of crinkled material that raised up. It reminded her of ocean waves, it reminded her of home.

            “Blue again.”

            “It’s my signature color.” Rory smiled and Lexi zipped up the back of the dress. “I look good in blue.”

            “You do. I’d like to see you in red though. Just once.”

            “Red and green are your colors.”

            “Shame Cullen can’t see you in this.”

             Rory rolled her eyes and slipped her heels on.

            Hack picked her up precisely at seven. His beard was neatly trimmed and groomed into place, his hair was slicked back without looking greasy. His tux jacket was black velvet and had a gold baroque pattern on the lapels. He smiled at Rory when she opened the door and let him in.

            “You look gorgeous, Classy.”

            Rory laughed and picked her fur stole up from the side table. “So do you, handsome! You clean up nice.”

            Lexi whistled from Rory’s bedroom door. “I’ll say. I’ll have to come round the bar more often.”

            Hack hid his blush well. “I wouldn’t mind if either of you came around more. So, where’s the party we’re going to?”

            “The palace.”

~

            Cullen and Rylen walked up the marble steps of the palace foyer with a sheen of nerves over their face.

            “I don’t know how they do this. This place scares the hell out of me,” Rylen whispered.

            Cullen snickered. “Especially Alistair. Aurea’s family came from this.”

            “I keep forgetting that. Aurea’s so…not royal.”

            Cullen laughed. “And Alistair is? He may be blood, but that man would give it all up if he could.”

            The palace, as usual, had gone all out for the holiday season. There were Satinalia trees between every pair of columns, lights and garlands strung between each arch and doorway. There were presents in every corner, children busy unwrapping those that had their names on them. Alistair and Aurea were standing on a small platform at the front of the room receiving guests and gifts. Cullen elbowed Rylen gently and led the way to the king and queen. Aurea looked beautiful as ever. The gold gown she wore left little to the imagination despite having a full skirt. Her blonde hair was twisted up with deep red roses into her gold crown with rubies and diamonds. She was a master at hiding her discomfort. Alistair less so. He fidgeted next to Aurea in a red tux jacket with gold lapels. His crown was starting to shift to the side and Aurea reached up gently and gently pushed it back into place before she took his hand in hers. She smiled warmly at him, briefly pressing her shoulder against his arm. Cullen envied them.

            “I can’t believe you’ve slept with your queen.”

            “Our queen. And it was a long time ago.”

            “And Alistair is still friends with you.”

            “Your majesties.” Cullen and Rylen bowed briefly before Alistair grabbed Cullen in a bear hug.

            “Ooof. Hello, Alistair.”

            Alistair put him down and smiled wide. “Cullen.”

            Aurea chuckled and shook her head. “Cullen. You look well. Rylen, it’s good to see you again.”

            “You as well, your majesty.”

            “Cullen please for the love of the Maker, call me Aurea.” Aurea hugged him gently, kissing his cheek as she pulled away. “I’m sorry to hear about Celia.”

            “No you’re not,” Cullen laughed.

            “Fine, I’m not. I never liked her.” Aurea smiled and nudged Alistair. “Neither did Alistair.”

            Alistair balked and stuttered. “I never said that!”

            Rylen chuckled. “I didn’t like her either. None of us did. But you loved her so we were supportive.”

            “Oh! Cullen, have you ever met my cousin?” Aurea waved regally over the crowd as the woman approached.

            “No,” Cullen started. “I don’t believe I ha-have…”

            Rory approached with an arm threaded through Hack’s. Her smile faltered a little as she saw Cullen. She looked absolutely stunning.

            “Aurea.” Rory wrapped her arms around Aurea and squeezed her tightly. “I’ve missed you.”

            Aurea laughed and hugged her back. “We live in the same city, Rory. You could have come to see us any time.”

            “Shhhhh.”

            Aurea let her go and Alistair took her place. “You look stunning, Rory. Who’s your date?”

            “This is my good friend, Hack.”

            Aurea gave him a nod and a smile. “She didn’t tell you who her cousin was did she?”

            “She did not, your majesty.” Hack cast Rory a playful glare.

            “You wouldn’t have come if I had.”

            “Cullen, this is my cousin, Rory Trevelyan.”

            “I know who she is.” Cullen continued to look at Rory. “We live next door to each other.”

            Alistair looked between them and then cast a knowing sideways glance to Aurea.

            “Yes,” Rory confirmed. “For some time now. Though I only met him after the bombing.”

            “Well,” Cullen said before anyone else could speak, “we’re holding up the line. Alistair, I’d like to have a word with you later.”

            “I told Josie not to tell you I said paperwork only.”

            Aurea laughed. “Betrayal.”

 The ballroom was the most spectacular out of all of them. The largest spruce tree Cullen had ever seen was placed in the corner decorated in red and gold. The large fireplace at the end of the room was roaring in the hearth. An orchestra was playing from the balcony, lively Satinalia music mixed in with more classical. There were couples already out on the marble floor dancing, few were seated at tables savoring appetizers and drinks. Rory was standing by herself at the edge of the dance floor.

“You going to ask her to dance?” Rylen passed Cullen a glass of whiskey.

Cullen took a sip and shook his head. “No. She doesn’t want to see me. Besides, Hack has it covered.” Cullen gestured to Hack guiding Rory to the floor.

“Curly!” Varric approached with Cassandra beside him.

Cassandra who looked as uncomfortable as ever in a black mermaid gown. “Cullen. You have not returned my calls.”

“Somebody’s in trouble,” Rylen sing-songed before he took another drink.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been… Celia and I met.”

Varric held his hands up. “You don’t need to talk about that now.”

Cassandra stepped forward. “You should keep an eye out for Josie. She has a marriage prospect for you.”

Cullen groaned and rubbed his face. “I just ended things with Celia.”

Varric laughed. “It’s not a marriage prospect. Yet.”

Rylen snickered. “Cassandra, would you care to dance?”

Cassandra looked afraid for a moment, blinking in surprise. “I…I’m afraid I’m not a talented dancer.”

“Neither am I.” Rylen extended his hand and waited until Cassandra took it.

“So,” Cullen started after the pair left, “you came with Cassandra.”

“Easy, Curly. Just friends. Someone had to make her come.” Varric sipped his bourbon. “You came with Rylen. Still not made up with Rory?”

“No. I’m not sure we ever will.”

“Just because you’re stubborn.”

~

            Rory let Hack spin her in a gentle circle. She smiled and came back to rest against his chest.

            “You’re a good dancer, Hack.”

            Hack chuckled and returned his hand to her waist. “My mother insisted on it.”

            “You’re nobility aren’t you?” She smiled at his surprise. “You carry yourself with it.”

            “I am. But I gave it up after my military service. Much to my mother’s disdain.”

            “Your mother and my father would have been wonderful pals.” Rory smiled sadly and let Hack glide them around the floor.

            Hack kissed Rory’s forehead. “He still loves you, no matter what he does.”

            “You’re a nice man, Hack. What is your actual name if I can ask? I’ve known you for a few months now and I don’t know it.”

            Hack blushed noticeably. “It’s ah… Reginald Wolford Hackard. The third.”

            Rory’s smile grew the longer she looked at him. “Ooooh Maker, I love it. Can I call you Reginald?”

            “Absolutely not.”

            “Haha! Okay, Hack. Your name is safe with me.”

            “And you? Is your name Rory or is it a nickname?”

            “Lorelai Victoria Madeline Trevelyan.”

            “Three first names huh?”

            “My family is traditional. Victoria was my mother, Madeline was my grandmother.”

            “I like Rory. It suits you.”

            Rory smiled and let him dip her.

            “So you’re cousins with the Queen.”

            Rory laughed. “I am. My mother’s side. We spent summers together until…everything with her father and sister happened. And then her poor mother. Aurea was devastated.”

            Hack nodded. “I can imagine. That means you’re related to the Champion of Kirkwall as well?”

            Rory hummed. “Also on my mother’s side. Lark. You know the royals.”

            “Cullen can’t stop staring at you.”

            “Plotting my murder, no doubt.”

            “No, that’s not it.” Hack eyed Cullen over Rory’s shoulder and watched the man look her over. “He likes you.”

            Rory snorted.

            “He does. Hurt makes people do terrible things to the ones they love. Just ask my first wife.” Hack looked down and saw Rory’s confused expression. “After the war… I saw things. Did things. Things no one should have to. It made me mean.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “So am I. My wife deserved better. She left me two months after I got back. She deserved better than me treating her terribly because I was hurt. Talk to Cullen.”

            “I’ve tried, Hack. He just…keeps pushing me away. He said he wished he never met me.”

            “I’ve said worse to my wife. I’m not excusing Cullen. I’m saying if you care for him try and work it out. Regardless, you need to say your peace.”

            Rory nodded and rested her head against Hack’s chest. “Thank you, Hack.”

            “Can I cut in?”

            “Varric!” Rory smiled and nodded her head.

            Hack released her with a kiss on the hand and made his way towards Cullen. Varric took Rory’s hand and placed his hand around her waist.

            “You look gorgeous tonight, Rory.”

            “So do you, my good sir.” Rory wiggled her brows at him. “Soooo, you came with Cassandra.”

            “Just as friends, just friends.”

            “Mmhmmm. You two are friends like Lexie and Rylan are friends.”

            Varric smirked. “I have no idea what you mean.”

            “Right.”

            Varric spun her out and back in. “I think that dress may eat me.”

            Rory smiled sweetly. “I wouldn’t mind if you disappeared under my dress.”

            Varric laughed loudly. “Careful or I may take you up on that offer.”

            “As long as you promise.”

~

            “Cullen,” Aurea approached as regally as ever, “come dance with your queen.”

            Cullen chuckled and passed his drink to Cassandra. “Hold this for me.”

            Cullen led Aurea out on the floor, couples politely making way for him. Aurea placed her free hand on his shoulder as they started moving. Cullen hated dancing, but one couldn’t say no to the Queen.

            “So,” Aurea smiled at a passerby, “you like my cousin.”

            “I do not.”

            “Oh please. I saw how you looked at her. You like her.” Aurea smiled at his faint blush. “I know you just ended it with Celia, but eventually…I think you and Rory would work well.”

            Cullen sighed. “I hurt Lorelai. Badly. I’m not sure if we can work it out.”

            “Cullen, as blood I’m required to break your legs.”

            “Well, I only have one good one so…”

            “Rory is a forgiving person, Cullen. Apologize and mean it.”

            Alistair swooped by with Rory in his arms. “Hands above the waist, Rutherford.” He motioned with two fingers in a V-shape from his eyes to Cullen’s.  

            Aurea and Rory laughed and Cullen blushed. 

~

            “Rylen, may I speak with you?” Hack caught Rylen in the quiet hallway between the ballroom and the bathroom.

            “Ah shit, am I in trouble?”

            “Not at all. But I have a plan and I need your help with it.”

~

            “Rory, I’m sorry, but I have to go. There’s an emergency at the bar,” Hack never got the chance to finish.

            “No, of course! I’ll get a Gryphon home.” Rory kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Hack. Be safe!”

            Hack kissed her cheek back and quickly made his way towards the exit.

~

            “Cullen, mate I have to bolt. Lexie called.”

            “You are not ditching me for sex.”

            Rylen scoffed. “Of course not! She’s upset. Some kind of family drama.” Rylen took in Cullen’s surprised face. “I know! I’m surprised she called me. Which is why I need to like bolt now.”

            “Yeah. I’ll get a Gryphon home.” Cullen hugged him goodbye. “You owe me one. Be safe. Let me know when you get there.”

~

            Rory carefully snuck out of the ballroom and down the hall to where the library was. Her heels clicked too loudly down the hallway for her comfort. Aurea and Alistair wouldn’t mind at all, but she didn’t want other partygoers to know. She loved the royal couples' library more than anything. Mainly she loved the original Lavenmile that hung above the fireplace. Rory shut the large oak doors behind her with the softest thud she could manage. The library was two stories high, wrought iron staircases to the top floor. The ceiling was a deep night sky with gold constellations painted across it. The floor was herringboned wood, a light cool tone that stood out against the dark wood of the built-in bookshelves. Rory smiled at the two large leather chairs in front of the fireplace. Aurea’s had a teacup of constellations next to hers and Alistair’s had a glass tumbler with a small bit of whiskey left at the bottom. The teacup was Aurea’s sister’s: Nox. She crossed the room, let her fingers trail over the leather-bound books.  

“Lorelai?”

Rory let out a shriek and spun around, hand clasped at her throat. “Cullen! Maker’s balls man. Don’t do that to people!”

Cullen hid his smile well. “I’m sorry. I… Can we talk?”

“Now?”

“Now. I… I wanted to apologize. For how I’ve been acting.”

Rory raised her chin before turning away from him to walk around the room.

“It’s not fair to you.” Rory scoffed. “It isn’t. And I…Shit, Lorelai can you just stop moving?” Cullen huffed.

Rory stopped and spun to face him, her arms crossing.

“Thank you. I’m trying to apologize to you because you don’t deserve how I’ve been treating you.”

“You’re damn right I don’t!” Rory stomped towards him and then stopped before she got to close. “You’re damn right I don’t, Cullen. I was nice to you. I only ever wanted to be your friend and you threw it all back in my face. I know you’re hurting. I know you are, but that doesn’t give you a right to be a complete dick to me! I didn’t make Celia leave you. She was leaving you long before I came around.”

            “You’re right,” Cullen sighed with a nod.

            Rory stopped mid start of a sentence and looked at him like he had a third eye. “What?”

            “I said you’re right.” Cullen watched her face change as she tried to hold on to her anger. “You’re right and I’m sorry. I’ve been taking it all out on you and I’m ashamed of it. Rory, it wasn’t your fault that Celia left me.”

            “I know. I just said.”

            Cullen smiled a little and continued. “Celia…The morning of the bombing? She was going to break up with me. But I told her I didn’t have time to have a coffee date with her. She was having an affair.”

            Rory watched Cullen’s face fall into a bitter-sweet smile. He looked utterly heartbroken.

            “Sometimes I catch myself wondering what would have happened had I met her for coffee like she wanted. I likely would have been late for the meeting. I would have missed the bomb. I wouldn’t have seen…” he cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t have been hurt. I would have my leg still. I could be allowed to work on the case.”

            Rory nodded and played with the delicate sapphire ring on her finger.

            “But,” Cullen started, eyeing Rory across from him, “I wouldn’t have met you.”

            Rory stared at him. “Cullen, I’m…I’m sorry.”

            “Stop apologizing to me. I hurt you.”

            “You did. And I accept your apology.”

            Cullen looked up from his hands. “Can we be friends again?”

            “I…I would like that.” Rory smiled and looked away from him. “So…the night we got drunk… I…said something things.”

            “So did I. And I meant them. I do miss you, Lorelai.”

            Rory swallowed and looked up at him. “You do?”

            Cullen nodded and took a step towards her. “I do. I just didn’t know how to come back from our fights. From me being an ass. I didn’t even know if you could forgive me. Lorelai I never should have said what I said to you.”

            “Cullen. Friends call me Rory.”

            Cullen rushed towards her and pulled her into a hug. Rory hugged him back, her arms circling around his chest.

            “I missed you, Rory. And I am so, so, incredibly sorry. I can’t…I can’t apologize enough to you.”

            “I’m not going to say it’s okay, because it’s not. But I forgive you. But if you ever hurt me like that again, we’re done.”

            Cullen nodded against her. “I’m still going to apologize to you every chance I get.”

            “You can start by giving me a ride home.”

            “I would, but Rylen drove– Oh those bastards.”

            Rory laughed and shook her head against Cullen’s chest. “Clever, clever, assholes.”

~

            “It’s the night before Satinalia, you two, you’re never going to get a Gryphon out. Just stay here. Have Satinalia in the morning with us.” Aurea sipped from Alistair’s glass of water before passing it back.

            Alistair nodded. “Stay. We know you don’t have family here in the city to celebrate with. Oh. Oh, that sounded terrible.”

            Rory laughed around her glass. The King and Queen had found Cullen and Rory in the library shortly after the party ended and the guests went home. It was their usual retreat when their crowns got to heavy. Their crowns which now rested askew on two marble busts in the corner.

            “I can’t speak for Rory, but I don’t want to be a burden.”

            Rory nodded her agreement.

            “Cullen, there are sixty-two bedrooms in this palace. You will not be a burden. Besides, Lark can’t come for celebrations in the morning. And Alistair… well. We’re orphans.” Aurea took Alistair’s hand in hers and kissed his knuckles. “Stay with us.”

            Rory sighed and smiled. “Okay. Okay, I’ll stay.”

            “I will as well. But only until the afternoon.”

            “Yes, his three mothers will be wanting him home.” Rory cast Cullen a teasing smile.

            “Josie, Cassandra, and Leliana,” Alistair confirmed.

            “Mmm. We all have lunch together. Which you two are more than welcome to come to.”

            Alistair sighed. “Oh, to be normal again.”

            “Darling,” Aurea laughed, “We were never normal.”

            Alistair hummed and played with Aurea’s fingers in his hand. Rory watched the pair with a smile. They were so in love it almost disgusted her. Almost. But Rory knew how long Aurea and Alistair had been trying to find themselves.

            “So are you two…” Alistair wiggled his eyebrows and leaned back in his seat.

            Rory laughed and tossed an ice cube at him. “No, we are not.”

            “I just lost Celia.”

            “You didn’t lose her,” Alistair said. “She left you because she’s cowardly.”

            “And she cheated. You know we can have her exiled.”

            Alistair nodded enthusiastically. “To Orlais.”

            Cullen laughed and took a sip of his drink. “You know, I think she might actually like Orlais.”

            Alistair gasped and collapsed further into his chair, his hand delicately pressed to his forehead. Aurea was watching Rory, an infuriatingly knowing smile pulling at the left corner of her lips. She didn’t say anything but observed her two friends on the loveseat together.

            “We do have news, but you must promise to keep it to yourselves. I haven’t even told Lark yet and if she finds out I told Cullen Rutherford before her, well…”

            Alistair nodded and smiled broadly at his wife.

            “Cullen, I’m sure you’ve noticed I haven’t been drinking all night.”

            “I did notice that, yes.”

            Alistair practically vibrated in his seat and Rory started a smile.

            “Alistair and I,” Aurea gripped his hand tighter, “are pregnant.”

            Rory squealed and immediately got up and wrapped her arms around Aurea in her seat. Cullen leaned over and gripped Alistair’s hand in his and smiled, tears springing at the corner of his eyes. The couple had been trying for so many years that Aurea was certain she couldn’t get pregnant.

            “Congratulations. I can’t begin to tell you how happy I am for both of you.” Cullen raised his glass in the air. “To baby Theirin.”

            “To baby Theirin,” the three echoed.

            Rory switched chairs and wrapped her arms around Alistair next, his coming to circle her waist. “Oh, I’m so happy for you two.”

            Alistair nodded against her neck and sniffed. “Thank you.”

            Rory let go and sat back down, the large grin refusing to leave her face. Aurea wiped at her eyes carefully and took back hold of Alistair’s hand, his thumb dragged over the back of her knuckles.

            “If it’s a girl, we’re naming it Nox,” Alistair explained.

            There was paint etched on Aurea’s face under her smile. It didn’t need said that she wished Nox were in the room with them.

            “So you cannot tell anyone,” Aurea gave them a soft pointed look.

            The pair on the couch nodded excitedly.

            “What does a royal baby shower entail?” Rory asked curiously.

            Aurea groaned. “Maker, I don’t want to know.”

            “Cheese,” Alistair offered. “Cheese and fruit and chocolate. You know what, I’m hungry. Let’s raid the kitchens.”

~

            Rory huffed and tried for the millionth time to unhook the eyelet on her dress that held the zipper secure.

            “Maker damn it all.”

            She huffed and looked at herself in the mirror. She hesitated for a moment before she gave up and tiptoed out of her room and across the hall. Her hand hovered above the wood of the door.

            “Just knock, Trevelyan. Just knock,” she whispered.

            Cullen answered the door after a few short moments. “Rory?”

            “I…” she sighed, “I can’t get my dress unzipped.”

            Cullen chuckled and shook his head. “Turn around, I’ll get it.”

            “Thank you.”

            Rory turned her back to him and waited for him to unhook her dress. His fingers moved against her spine as he struggled with the hook.

            “Did Lexie weld this on?” Cullen grunted.

            “I’m wondering. Please do not rip this dress.”

            Rory fidgeted her hands in front of her. Finally, the dress came free and Cullen unzipped the dress down to the small of her back. Her cheeks burned red when she remembered the pale blue lace lingerie she wore under it.

            “Thank you, Cullen.” Rory turned to face him, hoping her blush didn’t show too much.

            “You’re welcome.”

            Rory hesitated before she turned back to her room. “Goodnight, Cullen.”

            Cullen smiled. “Goodnight, Rory.”  

Chapter Text

Rory woke to a bright white light streaming across her white silk sheets and purple velvet comforter. She stretched languidly, a quiet hum slipping from her throat. She and Cullen made up. Aurea was pregnant. Her family was alive. Rylen and Lexie were… well, Rylen and Lexie. Life for that blissful moment was good. She sat up slowly, drawing her legs up from the middle of the bed, and yawned again. Hung up on the door of the armoire was her dress, steamed and cleaned. Next to it were a few outfits that Aurea no doubt sent over. As well as a pair of boots so she wouldn’t have to wear her heels home.

            Rory picked the simplest outfit she could, a pair of wide-leg camel colored pants and an oversized royal blue fisherman’s knit sweater. She knotted it and tucked it into a corner of the pants and slipped the boots on. Her hair was still in the braids Lexie put it in the night before, so Rory simply pressed the shell pins back into place. As she sat placing the pins back into her hair, she eyed her reflection. She had her mother’s features: Full lips, a thin nose if looked at from the side, high and wide cheekbones. The only thing that belonged to her father was her almond-shaped eyes. The square jaw she got from her mother and that took her years to love. Aurea had the same jaw. Nox’s had not been as severe.

            Rory missed her mother.

            A soft knock at the door drew her out of a downward spiral.

            “Come in!” She finished up and stood, turned expecting to find a maid only to see Cullen standing there in quite possibly the most hideous sweater she had ever seen in her life.

            “Do. Not. Laugh,” he warned.

            Rory hid her smile with her hand. “You look quite dashing.”

            “Alistair’s idea of a funny joke. I look ridiculous.” Cullen ran his hand through his hair, shaking it to loosen the curls. The sweater was hideous, to say the least. Bright green with red sparkles sewn in throughout. There was a large fir tree on the front with multicolored pearls for bulbs. And– Oh, Maker, it even lit up.

            Rory bit the inside of her lip and then smiled. “Here.”

            Cullen looked up just as Rory slipped the navy sweater over her head. His mouth went dry at the sight of her. The blue bustier dazzled against her skin.

            “This should– Oh shit!” Rory spun her back to him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think– Sweater. Here.” She waved her arm behind her and jostled the sweater at Cullen. “Can you hand me that black one then?”

            Cullen grabbed the black turtleneck hanging up and draped it over Rory’s arm before he took the navy sweater from her. Rory’s entire face burned bright red as she slipped the turtleneck over her head. How could she have forgotten? What possessed her to just strip in front of him? Maker’s balls, she will never live it down. It will haunt her until she dies.

            She started to turn around. “Cullen, I am so sorry,” she stopped speaking when she came face to face with Cullen’s bare chest. The wound on his shoulder was healing, but below that sat a rather large lion head, about twice the size of her hand. “Uhm.”

            “Hm?” He slipped the sweater over his tilted head.

            “You have a tattoo.”

            “Ah. Yes. Alistair and I when we served together got them. His is worse.”

            Rory arched her eyebrow. “I didn’t know you and Alistair served together. How is his worse?”

            “A griffin.” Cullen smiled. “On his ass.”

            Rory laughed loudly and clapped a hand over her mouth. “No.”

            “Yes. Large. I’m surprised Aurea hasn’t told you.”

            “She has not, and now I need to yell at her for it.” Rory sat on the bench at the foot of the bed and began to slip the boots on. “Why a lion?”

            Cullen leaned against the vanity, hands clutching the lip of the marble top. “It was my code name. Alistair’s was Griffin. Bull’s is obvious I think.”

            Rory nodded. “Is that how you all know each other?”

            “Yes. I joined earlier than the rest of them. I went to training when I was eleven.”

            “That’s so young, Cullen.”

            “It is. But military school and then joining is one of the few ways to get out of the town I grew up in. I wanted more to my life than a simple farmer.”

            “Cullen, you would have been so much more than a simple farmer.”

            “Perhaps. Alistair was in school with me. Isolde…well. Isolde didn’t like him around and Eamon was too much of a coward to stand up for a little boy.”

            “Aurea’s told me.”

            “That’s why he’s a good king. He knows what it’s like to be small.”

            “We better get down there before they send a search party. There will be no cheese left.”

             “You flashed him,” Aurea snickered.

            Rory covered her face and groaned. “I didn’t even think. It just…came off.”

            Alistair and Cullen sat on the couch in front of the tv, controllers clutched tightly in their hands while they elbowed and screamed.

            Aurea laughed and leaned back in her seat, legs tucked under her. “Well, I’m amazed. You went from hating each other to changing in front of each other in a matter of a day. I’m very impressed. You know aunt Leandra would have called you a whore for that.”

            “I think we both know you and Lark hold that title better than anyone.”

            Aurea hummed. “Are you doing okay? With everything?”

            Rory looked away from Cullen and leaned her head to rest on the chair back. “I’m worried about my brothers and cousins. Dad is a fortress. Nothing could hurt him. If it weren’t for Leliana, I doubt I would know they’re alive.”

            “Leliana? Cullen made the request.”

            “What?” Rory straightened and looked at her cousin.

            Aurea nodded. “He had Leliana petition us, a formality since you’re family, and we looked into it.”

            Rory looked back at Cullen. “When did he petition it?”

            “A few months ago.”

            While they were still fighting. He didn’t hate her. She smiled. Bastard.

            “He’s a good man, Rory,” Aurea said. “Damaged, but good.”

Chapter Text

Two weeks later Cullen stood in front of Maria’s green door and stared at the doorbell. Push the Maker damned button, Rutherford. Push the butt–

            The door flew open and Cullen stumbled back as a small child looked up at him. He looked like Castelo’s twin instead of his son. His voice caught in his throat as he looked the little boy over.

            “Hello?”

            “Maaaa! There’s a man at the door!”

            “Well, who is it?”

            “I don’t know!”

            “Then why in the Maker’s name did you open–” Maria trailed off as she rounded a corner into the hallway and saw Cullen.

            He swallowed and took a deep breath in. “Hello, Maria.”

            She stared at him for a few moments before rushing forward. He prepared himself for the slap, waited for her hand to swing back and then forward, but it didn’t come. Instead, she threw her arms around his chest and hugged him tightly. Cullen’s throat tightened painfully as he hugged her back. Neither said anything, just clung to each other in the doorway of the small home. He felt her grip his coat in her hands, pulling herself closer to him. Cullen tucked his face into the crook of her neck.

            “I’m sorry. Maker, Maria, I’m so sorry.”

             She shushed him quietly, moving her hand to the back of his neck. “I’m sorry too.” She kissed his temple and pulled back to cup his face. “Come inside.”

            He had expected her to yell at him, to hit him, curse him, send him away. Instead, she sat him down on her plaid couch and handed him a cup of hot tea. She told the kids to busy themselves upstairs while she and Mr. Rutherford spoke. When the floral teacup started to shake in his hands, he set it gently on the coffee table in front of him.

            “I’m sorry, Maria. That I didn’t reach out sooner.”

            Maria raised her hand and shook her head, a curly piece of black hair slipping out of the twist she had it in. “You suffered too, Cullen. I visited once in the hospital, but you…I couldn’t.”

            He nodded and looked down at his feet. “I understand.”

            “I got the flowers you sent. They were lovely.”

            “They weren’t enough.”

            “Cullen, nothing will ever be ‘enough’, but you tried. I know that if you could have saved him, you would have.” She leaned forward and squeezed his hand tightly before sitting back in her seat. “Leliana told me about your injuries. I’m sorry.”

            “I’m getting used to it…almost. Maria…” he swallowed. “I can’t begin to tell you–”

            Maria snapped her fingers and his gaze jerked towards her face. “Stop. Don’t make me comfort you as well.”

            Cullen felt the shame rise to his cheeks.

            “You can’t ask me for forgiveness because I can’t give it to you.”

            That was it. That was what he expected.

            “I can’t give you something you don’t need,” she said so softly Cullen wasn’t sure he had heard her correctly. “Javi knew what the job was. We knew the risks, we… It doesn’t make it better, it doesn’t excuse it, but I can’t blame someone for his death who wasn’t responsible. And you can’t either. It happened. You didn’t cause it. What did you expect yourself to do, Cullen? Crawl your way to his dead body and drag his soul back from the Maker?”

            Cullen choked on a laugh and wiped at his eyes.

            Maria took his hand again. “You lost enough. Don’t take more.”

            Cullen squeezed her soft hand and smiled at her. “He was a good man, Maria.”

            “He was the best. How is your fiancé?”

            “Ah,” Cullen leaned back into the couch, “she left me. About three months ago.”

            “Maker, Cullen, I’m sorry.”

            Cullen nodded and picked at the nailbed on his thumb with his trigger finger. “The morning of the bombing she asked me to coffee to break up with me.”

            “Hm. Saying no was a mistake,” she smiled.

            Cullen chuckled. “Yes, it was. I think the Maker was trying to save me. I forgot my umbrella too and was going to walk back for it and decided not to.”

            “Your guardian angel is likely very angry with you, Cullen. Javi always said you were a stubborn one who didn’t like to listen.”

            “The same could be said about him.”

            “Don’t I know it.” She sipped from her teacup and looked over at a picture on the mantel of the fireplace. She and Javi on a mountain ridge at sunset looking at each other. Their second wedding anniversary. “Have you called your family yet?”

            Cullen shifted uncomfortably.

            “Cullen Stanton Rutherford.”

            “I know, I know. They know I’m okay. They don’t know about my leg.”

            “I am going to lecture you like I do my children.”

            “I don’t know how to tell them.”

            “ 'Mom, I lost my leg, Celia left me, but I’m okay. I’m sorry I lied to you.' ”

            “She’ll kill me.”

            “Oh, she will. So will your sisters. You should have called them the minute you woke up in the hospital.”

            “Are you going to lecture me the whole time?”

            She smiled. “I haven’t even started yet.”

            Cullen left a few hours later before the winter sky started to darken. It was supposed to snow later and he wanted to get back quickly. The Gryphon driver was a quiet type and Cullen was thankful for it. His time spent with Maria was wonderful but exhausting. She said he needed therapy, sent him home with a list of therapists she had tried and friends had recommended her. He didn’t want to call them, therapy made him feel weak, but he supposed that was good a sign as any to start.  

            “Do you mind if I listen to the game?”

            “Hm? Oh, no, not at all. Orlais versus Starkhaven, right?” Cullen made brief eye contact with the driver in the rearview mirror.

            “Yeah. Last game of the season I think. Do you follow?” The driver, Cullen thought his name was John, turned the radio up.

            “Not as much as I used to.”

            Cullen pulled his phone out of his pocket and flipped through his contacts. Mia’s information leered back at him. He knew the moment he told her what happened, the whole family would be on the next plane or train and at his door. Mia would spend months with him. He couldn’t take her away from her children. He’ll call Branson tonight and let him tell the others. Branson could handle that. He just didn’t want to burden them. He was supposed to be the strong one. The one that could take care of himself.

            There was a loud explosion over the radio and Cullen’s heart slammed against his ribs.

            “Holy shit. What–”

            “There was just an explosion at one of the University buildings–” the game announcer yelled loudly over the screams of the people in the stadium. “Maker, what is that!” There was another loud explosion and more screams of terror before the broadcast went silent.

            Cullen’s breath came too fast and too shallow, he knew he was going to hyperventilate. He could smell flesh burning, smoke, dust, and feel the heat on his leg. His leg he didn’t have anymore.

            “Maker’s balls, what just happened?” John turned the radio rapidly until he came to a news station.

            “We are receiving reports of a bombing at the University of Orlais. It is unclear whether the bomb was at the stadium or a university building. There are incoming reports of two explosions. Authorities are en route with medics. We have yet to remake contact with our sportscaster Gregory Haden. Again, there was an explosion at the University of Orlais–”

            Cullen leaned over and put his head between his knees. Breathe for four, hold for seven, exhale for eight. Breathe for four, hold for seven, exhale for eight. One, two, three, four, hold, two, three, four, five, six, seven, exhale, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. He tried not to gasp and repeated his breathing exercises––Blood. Blood everywhere. Where is Castelo? Where– His hand. His hand: where’s the rest of him? Under the rubble? No. No body. My leg. Maker, my leg hurts.

            When the car stopped, Cullen practically launched himself out of it and into the freezing air. Snow had started to fall and the sidewalk was slick, but he paid it no mind. Righted himself when he slid and stumbled up the steps to the building. He went to his apartment first. There was a tightness in his chest that felt like a band around him. Thoughts were racing around like a tornado: the sound of the explosion, the heat of the blast, Castelo. Maker, he felt like he would be sick. His apartment was dark and empty. When did he unlock his door? How fast did he get up here? Did he take the stairs? It was growing harder and harder for him to breathe and he yanked at the buttons on his shirt.

            Cullen went back out into the hallway and knocked on Rory’s door. The faint crooning of a blues singer seeped through her door. He waited anxiously while the locks were turned. His fingers twisted in front of him. When Rory finally opened the door, he didn’t hesitate to make his way inside. She let him, stepping to the side and shutting the door once he was in. He paced the floor of her spacious living room, his breaths came in short gasping huffs.

            “Cullen, darling, what’s wrong?”

            Cullen had stopped to look at her, the blank stare giving nothing away. She was looking at him like he was a wild animal ready to charge her. He felt like one in a way. When he walked in, he didn’t even notice the other male sitting cross-legged on her plush chair. He didn’t look at him now either.          

            “Cullen? What happened?”

            Rory approached him cautiously, one hand held forward at her hip. He looked at her hand and then back to her. Her hazel eyes were soft with concern. Without thinking, he rushed towards her, threw his arms around her middle, and hid his face in her neck.

            “Rory?” Greer asked, standing up.

            She held up her hand and then held Cullen as tightly as she could. He was shaking against her, his hands gripping tightly at the back of her sweater. Rory shushed him gently and stroked her hand over his hair.

            “It’s alright, Cullen. Just breathe,” she whispered to him. “Greer, I think you should go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

            Greer nodded and left quietly, eyeing Cullen as he walked past him. Rory continued to hold him as he shook against her. When he finally let out a harsh sob, Rory winced and tried to hold him tighter.

            “It’s okay. It’s alright, love,” she whispered against his temple. She shuffled them over to the sofa as best she could. It took a few more minutes to get Cullen to sit with her. “Cullen, talk to me. What happened?”

            “Bomb. Orlais.”

            “What?” Rory turned on the news and turned it down as quickly as she could. Cullen kept his face buried against her neck. “Don’t watch. You’re alright. You’re safe, Cullen. You’re safe. You’re with me in my apartment and nothing bad is going to happen to you. How do I help you?”

            “This. Talk.”

            “Demarchiler came back by today. He had the nerve to ask me on a date. I said no, of course. Anyone who hates my best friend does not get a date.”

            Cullen listened to her talk, inhaled the smell of her perfume and hair deeply. Lavender, mint, some kind of fruit. He pressed closer, moved his arms around her back, and settled between her legs, felt her wrap a leg over his hip and run a hand over his back.

            “Lexi and Rylen are in a fight, did you know? He left a sock at her apartment and she’s freaking out. I told her she’s being ridiculous. She’s just had a hard time with relationships, you know? She’s worse than Aurea if at all possible.”

            Cullen nodded against her. Castelo. Blood. Dust, smoke, thick in his throat. Blood. So much fucking blood.

            “Tighter,” he groaned out.

            Rory squeezed him as tight as she could and kept talking. Lexi. Rylen. Titus. Magic. Lavender. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

~

“Cullen! Glorious Denerim weather we’re having, isn’t it?” Castelo smiled from his post.

            Cullen smiled and shook the rain out of his hair and off his jacket. The sudden downpour left him soaked clean through. Even his shoes squelched when he walked. Hell of a day to forget his umbrella. Still, he had time. He could go back to the car and get it. Then he’d have to go through all the security again, get wetter than he was. Not worth it.

            “Yes, absolutely glorious!” Cullen answered back.

            Castelo laughed and walked over to check his credentials. “Big Papa is in the house.”

            Cullen groaned and handed over his id once again. “Have I told you how much I hate it when you call him that?”

            Castelo laughed and checked Cullen’s weapon and id before passing them back. “I know. Which is what makes it hilarious. He’s upstairs waiting for you.”

 Something felt off. Just there, at the back of Cullen’s neck. There was a tightness, a bruising sensation he couldn’t quite shake. Something was different. He felt like prey. His eye shifted to over Castelo’s shoulder. Something wasn’t right. What was it? What is it? What’s different? The statue. It’s not supposed to be there. It’s supposed to be in the basement by the security office. Why is it by the stairs?

            “Sir!” Castelo yelled to a man behind Cullen to get his attention. “You’ll have to check that bag.” He turned back to Cullen. “Seems like a big meeting today.”

            Cullen turned his head to glance at the man behind him. “Well you know I can’t comment on that. When did they move the statue?” Something moved, a slight glimmer in the air, a shadow.

            “Statue? Sir! I won’t tell you again, that bag can’t come–“ Castelo was reaching for his weapon.

            Heat exploded over his back, propelling him forward. Pain blossomed through his leg, his shoulder. The statue splintered into a thousand pieces and Cullen was thrown backward. He was flying through the air, slammed into something. A person?

Blood. Blood everywhere. Where is Castelo? Where– His hand. His hand: where’s the rest of him? Under the rubble? No. No body. My leg. Maker, my leg hurts. Move, you have to move, Cullen. Get up. When will the ringing stop? Is that my blood or someone else’s? Open your hand. Open your hand, Rutherford. Open your hand and grab your weapon. Move, damn it! Whose shadow? Gun. Grab your– Jim. Jim, I can’t move. I can’t… this damned ringing! We have to call for backup. We have to find Castelo before he bleeds out. Why aren’t you listening to me! Why can’t I hear you? Why can’t you hear me?

Maker, this pain! Jim, my leg. Jim, something is wrong with my leg. Why are you smiling? No. No, I have to stay. I’m not finished yet. They have to know. I have to tell them. Stay awake. Stay. Awake. Stay…awake. Stay…

“Sleep.” Gray eyes.

Not Jim. You’re not Jim. Jim. Castelo.

“Sleep, Cullen.”

~

            Cullen woke with a body underneath him. The smell of lavender and coffee filled his nose– Rory’s hair. He leaned his head up, found Rory’s jaw and followed it up to her closed eyes.

            “Don’t wake her,” Dorian whispered, startling Cullen.

            “I don’t have pants on,” Cullen whispered back.

            “No, we took them off to get to your prosthetic,” Bull murmured behind him.

            A hot blush spread across his cheeks when he realized her leg was still wrapped around his hip. He started to move, but Rory tightened her arms around him.

            “Bull,” Cullen tried to turn his head to find him. When Bull crouched down beside them, Cullen swallowed. “They knew me.”

            “Who knew you?” Bull searched Cullen’s wild face and wide eyes. “Breathe, Cullen.”

            He took a deep breath and met Bull’s eye. “The bomber. I think.”

            Bull’s eye widened. “What are you talking about?

            “Castelo was arguing with a man behind me. I turned to look at him and looked back at Castelo. The statue. The one that was in the basement? It was by the stairs. They moved it. I asked him, he didn’t know. There were two explosions. The one behind me wasn’t as strong. It was a distraction I think. The second, the second was in front of me, behind Castelo. The statue exploded. I flew backward and smacked into something. When I opened my eyes I was in rubble. There was smoke. I thought it was Jim over me. It wasn’t. They had gray eyes. They told me to sleep. ‘Sleep, Cullen’.”

            “Okay, okay. Breathe, Cullen.”

            “They knew me, Bull.”

            “Can you describe them?”

            Cullen shook his head. “Gray eyes. That’s all I can remember.”

            Bull nodded. “Okay. I’ll tell Leli. Cassandra is on her way with Josie. Rest.”

            “My leg–”

            “Is it hurting?” Dorian asked, gently placing his hands on Cullen’s knee.

            “I don’t want to scare her–”

            Bull smirked and stood up. “She’s not Celia, Cullen. She’s fine. Get some rest.”

            “I don’t want to sleep anymore. What happened in Orlais?”

            Bull sat down in one of the large chairs and rubbed his face. “Another bombing. Eighty dead, sixty still missing.”

            “Maker.”

            “No one has come forward to claim the attack.”

            “Is it related?”

            “We think. Leliana is on her way to Orlais.”

            Rory stirred against Cullen and trailed her hand over his back.

            “What time is it?” Cullen tried to raise himself up, but Rory refused to let go.

            “One a.m. Rory called about a half-hour after you got here.”

            “I’m crushing her.”

            “Don’t think she minds,” Bull remarked. “We should get you both in a real bed though.”

            Cullen nodded and tried to stand up again.

            “Don’t. Here, her couch lays down.” Dorian walked behind the couch and pushed the back forward into Cullen and dropped it back down again. It laid flat and Cullen took the opportunity to roll onto his side, Rory following along with him. “Bull and I will take her bed. Get more sleep. Cassandra will let herself in.”

            Cullen shifted as much as he could until Rory’s head was tucked under his chin.

            “Safe, Cullen,” she murmured against his neck.

            He shivered and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I know, darling. I know.”

Chapter Text

When he woke again he found Rory’s hazel eyes watching him sleep.

            “Good morning,” she whispered.

            “Morning…” There was a heavy arm draped over his shoulder. The arm he had over Rory’s waist was pressed against another chest. His face must have read confused because Rory laughed quietly.

            “Rylen and Lexi.”

            “Maker’s breath, did all of my friends invade?”

            “Yes. Cassandra and Josie are working in my kitchen. To be fair, Dorian and Lexi are mine.”

            “I’m sorry– Don’t you have work?”

            “I took the day.” She brushed a hair off his face and frowned.

            “I’m okay.”

            “Don’t lie to me.”

            Cullen chuckled. “I’m okay now. I just…” He swallowed and shifted his weight. “My driver was listening to the game live. I heard the explosion and then everyone screaming.”

            Rory nodded and rolled back a little so Cullen could shift his leg more. “I understand. I mean, I don’t, but I know what you mean. Have you…thought about seeing a therapist?”

            He smiled. “Maria mentioned the same thing. I have a list.”

            “Good. Who is Maria?”

            “Castelo’s wife. Castelo was a good friend. He died in the bombing.”

            “Oh, Cullen, I’m so sorry.”

            “He was a good man. I went to visit Maria yesterday. I should have done it sooner, but… I was afraid.”

            “Afraid?”

            “That she would blame me like blame me.”

            Rory threw an arm around him and pressed herself close to him. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m sure she said the same thing. It’s not your fault you survived and he didn’t.”

            Cullen hugged her back tightly and breathed in her hair.

            “Good morning!” Dorian called from the doorway of the apartment, bags in his hands.

            Rory jerked, her head slamming into the bottom of Cullen’s chin, sending his teeth clanking together.

            “Fucking Andraste, man!” Rylen huffed and rolled onto his back.

            “I’m sorry!” Rory cupped Cullen’s face and tried not to laugh. “Are you okay?”

            “Did I ruin a moment?”

            “No, just my jaw,” Cullen rolled it with a satisfying pop.

            “Does no one in this place believe in uninterrupted sleep?” Lexi snapped out and stood up, stomping her way into Rory’s bedroom.

            “She’s not a morning person,” Rory said apologetically.

            Rylen stared at the ceiling. “Doesn’t help that I’m here.”

            “She’ll move past it, Ry.” Rory reached around Cullen and pated Rylen’s shoulder. She stood up and stretched, her arms reaching over her head before she brought them down to her toes.

            “Dorian, where’s my leg?”

            “It’s here,” Rory picked his leg up from beside the coffee table and passed it to him.

            “Sorry–”

            Rory tilted her head. “For? It’s your leg, Cullen. Not a bull penis.” She started to gather her hair into a bun. “Does  anyone want coffee?”

            Rylen groaned out a yes and rolled onto his side again. Cullen was still balking at Rory’s creative use of words, leg in hand. She stood up, took a few bags from Dorian’s hands, and led him into the kitchen. Cullen did not watch her butt as she walked.

            “If you keep staring I’m going to start making you put money into a jar,” Rylen grumbled.

            “I wasn’t staring.”

            “You were staring. I don’t blame you. It’s a good ass–– Ooof!”

            Cullen drove his elbow into Rylen again for good measure. Rylen retaliated, smacking Cullen on the cheek. Cullen raised his eyebrows in shock. The two stared each other down for five whole seconds until Cullen calmly set his prosthetic back down and slammed into Rylen. The couch jerked about four inches backward as the pair tussled. Rylen grabbed Cullen’s hair and pulled while Cullen drove two fingers up and under Rylen’s ribs.

            “What is going on in here?” Cassandra rounded the doorway from the kitchen and sighed loudly at the state of the men.

            “You are adults!” Josephine scolded as she jerked Rory’s breakables off the coffee table and held them in her grasp. “Could you please try and act like it?”

            Rylen pushed on Cullen’s Jaw as Cullen pushed on Rylen’s temple. “Tell him that!”

            “He started it!”

            “Grown!”

~

            “And you said the statue had moved?”

            “Had been moved, yes.” Cullen rubbed his eyes and sighed. “Yes. It had been moved.”

            “And you said it exploded?”

            “Maker’s sake, Leliana, yes. Yes, yes, yes!” Leliana frowned and leaned back in her chair. Cullen leaned back and took a calming breath. “I’m sorry. But yes. The statue exploded.”

            “You think the bomb was inside?”

            “Or behind it. It’s a convenient cover. No one thinks to look at a statue.” He sunk further into the leather chair, placed a hand over his eyes. “Did we ever recover the security footage?”

            “No. We feared it was destroyed in the blast. Cullen, why don’t you take the day?” Leliana watched him take deep slow breaths.

            “I’m tired of taking the day.”

            Leliana scoffed, stood from her seat, and paced the room slowly.  “You look like your jaw is ready to snap. We pushed you hard today. Go rest.”

            “I can’t.” He stood up himself, winced at his leg.

            “Is your prosthetic still bothering you?”

            He nodded. “A new one is being made. I just…none of them feel right. I know that sounds ridiculous––”

            Leliana shook her head. “It doesn’t. I’ll ask around, see what I can find for you. We have to know someone. Take the day. Go clear your head.”

            He was practically ushered out of the building and into a cab. He went back to his apartment first, stood inside the living room in silence. He used to crave silence. The room was dark, cold even, the snow falling softly outside the window to pile up on his balcony. He should sweep it, but there would just be more snow. There’s always more snow. The door shut loudly behind him on the way out.

~

            “Yes, I’m here for Rory Trevelyan,” Cullen explained, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

            The older man behind the desk typed away on his keyboard and then nodded.  “Of course. I’ll page her.”

            Cullen murmured his thanks and took a seat on a bench near the entrance. He can’t remember the last time he sat this much in public. They said his prosthetic would take a while to get used to, but he didn’t think…He wasn’t sure what he thought. No matter what he did, it never seemed to fit quite right. He always felt off. Granted, he was missing his leg, but still.

            “Cullen!” Rory waved as she approached, a wide smile on her full lips. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

            “My boredom.” He stood as she approached, returning her smile.

            “Well, I’m glad.” Rory kissed his cheeks and smiled. “You look like something’s bothering you.”

            “Do you want to get lunch?” Where had that come from? “I mean if you have time.”

            “I would love to get lunch. Or would you rather have some of the strawberry jam and bread I packed? Cheese… some meat. I think Lexi might have a bottle of wine in her locker.”

            “That sounds amazing actually.”

            “Good. I know a spot. Come on.”

            He took her outstretched hand.

            The spot Rory knew of was a closed-off courtyard undergoing renovations. ‘They’re on their own lunch,’ Rory explained when she shut the door. She spread out the bread and jam, the cheese and meat on a clean cloth draped over a large crate. For chairs, she pulled over to large buckets. The wine was a Pino grigio blessedly with a twist top.

            “Let me guess,” Cullen smiled as he sliced the bread, “you made this yourself.”

            “Of course I did. You didn’t think I’d actually buy store-bought, did you? Cullen, how gauche.” She took a drink of the wine. “Don’t tell anyone I’m drinking on the job.”

            “Won’t the security cameras do that?”

            “Kent never tells on me. Not that I make this a habit.”

            “Of course not.”

            Rory smeared a piece of jam on the bread and added a slice of brie. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

            “I think I’m lonely.” Cullen blinked. “I…don’t know where that came from.”

            “You’re allowed to be lonely Cullen. I assure you it happens to the best of us.” She handed him the bread she put together. “Eat that.”

            “I’ve never really been lonely before.” He resisted a moan at the first bite. “Have you?” he asked after a pause.

            Rory smiled softly and made her own slice. “Of course, Cullen. Nearly always.”

            He wanted to hold her.

            “My father was never very affectionate. My brother’s moved away as soon as they could. Not that I blame them. And then my mother… Well. You know the story. I have Lexie, but I can’t expect her to be with me every single day. I want…” she sighed and looked up at the ceiling painted with leaves. “I want someone to come home to. You know? Someone that’s just as much mine as I am theirs.”

            Cullen swallowed and nodded, eyeing the long line of Rory’s throat. “I know the feeling. I almost had it.”

            Rory looked down and held his amber gaze. “Cullen, I–”

            “Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault. She was going to leave me way before you came along. I’m sorry if I made you think for a second that wasn’t true.” He took a drink of the wine and grimaced. “Lexie has horrible taste.”

            Rory laughed and took the bottle from him. “Lexie has cheap taste.” She took a drink and set the bottle down. “You need a dog.”

            He laughed and took another bite. “You might be right. I had thought about getting one, but Celia hates dogs. I just worry I don’t have the time for one.”

            “Well, you aren’t working as much, are you?”

            “Don’t remind me.”

            “I think a dog would help you with work and life balance.”

            “Maybe you need a dog.”

            “I need a cat.”

            “Then let’s go get one.”

            “Agreed.”

~

            “I didn’t think you were actually serious,” Rory said, looking at the row of cages before her.

            “I stopped at a bookstore that had a foster military mabari. She gave me the card for this place. I think they may have cats too…”

            “You sure you’re ready for this?” She looked up at him with a tilt of her head. “It’s a big responsibility.”

            “I am.”

            “Well then, Sir Rutherford, let’s find you a dog.”

            There were twenty-five mabari in total. Some with special needs, some young, some old. Rory and Cullen went cage by cage. The youngest dogs were ruled out. Although they were specially trained, they still proved to be too high energy for Cullen to maintain comfortable control with his leg in the state that it was.

            “We don’t have to decide today, Cullen.” Rory put a hand on his arm.

            “There.”

            “There?”

            “Hello, King.” Cullen knelt down in front of a cage. “Remember me?”

            King barked and sat patiently waiting for Cullen to open the door.

            “You know this handsome fellow?” Rory asked, kneeling next to Cullen to smile at the brown mabari. “Isn’t he too young?”

            “He’s young, but not a pup. I’ve met him before. He’s the mabari at the bookshop I stopped at. Very well mannered. Aren’t you boy?”

            King barked quietly and nosed Cullen’s fingers through the cage door.

            “Let’s fill out an application, get him home then.”

            “Let’s find you a cat.”

            “Am I ready for a cat?”

            “Yes. We have to make sure King is good with them though.” Fuck.

            “Oh?”

            “Well, they’ll have playdates. Or are you no longer going to invite me to dinner?”

            “King, darling, are you good with cats?” He barked happily. “I think that’s a yes.” Rory smiled and rubbed her fingers over his snout.

            “Think they’ll let me take him home today?”

            “I’m not sure. I’ve never adopted a dog before. But if the king and queen are two of your references, surely they can’t say no.”

            “How many people do you think put them down as a reference?”

            “How many people actually have their phone numbers?”

            Cullen paused for a moment. “That’s a good point.”

            Rory found a large older black cat with one eye, a mangled ear, and a snaggle tooth. That snored. She held it against her chest and mothered it, calling it a handsome boy, such a stinky baby. Cullen laughed and gently scratched it behind the ears.

            “This is the one?”

            “Look at that face and tell me he’s not the Creator’s gift to mankind?”

            “He’s a gift from something.”

            “You are just jealous he’s more handsome than you. Isn’t he darling? Yes, he is. Poor precious Cullen. He’s lucky he has a pretty voice. Yes, he is” Rory smiled and nuzzled the top of the cat's head. “I want this one.”

            The pair filled out their paperwork, their references were checked. ‘I’m sorry, the queen and king?’ Aurea and Alistair were more than happy to be a reference for the pair. In all, the adoption took around an hour before both left with their pets. King happily prancing beside Cullen. Titus happily curled inside Rory’s coat. Her baby would not be subjected to a cardboard cat carrier.

            “I got a dog.”

            Rory laughed and nudged him. “You got a dog. A very handsome dog at that.”

            “And you got… that.”

            Rory gasped. “You be nice to Titus! He’s the most handsome thing I have ever seen in my life and any other opinion is slander.”

            “Of course. We should hit the pet store before we head home. There’s one around the corner. We can get Titus a proper carrier and King a new leash and collar.”

            “Something regal for King. Ooooh, wait until Alistair finds out you have a dog named King.”

            “Maker, there’ll be no living with him.”

            “He’ll be so flattered. Can I be there when you tell him?”

            “I’m going to text him.”

            “Chicken.”

            King and Titus made out like bandits in the pet store. Beds, a cat tree, treats, toys, expensive food, new collars, a new leash for King. Titus stared at a beta fish for fifteen minutes so Rory left with supplies and a new fish. Named Triadis. ‘A full set,’ Rory said. It was when they were at the register that they finally had the proper question: How are we going to get this home? Two separate cabs it turned out and a lot of cursing. Getting the items up to the apartments proved to be another difficult feat. Cullen and King carried up most of it, King handling the bags and Cullen the bags of food, while Rory waited with the rest. Titus curled in her coat, purred so loud her chest vibrated.

            “What in Andraste’s name– Rory Trevelyan it’s cold out here!” Mrs. Hornigold approached wheeling her groceries behind her in her floral patterned basket.

            “I could say the same! Mrs. Hornigold, you know I’ll get your groceries for you! It’s so slick out. And it’s too cold. Your arthritis will bother you all night.” Rory stood up and took the basket from her.

            “Bah. I still have some of that salve you gave me from last time. Does wonders. Now, what is all this?”

            Rory smiled. “Cullen got a dog. and I picked up a cat. And a fish because the cat loved it.”          

            “A dog.”

            “He’s very well mannered. He’s helping Cullen carrying the bags up right now.”

            “Well, this I have to see.”

            “Rory,” Cullen opened the door and King pranced out, read to grab the last of the bags, “Lexie is passed out on your couch. Ah, Mrs. Hornigold.”

            “Oh, dear. I’ll check on her. Thank you, Cullen. Mrs. Hornigold this is King. King, Mrs. Hornigold. She lives down the hall.”

            King gave a gentle ‘boof’ and sat at her feet. Mrs. Hornigold raked her blue eyes over him and pursed her lips. The mabari waited patiently for Mrs. Hornigold to finish her assessment before he moved. Cullen waited with bated breath. The last thing he needed was for Mrs. Hall-Monitor to complain about King.

            “Do you bark?”

            King gave a quiet boof.

            “Hm. Are you loud?”

            He boofed again.

            “I suppose he can stay.”

            King wagged his stub tail happily but stayed seated.

            “I don’t have a treat for you. Come by later and I’ll feed you a cookie while Mr. Rutherford isn’t looking.”

            The quartet helped Mrs. Hornigold pull her groceries to her door. King snuck a cookie while Cullen pretended not to notice the old woman slip it to him.

            “Thank you,” Cullen said to Rory at her door.

            “For?”

            “Today. I needed the company. And the push.” Cullen patted King on the head. “Would you like to have dinner with King and me tomorrow? I was thinking of making my Mom’s braised short ribs recipe.”

            “I would love that. I could bake some bread to have with it?”

            “I’ll never turn down your cooking or baking. Six?”

            Rory smiled. “It’s a date then.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, I just meant–”

            “It’s a date then.”

Chapter Text

“What do you mean a date?” Lexie picked up another cotton applicator.

            “I said, ‘It’s a date then.' Like oh, yeah, we’ve set a date. We’ve made plans. but then he said, ‘It’s a date then’ after I started to correct myself.” Rory stared blankly at the painting before her, a one-inch by one-inch section of clean image.

            Lexi sighed. “Rory, darling, I love you. You’re my very best friend–”

            “But?”

            “Don’t you think you’re overreacting a little bit?” Lexie straightened. “That’s not the word I meant. Maybe just reading into it more than you should? Maybe he was just trying to make you feel better.”

            Rory nodded. “Maybe. Of course, I am. We’re friends. He was just trying to make me feel better.” She started on the next one-inch section. “But in case he wasn’t–”

            “Your indigo lace set from Orlais. Your navy silk slip dress under your cream-colored cashmere sweater. Pin that into a crop top though. Your knee-high brown boots and you’re golden. It’s not so out of the ordinary that it stands out, but it sends a message.”

            “I love you.”

            “I know.”

            Rory continued to clean in silence. Lexie worked across from her with slow and dedicated precision. Rory had always found Lexie’s hands artistically fascinating. Her fingers were long, like a piano player's. Her nails were kept short, but always done: oval, almond, a rare stiletto. Usually black or nude. She had scars on her knuckles from boxing as a teen, before she learned to wrap properly. Despite that, her fingers were perfectly straight, all except for her middle fingers which both bent slightly outward at the tip. Water hands, her mother called them. For a final project, Rory did studies of hands. Lexie’s was one of the studies. Lexie’s touch was always light, but that day, she gripped the applicator a little too tight, clenched her jaw.

            “What’s going on with Rylen?” Rory asked gently.

            “Nothing.”

            “Mmm.”

            “Are you going to let this go?” Lexie asked, sitting up with a huff. When Rory shook her head with a smile, she rolled her eyes. “I don’t know.”

            “You’re still mad at him about the sock?”

            “Yes!”

            Rory frowned and leaned back from her work, giving her eyes a second to rest. “Is it really about the sock?”

            “Oh, shut up.”

            “Lexie, darling, I love you. You’re my very best friend.”

            “Don’t throw my words back at me.”

            “I know you’re scared, but…Rylen is a genuine person. I know you’ve had bad relationships. I was there for most of them. I can’t imagine how scared you must be. How hard it must be to put your trust in another person.” Lexie swallowed and crossed her arms. “But, I’m worried you’re going to let something really good slip. Rylen isn’t pushing you. That’s the amazing thing. He forgot a sock, Lexie. He wasn’t staking his claim or trying to push you.’

            “I’m overreacting.”

            “I didn’t say that. You’re reacting. That’s all. Your reactions are valid, but don’t let them control you. Rylen isn’t going to shame you for having a reaction.”

            “How’d you know I’m embarrassed?”

            “Best friends, Lex. I know you.”

            “I just…That fucking sock. I like my life.”

            “I know.”

            “And I don’t want to change it for some guy to come in and fuck it all up.”

            “Understandable.”

            “I saw that sock beside my couch and I just… saw a house and three kids and me being miserable at home––”

            “I think we both know Rylen would be the one staying home with the kids,” Rory laughed. “That man would love being a stay-at-home dad.”

            Lexi smiled and leaned away from her work again. “You know, I think he would too.”

            “Call him. Have him pick you up from work and go out to eat.”

            “If he’ll even take my call.”

            “He will. Lexie, that man has been in love with you since you first insulted him.”

            “I’m scared.”

            “I know. But everything I know about Rylen, tells me that he isn’t going to hurt you.”

            Lexie sighed and pulled her phone out. “Pick me up and dinner. Pick me up and dinner.”

            “Hack’s.”

            “Yes. Hack’s is good. Casual. Loud.”

            While Lexi was typing away at her own phone, Rory’s vibrated loudly on the table.

            Cullen Rutherford: Let me pick you up from work tonight.

            Still nervous about me taking the subway?

            Yes, but that’s not why I’m asking.

            Well, why are you asking?

            It’s a surprise before dinner. Can you get off early?

            Rory stared at her phone for a few minutes. Why was she nervous? She and Cullen were friends. For Maker’s sake, he was holding her on her couch not six days ago. She could take off work early…she was the boss and she had the time.

            Alright, pick me up in an hour. If this is a trap, Lexie will eat you alive.

            “We have an emergency.”

            Lexie looked up from her phone. “What happened?”

            “He’s picking me up in an hour. He wants to take me somewhere that’s a surprise. I can’t go in this!”

            “I’ll call Dorian. You… go do something with your hair.”

            Rory’s thick hair had fallen into disarray over the course of the day. She hadn’t washed it in four days and it desperately needed a moisturizing treatment. While Rory rushed off to the bathroom to fix her hair and retouch her makeup, Dorian fled to her apartment.

            “If it’s not a date why are you so nervous?” Rory asked her reflection. “Hm? You’re friends. That’s all. Friends. He just got out of his relationship with Celia, he’s not ready to get back into one–– What am I saying. He’s not getting into a relationship with you, because you’re just friends!”

            “You have got to calm down.” Lexie leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom. “If you fuck, you fuck. If you don’t, you don’t. Rory, you haven’t even kissed yet.”

            “We almost did!”

            “You like him.”

            Rory dropped her hands from her hair. “Oh, Maker’s ass, I like him.”

~

            “Cullen, I am freaking out.” Rylen pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and sunk lower into Cullen’s couch.

            “You’re freaking out! I’m picking Rory up in an hour and we’re going on a date, Rylen. You’re freaking out?”

            “Only one of us can have emotions at the same time!”

            King sat between their legs and huffed dramatically.

            “Lexie is going to forgive you.”

            “What if she doesn’t? Mate, I fucked up. I knew she had a hard time with relationships and I left my damn sock.”

            “How did you not notice you were only wearing one sock?”

            “There was an emergency at work! I had to bolt.”

            “What if this is too soon? Andraste’s tits, Rylen, I just got out of a relationship. A serious one!”

            “On your end,” Rylen interjected with a laugh.

            “And now…I mean it was her idea, I think. She said it’s a date and then I said it’s a date…”

            “You’re overthinking.”

            “A date, Rylen.”

            “Mate, it doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be.”

            Cullen slunk further down and scratched King behind his ears. “What do you think?” King barked quietly and dropped his chin onto Cullen’s knee. “Lexie will forgive you. She likes you.”

            “What if she doesn’t? Cullen, I really do love her.”

            “I know you do.”

            “And you like Rory.”

            He sighed.

            Cullen resisted the urge to get out of the car and pace when he pulled up to the museum steps. He sent Rory a quick text letting her know he was out front (in a no parking zone, but if any cop asked, he’d just show him his credentials and that should be the end of it). It was fine. It was fine. She was going to love where he was taking her, and it was fine. Was he even ready for a date? Should he have gotten flowers? He should have gotten flowers. Maker, did he even know her favorite flowers? She said once, didn’t she? She always smelled like lavender, maybe that was her favorite? He should have gotten some before he– A knock on the passenger side window startled him out of his spiral.

            Rory smiled brightly at Cullen and waved.

            “Maker!” He unlocked his doors then leaned over to open the passenger side. “I’m so sorry, I should have opened the door.”

            “Don’t worry about it! You looked deep in thought.” She slid into the seat and immediately turned the warmer on. “Am I dressed okay?”

            “I’ve got an extra coat and rubber boots in the trunk.”

            “Am I going to need them?”

            “Oh, definitely.”

            Rory hummed and leaned back in her seat. Cullen waited for her to ask him if he was okay to drive, he waited until they were all the way out of the city, and still, she said nothing about it. He smiled a little to himself and relaxed in his seat.

            “Are you warm enough?”

            “I am. How’s it feel to drive again?”

            “Fantastic,” he laughed. “I bought this car a year ago and haven’t been able to drive it out of the city much. Work… It kind of took over my life.”

            “Have you thought about doing something different?”

            “To be honest, I’m not sure what else I’m good for. It’s not just about the leg,” he clarified. “I just…haven’t been able to devote time to anything else. All I’ve known is the military and now…”

            “Security,” Rory finished with a smile.

            “Exactly. What would I do?”

            “What are you passionate about?”

            Cullen thought for a moment. “Beer.”

            Rory laughed.

            “Well! I love learning how it’s made, all about the different IPA’s. It’s fascinating.”

            “Well, maybe you should get into the business. I’m sure Hack would buy whatever you made. I just…Speaking as a friend, Cullen, I don’t think you’re happy.”

             “I’m happy sometimes.”

            “Is that enough?”

            They drove in silence the rest of the way, Cullen mulling her question over and over again. Was it enough? When was the last time he was truly happy? Before Kirkwall, definitely. Maker, that was fifteen years ago. He had moments, but they were always fleeting. An iron ball dropped in his stomach when he thought about his engagement to Celia. Maker, was he just using her for his own gains? No. No, he loved her. He really should get back to that therapist.

            “Maker, Cullen, where are you taking me?”

            “We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

            “If you’re going to murder me, please just make it quick. But keep in mind Lexie, Aurea, and Dorian will find you.”

            “Aurea scares me the most out of all of them.”

            “As she should.”

            Rory watched him drive out of the corner of her eye the rest of the way. He looked at ease behind the wheel, a slight smile on the corner of his lips. His fingers drummed to the beat on the steering wheel. He actually sang a bit as well. His voice was surprisingly sweet, clear. She smiled along with him and turned her head to look out the window as the city faded from view. She wanted to hold his hand, to feel it in hers. When he turned towards the coast, Rory sat up.

            “I figured you had never been to the coast in the winter. Was I wrong?”

            “No, no you weren’t wrong. I’ve seen pictures, but I never…I don’t know, I never wanted to come alone. Lexie would have come, mind you, but she wouldn’t have enjoyed it.”

            The rocky beach was freezing. Cullen told Rory to wait in the car for a moment before he got in the trunk and got the boots out. She looked out the window, watched the steel gray waves glide into the rocks.  

            “It doesn’t freeze,” she said when Cullen opened her door.

            “It does, but only when it’s much, much colder than this. I’ll bring you back then so you can see.” He turned her legs towards him, unzipped a boot. “I’ll hurry,” he assured her as he pulled her boot off and slipped a thicker wool sock over her own. “We won’t stay long, can’t have you freezing.”

            Rory felt the heat of his hand on the back of her knee and felt a blush rise to her cheeks. Like a damn school girl. “Thank you. Had someone told me where we were going, I would have had Dorian bring me better clothes.”

            “I wanted it to be a surprise. Which is why I brought backups. Other foot, Trevelyan.”

            When she was sufficiently bundled up in a coat and scarf that smelled like Cullen, he pulled her from the car. She grabbed onto his hand when they hit the rocks.

            “I won’t let you fall, Rory.”

            “I have no doubts, Cullen. But I will take you with me.”

            “I have no doubts, Rory,” he laughed.

            Cullen dared not take her more than four feet from the water.

            “Oh!” She dove forward and felt Cullen grab for her.

            “Maker’s breath woman!”

“Look!” She felt his hands at her hips yanking her back towards him. “It’s sea glass!” She grabbed a large piece of light blue glass and held it up to the light. “I’ve never found a piece before!”

Cullen looked at the piece she held up and smiled. “Next time could you warn me? I thought you were going to pitch headfirst.”

“Cullen.”

“The glass is beautiful, Rory.”

She slipped it into her pocket and smiled. “Do you think there’s more?”

“There usually is.”

He kept an eye on her, a hand on the back of her coat just in case. She practically danced across the rocks, picking up pieces of glass and shell as she went. Each one she held out for him to look at, asking his opinion, and on occasion, throwing pieces back that needed more time.

“You know I got seasick on the way over from Kirkwall? The way there as well.” He loved the sea, but… from a distance and not on a boat.

“Did you really?”

“Mm. The second time I had Cassandra with me, thank the Maker. If it weren’t for her I’m not sure where I’d be. Likely pitched overboard by my cabinmate.” He picked up a large pale green piece and held it out to her. “For you.”

            “Oh, I love this color. It reminds me of Lexie’s eyes. If she and Rylen don’t get it together.”

            Cullen laughed. “Maker, I know. Rylen is beating himself up over what happened.”

            “So is Lexie! Maybe they’ll make up to––” Rory gasped and pitched to the side, her hands stretched out.

            Cullen surged forward, caught her at the elbow, and spun her back around into his chest. “Maker, are you alright?” She nodded against him but made no move to pull back. “Rory?”

            “My nose is cold and your chest is warm.”

            He laughed and pulled his coat around her. “Let’s get you home then and food in your belly.”

            “But I’m having fun!”

            “I’ll bring you back when it’s warmer. I can’t have you getting sick.”

            “Promise?”

            “Absolutely.”

~

            By the time the two finished cooking in Cullen’s small kitchen, the apartment smelled of Cullen’s home. King sat by the counter and watched the two of them move around each other. Cullen occasionally held out a spoon for Rory to taste from. Soft music flowed from the tv in the living room and flooded the kitchen. They sat and ate and drank and sat more and drank more and ate more. Rory moaned softly at each bite of rib she took.

            “Make this for me more often.”

            “Make me bread more often.”

            “Anything you want, Cullen.”

            You. He stopped the thought before it started, stomping it down until it was a mangled mess. King rested his head on Rory’s thigh and whined for the last bite, which she gave him with little complaint. They moved to the couch, Cullen grabbing the second bottle of wine on his way. King sat next to Rory, draping his upper body across her legs and resting his paws on Cullen’s.

            “You fed me too much,” Rory complained. “Now I’ll never be able to leave your couch. Who will feed Titus and Triadus?”

            “Mrs. Hornigold.”

Rory hummed and leaned into Cullen’s side. “Thank you for today. It was wonderful.”

“I’m glad. You got quite a lot of sea glass. What are you planning on doing with it all?”

“I have an antique jelly jar from Orlais I think I’ll put the smaller pieces in.”

Cullen hummed and didn’t stop himself from wrapping an arm around her. Didn’t stop himself from playing with her hair.

“Feels nice.”

“Good.”

Rory grew quiet, watched the black and white movie playing on the tv. His fingers carded through her hair, nails scrapped gently through her scalp. She hoped he couldn’t feel the cold chill that ran through her. She was almost asleep in his arms when her phone rang, startling the trio. Cullen let her move, though he didn’t want to.

“It’s my father.”

“Should you answer?” he asked cautiously.

“I don’t know. He never calls.” After a moment’s consideration, she answered the phone. Cullen watched her face, noticed the lines between her brows get deeper, her eyes growing more panicked. “I understand.” She hung up, let the phone sit in her lap.

“Rory?”

“My brother…” she turned to look at him. “I have to go home.”

Chapter Text

King sat between Cullen’s feet and whined pitifully.

“I know, boy.” He scratched beside his ears and turned to watch Rory look out the cab window.

She’d said nothing since they got off the plane. Maker, she’d said nothing since they even got on the plane. The most he could work out of her was that her brother was ill. Or had been hurt. He reached across the seat and took her hand in his. She didn’t squeeze his hand back, but she also didn’t move it away. That was a good sign. Hercina sprawled out around them and it was hard not to admire its beauty. Leliana was understanding, Cassandra practically begged him to take even more time off than he asked for. Josephine arranged their tickets and their fare.

“We’re almost there,” she whispered. “Address my father first. Lord Trevelyan and Lord Trevelyan only. Let him have the strongest handshake, or we will never hear the end of it. Wait until we leave to break his hand if you must. You must call me Lady Trevelyan because we are not married. My brothers and sister-in-law, you must also–”

            “Rory,” Cullen took her chin in his free hand and turned her to look at him, “everything will be alright. I can behave.”

            She looked into his eyes for a few moments before she nodded. “King, darling, I’m sorry, but my father… well he doesn’t like dogs. Try and–”

            King leaned over and nudged her knee and gave a quiet ‘boof’.

            “You didn’t have to come with me,” she whispered quietly.

            “I know.”

            “I…I’m very glad you did, Cullen.” As soon as the cab stopped in the drive she dropped his hand and slid gracefully out of the car.

            “Here we go, boy. Best Ferelden behavior.” King burped loudly. “Glad you have that out of your system.” Cullen pulled himself out of the cab, King lumbering behind him.

            Rory glanced around the driveway lined with cypress trees. Her initials, as well as her mother’s, are carved into the fifth tree on the left of the house. She turned towards the ocean, scanned the shoreline when she screamed. “Lizbet!” She ran across the gravel and threw herself into the arms of a raven-haired woman around seven inches taller.

            “Rory! Oh! Oh, thank the Maker.”

            Cullen watched as a man who looked almost like Dorian ran towards them and wrapped both women in his arms. King watched skeptically but made no move to leave Cullen’s side. He watched Rory embrace her cousins and gave them as much space as they needed. He was only drawn away when three butlers came out of the very large house and began to take their luggage. He murmured his thanks and slowly made his way towards Rory.

            “Ah, this must be Cullen. Dorian told us you’d be coming. I’m Rumi, his cousin.”

Rumi made no move to leave the women, Cullen didn’t blame him. He caught Rory’s sniff, and before he could stop him, King was pressing his nose into her hip and whining loudly.

“I’m alright, King. I’m alright.” She pulled away from her cousin and patted his head. “Lizbet, Rumi, this is King and Cullen Rutherford.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Cullen. I hear from Dorian you’ve been looking after Rory here.” Rum smiled and finally reached out his hand to shake Cullen’s.

“It’s more the other way around. I’m lucky to know her.”

“Are Antony and Eliot here?”

“Yes, they’re waiting inside for you.” Lizbet lowered her voice, “Your father was just expecting you.”

“He can take his anger out on me later. Rumi, would you show Cullen–”

“Respectfully, Lady Trevelyan, I’m not leaving your side.”

Lizbet smiled and started leading them both across the gravel and into the large stucco and stone house. “I like him already.”

The Trevelyan manor was vast. Cullen desperately hoped they had maps or he would be lost before nightfall. When they entered a large portrait of the Trevelyan family, about six feet tall, greeted them. Rory was down in front with a boy who could have been her twin. There were two large staircases on either side of the room that led to a second-floor balcony and what looked like three hallways in a T shape. A crystal chandelier hung delicately in the center of the room and of a coffee table between two large red sofas. He should have listened to Josephine when she was lecturing him on propriety.

“Rory!” A man taller than Cullen rushed into the room and swooped Rory off her feet and into his arms. “Maker’s breath, you’re home. I’m going to have to tell Liam to die more often if it means getting you back here.”

“He’s dead?!” Rory screamed and pushed away from him.

“For fuck’s sake, Eliot.” Lizbet glared at him and looked like she was likely to hit him. “He’s not dead, Rory.”

Rory slapped Eliot multiple times on the head and chest before he finally put her down. She continued her assault though, cursing in Orlesian. Eliot raised his hand to slap her back and King snarled before snapping his jaws.

“King,” Cullen snapped harshly using his military tone.

“The dog says to back off,” Rory said with another slap to his shoulder.

            “You’re my little sister. It’s my Maker divine right to beat you up.”

“Eliot.”

“Who’s this?” He looked Cullen up and down skeptically with brown eyes.

“This is my…Cullen. This is Cullen.”

“Your Cullen?”

“Eliot, for fuck’s sake!”

It was the first time Cullen had ever heard her scream. King barked loudly at Eliot and stood between the pair, his hackles raised and teeth bared. Cullen stepped up beside them, put his hand on Rory’s tense back, and waited.

“Might we take this into a separate room,” he suggested.

Rory moved first, pushing past her brother and taking Cullen by the hand. King followed behind them but not before giving one last warning bark at Eliot.

“Is he dying?”

“Father doesn’t think so.” Eliot shut the door behind them.

The room was large, circular in shape with warm wood lining the walls, a large fireplace on the north wall, and two doors at the west and south. The east side held an open archway that opened up into a rather long hallway. There were two deep red sofas and large leather chairs centered around the fireplace, with a bear rug between them.

“Eliot.”

“I don’t know, Rory. He… he’s very tired. We were hoping–”

“Father was hoping I could talk him into living.”

“Rory, you’re twins”

Cullen blinked in surprise.

“We haven’t spoken–”

“You haven’t spoken to any of us, Rory!”

King growled lowly.

“Do you blame me, Eliot?”

“We all lost Mom–”

“Either you tell me what’s happening with Liam, Eliot, or I’m leaving.”

“Maker, I’m gone for all of ten minutes and the two of you are at each other’s throats.” A brunet who could only be Antony walked in from a door on the right side of the room. He pulled Rory into a gentle hug. “Hello, Roar.”

“Antony.” She patted his back gently.

Eliot dropped himself into a chair and crossed his legs and Cullen took the opportunity to quickly survey him. His eyes were a dark brown instead of the striking blue that Rory and Liam had. He was lithe, shabbily dressed for a man of his station. There were holes in the sleeves of his sweater, snags, and rips along the hem. Cullen didn’t like him. His loafers were scratched and scuffed, cracked along the heel. King liked him less.

“Liam’s ready, Rory,” Antony said. “He told Father to call you.”

“Where is he?”

“Upstairs in his room. We were hoping you would talk–” Eliot piped up again.

“You expect me to tell Father?”

“No. I will do that. I have medical power of attorney for Liam. I want you to talk to Liam, find out for sure if he’s… well if he’s really ready.” Antony let his gaze trail over Cullen. “Who is this?”

“Her Cullen.” Eliot smirked.

“Come off it, El.” Rory looked down a hall. “Cullen––”

“King and I can take a walk down to the beach. The weather is nice.”

“Fereldans,” Eliot sighed. “It’s freezing out.”

“Free Marchers,” Cullen sighed back.

Antony smirked and placed himself on the couch, leaned against the arm, and watched.

“Would you like to meet Liam?” Rory asked, interrupting the staring match.

“I…Yes, R- Lady Trevelyan, I think I would.”

They walked in silence down the hallway that turned out to be filled with stuffed animal heads. Rory grimaced, whispered how she hated this hallway. King stuck close to Cullen’s leg.

“I never used to come down it as a kid. I thought the animals would come alive and eat me or something.”

“I didn’t know you had a twin.”

“I’m sorry. I…We don’t really talk. Not since I left.” She went around a rounded corner and started to climb a set of stairs. “Are you alright with the stairs? Your leg isn’t hurting?”

“It’s fine, darling. Can I ask why you left?”

“Not in this house. I promise I’ll explain, just… not here.”

Cullen nodded and began taking the closed-in stairs behind her. They curved up and around and he was thankful for Rory’s slow pace. The stairs were some kind of stone and had carvings of animals on the risers. He wondered if this were part of the tower he saw outside the house. He counted at least four floors to the home, but he hoped it was just an illusion. Her Cullen. He beat the thought back down again. Finally, Rory turned off into the opening of another hallway. This one lined with blue velvet with gold painted stars that even curved over the ceiling.

“Maker,” Cullen whispered.

Rory smiled and took his hand again. “My mother’s doing. She wanted her children surrounded by the stars.”

“So this is your wing,” he joked.

“Yes, actually.” Rory smiled and elbowed him. “Mom hated it. She wanted to be near us, but Father insisted on it.”

She stopped outside of a large wooden door with stained glass above it. Her hand hesitated over the brass knob. Cullen squeezed her hand gently. She took a breath and slowly opened the heavy door inward. She was prepared for the worst, expected him to be on his deathbed. Instead, what she found was her twin sitting up in bed, playing video games.

“Liam?”

“Roar!” He tossed the controller down. “And a puppy! Come here, boy! Come here! Let uncle Liam have a look at you.”

King bounded over happily, then paused to sniff the air. He eyed Liam before very carefully lumbering up into the bed to sit next to him.

“King,” Cullen warned.

“Oh, he’s alright! Oh my, look at this distinguished gentleman,” Liam cooed. “Aren’t you just the most handsome mabari I’ve ever seen? Of course, you are. Look at those cheeks.”

Cullen smirked, remembering Rory with Titus.

“Liam, what the hell is going on?”

“You tell me! You come to visit and you don’t even give me a warning beforehand? I would have showered you know.”

Cullen eyed him subtly: pale skin that looked nearly paper-thin, short-cropped hair, almost painfully thin, deep circles under his eyes. There was an IV pole in the corner, as well as a few other medical supplies. And based on King’s reaction, Liam was still sick.

“And who’s this other distinguished gentleman?”

“Cullen Rutherford, ser.”

“For the love of the Maker, please just call me Liam.”

“I’m afraid your sister would kill me if I did.”

Rory stood watching him, confusion etched on her features. Liam was fine. He looked amazing even. “Father and our brother’s told me… those lying bastards!” she cried.

Cullen winced and moved out of the way of her flailing arms as she continued to rant and curse. King whined and laid down, rested his head on Liam’s thigh pitifully.

“Oh, I know, boy. She’s always had the worst temper. Don’t let her posh exterior fool you. She once threw rotten fruit at the gardener’s son for calling me a…well I don’t quite remember what he called me, but it wasn’t nice!” Liam never took his eyes off King. “I’ve always wanted a dog. Yes. Yes, I have. And aren’t you just perfect?”

“He’s a retired military mabari. I adopted him just a few days ago.”

“He’s wonderful. You’re a lucky man. Rory, are you finished yet?”

“No!”

“Well, would you hurry up? I would very much like a hug from my sister.”

~

            Rory sat next to Liam and let him lean against her. King still rested at his legs, occasionally licking his fingers. Cullen took a seat in a corner chair, watched the three of them.

            “So, you’re alright.”

            “Peachy. Finished my treatments and everything. I still have to go back every six months for a checkup, but I’m free. Well, not really, because I’m still here, but.”

            Rory smiled and dropped her head back against the large carved wooden headboard. “I’m going to wring our brother’s necks like chickens, Liam.” She shouldn’t be surprised, and yet there she is. Surprised.

            “The real question is what do they have planned for you that they had to get you back here?”

            “Oh, be honest, it’s not their plan.”

            Liam hummed and eyed Cullen again. “So, you brought a boy home with you. Er, a man. A man-boy? A boy-man?”

            “Man,” Cullen clarified with an amused smile.

            “Of course. A very fit man. I mean, look at you. What are you, 6’2”?”

            “Yes, actually.”

            “Maker. I would give my left testicle to be 6’2”.”

            “Ugh, Liam for Maker’s sake.”

            “Well, I would.”

            Cullen laughed and then promptly turned it into a cough when Rory shot him a look. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Plane rides are very uncomfortable.”

            “Knees in the seat?”

            “The entire way. Don’t even think about using the bathroom.”

            “But I bet it does make it harder for Roar to yell at you.” Liam smiled and pinched Rory’s side lightly.

            “You know, it actually does not. I’m certain she would get a step stool to yell at me if she had to.”

            Liam laughed and his eyes crinkled at the outer corners. “You know she did that once. Only it was a chair.”

            “Maker, please don’t tell him any stories,” Rory groaned.

            “A chair?” Cullen smirked at Rory.

            “Yes, well. Eliot gets to me more than anyone else. And he’s 6’7” for Maker’s sake!” She shot daggers at Cullen who laughed but smiled nonetheless. “I need to go talk with Father,” she finally whispered.

            Liam sighed. “Yes, probably. I hear a firing squad is a nice way to go actually.”

            “It isn’t,” Cullen said.

            “I’m not going to ask how you know that.” Rory kissed Liam’s temple before she stood up. “I’m afraid Cullen and King must come back with me.”

            “Promise you’ll bring the handsome fellow to see me more.”

            “I can make some time.” Cullen smiled and motioned for King to move off the bed.

            “Oh, I like him. Handsome and funny.”

            Rory led Cullen through the maze of hallways and back. How anyone lived in these giant homes was beyond him. Rory fumed next to him. Her jaw was clenched so tight he worried she would crack her teeth. Her father’s office sat at the back of the house, nestled between the library and a small chantry. Rory stood outside the doors and took a deep breath.

            “King, darling, you should wait here, okay? Cullen will come to get you shortly.”

            King sat obediently next to the door and waited. He didn’t look too pleased with the situation, but he listened all the same. Rory turned to Cullen next, looked him over before straightening his shirt.

            “Rory.”

            “It’ll be fine.”

            Cullen took her chin between his thumb and finger. “It will be fine.”

~

            Hawthorn Trevelyan was a giant. Not just figuratively. He was at least 6’7” and burley. He was the type of man who could give Bull a run for his money. He had dark red hair and a neatly kept beard. His eyes looked like Rory’s and Liam’s, save for the shade. Those were a brown so dark they almost looked black. He sat coolly behind his desk in a white button-up, the sleeves rolled to his elbows.

            “Hello, father.”

            “You bring a man to my home and don’t let him greet me first?”

            “Cullen is a good friend and I wanted to see Liam first. For some odd reason,” Rory explained, gliding forward to sit in a chair facing his desk, a subtle motion for Cullen to follow, “I was under the impression that Liam, was in fact, gravely ill and on his deathbed. Imagine my surprise, Father, when I come home and find him in near perfect health.”

            “I had to get you home.”

            “And you thought lying to me about the state of Liam’s health was the way to go?”

            “What else was I to do, Lorelai?”

            “Not make me think my brother was dying!”

            “You will watch your tone.”

            Cullen took a step forward and squared his shoulders.

            “Are you going to introduce me to the stranger in my home, or let me guess at his name?”

            “This is Cullen Rutherford of Honneleath.”

            Hawthorn made no move to shake Cullen’s hand. Cullen was almost thankful for it. Thank the Maker, Rory had the sense to have King wait outside.

            “Honneleath?”

            “A small farming town in Ferelden, Ser.”

            “Lord.”

            “No, just a farm boy.”

            Rory snapped her head up to glare at Cullen. “Perhaps you and King would like to visit the beach now, Cullen. Out the door, to the end of the hall, make a right, and then out the double doors.”

            “Yes, my Lady.” Cullen turned his back on both of them and left, shutting the door none to quiet.

            “That’s the kind of man you think is acceptable to bring home?” Hawthorn leaned back in his chair and pinned his daughter. “A farmhand?”

            Rory steeled her gaze and crossed her legs at the knee. “Cullen Rutherford is a fine man. He’s more acceptable than half the suitors you threw at me. Has your judgment clouded your eyes that you’re blind to his templar training?”

            “Templar?”

            “Yes. A rather good one from what I’m told. He works security now with Cassandra Pentaghast and Josephine Montilyet.”

            “Pentaghast?”

            “Mm. She’s quite a strong woman, Father. You wouldn’t like her.”

            He smirked a little.

            “Would you tell me why I’m home?”

            “I think it’s time you married.”

            “I beg your pardon?”

            “I let you go to that silly school, let you move away–”

            “You didn’t let me do anything.”

            “Do you really think for one second that I couldn’t have had you brought back here? Or your brother’s for that matter?”

            “Why do you insist on doing everything in your power to push me away?”

            “This is your duty to your family. Ah, Duke Demarchelier, Your Grace, come in.”

            Rory’s blood ran cold. She stood, the chair scraping on the floor, turned to see Mr. Demarchelier smile.

            “Lady Lorelai, how lovely to see you again. How’s my painting?”

            “Mr. Demarchelier? What is the meaning of this?”

            “Lorelai, you will address him as Your Grace.” Hawthorn rose and grasped Demarchelier’s hand in his. Smiled even.

            “Really, My Lord, that’s not necessary. Though I have asked you to call me, Henri, haven’t I?”

            Henri moved to kiss Rory’s cheek. She stepped back quickly, pulling her head to the side. Henri Demarchelier. Rory turned her cold gaze onto her father.

            “You will tell me what the meaning of this is, Father, or I will be leaving immediately. Which, by the way, I very well ought to do with how you’ve behaved.”

            “Your Grace has asked for your hand in marriage. I have accepted.”

            Henri reached his smooth hand forward and took hers in his grasp. They felt like silk. Rory hated it.

            “Mr. Demarchelier, if you do not remove your hands from my body, I will do so for you. I have not accepted your proposal. And I will not. Good day, Mr. Demarchelier.”

~

            Cullen took the large stick King offered and tossed it down the beach. If he was being honest, he missed this sea. The beaches were smooth sand and always warm. The salt air whipped his curly hair out of its carefully laid-back style. He watched King chase a flock of gulls before he brought the stick back again. Cullen raised his face to the sun and smiled, letting the heat warm him. Hopefully, he wouldn’t burn. He should have brought sunscreen, that would have been the appropriate–

            A body slammed into him from behind, knocking him forward a few feet. He grabbed the assailant's arm, spun, was ready to snap it when he saw Rory’s face looking up at him with tears in her eyes.

            “Rory!”

            She wrapped her arms around him when he let go, squeezed him as tight as she could.

            “I’m so sorry, Rory. I wasn’t expecting– Maker, did I hurt you? Rory, please–”

            “All I could think about was your stupid fucking hands.”

Chapter Text

“All I could think about was your stupid fucking hands.”

            Cullen scrunched his face up in confusion. “What?”

            “Your Maker damned hands, Rutherford!” She shoved him away. “Your stupid big hands!”

            King barked loudly and nudged Rory’s leg.

            “My hands? Rory, what are you talking about?”

            “He put his hands on me and I just kept thinking of you and your fucking hands!”

            Cullen’s blood ran cold. “Who put his hands on you?” He could commit murder fourteen different ways on short notice, and would not hesitate.

            “Henri! His gross soft hands that felt slimy!” She threw her arms out. “Like he had just dipped them in oil or something!”

            “Rory, who is Henri?”

            “Demarchelier!”

            “Why is he here? What do you mean he put his hands on you?” Cullen watched her pace the beach around them. She didn’t look hurt, her clothes were intact still.

            Rory laughed manically. “Oh, he’s here because my father accepted his hand in marriage for me.” She picked up a stick and threw it, King excitedly chasing after it after deciding there was no danger to his people.

            “What?”

            “He put his hands on me and all I could think about was you!” She pushed at him again. Rory blinked her pale lids, clarity coming over her. “Oh, Maker, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t push you–” She put her hands on his chest, patted him like a child.

            “Rory, you can break my nose if it gets you to calm down and talk to me. Did he hurt you?”

            “No.”

            “Did he force–”

            “Maker, no.”

            “Okay,” he said calmly.  “What happened?”

            Rory turned from him and looked out at the sea. “Growing up here after Mom left was like growing up in a prison. Like growing up inmates in a circle, Cullen. We couldn’t fucking breathe without father’s permission. I understand why she left, Cullen. I do. I get it. It’s the same reason I left. The same reason my brothers left. And then poor fucking Liam was stuck here–– I left him! I left him here. Just like she did.”

            He waited for her to calm down, watched the breeze whip her hair out of its braid. She looked fragile. Something he hadn’t seen on her since the night she was attacked.

            “I left when I was eighteen. I should have suspected something when he just let me leave. That there was some kind of plan swirling around. It’s common, for noblewomen to leave, get their degree, come back home, and marry someone.” She started pacing again. “That’s what’s expected of us. Except, I didn’t do that. I got my master's. And then my doctorates. Then the museum.” She threw the stick again for King. “I avoided coming home. I knew if I did I would be trapped here.”

            “If you think for one second I’m letting him keep you here,” Cullen practically snarled.

            “He knew the only way to get me back home was Liam… He’s been sick. Cancer. Father employed the best doctors and it looks like it paid off, thankfully. I’m a terrible sister.”

            “You’re not a terrible sister, Rory.” Cullen threw the stick for King again.

            “I left him,” she whispered. “I should have come back the second he was sick.”

            “You think he doesn’t understand? He’s just happy to have you home. What happened with Demarchelier?” he pressed gently.

            “He asked Father for my hand in marriage. Father said yes.”

            “He can’t make you marry him.”

            “He can if he wants to. Despite all this, I’m still in his cage.”

            Cullen watched her stare off into nothing. “Rory, you–”

            “He just took my hand. That’s all. But Maker, it was like…” She shuddered. “It was warm and slimy.”

            “And that made you think about my hands? I’ll try not to be offended,” he chuckled.

            “I’m sorry,” Rory sighed. She rubbed her hand along King’s muzzle and cheeks. “I was upset. I shouldn’t have…” Shouldn’t have what? Told him you were thinking about his hands? Thinking about him at all?

            She felt his hand on her shoulder gently turned her to face him. When she didn’t, he stepped around in front of her. He stood between her and the dark sea. His warm amber gaze lingered over her face and she tried desperately not to feel it. Heat was rising on her cheeks and not from anger this time.

            Cullen took her chin and raised her face once again. “Why were you thinking about my hands?” His mouth was running dry, his hands threatened to shake. He stepped closer to her still, felt her breath hitch. “Rory, why were you thinking of my hands?”

            She swallowed. “I…”

~

            “Well, what happened!” Lexie shouted on the other end of the phone call.

            “Nothing. Lizbet came and found us.”

            “Damn, Lizbet.”

            Rory laughed and rolled on her back in the large plush bed. “She didn’t know.”

            Maker, this fucking bed. Rory had the teenage urge to stomp down to her father’s office and declare that she was not a six-year-old anymore. The delicate pink lace curtains were still tied back to the posts with a pink velvet ribbon. The bedspread was still brilliantly white with tiny light pink bouquets of flowers. Pillows to match.

            “So, your fuckin’ father wants you to marry that racist sexist son of a bitch Demarchelier.”

            “That seems to be the plan.”

            “Rylen is on the texting Cullen. They’re planning a rescue mission.”

            “Maker.”

            “Rory, you need to go tell him how you feel.”

            “I don’t know how I feel!”

            “You were picturing his hands, Rory,” Lexie sighed dramatically.

            “He just got out of a relationship, Lex. A big one. And so what? I picture hands all the time. They’re interesting.” For a moment she had the urge to rip the bedding off. Then she saw Cullen’s hands' fisting in the sheets, gripping the bedspread and––

            “Like four months ago.”

            “Exactly! Four months is not enough time to do anything.”

            “Four months is plenty of time when your fiancé didn’t even love you.”

            “Not to mention how she treated him before she left him!” Rylen screamed in the background.

            Rory sighed and stared at the stars on her ceiling. “I feel like a teenager here again. Staring at the same Maker damned ceiling. Who paints stars on a pink ceiling?!”

            “Is Cullen staying with you?”

            “No. He’s in a completely different wing.” No doubt on purpose. There were three extra bedrooms on this side of the house. He would have easily been able to stay in either of them. “So you and Rylen made up?”

            “Nice subject change.” Rory could hear the smile in her voice. “Several times.”

            “Good for you,” she laughed. “I told you.”

            “I’m gonna fuckin’ call him. Maker damned idiot,” Rylen growled.

“You and Cullen should make up.”

            “Maker, Lex. It’s not going to happen.”

            It’s not that she hadn’t entertained the idea. Extensively. But she already lost Cullen once and she was not ready to lose him as a friend again. His relationship with Celia was terse and ended horribly, but they did love each other. Cullen especially. She helped him but that didn’t mean she was entitled to his feelings. She should probably talk to him about what happened on the beach though. “I need to go,” Rory sighed and sat up, slipped her shoes on.

            “Are you going to talk to him?”

            “Goodbye, Lexie. I love you.”

~

            “I mean Maker, Rylen, I damn near took her on that beach. I don’t know what came over me.”

            “You love her!            “

            “Love is a strong word, Rylen. I just got out of my relationship with Celia. I don’t… I don’t know if I’m ready for serious and that’s what Rory deserves.” He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, fingers rubbing King’s ear. “I mean it, if we aren’t back in two days, call The Mothers.”

            “Maker, could you picture Leliana and Cassandra storming the castle?” The Starkie laughed which turned into a giggle.

            “All respect to them, but I’m more afraid of Josie.”

            Three knocks broke through the silence of the house. Cullen turned his head towards his door, waited, and the knocks came again. “Ry, I have to go. I’ll call you later.” He hung up the phone and stood up, adjusted his pants on his hips as he went. “Just a moment.” King followed him to the door, sticking close by his legs. Cullen whispered words of praise and grazed the space between King’s ears with his fingertips. The large heavy wood door swung open with a near-silent creak. “Oh,” Cullen blinked in surprise, “Lord Trevelyan. Can I help you with something?”

            Antony smiled. “You can call me Antony while my sister isn’t around. I know she likely gave you a lecture. Might I come in?”

            Cullen stood to the side and gestured with his arm. Antony had changed since this afternoon. Instead of slacks, a white button-up, and a navy blazer over the top of it, he donned a pair of jeans and a pristine-looking emerald green sweater. Cullen hadn’t noticed before, during the staring contest with Eliot, which Cullen won, but Antony’s hair was long, shoulder-length, and thick with a slight wave to it. Perhaps he had it tied up then. His features were a little more delicate than his father’s but more angular than Rory’s. He would be attractive if not for his air of snob.

            “What can I do for you, Antony?”

            Antony walked to the leather couch in front of the windows and sat down, smiled curiously at King. “He’s a beautiful dog, isn’t he? Liam hasn’t shut up about him.”

            King danced his front paws proudly but made no move to leave Cullen’s side. Apparently, he had his reservations as well.

            “Cullen Rutherford, the Lion of Honneleath. Ex-templar now Ferelden National Security Agency.” Antony looked him over. “Kirkwall, Kinloch. Nasty business.”

            “And also classified.” Cullen felt heat rising. Seldom was his past brought up as a pleasant conversation.

            “I’m a Lord, Cullen. I have my ways.” Antony crossed his legs and draped an arm over the back of the couch. The dark sea moved steadily behind him in the moonlight.

            “You have your questions then.”

            “Why did you flee Kirkwall? Afraid of the repercussions?”

            Cullen gritted his teeth. “Kirkwall was a disaster, but not entirely my fault. There were dozens of mistakes made, only a few by me. Listening to my superior officer was one of them. I’ve done my best to atone for the mistakes I made in my youth.”

            “And you returned to Denerim, not back to your family?”

            “Cassandra asked me to come work with them. I agreed.” Cullen watched Antony and sighed when he waited for him to continue. “Honneleath held nothing for me other than family. I needed more to recover.”

            Antony gave a nod, eyed Cullen’s leg. “What are your intentions with my sister?”

            Cullen balked. “I beg pardon?” Was that his strategy? Bringing up his past to throw him off guard?

            “No need to beg. I’m more merciful than my father.” It was said as a joke, meant as a joke, but there was an underlying threat that Cullen didn’t miss. “I just want to know what you want with my sister.”

            Cullen tried to relax his shoulders, tried to mimic Antony’s loose posture, but failed. “She’s a friend. A good friend that has helped me through some difficult times.”

            “Just a friend.” Antony rose his well-groomed eyebrow.

            “My fiancé just left me four months ago, I’m not looking for anything right now.” He squashed the image of Rory in his bed. “I deeply value your sister’s friendship.”

            “Your fiancé left you?”

            “Yes. She was in love with someone else. And when I lost my leg, it was the final nail in the coffin. Had you done proper research, you would likely know that.”

            “Damn.”

            “I don’t blame her–”

            “Well, you should,” Antony smirked. “But I meant, damn, I would rather my sister marry you than Henri Demarchelier.”

~

            “Well, this is a surprise.” Liam smiled and ushered Rory in. “Are you alright? You look worse than I do.”

            “Oh, you’re so funny.” Rory playfully elbowed him and walked around his room. It was rather bare, none of his rocks or posters or figurines. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your room this…uncluttered before.”

            “Most of my stuff is still in storage. I told Father I didn’t want it moved in if I was just going to move back out again. That was two years ago.” Liam dropped onto a chair in front of the fireplace across from his bed. “That was probably a mistake.”

            “You’re better now though.” Rory sat in the chair opposite him. “You could move back out. Get a life away from here.”

            “Come on, Roar. You know we can never have a life away from here.” He frowned deeply. “El told me about Demarchelier.” He cast his blue eyes on her with pity and understanding. Their lives had been planned out from their birth. There was no deviation.

            Rory curled her feet up under her and looked away into the fire. “I said no. And I’ve been informed that Cullen and Rylen, his best friend, are planning a rescue mission. I’m not worried,” she added, sounding unconvinced.

            “I am.”

            Rory looked back in surprise. “Why?”

            “Because you’re my sister. And I know how determined Father is. Tell me about this Cullen,” he swiftly and decidedly changed the subject.

            “He’s a good friend. His fiancé left him four months ago after he lost his leg. I’ve been helping him. Had been. We had a fight, but he apologized. Now we’re…friends again.” She smiled. “He’s a very good friend. I enjoy his company.”

            “He seems…” Liam puffed out his thin chest and glared.

            Rory threw her head back and laughed softly. “You look like that rooster Mom rescued from the butcher.”

            “Mr. Fancypants! I refuse to be offended. He was a handsome chicken.”

            “He was missing feathers.”

            “It added to his character!”

            Rory laughed and relaxed further into the chair. The fire crackled loudly and outside an owl sounded off. Somewhere a mouse was about to become dinner. The house was otherwise silent like it always had been. Well, that’s not true. Like it had been after her mother left. Before, there was always noise, always music, laughter, conversation. How her mother managed to fall in love with her father was beyond Rory. Had it been love? Or a marriage of alliance?

            “Come home with me,” Rory finally said, startling Liam out of a half-sleep.

            “What?”

            “Come home with me. I’ll give up my office and make it a second bedroom. Just until you’re strong enough to move out on your own.” Rory sat up and took Liam’s hand in hers. “I don’t want to leave you again.”

            “You had to, Rory. I knew that. I left not too long after you did. I came back because I was dying. Not because I wanted to.” He squeezed her hand tightly. “And now you have to leave again. I can’t have you marry someone like Henri Demarchelier. I refuse to have that man as a brother.”

            “I refuse to have him as a husband.” She shivered. “He’s an asshole of a man.”

            “I missed you cursing. It sounds so polite.”

            “Oh, shut up.”

            “It does! Like a dove farting.”

            “What!”

            “Do doves even fart?”

            Rory dropped his hand and laughed. “I don’t know, Liam. I’ve never thought about it.”

            “You should marry Cullen,” he said suddenly as if the idea just came to him. “And then I can have King as a nephew.”

            “Oh, not you too. And if you come home with me, you can see King all the time.”

            “Lexie?”
            “Lexie. He just got out of a relationship. Who knows if I’d even want to marry him.”

            “Well. you have to do something, or you’ll wind up back here under Father’s thumb or Demarchelier’s.”
            “I don’t want to leave you again.” There was a pain of guilt in her chest. A pain of ten years gone. “I missed you. All of you. Eliot less so,” she added with a smile.

            “We’re still right here, Rory.”

            “Right where I left you.”

~

            Cullen’s conversation with Antony swirled around his head for a good two hours before he finally managed to lay down and sleep. The airplane food rolled in his stomach. King settled at his back, his loud snoring was becoming something Cullen was growing used to rather quickly. At the very least, it was no worse than Alistair’s. Antony was a hard man to read. Almost as difficult as Leliana. The only difference was that Cullen didn’t trust him. On the one hand, he didn’t grill him as hard about his past as he could have. On the other hand, he managed to get his hands on classified information and would likely use it on him in the future.

            He awoke sometime later to the quiet whooshing noise of a door opening. He locked the main door, the only other door was to the bathroom. He waited, listened to soft bare feet tiptoeing across the wooden floor. His hands tightened into fists, his body tensed. Then he smelled it; lavender. He didn’t bother opening his eyes, just slipped an arm around Rory’s waist when she slid in beside him. Her face pressed in close to his chest and she sighed heavily. She was quiet a few moments before she stirred again.

            “Are you awake?” she whispered.

            Cullen hummed.

            Rory went quiet again, grabbed onto Cullen’s shirt softly. He splayed his hand over her back and drew her in closer, tucking her head under his chin. She breathed him in: oakmoss, elderflower. Like dark woods in the summer after a hard rain.

            “Are you okay?” His gravelly voice surprised her. “Rory?”

            She shook her head and felt him tighten his arm around her.

            “I won’t let you marry him, Rory.”

            “I know.”

            “Tell me what’s going on.” He rubbed his large hand over the soft cashmere of her cardigan. She was warm against him, all except for her cold toes which she brushed against his leg.

            She sighed and pretended she didn’t feel him shudder. “I asked Liam to come home with us. He said no. Nicely, but still no. I’m going to ask him again before I leave.” She melted further into him the longer his hand rubbed her back.

            “Maybe he’ll change his mind.”

            “Doubtful. Liam may be sweet and charming, but he’s also pigheaded.”

            “He really is your brother. Ow,” Cullen gasped when Rory pinched his neck. “You know I’m right.”

            They were quiet a few more moments. The owl hooted softly outside, nearly lost in the chorus of waves. And King’s snoring. Rory listened to Cullen’s soft breath and wondered for a moment if he were asleep. He brushed his leg against hers and he froze.

            “Cullen? Are you alright?” She pulled back a little to look at his face. “Does it hurt?”      

            “No, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

            Rory slid her hands up and cupped his face. “Cullen Stanton Rutherford. I hope you were not about to apologize for your leg touching mine.” She was met with silence. “Cullen, it doesn’t bother me.”

            “It doesn’t?”

            “No, Cullen. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest.”

            Softly, he kissed her forehead. She traced his scar with her thumb. “Cullen, about the beach. I––”

            Cullen swallowed. “Don’t worry about it. You were upset and needed a friend.” Her hands were soft on his face. Her thumb rested next to the corner of his mouth and he desperately wanted to kiss at it.

            Rory cleared her throat and moved her hands back down between their chests. “Father is throwing a dinner party tomorrow. Care to be my date?”

            “I would be honored.”

            “Thank you, Cullen.” She smiled and reached past him. “But I meant this charming fellow behind you.” King boofed very quietly and dropped his head on Cullen’s shoulder.

            Rory nestled back into Cullen’s chest and sighed. Very slowly, he placed his leg over hers.

Chapter Text

Cullen woke the next afternoon with Rory’s back pressed against his side, his arm under her head. He yawned, stretched his free arm, and turned his head to look out the window. The sun was already high in the sky, looked to be around noon, a little after. He hadn’t slept so well since…well since the last time he shared the couch with Rory. He drew his leg up, bent at the knee, and rubbed his face. He needed to shave. A warm, wet, wide tongue licked across his fingers and Cullen nearly recoiled into the wall.

            “King,” he whispered in relief, leaning over Rory to look at him, “good afternoon.”

            King yawned widely and stretched back out against Rory’s front. Across from them, on a small sideboard, was a tray of fruit, coffee, and bread. Fuck.

            “Rory?” Cullen brushed the hair back from her cheek. “Love.”

            Rory let out a quiet hum like a cat and stretched. “’S time?”

            He smiled, let out a quiet chuckle. “Around noon. Someone brought breakfast. Lunch? I’m not sure how though…”

            “Servant’s hall. Father’s clever invention. Maids and children shouldn’t be seen or heard. That’s how I got in last night.” She rolled to her back, looked up at Cullen leaning over her. “Good afternoon.”

            “Good afternoon. Do you feel better?”

            Rory was quiet for a few moments before she shook her head. “No. No, I don’t think I do.” She pulled lightly at his scruff. “I like it.”

            “You think?”

            “Mm. Makes you look less boyish.” King dropped himself across her stomach. “Oof. Good morning, handsome. Are you hungry?”

            “Boyish?” He looked insulted at the description.

            King wagged his stub tail happily.

            “Boyish.” Cullen pursed his lips.

            “Babyface.”

            “Oh, I’ll get you back for that, Trevelyan.”

            Cullen slid his arm from under Rory and sat up on the side of the bed. He stretched his foot, rolled his ankle back and forth. Stared at the place where his other leg used to be. Flexed that knee and frowned. He could almost feel that ankle roll and flex. With a sigh, he began the process of putting his leg on. He could feel the bed move behind him as Rory herself sat up and stretched.

            “What is that?”

            The way Rory sounded made his blood run cold. “My leg­–”

            Rory vaulted off the bed and stomped over towards the closet door on the other side of the room.

            “Rory?” Maker, he knew better. When she didn’t answer, he turned to get a better look at her. Hanging on the door of the closet were a tux and a dress. A white dress.

            “It’s a wedding dress,” she said with cold anger.

            Cullen finished putting his leg on and stood up. “Maybe it’s just a white dress,” he offered. “Why would they bring it here?” He walked over to her, placed a hand on her shoulder.

            “It’s a wedding dress, Cullen.” She gently touched the fabric. “They brought it here to send a message. That my father knew I was with you, and that he expects me to marry Henri. It’s a message meant for you, as well, if I know my father.”

            The dress was beautiful, but not her style. Gauzy, layers and layers of crinoline, thick heavy lace, buttons up the sleeves, a boat neck.

            “How fancy are these dinner parties exactly?” Cullen picked up a sleeve of the dress and furrowed his brow.

            “Father isn’t to be outdone.” Rory stared at the pristine white dress. That was the game her father wanted to play? Fine. So be it. She moved around Cullen to the tray of food on the sideboard. She wasn’t sure at first what she was looking for until she set eyes on the raspberries. She picked up a handful, squeezed the soft fruit in her hands. It should send a message right back. Cullen smartly stepped out of her way. She could feel his eyes on her as she smeared the tyrian purple pulp and juice down the front of the dress. The pulpy fruit fell out of her hands and plopped on the floor with a satisfying squish.

            Cullen watched her out of the corner of his eye. Rory brought her fingers to her lips and sucked the leftover juice and fruit from them. Her fingertips were already starting to stain. Without saying anything, she pulled the dress, hanger and all, from the door and marched it over to the balcony doors on the other side of the bed. She swung them open and heaved the dress over the railing, watching it float down to drop outside her father’s office terrace. She said nothing more as she left the room, Cullen standing alone in the aftermath.

~

            Three hard knocks on his door startled Cullen out of his pacing. King growled lowly and took his place beside Cullen. “Easy, boy.” Cullen braced himself and swung the door open. Eliot Trevelyan stood at the threshold in baggy gray sweatpants and a stained white t-shirt. His hair was swept up into a bun. Cullen wondered if Antony and Eliot’s long hair was a sign of comradery or rebellion.

            “Cullen.”

            “Eliot. Something you needed?”

            Eliot slid past him, more slippery than a snake, and made his way to the leftover fruit. “Eliot already. Did you take Antony’s advice and marry my sister? Or are you just no longer afraid of her?”

            Cullen bristled and slammed the door as hard as he could. But given the weight, it made a measly little shudder at impact.

            “Oh,” Eliot cooed and picked up an orange. “You’re easier to piss off than my sister. I wasn’t aware such a creature existed.”

            “What do you want, Eliot?”

            “Well, I was looking for my sister, and last I heard is she was here. In your bed. As a friend.” He winked at Cullen and took a waltz around the room. “Relax, I’m not here to grill you like Antony.”

            “Then why are you still here? You can see Rory isn’t here.”

            “You can’t let my sister marry Henri. One, the man is a terrible rugby player. I mean, awful. Couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn if it were three feet in front of him.” He started to peel the orange, dropping the peelings inches from the trashcan. “Two, he’s a serial cheater. Monogamy means nothing to the man. Which, is understandable, but don’t marry someone when you know you’re going to want to put your dick in someone else.”

            Cullen raised an eyebrow. Eliot Trevelyan was…interesting. A Maker damned asshole, but interesting. No respect for those around him, but…there was something there.

            “Three… well I just don’t like him. Now you, you piss off Father just by breathing, so naturally, I’m in love with you and would have our giant babies if I could.” He took a bite of his orange. “We’d make pretty babies I think. Giants, but pretty. Henri Demarchelier is an abscess on the ass of humanity. I would have said dick, but how do we know humanity isn’t a woman? Or it may be genderless. I don’t know But everyone has asses. So. Abscess on the ass of humanity.”

            King tilted his head to the side and whined lowly.

            “Can dogs have oranges?”

            “Yes…”

            Eliot held a piece of orange out for King and waited. Slowly, the mabari trotted over and took it from his fingers. “Wonderful manners.”

            King burped in loudly. Cullen tried not to smirk.

            Eliot chuckled and took another bite. “Don’t let Antony hear that. Oh, but you have to do it in front of Liam. He’ll crack a rib from laughing.” He stood up and walked over to Cullen’s tux hanging on the door. “Ugh. That’s aw.ful. Is that what they’re putting you in?”

            “Would appear so. I don’t intend on letting your sister marry Henri.”

            “Maker, I doubt Rory paid attention to this or she would be just as furious. Come on. You can wear one of mine. The house seamstress can take it out a little and hem it.”

            “I’m sorry?”

            “Why? It’s not your fault. Come on.”

            Cullen stood in front of the door. The only other person he was used to looking up at was Bull. Yet here he was, staring up at the middle Trevelyan. “Did you know?”

            “Know what?” Eliot sounded genuinely confused. “You have stunning eyes, has anyone ever told you that?”

            Cullen gripped Eliot by the shirt and walked him backward. “Did you know why he brought her back here?”

            Eliot sighed. “You’re hurting my neck.”

            Cullen let go, crossed his arms, waited.

            “Of course, I didn’t, Maker, man.” Eliot straightened his wrinkled shirt. “I know he wanted her home, but I wasn’t sure why. If I wanted to keep my inheritance, I had to play along. Don’t look at me like that. I’m aware that I’m a terrible brother. I am not as smart as Rory, nor am I as charming as Antony. And well, Liam is just a cute puppy.” He sighed and for a moment, looking remorseful. “If I had known, I would have at least warned her. Father’s been trying to marry her off since she was eighteen.” Eliot walked around Cullen and motioned for him to follow.

            Cullen looked at King before sighing and following after Eliot. “Is that why she left?”

            “Yes and no. Rory wanted an education. She had her goals. She managed to convince Father that she would be back, and then went all the way and got her doctorates. Which, it was stupid on his part to believe her, but good for Rory. She flew.”

~

            Rory stood in the doorway to her mother’s room. It still looked exactly how she remembered it. Sapphire blue walls with gold trim and crown molding, the ceiling had a map of the constellations painted across it. The overly plush bed was looked freshly made and fluffed. Her mother’s books lined the left wall, the right was floor-to-ceiling windows and a balcony that looked out to the sea. She was maybe six and there was a massive storm over the sea. She ran in here and climbed onto the bed, which seemed even bigger than it does, and watched the storm with her mother. Victoria held her daughter in her lap and told her stories of the sea, of mermaids and sharks, handsome sailors saved by a siren who fell in love.

            “Because, Rory, love saves us.”

            Rory felt her throat tighten.

            “Mommy loves you so much.”

            Rory slowly moved from the spot she was rooted to. She trailed her manicured nails over her mother’s dressing table. It seemed like every morning she would sit next to her mother on the velvet-covered bench and watch her put her makeup on, watch her twist her long hair into extravagant yet simple knots and buns and twists with the hairpins that Rory uses now. The makeup was gone, but there was a set of hairpins, stars, left and boxes of jewelry.  She opened a pale mother of pearl box and looked at the rings that lined the rows. Her mother loved these rings. She loved all of her jewelry. Most of it was inherited from her mother and grandmother. Rory hadn’t realized she left it.

            “I’ve been looking for you,” Cullen spoke softly behind her.

            “How did you find me?” She didn’t turn to look at him, instead, shut the lid softly.

            “King here. I think he can smell your perfume.”

            Rory turned to look at him then, smiled softly at King. “I’m sorry for my reaction this afternoon.”

            Cullen frowned and walked towards her. “Rory, you don’t have to apologize. I’d be more worried if you didn’t have a reaction. Are you alright?”

            Rory nodded and then sighed. “No. I’m angry.” She motioned for him to follow her and then opened the door to her mother’s walk-in closet. “I think Mom and I are right around the same size. She was a little smaller than me, but with a corset, I think I can squeeze into one of her dresses.”

            “That sounds painful.” Cullen eyed the rows of clothes. There were shelves of purses, shoes, two racks of gowns. There was an island in the center that likely held undergarments.

            “I’ll need help tightening the corset. Think you got it?” Rory skimmed through the racks of the clothes. “Catharine has been washing and pressing Mom’s clothes since she left. I think she hoped she would be back, but…” she shrugged.

            “You’re trying to make him angry.” Cullen pulled out a light pink gown and Rory shook her head.

            “Yes, I am. I’m going to wear her jewelry, her clothes, maybe even her perfume.” She pulled out a light purple mermaid silhouette with a sweetheart neckline. It was beautiful, but not quite the statement she wanted.

            Cullen watched her flip through the dresses. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

            “No.” She paused over a dark blue satin ball gown and pushed it back in line.

            “This one,” Cullen said as he pulled out a dress from the rack.

            “Oh, absolutely.”

            The royal blue silk was so dark it looked black until the light hit it at just the right angle. The strapless trumpet dress was well structured throughout the bodice, ruching highlighting the waist and the curve of the hip. A large slit glided up to the top of the thigh. The bodice was off the shoulder with a large deep V-neck that would reach the base of her sternum. It would be difficult to find a corset that would complement the cut, but surely her mother would have had one.

            “You have a good eye, Mr. Rutherford.” She took it from him and held it against her. “I may not even need a corset…I will need heels though. She was taller than me.” She passed the dress back to Cullen and began the search for undergarments and shoes. When she found them, the shoes miraculously fitting, she shooed Cullen away so she could get ready. “Come back when you’re dressed and you can help me tie the bodice.”

            “I talked with your brother,” he blurted out.

            Rory looked surprised for a moment and then recovered. “Which brother?”

            “Antony. And Eliot.”

            “Maker, do I want to know?”

            “I think you should. They don’t want you to marry Henri.”

            Rory scoffed. “King, would you be a dear and go get my makeup bag? It’s about this big, this tall, this wide? It has a handle and is sitting on top of the table that looks like this one.” King barked and scampered off quickly. “I wouldn’t believe what my brother’s tell you.”

            “Eliot said he didn’t know why your father wanted you home. Just that he wanted to keep his inheritance.”

            Rory paused and then smirked. “That does sound like Eliot. He must like you though.”

            “How do you mean?”

            “He wouldn’t admit that to just anyone.”

            Cullen sat in a plush blue velvet chair and rubbed at his thigh. “He’s…interesting. I can’t stand him and at the same time.”

            “He’s very charming. Infuriatingly so. I love him, but we fight like, well, you saw.” She started work on pinning her hair up. “It’s been that way since we were kids. He said once I was too put together. I don’t think he realized that I had to be. Father caught me climbing a tree once,” she trailed off, lost to herself.

            “What happened?”

            “He cut the tree down. It had been standing for a hundred years.” She shrugged. “He’s rash, always has been.”

            “At least it was just the tree.”

            “It wasn’t though. There was a bird’s nest with three eggs in it. I was watching them, you know? Trying to catch them hatching. When the tree fell, the eggs were smashed. For weeks after I heard a bird I was convinced it was the mother looking for her babies.”

            Cullen felt a pain in his chest. Children were easy targets, that’s why so many adults took their cruelties out on them.

            “Liam is afraid of the dark, did you know that?” She twisted a pin into place, tried not to wince when it scrapped too harshly across her scalp. “He hides it well. When we were kids he used to sneak into my bed or into Antony or Eliot’s. Eliot was more likely to let him and not tell Father. He’s a little shit, but he loves us. Antony pretended not to notice.” She swallowed and reached for another pin. “Father caught him one morning.”

            “I don’t know if I want to hear the rest.”

            “He locked Liam in a hall closet when he was seven. I sat outside and tried to comfort him, but when Father found out, I was locked in my room until the next morning.” She looked at Cullen in the mirror and smiled sadly. “Liam was hoarse for three days. He’s been terrified of the dark ever since.”

            “Maker, Rory. Where was your mother in all this?”

            “Gone. When she came home though she was furious. That was the first time I ever actually heard Mom yell.”

            Cullen had the sudden urge to hug her, to wrap her up and take her home and never let her come back. King came back in, makeup bag handle in his mouth.

            “Oh, good boy. My absolute favorite boy.” Rory took the bag from him and kissed his snout. “Alright, get out of here and let me get ready."

~

            Hawthorn spared no expense for the celebration that night. There was a jazz band in one room, a quartet in another, and a harpist in a third. Meals from Orlais and the Free Marches lined a dozen tables, decorated with flowers and candles. There were flowers on every available surface, dawn lotus, embrium, crystal grace, blood lotus, roses, jasmine. They were draped around the archways, hung gracefully from the chandeliers. There was wine, and champagne being chilled in ice buckets in every room. The dress had been recleaned and placed back into Rory’s room. If she thought a simple stain was going to prevent her from wearing that dress, well she was mistaken.

            “Hawthorn!”

            Hawthorn turned and smiled at two of his guests. “Lord Dickon! Lady Gertrude, it’s lovely to see you again as always.” He kissed her hand gently before clasping Dickon’s hand firm. “Glad you both could make it.”

            Lord Dickon was a slender man of short stature. His hair was beginning to gray at the edges, despite being only a few years older than Antony. His eyes were far too apart for the width and size of his head, but only a fool would comment on it. There was a severe divot in the tip of his nose and his chin. Lady Gertrude however, was an angel. Pale blonde hair, flawless skin that was nearly luminescent in the candlelight. She was, in a word, statuesque. And she had worn white. Hawthorn resisted the urge to frown at the sight.

            “It must be so nice to have Rory home again.” Gertrude smiled and looked around the room. “How lucky she is to have a father who loves her so much.”

            “Tell that to my children,” Hawthorn laughed.

            The guests continued to arrive, royals from every country, loyal friends, sers, and serahs. Tonight was to be a spectacle and everyone needed to be there. Henri arrived with his parents, late as to be expected. Now just where Rory was left to be seen.

            “Eliot,” Hawthorn snapped politely and pulled his eldest away from an Orlesian server. “Where is your sister?”

            Eliot sighed and downed his wine. “I don’t know, Father. If she were smarter, halfway to Ferelden.”

            “Your sister will accept this marriage or I will disown her. We need this.”

            “You, need this. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go salvage all the flirting I was doing with Collette.” Eliot jerked his arm away from his father, bowed dramatically, and sauntered away.

            Hawthorn had half a mind to disown Eliot as well. Too much like his mother. All his children were. He had tried to discipline them when they were younger, but Victoria let them get away with everything.

            Liam narrowly avoided his father by slipping behind a rather large statue of a dragon and slipped into the next room. The tux they had tailored a month ago was nearly too tight now. At least he was putting on a little bit of weight. He found Antony socializing with a few friends from school and slipped into their conversation. hoping his father wouldn’t see them.

            “Have you seen our sister?” he whispered.

            Antony shook his head and leaned down slightly. “Not since this afternoon. I ran into her in the hallway, she was furious.”

            “Wouldn’t you be?”

            “We’ve all talked to Cullen. I have their bags packed and waiting in a car to take them to the airport when Rory rejects Henri.” Antony smiled at a joke and leaned back to Liam. “You really should go with her, Liam.”

            “I’m thinking about it. This is about to get very ugly.”

~

            Rory stood at the top of the stairs with Cullen by her side, King protectively next to him. She had insisted the dog come. It wasn’t fair to keep him locked in his room. And if she had any guesses as to how tonight would go, they would need to make a quick exit. Music and laughter drifted up to meet them and Rory took a deep breath in, the shapewear stretching with her. The dress had fit perfectly, all except for the length. But the shoes made it so it barely drug the ground and she wasn’t likely to trip over it. A large Asscher cut sapphire with four baroness cut diamonds on each side. The matching earrings were dreadfully heavy, but she could bear their weight for the night. The matching necklace consisted of four strands, three of them an interconnecting series of diamonds. The final, and longest strand, had a large nearly 400-carat sapphire surrounded by diamonds that settled between her breasts. The beast was freezing when she first put it on. Her father wanted over the top? She would give it to him.

            “Are you ready?” Cullen asked her, his hand resting on her lower back.

            Rory nodded and then sighed. “No. But it has to be done.”

            Cullen turned her to face him and cupped her cheeks. “You are a strong, brilliant, terrifying force of a woman. You can do this and you can survive this. Do you hear me?”

            Rory nodded and struggled to keep herself from crying. “Yes. Yes. You’ll stay?”

            “I won’t leave your side.”

            She found Henri first, chatting in a quiet corner with his parents. “Lord Demarchelier.” She gave a slight curtsey. His parents smiled and excused themselves to find her father. Before she could introduce Cullen. Henri surveyed him with a smirk. The party continued on in the next few rooms.

            “Ah, yes,” Henri smiled, “the Lion of Honnleath.”

            Cullen returned the smile, stepped up closer to Henri, his eyes flinting.

            Rory moved closer, put a hand on Cullen’s chest. “Henri, may we speak?”

            Henri stared down Cullen for a moment before he looked back at Rory. “Of course, darling.”

            “I’m not your darling.”

            “Clearly,” Cullen snapped.

            Rory ignored him. “If you ask me to marry you tonight, I will say no. In front of everyone. I will embarrass you. Thoroughly.”

            “Are you turning me down for a farmhand?” Henri eyed Cullen and sneered.

            “No. I am turning you down for me. But let’s be clear,” Rory pulled her shoulders back, tilted her chin up, stepped into Henri’s space, backing him into a wall, “Cullen is more of a man than your money could possibly buy you, Henri. Because under all that wealth and privilege, is a scared, spoiled, morally inept, little boy. I would rather swim through the sewers of Kirkwall’s Darktown naked than to ever accept your proposal. Don’t test me on this, Henri.” Rory turned to walk away. Before she could blink, Henri yelped out in pain. She turned back swiftly, shock giving way on her face. King placed himself between her and the scene in front, he bared his teeth, but otherwise remained silent and unmoving.

            Cullen had Henri against the wall, one hand on his throat, the other grabbing his wrist in a tight vice that twisted. “If you ever make a move to touch her again, I will gladly show you why they referred to me as the Lion, Henri. Now, am I going to have to break your wrist to ensure you understand my message or have I made my point clear?” He squeezed a little harder.

            “I could have you arrested.”

            “I would be out. And trust me when I say I can make your existence very painful.” Cullen let him go. “She is not yours to touch.” He patted Henri’s cheek twice sharply and stepped back to Rory. “After you, my Lady.”

            Rory didn’t miss the slight emphasis on ‘my’. She made her way through the party, introducing Cullen and King as she went. She had yet to find her father yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time. She found Eliot first, lounging in the dark with a waitress.

            “Ho-ly shit,” Eliot cooed when he saw Rory. “Maker, are you trying to get him to explode? No, no, I completely approve.” He stood up and kissed Rory on the cheek with a smile. “You look just like her. Cullen, you look almost as stunning as my sister.”

            “It’s the scar,” Cullen admitted.

            “Yes, makes you look quite rugged and manly.” Eliot looked over his sister one last time. “You know I have missed you.”

            “Come visit me sometime,” Rory said, trying to ignore the dagger in her throat. “I promise Denerim has a lot of pretty people.”

            “Well, if you and Cullen live there, I know that must be true.” He smiled sadly. “I’ll do my best.”

            “Have you seen Liam?”

            “He’s lurking by the dessert I believe.” Eliot pulled her in for a gentle hug before letting her go. “Cullen, take care of my sister tonight,” and always, he thought. “Henri came through here a little bit ago whimpering, was that your handiwork?”

            “My handshake was too firm, I think.”

            “Naturally,” Eliot laughed.

            Liam was right where Eliot said he would be. He had a dinner plate instead of a dessert plate and had piled it at least four inches high with cakes and cookies. He smiled with his mouthful and for a moment Cullen thought he looked like Alistair with cheese. Then his smile faltered.

            “Is that Mom’s dress?”

            Rory nodded. “And her jewelry.”

            “Maker, Rory. He’s going to murder you.”

            “I know.” She took his hand in hers. “Please come back with us. Liam, I can’t stand the thought of you here. Denerim is wonderful. They actually have snow. And our cousins are there. Just… please? At least consider it.”

            “I will, I promise. Besides, you have Cullen to keep you company. And this handsome fellow–– Oh, my Maker, is that a little bow tie!” Liam practically shrieked and dropped his plate on the table. “Oh, look at you.” He knelt down and cupped King’s face. “You are just the most handsome thing here. I am in awe of you. Complete awe.”

            King licked his face excitedly and barked.

            “Who brought a dog–” Hawthorn’s booming voice broke through the chatter. He stopped in his tracks when he laid eyes on Rory in his ex-wife’s dress and jewels. He stormed over quietly, reminding Cullen of the atmosphere before a large storm broke out. “Lorelai.” His voice was seething with rage, though he kept his smile on.

            Rory swallowed and tried not to flinch. A hand took hers. She looked, expecting to find Cullen, but instead found Liam. He squeezed her hand and faced the storm with her, Cullen and King at their backs.

            “Father,” Rory said with her own matching smile.

            “Will you explain to me what this is? If you’re trying to make me angry, you have succeeded––”

            “Good.”

            His eyes narrowed. “It’s a little late for teenage rebellion. Lady Harbor! Welcome, welcome. It’s so lovely to see you again. A shame Lord Bastion couldn’t be with us.” He turned his attention back to his two youngest. “Go upstairs and put on the dress that was intended for you.”

            “No, I will not.”

            “You are testing my patience–”

            “Am I? How rare that must be.”

            Liam’s knees started to shake from the anxiety of it all. He felt a pressure at his side and turned to see Cullen had stepped up next to him. His shoulder pressed firmly against Liam’s. He had never seen Rory go up against his father before. Not like this and especially not in public.

            “This is your engagement party, Lorelai. You will marry Henri, you will have his children. You will quit your job at the museum and move to Orlais where you will be Henri’s problem and no longer mine.”

            Rory laughed. “Is that what I am?”

            “Since the day you were born.”

            “I will not marry him, Hawthorn.” Rory had never used his first name before.

            “Ladies and Lords, if I might have your attention!” Hawthorn’s voice cut through the crowd, the curved ceiling helping to bounce it back down.

            “Hawthorn, I mean it.”

            Cullen swallowed and looked around at the crowd gathering. This was going to blow up and it was going to blow up hard. “Liam, get out of the line of fire. Now,” Cullen whispered in his ear, pushing him towards the back. Liam nodded and quickly left into the throng of people. “Lord Trevelyan, we should take this into another room before it gets––”

            Hawthorn rounded on Cullen, towered over him, and snarled. “Do not presume to tell me what to do, boy. If you aren’t off of my property in the next ten minutes I will have you arrested for trespassing.”

            “I’ll be out in five, ser.”

            “Please, Father,” Rory tried one last time. “I will not marry him. Making this announcement is only going to embarrass you.”

            “I have an announcement to make!” Hawthorn took Rory’s wrist in his hand and pulled her to the center of the room. Cullen followed close behind. “It is with great honor that I announce the engagement of my youngest Lady Lorelai Victoria Madeline Trevelyan to Lord Henri Lukas Demarchelier!”

            The crowd cheered and Rory tried to pull her wrist out of her father’s grasp. Henri approached from the crowd with a smile on his face. Cullen wanted to hit him. Rory wanted to kill him.

            “I will not marry him, Hawthorn.”

            “The announcement has been made,” Henri interjected.

            Rory ripped her wrist out of her father’s hand. “I will not marry him!” she screamed.

            Lady Demarchelier gasped. The crowd grew silent, save for a few scattered whisperings. The music stopped. Antony grabbed a butler by the jacket and quickly whispered something to him. The man ran from the room, snapping up two young servers as he went. Eliot crossed the room in twelve long strides, breaking through the crowd to stand close to Rory.

            “I will not marry Henri Demarchelier. He is a vile, sexist, racist, pathetic excuse for a man and I refuse to take his hand in marriage. I do not love him, I will not ever love him. You lured me here under false pretenses, let me think that Liam was dying, so you could show off your daughter to your friends. I will not do it.”

As quick as he could Antony and another server ushered the guests out of the room and shut the doors. They pushed back, all eager to listen to the fight. Hawthorn looked at his daughter like he was going to murder her in front of everyone. For a moment Cullen thought he saw his hand move.

            “You ungrateful, spoiled––”

            “Spoiled? Spoiled!” Rory moved away from her father. “I have taken nothing from you! I earned everything that I have––”

            “Because of your name! Because of my money! I expect you to do your duty to this family.”

            Rory laughed. “What family? Haven’t you noticed that all of your children fled the moment they could? Liam only came back because he was dying! Antony and Eliot only returned because of the bombing. The same with Lizbet, Rumi, and the children! Who I haven’t even seen!”

            “The children are with their nanny and teachers––”

            “You mean you didn’t lock them in a closet as well?”

            Liam flinched and sunk down in a chair, watching the battle spread out before him.

            “You will marry Henri––”

            “Or what!”

            Hawthorn stepped closer to Rory. “Or I will disown you.”

            Rory smirked. “I was never yours anyway. Neither was she.”

            She heard the slap before she felt it. Heard it thunder in her ear and echo in the room around them. Heard it before she felt the white-hot fire spread across her face like the mythical Blight. Cullen lunged, stopped only by Antony grabbing him, a quiet ‘don’t’ snapped in his ear. King snarled and snapped, waiting for Cullen to give a command.

            “Haven’t you realized, Father? I don’t want it. Take it. I can survive on my own as I have for the last ten years. You have managed to drive away all of your children. Your wife. You are a miserable, hateful, unloving man, and you will die alone, Father. And you know why?” Rory finally looked at him, letting the tears well up in her eyes, the blood pool on her lips. “Because of you. Because you have made it impossible for us to love you. I renounce it. I don’t want anything from you.” She took a shaky breath in. “Why can’t you just… love me? Why are you so cruel? I… I was good. We were all good!      We were quiet and obedient. We loved you! She loved you! But you…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I renounce it.”

            Hawthorn opened his mouth and before he could utter a word, Cullen broke free of Antony and slammed his fist into his nose. It broke with a satisfying crack and sent Hawthorn stumbling. Rory didn’t move. Eliot smirked and downed the scotch in his hand. Cullen turned and gently cupped Rory’s face.

            “Are you–”

            “Take me home…”

            Cullen took her hand and pulled her out of the room, whistling for King to follow. King looked at Liam and whined.

            “Go on, boy.” Liam wiped his eyes and looked away.

            Antony followed his sister out, long strides overtaking Cullen’s to get the door. “The car is waiting, your things are in it. My plane is at the airport waiting to take you where you need to go.”

            The night air was freezing against Rory’s exposed skin and she shivered. An owl hooted softly above them. She was leaving her home. And she was never coming back. Was it ever really her home though?

            Antony opened the door of a black sedan and waited for Cullen and Rory to climb in. “Rory?” She looked at him with teary eyes, heartbreak etched on her face. “I love you.”

            No sooner than the door shut did the car speed off into the dark drive. Rory sat motionless, numbly staring out the front windshield. King whined at Cullen’s feet and nudged his knee.

            “What have I done,” she whispered. “Cullen, what have I done?”

            She choked on a sob, covered her mouth, and felt the split in her lip. Cullen pulled her sideways into his lap and she broke. Clutched at his shirt and sobbed, deep heaving sobs that wrecked her. She felt Cullen’s arms tighten around her. He pulled her closer into him, drew her head under his chin.

            “It’s alright, Rory. It’s alright. Breathe, darling, breathe.”

            She didn’t know how.

            When Rory finally went still in his arms, Cullen pulled his phone out and texted the Mothers. He carried her onto the plane, placed her in the seat, and went to talk to the pilot.

            “How good are you at landing this thing?”

            “I could land on a pea in a hurricane.”

            Cullen wrote down coordinates and handed them over. “How about a farmer’s lane?”  

~

            Cullen wrapped Rory in his coat and carried her sleeping body off the plane and into the cold Ferelden night. A stewardess passed their luggage off to someone in the distance, but Cullen couldn’t tell who it was in the dark. He had an idea, but couldn’t be sure. King disembarked behind them, quickly taking off at a run and barking happily.

            “Oh, man, do you have some explaining to do.”

            “I was just going to waltz in and ask what there was to eat.” Cullen smiled. “Hello, Branson.”

            “Mom is going to flip her shit. Who’s the girl?”

            “Rory.”

            “Not Celia? I thought her name was Celia.” The pair walked to the house as the plane began the process of taking off down the landing strip usually used for crop dusters. “Is it not?”

            “No, Rory. Celia and I broke up nearly four, nearly five months ago now.  Rory is a neighbor and a good friend.”

            “Cullen Stanton Rutherford!”

            Cullen and Branson both shushed their mother rushing towards them before they could think better of it. Giselle Rutherford stood at 5’2” but could box both ears of her giant sons, though she never did. Her graying blonde hair was tied up in rollers. She wore her husband’s coat that hung down to her knees and she had to keep shoving the sleeves back up her arms.

            “Hi, Ma.” Cullen smiled sheepishly.

            “Oh, Maker. What happened?” Giselle gently brushed the hair off of Rory’s face and gasped. “Cullen!”

            “Don’t wake her. I’ll explain in the morning. I promise I’ll explain everything.”  

            Giselle frowned and cupped Cullen’s face before she stepped back. “Get her inside. Branson, start a fire in your brother’s room.”

            “Yes, ma’am.” Branson rushed ahead of them to the two-story farmhouse.

            “Is she in trouble?”

            “She isn’t. I might be.”

            “Cullen.”

            “I punched a lord. Her father. Ow, Ma!” Cullen quietly hissed as Giselle smacked him upside the head. “He hit her first!”

            Giselle paused for a moment then nodded. “Oh, her cat got here an hour ago. Made itself right at home in the bed with the dogs. Speaking of, who’s that handsome boy?”

            “King. He’s retired military.”

            “Well let’s get you all inside.” Giselle muttered as she led them up the porch steps, “My son punching a lord. Maker.”

            “Hey, Ma?”

            “Yes, baby?”

            “I missed you.”

            Giselle turned and cupped his face. “I expect a proper hug in the morning.”

            “Yes, ma’am.”

            “Ah, quit calling me ma’am! You and your brother both.”

            “Yes, Ma’am.”

            “Oh!”

Chapter Text

Rory woke in an unfamiliar bed with red, blue, and green, plaid sheets, and smushed under a heavy red and white quilt. A fire crackled in a small fireplace against the south wall. Outside the window, large snowflakes fell into a field of white and the wind howled. She stretched slowly and pushed the quilt down to her waist. A Ferelden rugby jersey, four sizes too big hung off her shoulders. Titus meowed sleepily next to her and Rory smiled.

            “Baby,” she whispered, still unsure of where she was or the time, “how’d you get here, huh? Where is here?” She picked up the black cat and cuddled him to her chest, burying her face in his soft fur. He smelled like wood smoke and hay. “Where’s Cullen? Hm?”

            She sat Titus back down on a pillow, watched him curl up and get comfortable. At the foot of the bed next to her feet was a rather large brown and white mabari with a graying snout and ears. She tilted her head and sat up further, waking the dog from its peaceful slumber.

            “Hello there. Who might you be?” The dog yawned and stood up shakily, stretching slightly before padding up the bed to lick Rory’s swollen cheek. She hissed and turned her head. “What’s your name, hm?” She turned his worn blue leather collar around and found a simple dog tag with his name and address: Brutus Rutherford. 8145 South 800 West, Honnleath. 895-555-8888. “Brutus Rutherford, hm.” Cullen’s family, she realized.

Rory rubbed Brutus’ ears gently and looked around the room. The walls were a dark navy a quarter of the way up where they were met with wainscoting. There were a few trophies on a shelf on the wall, posters of sports teams, a Templar academy poster. Cattycorner from the bed was a long dresser with a small tv on top, surrounded by books. Her jewelry sat on top. There were two doors, one across from the bed and one on the far side of the room next to the fireplace. There was some kind of fur rug in front where another black mabari was snoring softly.

            She reached for her phone on the oak nightstand: the time said eleven a.m. and she had fifty-six missed calls, 234 emails, and 75 text messages. The groan she let out was high and heavy. The dog by the fireplace poked its head up and then laid back down. Most of the calls were from Lexi. She wanted to call her back, she did, but… she set the phone back on the nightstand.

            Without disturbing the animals on the bed too much, Rory pulled the quilt back and stood up. She had on a pair of leggings that were too big and thick wool socks that came halfway up to her knees. She left her phone where it was and quietly opened the door across from the bed. Her dress was hung up with coats and sweaters. She shut the door back on the memory and went to the other. It opened with a creak into a long hallway with five other doors. At the end of the hall was a landing to a set of stairs. A stained glass window depicting a dawn lotus was set high above where it caught the afternoon sun. One of the doors in the hallway was open to reveal the bathroom inside. Rory ducked in to relieve herself and swirl a bit of mouthwash she found on the counter around her mouth. The face in the mirror startled her: her lips were swollen, a large split down the center of her bottom lip, her cheek and jaw were bruised a light shade of blue. Thankfully her eye remained unharmed. She hadn’t realized her father had hit her that hard.

            Halfway down the stairs, she heard laughter and utensils clinking on plates. She almost turned back around. Brutus and the other dog came barreling out of Cullen’s room and bounded down the stairs. Brutus travelling much slower than his counterpart.

            “I’m going to bring some up for Rory,” she heard Cullen’s voice say.

            “Well if those are the dogs I hear on the stairs, she’s already up.”

            “Do you think she’ll play superheroes with me?”

            “I don’t think so, Jack. Rory’s very tired.”

            “Poor girl. Does she eat cottage pie? I could make her something else.”

            “Ma, it’ll be fine,” Cullen reassured her.

            “I can’t believe you brought a girl home,” a younger female voice chimed in.

            Someone snorted. “That you can’t believe, but you believed it when he said he punched a lord in the face?” It was another male voice, young.

            “He has the busted knuckles to prove it.”

            “You punched her dad.”

            “I should have done it sooner.”

            “Cullen Stanton Rutherford!”

            “But, Ma! He told her that her twin was dying to lure her there so she’d marry that bastard Henri Demarchelier––”

            “Cullen Stanton you watch your mouth.”

            “Who’s a racist sexist asshole- Ow!”

            “Ha.”

            “Branson, you watch it or you’ll be next.”

            Rory couldn’t help but smile at their banter. The stairway ended by the front door and another hallway stretched to the back of the house. Across from the landing was an archway into a living room where another fireplace crackled. Rory walked down the hall towards another archway that looked like it led into a kitchen.

            “Yeah, Branson,” Cullen muttered.

            “Well, I saw pictures of her. She’s very pretty. Too pretty for you.”           

            “Excuse you. Her brother told me I was very pretty.”

            “Marry the brother.”  

            “I think I’d strangle him, honestly.”

            “You wouldn’t be the first to try,” Rory said with a smile as she entered the bright kitchen.

            “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” Cullen smiled, but Rory saw his eyes flick to the bruising.

            Giselle sat a fresh plate of biscuits on the old wood table between her children. “Rory! It’s nice to meet you, dear.” She wrapped her arms around her and squeezed gently. Cullen gave an apologetic smile behind his mother.

 Rory hugged her back. Giselle was shorter than Rory, the top of her head only coming to Rory’s eyes. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“I would say I’ve heard all about you, but someone doesn’t like to call their mother.” Giselle released Rory and smiled up at her, gently cupping her cheek. “I’ve got a salve that will heal that right up. Are you hungry?”

“Starving.” It was a lie.

“I’m Branson, the most handsome brother.” Branson smiled and pulled a chair out for Rory next to him. Branson was almost the spitting image of Cullen. His eyes were green like their mother’s instead of the warm amber Cullen had. He was a little more muscular than Cullen, his arms were thicker and shoulders broader. There were large dimples on either side of his smile of slightly crooked teeth. His hair though was what separated them. Whereas Cullen always smoothed his back, Branson’s curls hung freely down to his ears.

“The discount version,” Cullen assured her.

“You’re both cheap knock-offs. I’m Mia, the eldest. Nice to meet you, Rory.” Mia looked just like their mother. Even sitting down Rory could tell she was as tall as Cullen. Her long blonde hair trailed down her back, nearly to her waist. She had the same dimples as Branson, laugh lines, a few wrinkles around her eyes. Rory noticed her freckles right away though, a smattering across her nose and cheeks. “And that charming young man is Jack. Branson’s son.” She turned to Branson. “I can’t believe you didn’t introduce your son.”

“I got distracted by a pretty girl.”

“I’m telling Jasmine,” Mia stated.

Rory sat next to Branson and smiled. “Is Jasmine your wife?”

“Of nine years. We got married young. She’s pregnant with our second and third.” Branson passed her a plate from the end of the table. “Grab a biscuit before Cullen stuffs his face with them.”

Cullen, who had just shoved a biscuit in his mouth had the decency to look offended.

Jack looked to be about six, the spitting image of Branson only with black hair and blue eyes. His dimples were large enough to worry he would fall into them. Freckles danced across his face. Rory wanted to squeeze his chubby cheeks. When he smiled he revealed two missing teeth.

            “And I’m Rosalie, the perfect and often forgotten youngest,” she teased.

            There were groans all around the table. Giselle grabbed her youngest in a hug and kissed her all over her head and face. Rosalie had curls like her brothers and stunning honey-colored eyes. She looked to be maybe as short as her mother and curvy. She only had a few beauty marks on her face, no freckles to be seen. Her ears were pierced in several places and Rory thought she saw the peek of a tattoo under her collar.

            “It’s nice to meet all of you.”

            “How’d you sleep?” Cullen asked, swallowing his mouthful. “I tried to keep Brutus off the bed, but he’s stubborn.”

            “I slept fine, hard. Brutus was fine, I promise. Kept my feet warm.”

            “He’s very good at that,” Giselle said. “I’m afraid you missed my husband though. He’s up the mountain for a few days helping my brother.”

            Rory nodded and took a spoonful of cottage pie and a biscuit. “You have a lovely home,” she said looking around the cozy kitchen. There were chickens on nearly everything. The backsplash was black and white subway tile, the cabinets painted deep red. There were children’s drawings on the refrigerator, family pictures, coupons, a calendar. Another mabari Rory hadn’t noticed was sleeping by a back door.

            Branson scooped out a spoonful of the cottage pie onto Rory’s plate. She took her first bite and smiled. “It’s delicious, Giselle.” She didn’t want it. She wanted to crawl back upstairs and slip back into bed with her cat. The Rutherford’s carried on around her, their loving banter and friendly jabs were almost suffocating.

            “I swear to the Maker, Mia almost took the crop duster into Denerim to come and get you,” Rosalie laughed.

            “He got blown up! Someone needed to go and get him.” Mia threw a rolled-up piece of biscuit at her sister. “It’s not my fault you weren’t worried about him.”

            “It’s not like he lost a leg,” Rosalie teased. “Oh, wait.”

             “Only a quarter of a leg, thank you very much,” Cullen laughed and dodged a swat from his mother.

            “Is that like Rosalie and Ma when they say they’re 5’2” and a half?” Mia asked with a smirk.

            “I’m grounding you.”

            “I’m thirty-four, Ma!”

            “Grounded. You and your brother.”

            “What did I do?” Branson’s voice rose two octaves.

            “Not you! The other one.”

            “The other one. That’s what I’ve become?” Cullen sighed and shook his head. “The other one.”

            “Well maybe if you would come home more.”

            “Oh, here we go,” Cullen said with a smile.

            “I hardly ever see you. You didn’t even come home for Satinalia! And I cooked your favorites.” Giselle put another spoonful on Rory’s plate. “Had to mail out your present. And then you didn’t even come home for my birthday.”

            “Maaaa,” Cullen whined.

            Rory smiled softly. “Where’s your bathroom?” she whispered to Mia.

            “Down the hall, second door on the right.”

            Rory excused herself quietly. She walked down the hall, barely glancing at the family pictures on the wall, and made her way back upstairs. She shut the door to Cullen’s room, crawled back into his bed, and pulled the covers up.

            When she woke again it was dark outside, a bright moon clouded over made it darker than normal. King was asleep beside her, snoring loudly into the quiet bedroom.

            “Hey,” Cullen whispered. He was leaning against the headboard, Titus curled up in his lap.

            Rory looked up at him but said nothing. Gently, he carded his hand through her hair. She closed her eyes again.

~

            “Rory?” Cullen touched her shoulder. “Rory, come on.”

            Rory woke with a groan, rolling to her side away from Cullen.

            “You need to eat, Rory. Come on.” He rolled her to her back. “Let me put this salve on your face and feed you. Mom is making her short ribs. I told her how much you liked them.”

            Rory slowly opened her eyes and found the bright afternoon sun streaming in through the window. King and Titus were gone, the bed was empty except for her.

            “You have to eat, Trevelyan.”

            “No,” Rory said. “I’m not a Trevelyan anymore. Remember?” Tears welled up in her eyes before she could stop them.

Cullen sat on the bed next to her and pulled her into his lap. “It’ll be alright, Rory.” He said it but wasn’t sure if it were true. She had lost her family. While he liked her brothers (on some level), he didn’t think they would actually come to her defense or even reach out to her. “Let’s put this salve on you. Okay? And then I’ll run you a bath. Clean up, get some fresh clothes on, and come eat some food and drink some wine.” He kissed the top of her head. “All sorrows are lessed with bread as my Gran said.”

Rory sniffed and laid her whole body weight against him. He was right, she knew he was right. But Maker, she was so tired. “I need to call Lexie.”

“After you do all those things. I talked to her this morning. She knows you’re okay. She’s handling the museum.” He brushed the hair out of her face. “Come on, let me put the salve on you. We’ll have to put more on after your bath, but that’s okay.”

“Cullen?”

“Hm?”

“Who changed my clothes? When I got here.”

“I did. I promise I didn’t see anything.”

“Changed my clothes with your eyes closed, hm? Talk about talent.”

Cullen chuckled. “She jokes! Ladies and gentlemen, we have a comedian. I slipped my jersey on you over your dress and felt my way to get the rest of it off.”

Rory nodded. It probably should have bugged her, but for some reason, it didn’t. Not in the slightest. Maybe because she trusted him. Maybe because she did flash him on Satinalia…

A few minutes later, Cullen was gently rubbing a thick green salve onto Rory’s face.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, almost afraid to look at him.

Cullen frowned and gently rubbed more salve on her cheek. “What for?”

“This. I just…I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know why it’s affected me this much.”

“Because they’re still your family, Rory. And as terrible as I think your father is, he’s still your father. You love him, whether you want to or not and that’s okay. You’re allowed to mourn the loss of something, even if it needed to be let go.”

Rory said nothing and resisted the urge to turn her face away from him. It was too intimate. And then he gently dabbed salve on her lip. She closed her eyes and tried to keep her head still. His fingers on her lips. His hand on her face. In his clothes, on his bed, with his family.

“Rory,” Cullen whispered. His tone was firm but hesitant.

She opened her eyes and found herself leaning forward, inches away from his face. “Maker, Cullen, I’m sorry.” She pulled back, removed herself from the bed. She almost made it to the door before he grabbed her arm.

“Rory.” He waited until she looked at him. “It’s okay. You’re vulnerable. You need a friend, someone to love you. And I do. I do love you, but I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

Maker, damn it all, she was going to cry again. “I know. I know and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have––”

Cullen wrapped his arms around her and pressed her into his chest. They stood there, holding each other until Cullen pulled away first. “I’ll run you a bath.”

~

            Cullen lifted the axe and swung it back down hard, splitting the wood in two. King picked up a piece that fell and carted it over to the pile, happy to be of help. After some wrestling, Rosalie managed to get a dog sweater over the top of him and booties on his feet. “He’s a war dog, Rose!” “He’s a war dog who’s going to get cold.” Cullen picked up another piece of wood and sat it on the chopping block. Maker damn him. Chop. Stupid, thoughtless jackass. Chop. She’s vulnerable again and you leaned in again. Chop.

            “If you keep swingin’ the way that you’re swingin’ you’re gonna drive that thing into your leg, or you’re gonna split my woodblock.”

            Cullen turned at the sound of his Dad’s voice. Archer Rutherford shut the door to his truck and made his way over to his son. Cullen sat the ax against the stump and met his father with a tight hug.

            “Hi, Dad.” Cullen turned his face into Archer’s neck and for a moment, felt like a ten-year-old boy again. A boy who just needed his dad.

            “You look good.” Archer let him go and smiled. “Nearly as handsome has your old man.”

            “So you know who my real dad is then!” Cullen laughed and dodged a playful punch. “How’s Uncle Lex?” He picked up the ax again and swung it back down with a grunt.

            “A Maker damned fool, so no change. He’s good. Your Ma invited him down for dinner this weekend. You got a dog.” Archer crouched and held his hand out for King. “And I see your sister has gotten a hold of him.”

            “His name is King. He’s retired military.”

            “Brave pup.” He scratched King under the chin. “Now, what’s got you all flustered.”

            “I am not flustered.” Chop.

            “And I’m the King of Orlais.”

            Chop. “I’m just an idiot.”

            “What else is new?” Archer put another log on. “This about that girl? The one whose dad you punched.”

            Chop. “Maker, does everyone know?”

            “Whole town. What happened?”

            Cullen brought the ax down and took a deep breath. “A repeating cycle, that’s what. After we met, Rory got mugged on the way home, shook her up pretty badly, and she got some scrapes. She stayed the night, Celia’s suggestion. I walked her back to her apartment the next morning and.” Chop.

            “And?”

            “I almost kissed her.” Chop.

            Archer raised an eyebrow. “While you were still with Celia?”

            Chop. “Look, I know. You don’t have to take that tone,” chop, “with me.”

            “I’m your father, I’ll take a tone if I want to take a tone, but I don’t have a tone.” He placed another log. “I have a look though.”

            “It wasn’t Rory’s fault. She was vulnerable. I leaned in first.” Chop. “Maker, I leaned in first, and then when Celia left me I blamed Rory for it.”

            “And she’s still friends with you?”

            “It took some convincing. And now,” chop, “here we are, she’s vulnerable again,” chop, “and I’m a maker damned idiot and leaned in. Again. She leaned in first this time though!”

            “Maker, you are an idiot,” Branson laughed, coming up behind him. “You like her.”

            “Shut up, Branson.” Chop.

            “He’s right. You like her.” Archer laughed and sat on a tree trunk waiting to be sawed up. “So, what’s the problem?”

            “I just broke up with my fiancé! Why is no one getting this.”

            “First of all, Celia didn’t even like you.”

            “Branson, don’t antagonize your brother while he has an ax in his hand.”

            “Am I wrong though! Hell, Cullen, she was with you because you asked and she didn’t want to be alone.”

            Cullen wanted to hit him. But he was right. “I can’t just jump into this with Rory.”

            “Who said anything about jumping in?” Branson sat a log in front of Cullen. “I mean really? Who said? At least dip the rest of your leg in.”

            “Was that a leg joke?” Cullen raised an eyebrow in confusion.

            “No, but it could have been. I mean you already have a toe dipped in, dip the rest of the leg.”

            “I can’t lose her as a friend.”

            “Which means you want her as more than a friend,” Branson said, looking at their father. “He loves her.”

            “Maker, you’re being ridiculous.”

            Archer listened to his sons argue back and forth with a smile on his face. “Cull, you brought her home. You were with Celia for how many years? And we never met her. Not once.”

            Cullen paused to catch his breath. Surely that wasn’t true, he had brought Celia home… hadn’t he? “Rory needed…”

            Archer threw a stick for King and watched him run across the yard to get it. “I knew I wanted to marry your mother two months after I met her. And six months later I did. We’ve been together nearly forty years.”

            “This is more complicated than that, Dad.” Cullen chopped another log.

            “Love usually is, Cull. It’s scary and nerve-racking. You don’t think I was terrified to move forward with your mother? What if she said no? It’s easier starting out romantically. Starting out as friends is… it’s harder. Because you fall in love with them and then you think, I can’t make a move. If I do and they reject it, that’s it. The friendship will take a hit and it won’t be the same. But if they accept it what happens when we end it? I’ll lose them completely. But, Cull, if it works…”

            “It won’t work.”

            “You don’t know that,” Branson snapped. “Maker, you’ve always been so damn pessimistic.”

            “And you’ve always been so damn annoying.”

            Archer chuckled and then sighed. “Ah, yes. My boys are teenagers again.”

~

            Rory dressed in the clothes Cullen left for her, likely some of Mia’s, and made her way downstairs. The salve was already starting to make her face hurt less. She pushed the thought of Cullen’s hands away. Stupid. Stupid fool. Maker damned idiot, what were you thinking. Rory found Giselle in the kitchen peeling potatoes at the island.

            “Can I help?”

            “Rory! Are you feeling better dear? Don’t you trouble yourself, I’ve got it. You just grab a cookie and take a seat.”

            Rory smiled and nodded her head. There was a plate of raspberry pillow cookies on the counter and Rory took two of them before she went and sat down. “I am feeling better, thank you.”

            “Oooh, you’re a good a liar as my son.” Giselle laughed and winked.

            “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

            “You should! Cullen really is good at it. Unfortunately. Never wants to tell you when he’s hurting. Doesn’t want to be a burden.”

            “I understand the feeling.”

            “I’m sorry,” Giselle added. “About your family.”

            Rory nodded and took a bite of a cookie. “I overreacted.”

            “You had a reaction. It wasn’t overreacting. It was reacting. Sometimes we have to take drastic measures to be heard.”

            Brutus lumbered over from his spot in front of the fire and placed his head on Rory’s thigh with a sigh. She ran her hand over his soft fur and smiled at him. “How old is Brutus?”

            “Let’s see, Cullen is almost thirty-four… So Brutus is maker, twelve.” Giselle smiled fondly and then frowned. “He’s slowed down a lot lately.”

            Rory nodded in sympathy and snuck him a bite of cookie. “How many do you have?”

            “Let’s see here, Brutus, Titan, Warden, Tank, and River. I’m surprised Titus likes them so much.”

            Rory smiled. “He’s a very strange little cat. He’s made himself quite at home here.”

            “You’ll have to come back with Cullen more often.”

            “I’d like that.”

            “As much as you like my son,” Giselle teased.

            Rory didn’t even try to stop the blush that spread across her cheeks. “Is it that obvious?”

            “To a mother. He likes you too.”

            “I don’t think that’s true.”

            “Bah.” Giselle threw a potato peeling at Rory. “You’re as oblivious as my son too.”

            “I don’t think anyone is as oblivious as Cullen.” Rosalie shook snow out of her hair as she came in through the backdoor. “Cullen is chopping wood. Rather aggressively.”

            “I wonder what he’s upset about.” Giselle turned to Rory. “He always chops wood when he’s upset,” she explained.

            Rory swallowed. Maker, what have I done?

            “Maker only knows. He’s so dramatic.” Rosalie swiped a few cookies and sat at the table with Rory.

            “Where’s your sister?”

            “She went home to pick up Pierce.” Rosalie looked at Rory. “That’s her husband.”

            Rory nodded. “Are you married, Rosalie?”

            “Maker, no. Can’t find anyone I can stand to be around long enough.”

            “What about you, Rory?” Giselle smiled sweetly. “Anyone special?”

            Rosalie gave her mother a look that said, do not play matchmaker right now.

            “No. Well, yes, kind of? I don’t really know what Greer is.”

            “His name is Greer?” Rosalie asked with a disgusted look on her face.

            “That is exactly the face your brother made,” Rory laughed. “Rylen too, honestly.”

            “You’ve met Ry!” Rosalie lit up. “How is he?”

            “Yes! He’s good. Dating my best friend.” Rory noticed a slight look of disappointment on Rosalie’s face and changed the subject. “Do you still have a strawberry field? Cullen mentioned it a while ago when I made strawberry jam.”

            Giselle smiled. “That’s his favorite. We do in the summer, though it’s much smaller now than it was. It was easier when the kids were all home to help.”

            “Child labor,” Rosalie confirmed. “Sunrise to sunset. No water or food. And beatings.”

            “And you say Cullen is dramatic.”

            Rory smiled fondly. This was the kind of family she had always dreamed of having. The kind of family that she still wanted. She wondered if her mother had not married her father if they would have turned out the way they did. Would she still be in Hercina? Would she have kept up ballet? Married with kids? Instead, the father that had driven them apart.

            “Can I braid your hair?” Rosalie asked, drawing Rory out of her thoughts.

            “Of course, thank you.”

            Rosalie smiled and stood up to stand behind Rory. “Do you have any siblings? I know Cullen mentioned a brother.” Rosalie drug her fingers through Rory’s thick hair and started to section it.

            “Three brothers. Antony, Eliot, and a twin, Liam.”

            “A twin! That’s so cool. Identical?”

            “Nearly.” Maker, she missed him.

            “You like to bake, Rory?” Giselle started chopping potatoes into chunks before dropping them into a pot of cold water.

            Rory started to nod and then stopped. “Yes. It’s relaxing for me. I figured out early on that I love fresh bread more than anything. Croissants are my favorite to make though.”

            “Maker, don’t those take like three days?” Rosalie pulled more sections of Rory’s hair back.

            “They do. But they’re worth it. I could make some bread tomorrow morning? If you’d all like?”

            “That would be lovely dear. Oh!” Giselle dropped her knife and ran towards the back door of the kitchen.

            Archer barely made it through the threshold before Giselle leaped into him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and smiled, letting her kiss him. “I was only gone for three days, woman.”

            “Three days is far too long.”

            Archer Rutherford was nearly a carbon copy of Branson and Cullen. Rory now understood what Mia meant when she called them knock-offs. Archer had thick curly blonde hair that was pulled back into a ponytail and a neatly trimmed short beard. His eyes were the same warm honey color that Cullen’s and Rosalie’s were. And Maker, was he tall. At least as tall as Antony. Rory could tell right away that he did all of the physical labor on the farm: his arms and legs were thick with corded muscle. He had a small pooch of a stomach, likely from Giselle’s cooking. He let Giselle finish kissing him before he set her down on her feet gently.

            “You must be Rory.”

            “Don’t make her stand up, I’m braiding her hair.”

            “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Rutherford.”

            “Archer, please.” He smiled warmly at her. “Hm. You’re too pretty for Cullen.”

            Rory laughed. “I’ll try to remember that.”

            Archer walked to the island with his wife and picked up a knife to help chop. “How long will you be staying with us, Rory?”

            “I’m not sure. I shouldn’t stay too long. I work at the Denerim art museum and have currently caused a crisis I’m sure.”

            “How big of a crisis? Forgive me, but it’s art.”

            Rory gave an understanding smile. “Well, I turned down the marriage proposal of a man who was going to lend us a painting worth over ten million. Needless to say, he is withdrawing.”

            Archer whistled and shook his head. “Then you made the right call. If he were decent, he still would have lent the painting. Sounds like a jackass.”

            “Archer Watson Rutherford.” Giselle pointed her knife at him. “You are where our sons get it from.”

            “Woman, my love, they are grown men and one of them was in the templars. He likely knows more inappropriate words and phrases than I could ever dream up.” He leaned forward towards her knife, took her hand in his, and kissed her fingers.

            “Don’t you try and charm me. It won’t work.”

            “Except it will,” Rosalie giggled. “It does every time,” she directed at Rory.

            “That must be where Cullen gets it.”

            “Speaking of your son,” Giselle turned back to chopping, “did you manage to figure out what was wrong with him?”

            “Nope.”

            “Liar.”

            “Only when I have to be.”

~

            Rory met Jasmine and Pierce that night at dinner. Jasmine was a small elvish woman and Rory pitied her for having to carry the no doubt giant babies of Branson Rutherford. She was positively glowing though. Rory made a mental note to ask her how she managed to do that intricate braided updo. Maybe she could take a picture and show Lexi. Pierce was a handsome older man that reminded her just a little bit of Hack. He was about two inches shorter than Mia but looked completely secure about it. Every now and then, Rory would catch him looking adoringly at his wife. Rosalie had leaned over and whispered to Rory that it took Cullen years before he finally accepted Pierce. “He said he was way too old for her and that he didn’t like him one bit. To be fair, I think he only tolerates him now.” Rory grew to like him more and more though, the longer they talked. He was an art history major before he took over his family’s trading company.

            Cullen was stiff the entire dinner. Rory could practically feel the tension rolling off of him. She was going to have to figure out a way to apologize to him. Perhaps discreetly ask Rosalie if there was another room she could stay in. The last thing she wanted was to make Cullen uncomfortable. And the fact that she had tried to kiss him again, was wearing on her. He obviously only cared for her as a friend. Which was fine! It was fine, she valued his friendship dearly. But to see him so uncomfortable and distraught, well, she needed to distance herself from him.

            After dinner, Rory went up to his room, sat on the bed, and waited. And waited. And waited. And waited until she fell asleep on top of the covers, Brutus stretching out beside her with Titus. It was around three am when Cullen finally staggered into the room, tripping over his pants as he tried to undress.

            “Maker’s hairy balls.”

            “Cullen?” Rory woke slowly and sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “What are you doing?”

            “Can’t–– my pants. Ha!” He shouted when he finally got them down to his ankles.

            Rory watched him for a moment. “Are you drunk?”

            “I am not sober.”

            Rory sighed and stood up. “I was hoping to talk with you. But I can see it will have to wait until the morning.” She started to move past him, but he caught her arm.

            “Where are you going?”

            “I’m sleeping in Mia’s old room. I think…given this afternoon, and how upset I made you, I think it’s best if I distance myself––”

            Cullen tilted his head and kept hold of her arm. “What do you mean? Didn’t upset me.”

            “I did, Cullen. Even your family noticed. I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you.”

            Cullen let go of her arm and laughed, struggling to make his way to the bed with his pants still around his feet.

            “I really don’t see how this is funny. You’re going to hurt yourself!” She caught him by the arm before he could stumble into the nightstand and knock the lamp over. “Cullen, what happened?”

            Cullen hiccupped. “Branson. Da’. And Pierce. You know I really don’t like him. Don’t know why.”

            Rory frowned and knelt to slip Cullen’s pants the rest of the way off. “Sit on the bed, please. I’m going to help you and then I’m going to go to bed.”

            “You’re mad.”

            “I’m not mad, Cullen.”

            “Yes, you are. You’re mad at me for being drunk.”

            “Cullen, I am not mad.” She slipped his pants off and tossed them by the closet door. “Do you need help taking your leg off?”

            His mood instantly darkened. “Don’t. Don’t touch it. It’s fine.”

            Rory resisted the urge to recoil from him. “We have been over this Cullen. It doesn’t bother me.”

            “Should.”

            “Okay. I’m not going to argue with you. I don’t have it in me to fight.” She stood up. “We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

            “Wait!” He lurched forward and grabbed her delicate hand in his. “Don’t…don’t go. Please? Please don’t leave me. I’m sorry.”

            Rory frowned and looked down into Cullen’s wide eyes. He looked genuinely remorseful. “Cullen, I made you so uncomfortable, your entire family noticed.”

            “No.” He stood up so fast his chest knocked against hers and she stumbled. “No, you didn’t.” Cullen leaned down and put his forehead against hers, closed his eyes and sighed. “You didn’t.”

            He smelled like whiskey and woodsmoke. Rory tried to lean back, to give him space, but he moved with her, took her hands, and placed them on his cheeks.

            “Then what was wrong?”

            “I leaned in.”  

Chapter Text

The groan that Cullen emitted when he woke up is what he imagined darkspawn would sound like. His head was pounding, an icepick driving into his skull. His tongue felt entirely too large for his dry mouth. Just one drink, Branson said. Just one drink, Cull. It’ll be fun! Bastard. Very, very, slowly, he rolled over onto his back and threw an arm over his eyes. Thankfully it was a cloudy day out and the sun didn’t blaze in through his curtains. He was getting too old for this. Entirely too old. His stomach churned and growled, almost as if he couldn’t decide if he were starving or going to throw up. Maybe it was both. He reached his hand out beside him, felt the cold empty space where Rory was supposed to be.

            After some significant struggle, Cullen got up and got dressed. Deciding looking in the mirror right then was not in his best interest, he made his way downstairs. His mother was in the kitchen giving Brutus his medication. The dog looked like he had about enough of the whole situation, but sat patiently until Giselle was finished.

            “Morning, Ma.”

            Giselle looked up from her chair and glared. “I don’t know what you did to Rory, but you need to apologize to her.”

            Cullen blinked in confusion. “What? Did she say something?”

            “Well she’s leaving, so I can only assume it’s your fault.” She patted Brutus on the head and gave him a bone.

            “She’s leaving?”

            “Your father is driving her into town. She made us breakfast, she’s a lovely cook by the way, and announced she was leaving.”

            “Shit. Okay, I’ll go in––”

            “Rosalie took my truck up to see that friend of hers. You’ll have to take a horse.”

            “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Cullen sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Maker’s balls.”

            Giselle stood up and sighed. “You watch your mouth. I’m already mad at you. I like this girl. I don’t know what you did––” she had a finger raised and pointed at him.

            “I don’t remember what I did.” He held up his hands. “I came in late, drunk. I don’t remember anything else.” He found a pair of boots by the door and started to shove his feet into them. The prosthetic foot went with some resistance but still went. He threw his coat on over his sweater and wrapped a scarf around his neck.

            “Yes, I know all about your and your father’s little barn party. Branson went home this morning.” Giselle handed him a cup of coffee. “You better hurry if you’re going to catch them.”

            Cullen downed the coffee and walked as quickly as he could to the barn. He took one of the fastest horses they owned, a black Imperial Warmblood named Lusacan his father picked up years ago. The beast was never quite fully tamed but was loyal to the right rider. He wasn’t even entirely sure he could ride with his prosthetic, but it was this or nothing. Maker, it’d been years since he’d ridden a horse.

            “Look,” Cullen opened the stall and stood in front of Lus, “I don’t like you very well, and you don’t like me. But we respect each other. So, I’m going to need some help. Okay?”

            Lus stood motionless for a few moments until he huffed air out of his nose.

~

            “Thank you for driving me into the train station, Archer.”

            “It’s no problem. I’m just sorry you have to leave so soon.” Archer turned his vent towards Rory. “You look cold.”

            Rory laughed and pulled the scarf up higher onto her face. “I am. I’m afraid I haven’t quite gotten used to Ferelden winters. Especially out here.”

            Archer nodded. “They can be hard. Especially when we live outside of town. But, we take care of our own out here.”

            “That must be nice.”

            “It is and it isn’t. Everyone knows everyone’s business, whether you want them to or not. I got a promotion once at Chenny’s hardware store. By the time I got home to tell Giselle, twenty people had called her already to tell her. That’s how I found out she was pregnant with Mia too.” He chuckled. “We’d been trying. Giselle wasn’t sure she could have children. She was feeling real sick, couldn’t keep food down, sleeping more and more. Her momma died of cervical cancer, so she was real worried. Turns out she was about four months pregnant. I heard it from eight husbands before the day was out. I pretended I didn’t though, so she could tell me herself.”

            Rory smiled fondly at him. “That was sweet of you.”

            “It was decent of me.” He winked at her. “Don’t let men do the bare minimum for you and you think it’s above and beyond. It isn’t hard to be a decent person. Don’t praise someone for it.”

            “I’ll keep that in mind.”

            “Tell me about this Greer.” He raised his hand in a wave at a larger truck passing them. “Fred Erstine. Lives two miles down from us.”

            Rory nodded. “There’s not much to say about him. He’s… casual. He’s seeing other people, I’m,” she paused. “Well, I don’t know exactly what I’m doing. Kind of also seeing other people. I want something more though. I don’t think he does. At least, not with me. Probably especially now that I’m no longer a Trevelyan.”

            “Blood and water are equal in weight, kid.” He looked out of the corner of his eye at her. “Family is who you choose to carry with you. Blood is what you’re forced with.”

            She was quiet for a few miles, watched the snow fall softly outside in the empty fields. “I feel like I’m betraying my brothers. Like our mother did when she left.”

            “You have three, right?” Rory nodded. “I think, with my own sister, Maker carry her, I would have rather her do what you did, than marry someone I knew would make her unhappy. And you didn’t abandon them. You left a situation that was going to cause you harm. That did cause you harm.” He sighed, reached over and put a hand on her knee, gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Your brothers are grown men. Not children like you were when your mother left. You understand complexities and toxicity now more than you did then. And they have the ability to reach back out to you.”

            Rory wiped at her eyes quickly and hoped he didn’t see the tears in them. “She never tried to contact us though.”

            “Are you sure? Your father seems the type to keep it from you.”

            He did, Rory realized. He did seem the type to keep it from them. What if she had tried to contact them? She could ask Leliana or even Aurea to try and find her, but what if they did find her? What if they found her and it wasn’t her father hiding letters like Lifetime movies? What if she really just never wanted to contact them? That would hurt the most. Or another unpleasant reality: she was no longer living.

            “I don’t mean to upset you.”

            “You aren’t. I promise. You’re just giving me things to think about. Things I hadn’t considered.”

            “I’m sorry. A father shouldn’t make a daughter feel the way yours did.” He guided the truck slowly around a snowy curve. “It’s not easy, being a parent. You make mistakes, mistakes your parents made that you swore you wouldn’t. But it’s how you fix those mistakes that matter. And apologizing won’t always work.” He swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I spanked Cullen once. Hard. He and Mia were playing on the tractor like I had told them not to. Cullen managed to turn it on and got it moving. He crashed it, with his sister on it.”

            “Were they hurt?”

            “No, thank the Maker. But it terrified me. Before I knew what I was doing, I was pulling him off of that seat and bending him over my knee.” Archer’s face was crestfallen. “I hurt him. Like I said I never would. My dad was a good man, but he shouldn’t have had kids. He used to spank us kids so hard we’d bruise. There’s… It hurts. Inside and out.”

            “I know,” Rory said softly.

            Archer reached back over and took her hand. “I apologized, held him until Giselle came home. I promised Mia and Cullen that I would never hurt them like that again. And I kept my word. Seeing Cullen broken like that, knowing I was the one that caused him that kind of hurt, knowing how it hurt to have your father be the one to cause it, changed me. I still regret that I didn’t learn until I put Cullen through it.”

            “You apologized though. And you kept your word.”

            “I did. Maker, sometimes I wanted to throttle him though. But I wasn’t about to hurt him like I’d been hurt.” He stopped at a stop sign and looked over at Rory. “I’m sorry that your father hurt you like that.”

            “I'm sorry too.”

            The Honnleath train station was small but gorgeous. It hadn’t been remolded like the ones in Denerim. It was still old carved wood and rich tile mosaics, church pews for benches. The ticket booth was surrounded by leaded glass. An older woman with graying red hair sat behind in a bright purple cardigan, knitting a green scarf. She smiled sweetly. Rory bought a one-way ticket to Denerim and walked back to where Archer waited with Titus and a small suitcase that held Rory’s dress and jewels.

            “You sure you don’t want to stay?” Archer asked. “We have room.”

            Rory smiled and nodded. “I’m sure. I should let Cullen visit with you and I need to handle things back at the museum.”

            “Well, you’re welcome back with us any time, Rory.”

            “Thank you, Archer.”

            He stepped forward and pulled Rory into a firm hug. She hugged him back, felt her throat tighten. Archer didn’t let go right away, let Rory hold onto a father for as long as she needed. When she finally let go, he pretended he didn’t see tears in her eyes.

            “Want me to wait with you? I don’t mind.”

            “No, that’s okay. You go home and see your wife. She missed you.”

            “I missed her too. But don’t tell her that. It was only three days.”

            Rory laughed and nodded. “Your secret is safe with me. Please tell Mia, Branson, and Rosalie goodbye for me. If you’re ever in Denerim, please stop by.”

            “I’ll do that.”

            “Rory!”

            Rory jumped at the sound of Cullen yelling her name. She turned back toward the station doors to watch Cullen awkwardly half jog over to them.

            “What in the Maker’s name are you doing?” He turned his ire towards Archer. “And you’re helping her do it.”

            “A lady asked for a ride, I gave her one. Since someone was too hungover.” Archer eyed his son. Cullen’s hair was windswept and his cheeks were tinted bright pink.

            “And whose fault–– doesn’t matter. Will you take Titus and her suitcase back to the truck, please? And Lus is outside.”

            “You rode a horse in?”

            “You rode a horse in?”

            “Rosalie took the truck,” Cullen explained.

            “Cullen, I really can’t stay,” Rory insisted.

            “Dad, can you give us a minute?” He waited until Archer walked away to talk with an older lady behind the desk. “Rory, where are you going?”

            “I told you. I have to go back to Denerim. I need to handle things at the museum and it’s…it’s time anyways.”

            “You don’t have to go back though. Lexie is handling things, your bosses told you to take another week––”

            “How did you know that?”

            “Lexie told me. She thinks this is good for you. Just stay here with me.”

            “I can’t, Cullen.”

            “Why?”

            “Because I have to go back to the museum–”

            Cullen huffed, “You do not!”

            “It’s because we need distance!” Rory whisper shouted. Archer turned and looked at them for a moment before turning back.

            Cullen blinked in surprise. “What are you talking about? Did I do something?”

            “Maker, no, Cullen. I did. I…you don’t remember our conversation last night, do you?” He shook his head and she sighed. “I think we need a little distance from each other. Me specifically. I made you so uncomfortable your family noticed.”

            “Rory,” Cullen started.

            She held up her hand and shook her head. “No, no I did. I made you uncomfortable. I tried to kiss you, again, when you’ve made it clear that we’re just friends. You just got out of a relationship with Celia, who was your fiancé for Maker’s sake. I was very vulnerable and you were taking care of me and I misread the situation––”

            Cullen stepped into her space and cupped her face gently. “Rory.” She grew silent. “I leaned in. Both times. That first time? That was me. I leaned in first. This time? I may not have leaned in first, but I still leaned in. Do not for one second think that you made me uncomfortable. You didn’t. I leaned in.”

            “You leaned in…”

            “Stay. At least until we talk and if you want to leave after then I’ll drive you myself.” He moved a hand down to hold the side of her neck, felt her pulse jump under his thumb. “Please? Your train doesn’t leave for,” he checked the board, “another hour.”

            “Cull,” Archer started back over, “Helen’s in with the trailer, she took a colt over to the Gerber’s. She’ll give me a ride back with Lus.”

            “You’re sure?”

            “I’m sure. You two go on and talk.”

            Cullen looked back at Rory, waited for her to decide. She gave a nod and followed him back out to the truck. Archer took Lus by the reigns where Cullen left him outside the station and pulled him over to a white trailer where a woman in her fifties waited.  He’s beautiful, Rory said in passing. Cullen told her if she decided to stay that they could go riding sometime before she left. She didn’t ask him where he was taking her, just let him drive where he saw fit. They didn’t say anything, sat in the soft noise of the radio playing some kind of folk music.

            I tried to kiss Cullen. Again. We’re going to talk. I don’t know what to say to him.

            Lexie texted back nearly immediately. You tried to kiss him!? Where are you going? Do I need to come get you?

            I don’t think he’s going to murder me, Lex. I don’t know where we’re going. I’m scared I’m going to lose him too.

            You are not going to lose him, Rory.

            After a few moments, Cullen huffed and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, can we talk about something? Because the silence is going to give me heart palpitations.”

            Rory laughed and shook her head. “I was waiting for you to say something.”

            “Maker, I feel like I’m driving us to our death right now.”

            “It does feel that way, doesn’t it?”

            “I’m sorry, about last night.” He turned the truck down a small and rough gravel road through woods. “I don’t remember half of what happened, but if it was enough to make you leave.”

            Rory didn’t say anything for a moment. “Cullen, that’s not why I was leaving.”

            “We better stay in the truck, I don’t want you freezing.”

            Rory nodded and watched him out of the corner of her eye. He looked nervous, which should have made her less worried, but instead made her anxious. She couldn’t help but feel like they were going to drift after this. But the way he asked her to stay, to talk, made her think that maybe there was something there worth saving, something he wanted just as badly as she did. I leaned in.

            Cullen stopped the truck in front of a small pond overgrown with dawn lotus and reeds. There was a base of a statue at the water’s edge, but it had long since fallen over. Rory wondered if it was somewhere at the bottom, waiting to be brought to the surface again.

            “I used to come here a lot as a kid,” Cullen said, putting the truck in park. “It was the one place I could get away from everyone. Rosalie was terrified there was a monster in the shallows, Mia hated the bugs, and Branson has a fear of snakes.”

            “Do you have water snakes here?”

            “I’ve never seen one, but it didn’t stop me from telling him they lived here.” He turned his head towards her and smiled. “I had to do what I had to do.” He was silent, watched Rory surveying the pond in front of them. “Will you tell me why you were leaving? Really? Explain this whole making me uncomfortable delusion you have.”

            Rory huffed. “It was not a delusion, Cullen. Maker, I saw you at dinner. You looked like you were about to have teeth pulled. And then you went and got yourself the drunkest I have ever seen you.”

            “You haven’t seen me drink that often.”

            “You wouldn’t even look at me at dinner,” she tried not to sound like a hurt child.

            Cullen opened his mouth and then closed it. He needed to figure out how he was going to say what he wanted to say. He had a tendency to fumble the ball in these situations. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I… Maker,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m not very good at this.”

            “You think I am?”

            “Yes.”

            Rory waited.

            “I wasn’t uncomfortable. I was…Maker, I was trying not to kiss you. I was trying to tell myself I didn’t like you because I can’t lose you as a friend.”

            “I’m so sorry, Cullen. You just got out of a relationship with Celia. I shouldn’t have even tried to do anything––”

            “Rory, woman, for Maker’s sake, I leaned in! This isn’t just on you.” Cullen turned in his seat to look at her. “Celia…it was over way before you came along. And no, I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship. I…or I don’t know. Maybe I don’t think I’m supposed to be. Letting go of Celia, of that part of my life, feels like I’m letting go of who I was and I don’t think I’m ready to do that.”

            “I understand. I’m still sorry. I should have respected your boundaries.”

            Cullen laughed and Rory looked confused. “Rory, we don’t really have boundaries.”

            “I think we should set some then,” she said quietly.

            He wasn’t sure, but Cullen thought maybe a knife pierced his chest. “If you think that’s best…”

            “I don’t know what’s best, Cullen.” She paused, tried to loosen her constricting throat. She needed to calm down, needed to breathe. “You aren’t ready. I shouldn’t have pushed you. But we keep…we’re acting like we’re in a relationship, not friends.”

            Cullen nodded. “I suppose you’re right about that. But let’s be clear here,” he waited until she looked over at him, “you didn’t push me. Are we clear?”

            “Yes, Mr. Templar, sir.” Rory smirked and gently nudged him with her elbow. “First boundary: we can’t share a bed.”

            He sighed but nodded his agreement. Distance Rutherford, boundaries. “Agreed. King will be very disappointed.”

            “He’s always welcome to come visit.” She thought for a moment. “You have to stop holding my face.”

            Damn it. “I can do that.”

            “Can you?”

            “You can’t mention my hands.”

            “You can’t put them on me at all then.”

            “Fair enough. No more cuddling.”

            Hell. “Okay. Treat me how you treat your three mothers.”

            “Dorian.”

            “Dorian and I cuddle all the time,” she laughed. “But I know what you mean.”

            They sat in silence and watched the snow start and stop, almost like it couldn’t figure out what it wanted to do. Rory knew the feeling. Boundaries. Boundaries were good, they were needed. He needed time and she needed space. She would rather have Cullen as a friend than nothing at all. They were both just vulnerable. Cullen formed an attachment because she was there when he was injured, she took care of him. Rory formed an attachment, based on that, and Cullen helping her after everything. That was it. That was the only reason.

            “Hugs are okay though, right?” she asked softly.

            Instead of saying anything, Cullen pulled her across the seat of the truck and wrapped his arms around her. “Hugs are okay.”

            She held him fast, tried not to breathe in his cologne. “No more than five seconds.”

            “Right.”

            Rory let go first, slipped out of Cullen’s arms, and slid back into her seat. Cullen drove them back to the house, the only sound in the cab the soft folk music coming from the speakers. It was fine. They were fine. They had their talk, Rory didn’t make him uncomfortable, she didn’t push him. It was fine. They would stay friends, they would get over their crush, and things would go back to normal.

~

            Rory slept in Mia’s old room that night. Cullen lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling while King snored peacefully next to him. He heard his mother’s soft laughter downstairs and sighed through his nose.

            “You had better be dying,” Cassandra grumbled when she answered her phone.

            “I need you to tell me I did the right thing.”

            “You did the right thing.” He heard her light click on. “What right thing did you do?”

            He told her. Everything that had happened since they touched down in Hercina. Right down to punching Rory’s father.

            “He hit her?”

            “He did.”

            “Bastard. You didn’t tell me this.”

            “Because I know you. It was bad enough that I was going to kill him, I didn’t need another person feeling the same way.” He rubbed his face and sat up against the headboard. “I’m glad I went with her though.”

            “I am as well. She needed a friend.”

            Cullen snorted. “I’m not sure I’ve been that great of a friend.” He toyed with the hem of his shirt. “I did do the right thing, right? Stopping her?”

            “From kissing you?”

            “Yeah.”

            “No.”

            “Cassandra!”

            “Well, you didn’t.” She laughed. “Maker, Cullen what do I know of love? I’ve never had much luck with it. It never seems to work out for me. If you think you and her need space, then yes, you did the right thing. But I’ve seen how you look at her.”

            “Looking isn’t indicative of anything.”

            “That’s a big word for you, Cullen. Josie would be proud.”

            “You’re very funny.”

            “And it is too indicative. You look at her like the sun rises and falls in her eyes,” she paused, “It’s disgusting.”

            Cullen chuckled, “Thanks, Cassandra.”

            “Do you want my opinion?”

            “Why not?”

            He heard her move around in bed. “You like her. She likes you. Take it slow. If it feels right, it is right. Maker, Cullen, there are no rules to this. We are all just idiots hurtling through space.”

            “Words of wisdom from Cassandra Pentaghast.”

            “I’m serious. I hold no love for Celia.”

            “I know,” he interrupted.

            “You two were rocky years before all this happened. You can disagree with me if you want to, but you know I’m right. You already grieved her loss. Not that it was much of one, but she made it easy. She left you long before you lost your leg. Rory was just a convenient excuse to leave when she did. You should not feel guilty for moving on.”

            “What if I lose her?”

            “But what if you keep her?”

~

            The next few days went by slowly. Cullen and Rory danced around each other awkwardly at first, waiting until they got back into the grove of friendship. The entire family sensed it, though none knew what was going on between the two.

            “You said you’d take me riding.” Rory sat down on the couch and made to swing her legs into Cullen’s lap before she thought better of it.

            Cullen stopped himself from reaching for them. “I did say that.”

            “So.”

            Cullen laughed and tossed the tv remote to Rosalie, who hung upside down in a chair. “I take it you want me to take you riding?”

            “Take her up to the waterfall,” Rosalie offered. “It’s finally warming up, it’ll be a nice ride. And it’s romantic,” she added in an aside to herself.

            Cullen hit her in the face with a pillow.

            “Yes! That sounds wonderful. Please? I’m going stir crazy. Not that you all aren’t wonderful company,” she added. “Come on. It’s been ages since I’ve ridden.”

            “Okay, okay. Riding it is.”

            “Ma!” Rosalie yelled. “Cullen and Rory are going riding!”

            “Oh!” she called out excitedly from the kitchen. “I’ll make a basket for you to take! You can have lunch!”

            Cullen shoved Rosalie off the chair on his way out the front door. She landed with a satisfying thud and a curse.

            Rory insisted on riding Lus. Which made Cullen an absolute nervous mess. Lus could be unpredictable. Especially with riders he hadn’t known for a while. Maker, he nearly threw Cullen. The idea of Rory on a nearly two thousand pound animal unsettled him. He took his father’s horse, Berta, a Ferelden Forder mare who was mean as she was sweet. But she was fast, faster than most of the horses they had in the stable. The only one who could out-race her was Lus.

            “You’re sure you want to ride him?” Cullen asked, watching Rory saddle him up. Berta nipped his collar bone and he hissed. “Yes, I will make sure you get extra treats when we get back.”

            “I’m positive. I think he and I will get along.” Rory smiled at Lus and ran her hand over his snout. “He’s just nervous that you and I can out-race him.”

            Lus snorted and nodded his head up and down.

            “Oh, are you challenging Berta and me?”

            “I think we might be,” she said with a smile.

            Twenty minutes later they were on their horses, heading out of the barn with Giselle’s picnic in tow. The sun was still high in the sky, a few sparse snow clouds that threatened. It was warmer than it had been, but the breeze still bit through their clothes. Rory found her center rather quickly despite not having ridden since she was a teenager. Muscle memory could be a glorious thing.
            “You see that tree at the edge of the field over there?”

            Rory followed his finger to a large oak tree a few feet from the tree line. “Is that where we’re racing to?”

            Cullen nodded and adjusted in the saddle. “From there on I’ll lead.”

            Rory saluted. “Ready, set, go!” Lus took off at a breakneck speed and Rory laughed excitedly.

            “That’s cheating!”

            Cullen and Berta took off after them, Berta pushing against the wind. Rory was paces ahead of them and Cullen’s competitive side rose to the surface. Rory looked over her shoulder at him and laughed, a brilliant smile stretching over her face. For a moment he forgot how to breathe. Rory’s hair was flying out of its bun wildly, trailing in the air behind her like Lus’ mane. Within a few moments though, Lus and Berta were side by side, nearly neck, and neck. Lus panted beneath her, pushing himself harder as Berta gained ground. Rory dropped down, her cheek nearly pressed to Lus’ neck. The tree was fast approaching and both riders kept their gaze focused on it.

            “Come on, baby, let’s take him down a peg, yeah? One good push for me. Come on!” Rory kicked her heels and felt Lus strain harder.

            She broke free of Cullen and a few moments later Lus reared to a stop in front of the tree, Rory gripping him tight with her thighs. Her laugh echoed in the space around them as she watched Cullen and Berta slow to a stop in front of them. Rory smiled at him, pushed her hair out of her face. Lus tapped his feet happily and whinnied at the approaching pair.

            “You must be so proud of yourself,” Cullen teased.

            “Oh, I absolutely am,” Rory laughed and patted Lus on the side of his neck. “You’re such a good boy, yes, absolutely. Aren’t you just the fastest, most handsome boy there is.”

            Cullen rubbed Berta. “You did good, Berta.”

            “Oh, Cullen. Really? That’s all you’re going to say to this majestic lady?”

            “Aren’t you just the prettiest, best mare around?”

            Rory frowned and shook her head. Berta didn’t seem to mind, instead, tossed her head anxiously.

            “I think she’s ready to go again,” Cullen chuckled. “We’ll have to race again on the way back if they aren’t too tired.”

            “Ready to lose to me again so soon, Rutherford?”

            “Can it, Marcher.”

            Thankfully the trail back to the waterfall was not as overgrown as Cullen expected it to be. He wondered if his father kept it trimmed so his mother could ride back when she wanted. Rory and Lus followed behind him, Rory humming every now and then. This would be their first time alone since their talk and he wasn’t sure what to say or do around her. Which he thought was absolutely ridiculous. She was his friend first before she was anything else. How hard was it to be friends with someone that you want to kiss? Varric and Cassandra did it, though the two would never admit it, and both would murder him a thousand different ways if he ever thought of mentioning it to them.

            “You’re thinking awful hard up there. I can hear your brain whirring like an overheated computer all the way back here.”

            “I have no thoughts.”

            “Ha! You couldn’t stop thinking if the Maker himself commanded it.” Lus whinnied. “He agrees. And horses know these things. Come on, talk to me.”

            Cullen sighed. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

            “Not a chance. Come on. Spill it, Rutherford.”

            Cullen grew quiet, let the silence sit for a moment. “This is our first outing alone since our talk.”

            “Afraid you’re going to jump my bones, Cullen?” Rory teased.

            Cullen nearly choked. “Maker, woman.” Rory laughed behind him. “You know what, silence. the rest of the way.”

            “Oh, come on, that was funny!” She chuckled to herself. “You have got to loosen up or you’re going to have a heart attack. You’re too young for this much stress.”

            “You, my dear, are half of my stress.”

            “Forgive me. I’m very sorry I offended your delicate Ferelden sensibilities.”

            “My delicate––” he turned half round in his seat to look at her, “my delicate Ferelden sensibilities!”

            Rory grinned in victory. “It’s very Orlesian of you.”

            “Oh, just you wait until we stop.”

            Cullen muttered to himself the rest of the way and Rory never felt more proud of herself. Discovering Lavenmile’s home? Second to annoying Cullen. She knew why he was feeling a little awkward. Truth be told, she was feeling a little awkward about it herself. But it was going to be fine. They just needed to put it behind them and things would glide back to some kind of normalcy. Eventually. Probably. It couldn’t be so hard to become friends again.

            The waterfall itself was just starting to thaw. The front layer was frozen solid, a steady cascade roaring behind it where it fell down into a small pool that fed into two smaller streams. The river couldn’t be too far. The snowy rock face jutted out towards them, trees and what would likely be shrubs and ferns growing out of the cracks. It looked as if there were a rock shelf behind the flow of water, but Rory couldn’t be for certain.

            “In the spring there’s elfroot and crystal grace all through here. Spindle weed as well. Branson and I used to have fights with it. Mom gets the elfroot for her salves. Spends all fall drying out the stems.” Cullen dismounted Berta and went to help Rory off of Lus.

            “Your leg is hurting you,” she said, slipping out of the saddle and onto the frozen earth.

            Cullen nodded and instead turned his attentions to unloading the picnic Giselle had packed them. “It’s… I’m not sure how to explain it. They’re working on a new prosthetic for me, but I fear that it’s always going to feel this unnatural. It just needs getting used to.”

            “Have you talked to Anders about it?”

            “He says the same. Recommended a therapist and physical therapy. Again.”

            “Well, both would be a good idea. And when you find a therapist, I need a name. I’m going to have to go to therapy after all this.” Rory spread out a thermal tarp and laid a thick blue wool blanket over the top of it.

            “Are you alright?” Cullen brought a small saddle bag over and a few extra blankets.

            Rory sat down and took the extra blankets from Cullen, spreading one out over her legs. “I don’t know.” Cullen sat down next to her, awkwardly trying to bend his foot in a way the prosthetic wasn’t willing to go. “I guess…I was never close to my father, I don’t know why I’m this upset.”

            “He’s still your father.”

            “I know. I just never really thought it would go this far.” She watched him unload the bag: cheese, bread, honey, meat, wine. “I’ll take that wine.”

            Cullen worked on opening the bottle. “It did escalate rather quickly.”            

            “Do you think I made a mistake?”

            “No. No, I don’t think you did.” The cork popped with a pleasant echo. “I think you stood up for yourself. You did what you had to do.”

            Rory nodded and took the bottle out of his hand. “So why does it hurt?”

            “I think you know.” Cullen stretched out next to her, laid a blanket over his own legs. “I was worried about you there for a while.”

            “I was worried about myself…Do you think your three mothers could adopt me?”

            Cullen laughed and took the bottle after Rory sipped. “They already have. You’re never escaping.”

            “I wouldn’t dream of it.” The wine was sweet, coated the tongue in a bandage. “I just…it’s so final now. At least before I could pretend, you know? I was still a Trevelyan.”

            “You’re still a Trevelyan, Rory.”

            “By name only.”

            “Hasn’t it always been that way?” He didn’t mean to sound so harsh.

            She hummed. “I suppose you’re right. I just…I keep wondering if I could have handled it better.”

            “How?” Cullen asked, taking the bottle back from her. “No, really, how else could you have handled it?”

            “Well, I could have worn a dress that wasn’t my mother’s.”

            “I would have rather died than see you in that Maker awful wedding dress.”

            Rory laughed. “You and me both. Maker, it was terrible.” She watched the water poke through the frozen holes of the waterfall. “I don’t know, Cullen.” She leaned back on her elbows. “Maybe I could have tried to talk to him again?”

            “Would he have listened to reason, though? Rory, I’ve never seen you that upset and angry before. And I was an ass to you.”

            “Yes, but you’re very charming.”

            “Thank you. My point still stands though. The beach? The dress? Eliot.”

            “To be fair, Eliot and I have always had a…annoying relationship. He gets under my skin like no one else. And I did think Liam was dead.”

            “Fair. Your family…Rory, I care about you very much, but Maker they brought out a side to you I have never seen.”

            “I keep her well-hidden. Proper young ladies weren’t allowed a temper. It wasn’t my brothers so much as it was Father. And myself. And now I’ve lost them.”

            “I’m sorry.” Cullen had a difficult time imagining no longer having his family. Despite how little he called them, he couldn’t picture a life without them.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

            “Name it.”

            She paused, watched the water behind the frozen falls. “Can you ask Leliana to find my mother? I need to know.”

            “Done.”

            “Thank you, Cullen.”

            They rode back before the sun started to set. The horses knew the way home of course, but neither Rory nor Cullen relished the idea of riding home in the dark. When they reached the tree, neither one lined up but instead set their horses off at a full gallop. Rory accused Cullen of cheating having led the way down the path. Cullen simply laughed and pulled Berta towards the lead. The sky was turning a beautiful blend of pinks and oranges and they raced into it wildly. Lus pulled hard beneath Rory, the force of his gallop radiating up her spine. Cullen was feet in front of her when she pulled back on Lus’ reigns.

            Cullen kept on, turned his head to see how far ahead he was when he saw Rory pull back to a stop, Lus angrily tooling and pawing at the ground, tossing his head back. “Rory!” Cullen turned Berta in a wide arc before ushering her back. “What’s wrong? Are you alright? Lus! Back down!”  

            She nodded to a car in the Rutherfords' drive. “Is that one of yours?” she asked, though she knew the answer. The black luxury model was easy to identify.

            “No, it isn’t. Rory?” Cullen watched her grow pale. “Rory, talk to me.”

            “It’s Father.” She drove Lus into a canter before taking him into a full gallop, Cullen following close behind her.

            It was the moment she expected. Hawthorn had come to drag her back home, kicking and screaming if necessary. Though, if she knew him as well as she thought she did, he would threaten Cullen. Cullen who had assaulted a Lord. He would threaten to press charges unless Rory came with him. And she would go. A life with Henri Demarchelier could be tolerable. He would have his dalliances, she would have hers. Orlais had wonderful museums. The Lavenmile would still remain in Denerim though. A life as Lady Lorelai Demarchelier could be tolerable. If approached with alcohol and prescription medication.

            “Rory!” Cullen yelled out behind her.

            She finally slowed to a stop at the barn, Branson coming out to meet them. He grabbed and steadied her when she slid off Lus. Cullen guided Berta to a stop before he swung off.

            “Easy,” Branson said.

            Rory wasn’t sure who he was talking to, but it didn’t matter. “Is he inside?”

            “Yeah. Got here about a half-hour ago. We tried calling, but service––”

            Rory nodded sharply and turned towards the house. She felt Cullen next to her, his strong presence a reassurance. Though, she couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t punch her father again. She wasn’t entirely sure that she wouldn’t punch her father. The stairs of the porch creaked under her steps. Before her hand could reach for the doorknob Cullen grabbed her and turned her towards him.

            “You’re not going back with him, do you hear me?”

            “Cullen–”

            “No. You’re not going back with him. Come on.” He took her hand and led them through the entryway into the warm air of the Rutherford homestead.

            Laughter floating out from the kitchen surprised both of them. They looked at each other, unsure whether to keep walking or to turn tail and run. Rory was not prepared for laughter. She proceeded cautiously, unsure what she was going to find past the archway into the kitchen. Cullen squeezed her hand in support.

            “My dear, that is exactly what I am telling you!”

            Rosalie’s laughter ran clear as a bell.

            “Eliot?”

Chapter Text

“Roar!” Eliot stood up from the table where he sat with Giselle, Rosalie, and Archer. He crossed the space in three strides, pulled Rory into a tight hug, and smiled over the top of her head at Cullen. “Stanton.”

            “Eliot.”

            Rory patted his back and moved away so she could look at him. “What are you doing here?”

            Eliot placed a hand over his heart and looked offended. “I came to check on you! I was worried about you.” Rory raised an eyebrow and Eliot rolled his eyes. “Okay fine, Father was on the warpath and I sought refuge. You weren’t at your apartment, it’s adorable by the way, so I bribed the pilot to tell me where he dropped you off at.”

            “And you just left Liam. Wait, how’d you get into my apartment?”

            “You left him first. And the charming Elaine Hornigold.”

            “That’s not fair.”

            “I know, I know, I’m sorry. That was rude. But Liam didn’t want to come! I promise I asked.”

            Rory’s heart broke. Liam didn’t want to come. “I see.”

            “No, not really.” Eliot sat back down across from Rosalie and winked at her. “Liam didn’t want to come because he doesn’t want to be a burden. I told him that was ridiculous,” he turned to Rosalie, “but he never listens to me.”

            “Eliot.”

            “Yes, darling sister?”

            “Why are you really here?”

            He looked perplexed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

            “Eliot.”

            Eliot sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Oh, fine. Father sent me. But I did really want to get away from his wrath and check on you. Maker, I think he’s planning for me to marry Henri darling’s little sister. Tabi. She’s an absolute snake of a woman.”

            Cullen smirked. “Then I’m sure you two would get along swimmingly.”

            Eliot grinned and took a drink. “No, see normally you would be right! However, Tabi is the type of snake to completely ruin your life. Now, while letting women ruin me is my favorite pastime,” he cast a playful glance to Rosalie, “I don’t relish being completely destroyed. So, I seek refuge in the land of dogs.”

            Brutus barked happily.

            “Yes, exactly. Maker, Liam should have come with me. He’d be in heaven.”

            “He’s a fan of dogs, I take it?” Archer asked, picking up his coffee cup.

            “Oh, the biggest.”

            Rory stared at Eliot as he continued to banter with Cullen’s family. Maker, her father just moved on to the next sibling. Surely he would know Eliot had no intention of marrying anyone anytime soon. “Has Hawthorn said anything about me?”

            Eliot shook his head. “No, but that’s probably a good thing. I was instructed to come here and check on you. See if I can convince you, or perhaps ‘convince’ you to come back home and marry Henri.”

            “He expects you to drag me back?”

            “You need to ask?”     

            Giselle watched Rory’s sad nod of understanding. “Well! You two are more than welcome to stay with us as long as you want.” She rose from the table and turned her eyes towards the pantry. “Now, everyone out so I can cook.”

            Rosalie stood up and motioned for Eliot to follow her. Which, much to Cullen’s distaste, he did so excitedly. Cullen followed close behind them, considered tripping Eliot on accident. He resisted the urge to place his hand on the small of Rory’s back to lead her to the living room. Eliot plopped gracefully into a chair and smiled with Rosalie sitting across from him. That wouldn’t do at all.

            “We should go back to my apartment then,” Rory said. “I don’t want to burden the Rutherford’s more.”

            “Nonsense!” Rosalie moved forward in her chair. “It’s not a burden. Mom loves having a full house. “And they love having Cullen home. If you go, he’ll go. Yes, I’m manipulating you.”

            “You’re very good at it,” Eliot assured her. “I want to stay forever already.”

            Cullen glared and sat next to Rosalie on the arm of the chair. “You’d get bored.”

            “With your sister next to me? Never.”

            “Eliot,” Rory sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Stop flirting with Rosalie to make Cullen uncomfortable. It isn’t nice.”

            “I’m not. I’m flirting with Rosalie because she is a very attractive young woman.”

            “Well, thank you, you aren’t so bad yourself.” Rosalie smiled and winked at the middle Trevelyan.

            “Is Antony cleaning up my mess?” Rory asked in hopes of distracting Eliot and Cullen from behaving like children with a shiny new toy.

            “As per usual. And mine. Well, what would be mine. I worry he’ll wind up on the chopping block that is Tabi.” Eliot frowned. “Father is desperate for this alliance and he’ll get it one way or another. Duke Demarchiler is just as desperate. As is his son by the way. Also, kudos to you for calling Henri, Lord, to his face in front of everyone.”

            “Antony is stronger than us. He won’t do anything he doesn’t want to, and Hawthorn knows that. Antony will take the whole family down.”

            “Well, wouldn’t that be a relief.” Eliot’s smile was neither warm nor teasing.

            That night after dinner when everyone was in their respective beds, Rory tossed in hers. Liam was alone with their father. Liam was alone with their father. Maker, she left him alone again. She threw the blankets to the side and got out of bed. Titus didn’t stir once. As quietly as she could, Rory walked across the hall to Cullen’s room.

            “Cullen. Cullen, are you awake?”

            “I am now,” he grumbled.

            Rory got on his bed on top of the covers and leaned against the headboard.

            “What’s wrong?” Cullen kept his eyes closed, waiting for her to lay down and sleep.

            “Liam. He’s alone with our father.” She wiggled her foot. “We need to go get him.”

            “How?”

            “You’re Ferelden National Security. Can’t you get us a plane?”

            Cullen chuckled and adjusted his pillow. “No.”

            “Cullen.”

            “Rory, go to sleep.”

            “He didn’t want to come live with me, Cullen.”

            “He doesn’t want to be a burden.”

            “But he’s not a burden!”

            “He doesn’t know that, Rory. Coming from personal experience, that’s not just a thought that goes away because someone says it isn’t true. He feels like a burden and nothing you say will fix that. Just keep talking to him, keep extending the invitation, and eventually, he’ll accept.”

            Rory was quiet and watched Cullen next to her. Cullen felt like a burden. She had never considered it before. He had mentioned it once or twice when she was getting his groceries and staying at the hospital with him, but she wasn’t aware how deeply rooted the feeling was.

            “You’re not a burden, Cullen.”

            “Not anymore, no.”

            “You were never a burden.”

            Cullen kept his eyes closed. He needed to keep them closed. “Lay down and sleep.”

            Rory smiled sadly and looked away from him. “That’s against the rules, remember?”

            He sighed and cracked his jaw. “I remember.”

            “You’re sure you can’t get a plane?” she asked after a few quiet minutes.

            “I’m sure.”

~

            The next night the Rutherford family took the two Trevelyan’s out to the local watering hole. The Greased Wheel was Honnleath’s only source of alcohol outside of the small grocery store that only carried one brand of beer and cheap wine that underaged youths used to get drunk in their parents’ fields. Rosalie was nice enough to invite Rory to Redcliff with her for the day to look for a dress.

            “Thank you for coming with me, Rory.”

            “No! Thank you for bringing me.” Rory watched the scenery flash by them. “I needed to grab a few things so I don’t have to keep wearing yours and your sisters. I didn’t exactly pack for Ferelden winter.”

            Rosalie laughed and nodded. “It’s a bit colder out here than most places in Ferelden anyways. Being so close to the mountains does that. Hercina is a bit warmer then?”

            “Loads. Cullen seemed like he wanted to go swimming. That is before we had to make a great escape.”

            “Your dad sounds…”

            “Terrible?”

            “To put it mildly.”

            Rory gave an understanding smile. “Mm. Mom used to tell us that he wasn’t always like that. Though, I think sometimes she was just trying to protect us.”

            “Moms.”

            Rosalie turned the truck down a dirt road. “It’ll get us there an hour quicker.” Rory let her mind wander while she scrolled through emails on her phone. Most were from the museum, a few from Dorian, Cassandra, Lexi. One from her father. She swallowed, not quite ready to read it.

            “So, you have a crush on my brother.”

            “Oh, the tables have turned!” Rosalie cried and then laughed. “He’s very handsome.”

            “He’s very charming.”

            “That too…Would it weird you out if I made a move?”

            Rory laughed, “No, it wouldn’t ‘weird me out.' It will, however, infuriate Cullen.”

            “But that is half the fun!” Rosalie smiled and careened the truck around a curve. “I’m taking him riding tomorrow.”

            “Hm, might be a little too much information, my dear Rose.”

            “Oh! Maker, you’re as bad as Cullen. I meant on the horses.”

            “If you race him, he’ll let you win. It’s infuriating.”

            “Maybe I’ll let him win.”

            Redcliff was an adorable tourist town. It had been on Rory’s list to visit for a few years, but she had never managed to make it out. They didn’t have enough time to tour the castle, but Rory made a plan to come back and take a tour as soon as she could. She bought a new cashmere scarf and picked one up for Cullen as well. And a fisherman’s sweater that would look stunning on his complexion.

            “What’s the vibe of this bar?” Rory asked in the next shop, picking up an adorable dress for spring.

            Rosalie put a shirt back she was looking at. “Cowboy hats and muddy boots.”

            “Fantastic.”

            The weight of her father’s unopened email was heavy in her pocket. She should just look at it. Should just pull it out and read it. Maker, what if it was legal documents? Should she change her name? Maker, what if she had to move? She loved that apartment.

            “What about this?” Rosalie held up a pink skater dress.

            “It’s pretty. You’d look good in a darker color.”

            “You think?”

            “Mm. Like a blood-red or a burgundy. With your complexion and your eyes? Stunning.” Rory looked through the racks before she pulled out a deep red V-neck cotton dress. “Something like this? Gold jewelry, hair up, few tendrils down. And it would look good with boots.”

            “Oh, I like that. I like that a lot.” She took the dress from Rory and held it out. “Thank you for coming with me. Mia had to drive Pierce to Lothering today to look at some livestock.”

            “It’s really no trouble. Thank you again for bringing me. I didn’t pack an outfit that would work for tonight.”

            Rosalie moved through the racks with Rory, picking pieces out and placing them back. “You bought that scarf and sweater for Cullen, didn’t you?”

            Rory nodded. “I did. He wears the same two sweaters.”

            Rosalie watched Rory move to another display and look gently through the folded items. “You don’t have sisters?”

            Rory smiled and shook her head. “No. Mom wanted more kids. Dad did not. I remember them fighting about it one night. Liam was at a sleepover and Antony had gone off as he always did. Eliot snuck into my room and read to me.” She draped a mustard color shirt over her arm. “I have a girl cousin that I’m close to. But no, no sisters.”

            “That’s a shame.”

~

            “Cullen, I need you to zip me up.” Rory entered his room still twisting her hair up. “I can’t reach the damn zipper.”

            Cullen chuckled and spun her around to get at her zipper. “So you and Rose went shopping today.”

            “We did! I like her very much. She told me quite a few embarrassing stories about you.”

            “Oh, I’m sure she did.”

            “She likes my brother.”

            “Now, why would you tell me something like that?” Cullen pulled the zipper up and gently pulled her hair.

            “Ow, hey.” She turned and playfully punched his shoulder. “Am I overdressed? Rose said no, but I worry she was just being nice.”

            “You are absolutely overdressed, but it works for you. It’s annoying.” Cullen pulled a leather jacket out of his closet. “Rose really likes Eliot?”

            Rory smiled and headed out of his room. Cullen yelled out her name, but she kept walking.

            The Greased Wheel was in an old brick building between the hardware store and the dance studio. Rory got a tight pang in her chest seeing the barre through the windows. Cullen’s uncle Lex joined them and Rory loved him immediately. He was a bookish type, Rory could tell. He had blond hair like his sister, a far bit more gray, however. His stubble was kept neatly trimmed, but Rory could see a few grays peeking out. Resting on his slightly cooked nose was a pair of gold wire and tortoiseshell glasses, his large eyes a lovely shade of blue. He was a little shorter than Cullen with lithe but muscular limbs.

            “And you must be the maiden my nephew kidnapped.”

            “I am. Swept me right off my feet.” Rory smiled and let Lex shake her hand gently.

            Lex grinned. “Just like I taught him.” He slid into a chair across from her and hummed. “I did some research on you.”

            “Oh, Maker, Lex, you didn’t?” Giselle groaned and shook her head. “Rory, forgive us all.”

            “No, no! It was all good, I promise. I was curious about the daughter of a lord.” The waitress came by the table and he ordered a lager. “You’re quite the academic.”

            Rory tried not to blush. “I am.”

            “I recognized your name, but couldn’t figure out from where. Then I found your book!”

            Rory did groan then and hid her face.

            Eliot blinked in surprise. “Why did I not know about a book?”

            “Maker, Eliot, I sent you a copy!”

            “Did you really? Well. I’m a terrible brother.”

            “Yes, you are.”

            “It’s a good book,” Cullen offered before taking a sip of his ale. “She signed my copy.”

            “Ah ha! That was going to be my next question.” Lex pulled out a small worn paperback from his back pocket. “Would you sign my most beloved copy?”

            Rory laughed and reached out to take the book. “I would say it is! You wrote in the margins!” she yelled excitedly.

            “I write in all my books. Little notes to myself, questions.”

            “Lex, I would be honored to sign.”

            “While you two scholars talk, I’m going to take my wife for a spin.” Archer winked at Giselle and gently pulled her up from her seat. “My dove.”

            “Speaking of my dove,” Eliot smiled at Cullen, “where is your sister?”

            Cullen struggled not to hit him. “She’s on her way. She needed to pick up Mia.” Rory loved him., maybe he wasn’t a terrible guy.

            “Cullen, I’m going to take Rory for a spin and talk art.” Lex stood up and reached for Rory’s hand. “Try not to kill each other while we’re gone.”

            “Please,” Rory added.

            Eliot pretended to be offended. When they left he finally turned towards Cullen. “Maker, man. You could at least pretend to not hate me. For Rory’s sake.”

            “I don’t hate you. Not completely,” he added.

            “Oh, that makes me feel loads better.”

            “You just… rub me the wrong way. And our first meeting didn’t exactly help either.”

            “Yes, I forgot you’re in love with my sister.”

            “I’m not in love with her.”

            Eliot let out a high-pitched ‘hm’. “Aren’t you though?”

            Cullen pursed his lips and pretended to watch Rory dance with his uncle. “And what are your intentions with my sister?”

            “Nothing honorable, I assure you,” he teased. “In all seriousness, Cullen, I would like your permission to pursue something with Rosalie. If she’ll have me.”

            “Why ask me and not my dad?”

            “I already have. He said I had to take it up with you.”

             Cullen couldn’t help but laugh. His father would tell Eliot to come and ask him. Archer just wanted his children happy and he wasn’t about to threaten another man’s child just because they wanted to date his daughter. Cullen on the other hand did not have that problem. “You know if you hurt her I’ll have to hurt you.”

            “I am fully aware.”

            “Fine. Fine.”

            Eliot smiled and waved to Rosalie walking through the door with Mia. “And you have my permission to date my sister. When you’re ready.”            

            That night they drank and they danced and Rory forgot for a moment everything that had happened. She was with a family, a happy family that didn’t wound each other every chance they got. Eliot was laughing, his real laugh, one she hadn’t heard since they were children. Cullen wasn’t tense across his shoulders. Rory challenged Cullen to a game of chest they found tucked into a booth in the corner. Each piece lost meant one shot drank. By the end of the game, both Cullen and Rory had a nice flush on their cheeks.

            “You just wanted to get me drunk,” Rory hiccupped, “That’s the only reason I lost.”

            “Is it? I thought you lost because you weren’t any good?”

            “Oh!” Rory threw a chess piece and hit him square in the forehead. It hit with a satisfying thunk. “That’s what you get. How rude.”

            “Alright, you two,” Archer had walked to the table and stood next to them, “let’s get you both home and into bed.”

            “Father is disappointed in us, Roar.”

            “I know the feeling well. It’s fatherly love and affection that is unsettling to me.”

            Cullen curled his lips in a frown. “Trevelyan, that’s just depressing.”

            “It is, isn’t it?”

            “Da, I want one dance with Rory.” Cullen lumbered up. “Just one! Then you can cart us home.”

            Rory squealed and quickly exited her seat. “A dance from Mr. Cullen Rutherford himself!”

            “Now, Cullen–” Archer started to protest, but before he could finish, Rory was pulling his son out to the dance floor.

            Cullen took Rory’s hand in his own, placed the other on the small of her back. The song was slow, a willowy singer gliding out of the speakers to talk about finding their way back to their beloved. Rory laid her head on his chest and sighed, letting him move her as he saw fit. She could feel him hum along with the song playing, a quiet soothing vibration under his ribs. His hand was large on her back, his thumb gently rubbing up and down on her dress.

            I got lost in my head and I found the way to you again.

“We’re breaking a rule,” she murmured.”

            He hummed, “There was no rule about dancing.”

            “Should be.”

 “Probably. Should be.” Cullen lowered his cheek to the top of her head.

“We should stop.”

“We should.”

            And every moment I thought of you is written right there in my eyes.

“I never should have let them dance.” Archer watched them from the table with Giselle nestled into his side. “Think they’ll figure out they’re in love with each other?”

Giselle hummed and drew Archer’s across over her shoulder. “Well, I think the dancing might help.”

Mia smiled. “And the song I requested.”

~

            Rory woke the next morning the most hungover she had ever been in her life. Maker, everything hurt and she was starving. She move Titus from her chest and sat up slowly, her head only slightly spinning. Brutus slept soundly at her feet, his snores muffled by the blanket. She had stripped off her dress at some point in time and was only in her underwear, bra thrown across the bedpost. After she answered a text from Lexie and got dressed, she quietly made her way downstairs, past Cullen’s snoring.

            Archer was in the kitchen cooking: there was a plate of bacon, eggs, pancakes, Orlesian toast, sausage links, and coffee.

            “Morning,” Archer said with a smile. “Grab yourself some coffee.”

            “Thank you. Maker, it smells amazing.” She picked up a coffee mug and filled it with enough space for her cream and sugar. “I hope I wasn’t too much trouble last night.”

            “Not at all. Cullen was the worst. You went rather willingly to bed.”

            “Cullen didn’t?”

            “Never has, that one.” He fished more pancakes onto the plate next to him and shut off the stove. “Bring that coffee to the table for me.” He picked the plate up and carried it over to the table, before sitting down.

            Rory sat the coffee down between them and took a seat across the table.

            “Dig in.” 

            “Thank you,” Rory picked up a fork and picked up a large piece of sausage, “I’m starved.”

            The pair sat in silence, Rory checking her emails, Archer reading through the paper.

            “Archer, may I ask you something?” He hummed. “How did you know Giselle was the one?”

            He hid his smile behind the paper. “I just knew. There wasn’t a reason or anything like that. There was a moment though.” He lowered the paper and smiled fondly. “We were in my truck and she was brushing her hair. We had stayed out, it was hard to get time alone back then with our families as big as they were. The sun was coming up and she was brushing her hair. The way the light hit her… Andraste herself couldn’t have been more beautiful. Giselle had bought me this suncatcher and put it over my rearview. The sun hit it and put tiny little rainbows all over her and I just knew.”

~

            Cullen sat on the porch and watched Rosalie and Eliot ready Lus and Berta for a ride. He hoped Lus bucked Eliot off. Rosalie laughed at something Eliot said and Cullen glowered more.

            “Maker, Cullen.” Rory sat next to him and scooted closer. “It’s freezing out here, why are you just sitting?”

            “It’s not that cold,” he said and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I’m keeping an eye on your brother.”

            Rory smiled. “You really don’t like him, do you?”

            “Not for my baby sister, no.”

            Rory laughed and siphoned Cullen’s warmth. “He isn’t so bad. He treats his girlfriends very well. I’ve never known him to cheat.”

            “Rosalie is…she’s sweet and kind. She needs someone who’s…”

            “Not Eliot.”

            “Yes.”

            Rory laughed and punched his side. “Maker, you’re so grumpy.”

            “I’m not grumpy!”

            “Okay. Grumpy.”

            “Ridiculous.”

            Rory giggled and relaxed into Cullen’s warmth. She watched Eliot and Rosalie take off, Lus giving Eliot a little bit of a hard time before he corrected himself. “I need to go back tomorrow,” she finally said. “But I think you and King should stay here a while. Your family missed you.”

            “You really have to go back?”

            “I’ve been here a week now, Cullen. I have to face the music eventually. I’d rather do it sooner.” She wasn’t exactly looking forward to going back, but it needed to be done. The museum needed her and she needed to deal with Henri Demarchelier, the rat bastard that he was. “I can’t hide forever.”

            “No. No, I don’t suppose you can. Mom is going to be devastated.”

            “Stay another week.”

            “I have a job too, you know.”

            “I do. And I also know that you are still confined to desk duty. That you can do here.” She rested her head on his side. “Does this count as cuddling?”

            “You leaching all my heat? No. I’m preventing hypothermia.”

            She hummed. “Cullen, you belong out here. I’ve never seen you this…free.”

            “No?”

            “You’re happier here.”

            She was right, he knew. But he didn’t want to admit it. Wasn’t ready to admit that maybe he was just a farm boy. Maybe losing his leg was the Maker losing his patience with Cullen. A sign that he should move back to Honnleath, help his parents with the farm.

            “You’re taking your brother with you, right?”

            She laughed and pulled away from Cullen. “Yes, I’m taking him with me. He’s driving me back. Will you stay here?”

            “Yes, I think I will. For a little while at least.”

            “Good. Try not to punch any more lords while I’m away.”  

Chapter Text

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Drakonis 14, 12:42, 3:53pm

Cullen,

                        Your apartment is fine. Titus and I did a walk-through. The plants are watered, the floors are cleaned. I threw out the spoiled food. Your apartment smelled like a garbage can. It was disgusting. Eliot has decided to stay for a few weeks. You aren’t going to like this, but I think he’s smitten with your sister. And likewise with her. She texts me all the time now. Usually about him. It’s kind of cute really. They have schoolyard crushes. I don’t think Eliot has ever had a crush actually. He’s quite taken with her. Calls her his little dove.

            Liam called. I still can’t get him to come and stay with me, but I’m going to keep trying. He may want his own space. Which, I will support, but Maker I wish he were closer. I miss him. I keep thinking about him in that house with Father and Antony, who is hardly ever home unless he has to be. Liam is so isolated there. Are you sure we can’t requisition a plane?

            Oh, I forgot to tell you when I called: I came home to boxes. Lots of boxes. All of them were addressed to me, with no sender. Naturally, I called Cassandra to come over and make sure they weren’t explosives or anything. No, in fact, they were my mother’s things. All of her dresses, her clothes, her jewels, her books. Everything that was in her room is now crammed into my office until I can figure out what to do with it. I know it’s too soon, but any word from Leliana? I just…I don’t know, I keep picturing the worst. If she’s dead, you have to lie to me and tell me that she just didn’t want to see me.

            My first day back at the museum was a disaster. I mean that. I was in meetings all day long. Apparently, they were not as understanding as Lexie led me to be. But when I said I could find a new job at any museum in Thedas and take the Lavenmile with me, they changed their tune pretty quickly. Something else though that’s bugging me. Something is different about “Titus Triadus”, but I don’t know what it is. It’s probably because I’ve been gone for so long. Henri Demarchelier has been by the museum every day since I’ve been back. I’m tempted to have him banned. I’ve had to start sneaking out the back entrance so he can’t wait on me. Lexie and Rylen have been sharing the burden of driving me home.

            Be sure to tell your mother I miss her cooking.

            xoxo

                        Rory

~

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Drakonis 18, 12:42, 4:32am

            Rory,

                        My mother says you should “just come back home”. I think she may love you more than me. No word from Leliana yet. I promise she’s still looking. The museum is lucky to have you. They should have been more understanding in the first place. Yes, Rylen sends me ‘The package has been secured’ and ‘The package has been delivered’ texts every time he picks you up and drops you off. I’m sure Titus has just missed you and that’s why he seems different. We will not discuss your brother and my sister. That relationship will happen over my corpse. I’m glad you have your mother’s things.

             Cullen

~

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Drakonis 18, 12:42, 6:37am

Cullen,

                        He lives! It’s been days since I’ve heard from you. Shame on you. At this point, I would love to come back. We’re getting in a new donation of paintings and all of them need some kind of cleaning or restoration. One of them has a three-inch hole in it. It’s going to take me weeks if not months to repair it. Apparently, it fell off the wall and went through a small statue. Which, I don’t believe for a second, but who am I to disagree with the powers that be. Lexie is furious with the whole collection. It’s by an artist who was painfully anti-elvish. She doesn’t want them in the museum and I honestly don’t blame her. The bosses went on about being aware of the history of the artist, but that their work was still influential, yada, yada, yada. Lexie wasn’t impressed. Neither was I. Honestly, I have thought about leaving and running my own gallery/restoration business. There’s a perfect building for it downtown, this old brick building that used to be a butcher’s shop, I think. Gorgeous hardwood floors. But, I’m not rich enough for that. Maybe I should marry Henri and take his money…

On top of all this, I’m getting a cold. Hack is bringing me lunch later. Says it will help, but I’m not quite sure what ‘it’ is. Rosalie stopped by last night with Eliot. We all went out to dinner. I hate to break it to you, Cullen, but I think a relationship is in the works. Eliot is enamored with her. It’s cute. Rosalie seems to really care for him. Eliot acts like he would give her the moon if she asked him. He’ll treat her right, Cullen, I promise. He’s not such a bad guy. He’s just…well, he’s Eliot.

I went back to the beach you took me to. I needed to get out and think for a bit. I found two jars full of sea glass! I gave Lexie all the green pieces though. She’s putting them in her bathroom. I’ll send you pictures of the jelly jar I have full now. The shapes and colors are amazing together.

When are you coming home?

xoxo

            Rory

~

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Drakonis 18, 12:42, 5:37pm

Rory,

                        I wish you wouldn’t go to that beach alone. Next time make Rylen go with you. Your brother and my sister…Maker, I’d never survive. I know I gave him my permission, but still. It’s going to kill me. Ah, Hack’s soup…it’s…it’ll put some chest on your chest. Don’t eat it unless you’re home. It’ll quite literally knock the snot out of you. It’s disgusting. Don’t marry Henri. Ask Alistair for a grant.

            Cull

~

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Drakonis 19, 12:42, 5:43am

            Cull,

                        You didn’t answer my question.

            The soup was…Your warning was not sufficient enough, Cullen. I was very tempted to use tampons to keep the snot from running down my face. But I feel much better today, so it must have done the trick. Rylen and Lexie and I are meeting at Hacks tonight for live music. Which he is still very angry about. But it brings in good business for him. He’s just going to have to get used to it. He’s introducing new food to the menu. Salads. Can you believe it? I told him he should add wine next. He banished me. But I don’t think he’s serious. At least I hope he isn’t.

            I wouldn’t stay married to Henri, Cullen. I’d marry him, catch him cheating, take him for half. Or, he’d have a very tragic hunting accident or riding accident, and I would get the life insurance. It’s a win-win really. Though, I think you’re right. Alistair would give me a grant if I asked, but why should I? There are so many more people who need that money more than I do. It’s just a dream. Something to help me fall asleep at night.

            Oh! I was talking with Dorian and he has this friend, Dagna, who makes all kinds of inventions. She makes these fascinating prosthetics, I’ll text you some pictures. But she’s working on this new one that looks and feels like your real leg, she matches your skin tone and everything. Can even add freckles and hair and toenails. She needs someone to test it out for her and I think you would be perfect for it. She wants someone who’s active to test it out. I told her you liked to run and she got very excited. I’ll forward you her email and phone number. It’s at least worth looking at, Cullen.

            xoxo,

                        Rory

~

            Ry: Mate, when are you coming home?

            Cull: I’m not sure yet. I’m taking some space.

            Ry: From Rory.

            Cull: She said we needed distance and I didn’t think she was right, but maybe she is. We broke like four of the boundaries/rules we laid out. I need some space and I need to give her some space. I’m not ready yet and I don’t think she’s ready yet. I need to be sure.

            Ry: Maker, you’re an idiot.

            Ry: Sure of what exactly?

            Cull: Each time she’s tried to kiss me and I’ve tried to kiss her, she’s been vulnerable. How do I know that it just wasn’t seeking comfort?

            Ry: I’m going to reach through the phone and strangle you.

            Cull: I’m going to stay and help Dad get ready for planting and then I’ll come back. Keep an eye on Rory. I don’t like that Henri is hanging around her. And do not let her go to that beach alone again.

~

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Drakonis 21, 12:42, 3:37am

            Rory,

                        I’m ignoring your question, I thought that was obvious?

            I took a look at Dagna’s information you sent over. And her website. We’ve emailed a few times back and forth. She’s very…interesting. I’m half convinced she’s responsible for the bombings. The leg seems an interesting concept. I’m curious as to if it will actually work. She’s coming out here in a few days to measure everything.

Cull     

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Drakonis 21, 12:42, 8:41am

            Cull,

                        That’s so exciting! You’ll have to let me know how it goes. I think she’s delightful! I’d love to have lunch with her sometime. We’ve been talking about the lipstick stain on Titus, trying to work out how it has stayed on for this long. She also thinks it was magic. I hope you’re ready to accept defeat when we prove that theory. It’s only a matter of time, my dear sir. Regardless of what you believe, you have to admit it is curious…

             I’m making jam today. Mrs. Hornigold managed to get ahold of six, that’s 6, flats of strawberries. Maker, Cullen there are like 84 quarts of strawberries. I’m sending some jam your way when it’s done. And save a jar for your mother, I’m telling her I’m sending her a jar. Speaking of family: How is King? Is he still enjoying farm life? He seemed quite at home out there. Maybe you should think of retiring and buying a house outside Denerim. Though I’d hate to see you go.

            That’s Mrs. Hornigold now. I’m off to clean 84 quarts of strawberries. Wish me luck.

            xoxo,

                        Rory

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Drakonis 23, 12:42, 6:43pm

            Cull,

                        Dagna tells me the fitting went well. She’s very excited about it. She wants to come and run some tests on Titus. I may let her. We haven’t gotten answers anywhere else and I’ve seen her credentials. As long as she doesn’t harm the marble, I think it’ll be good for the museum. I still think something is off with him, but I can’t figure out what it is. Lexie hasn’t noticed anything, no one else has noticed anything. Maybe I’m being paranoid. We got the paintings in. Maker, they’re worse than I thought. It’s going to cost thousands and countless hours of very, very laborious hard work. I’m going to have to stock up on pain relievers. My eyes are going to kill me by the end of it. Lexie says we should just burn them. I think it might be a better investment honestly.

            Henri caught me at lunch yesterday. I think he paid someone off. There was no way he should have found me. Apparently, he still wants to marry me. Thinks my feistiness is something that would bring him great joy. Maker, it took everything I had not to punch him. I feel like I’m just another acquisition to him. I agreed to dinner on the basis that he leave the matter alone after.

            The jam should be to you in a few days.

            xoxo,

                        Rory.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Drakonis 26, 12:42, 7:13am

            Cull,

                        I hope everything is alright? I haven’t heard from you for a while and just wanted to check.

            The dinner with Henri went about as well as expected. I don’t think he’ll be leaving me alone, but I did my best. He’ll get bored eventually.

            Did the jam make it to you? I added in an extra surprise I think you’ll like. And a book for your uncle Lex. Rosalie stopped by the museum today before she met with Eliot. I gave her the tour, showed her Titus. She thinks the lipstick print is magic, put there by his lover just before he was turned to stone. She’s quite the romantic. I took her to that Tevine restaurant we found, the one where the waiter called you a brute. To be fair to him, you did not follow proper etiquette, my dear friend. She loved it and the waiter. She wants to come back next week. You should come with her! Come have lunch and go back home. She said you seem happier. I’m glad for that, Cullen.

            xoxo,

                        Rory

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Drakonis 29, 12:42, 8:43pm

            Cullen,

                        There’s an unopened email in my inbox from Hawthorne. I haven’t been able to open it yet, but it’s killing me to not know what it says. Despite that, I still can’t bring myself to open it. I want to know what he says, but I know it will just hurt me to read it. Yet there it sits, lurking, waiting. I’m being dramatic. I should just read it.

            I just got a text from Rosalie, Mia is pregnant! That’s so exciting, you’re going to be an uncle again. That’s fantastic. Does explain why she wasn’t drinking at The Greased Wheel. I hope it isn’t too forward if I send her some baby things? Rosalie said of course not, but I just want to be sure. There’s an adorable baby store just down from the museum that sells the cutest clothes and toys. Oh, this is so exciting. I keep waiting for one of my brothers to give me niblets, but they haven’t yet. And now you’ll have three!

            xoxo

                        Rory

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Cloudreach 7, 12:42, 3:05am

            You’re a real jerk, Cullen, you know that? haven’t heard from you in weeks, weeks, you ass. only reason i know youre alive is rose. get betnt

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Cloudreach 7, 12:42, 11:18am

            Cullen,

                        My apologies for the drunk email. That said, I do not apologize for what I said. Are you upset with me? I’m trying to figure out why you’ve cut off all contact. Just with me. Rylen still hears from you apparently. Look, I know we said we’d take a break, but…Maker, Cullen, not hearing from you?

            Rory

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Cloudreach 12, 12:42, 4:56pm

            Cullen,

                        Messaged received, Cullen.

            Rory.

~

            “He’s ignoring me,” Rory said and dropped her purse on the table.

            “Good morning, Lexie, how was your night? Oh, it was great thank you, Rylen and I went and saw a movie and got dinner and I didn’t have a fit when he left a toothbrush in my bathroom.”

            “He left a toothbrush?”

            “And mouthwash.”

            “When’s the wedding?”

            “You’re so funny. So, lover boy is ignoring you, hm?”

            “Not funny.” Rory sat on her stool. “Yeah. It’s been weeks and I haven’t heard anything from him.”

            “Maybe he’s busy?”

            “That’s probably it…has Rylen said anything? I know he still talks to him.”

            “No, but I can ask him. He’s probably just busy, Rory.”

            “I know, I know." She rubbed her face. "Eliot and Rosalie are coming to town again this weekend. You and Rylen want to come out with us?”  

            “Rylen and I are actually getting a sea-side cabin this weekend.”

            “Maker, really?”

            “I know. I hope he isn’t proposing.”

            Rory laughed and started setting up to work on a new painting. “I don’t think he’s proposing, Lex. It’s probably just a nice getaway. Enjoy it.”

            “Hm. Anyway, we’re going to that new Antivan place in the square tonight. Come with us?”

            “Oh, I can’t. Greer is coming over.”

            Lexie groaned and tossed her q-tip down. “I thought we were done with Greer?”

            “We were, but then I got needy and needed an orgasm from someone who was not myself.”

            “Literally anyone else will do, Rory.”

            “Greer is familiar.” Rory pulled her hair up into a bun. “And he knows me. You know I’m not really one for a one-night stand.”

            Lexie sighed and went back to work. “I know. I know.”

            They worked in silence before Rory said, “There’s an email from my father that’s been sitting in my inbox for the last two months.”

            Lexie dropped her q-tip and swiveled in her seat to stare at Rory. “What?”

            Rory didn’t do anything but nod.

            “What’s it say?”

            “I don’t know,” she sighed, “I haven’t read it yet.”

            They made a plan: Lexie would read the email to her at the end of work and she and Rylen would drive her home. She could handle it better coming from Lexie. Then it would be out of her inbox and she could move on with her life. Hopefully. The day drug on and slowed to a sluggish crawl. Somewhere against one of the windows, melting snow dripped rhythmically on the glass. It made Rory flinch with each soft patter. Soon daffodils would start to spring up in the dirt outside the east windows and bunnies would make their home in the foliage. There was a group of three. They disappeared every winter only to come back with their babies for the spring.

            At fifteen till Rory sat her phone in front of Lexie, opened to her email. Pinned to the top was the unopened mail from her father. Lexie took the phone in her hand and read through it silently. There was nothing on her face, no emotion or reaction brought to the surface. Lexie had always been good at that. She set the phone down back in front of Rory, email exited.

            “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

            “Unless you accept Henri’s proposal and return home until the wedding, you are no longer a Trevelyan. He’s giving you until Summer’s Day.”

            “Oh,” Rory said, nearly relieved. “That’s not as bad as I thought it would be.” Lexie looked down. “What else?”

            “If you do not marry him,” she hesitated, “if you do not marry him, your brothers will be allowed no contact with you, or they lose their ‘privileges’.”

            Rory stared at her friend.

            “Rory?”

            She could see Lexie’s lips moves, could almost hear her as if she were underwater. Her father had doubled down.

            “I’ll call Rylen. We’ll cancel this weekend––”

            Rory shook her head, slipped her phone into her bag. “Don’t. Go have your weekend. I’m alright. I need to tell my brothers. I doubt Hawthorn has shared this with them.”

            “Rory…”

            “I expected this. Well, not to this extent, but a version of it.” She started to clean up. “Why don’t you duck out early, get a head start on that cabin.”

            “Rylen and I are going to give you a ride home.”

            “Lex, it’s alright. I’ll take the train. Or I’ll call for a car. I’m not completely destitute,” she smiled, “The Lavenmile is still housed here at the museum. And I’ve been saving. I have my mother’s jewels. Maker, those alone are worth millions.”

            “Rory, you can’t sell your mother’s things.”

            “I won’t, but the option is there if I need it. I didn’t get hired here because of my name. And even if I did, I will take the Lavenmile if they let me go.”

            “I don’t want to leave you.”

            “I’ll be fine. Eliot and Rosalie are coming in, remember?”

            Lexie pulled Rory into a hug and held her tightly to her chest. Rory hugged her back, slotted her face into her neck.

That was that then.

~

Rory called a car and ordered Antivan, Tevine, and Orlesian for dinner. It arrived fifteen minutes after she walked through her front door. Titus was curled in a sunbeam by the balcony doors. She squatted down in front of him, gently scratched under his chin, then left to go feed him. Rory sat on the couch that night and ate her food, drank her wine, ignored her phone. She had forwarded the email to her brothers, and not looked at her phone since.

At half-past six, Rory left her apartment. She walked the streets, watching spring start to blossom around her. After a few blocks, she passed a hair salon advertising for walk-ins. She eyed the sign, pink and gold, and considered. There were a group of women inside, three in five of the chairs in front of the mirrors. They were smiling and laughing at something a stylist was saying. She moved her hands wildly, exaggerating movements. A woman behind the counter caught Rory’s eye and waved her in. She was thick, large in the chest, soft purple hair that hung in waves around her beautiful face. She smiled at Rory, revealing a small gap between her two front teeth, her brown eyes crinkled at the corners. Up close, Rory could spot the dozens of freckles across her nose and cheeks.

“I saw you watching. We’re open for another two hours if you’d like a cut? Or a dye even. Margo got new dyes in and she’s been dying,” she winked, “to use them.”

Rory smiled. “I’m not sure if I’m brave enough to dye my hair, but…I think I would like a cut.”

“For sure. Let’s get you in a chair!”

Rory never flinched as the scissors cut through her long thick hair.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Cloudreach 13, 12:42, 2:22am

            I really need you.

Chapter Text

            Rory woke a week later with Greer’s arm draped over her waist, his face pressed into her shoulder. Maker, her head was killing her. When he came over the night before, she had been sure it was what she wanted. Now, in the light of day, she only wanted him off of her. She was hot and sweaty and the wine left her mouth cloudy and dry, there were dried fluids between her legs, her scalp felt itchy. As slowly as she could, trying not to wake him, Rory slid out from under his arm. Titus yawned and stretched in the chair across from her bed. Rory didn’t want to pet him until she was clean. Though she felt like she never would be.

            The shower was cold, needed to be to get the flush off her. Maker, she was ready to turn on the ac. She needed to stop sleeping with him. Maker, did she need to stop sleeping with him. It was self-harm is what it was. Lexi had called her on it on more than a few occasions. All she sought was to feel needed, wanted. She put far too much shampoo and conditioner on her hair, not yet used to the shorter length. Her body was washed twice for good measure. She rested her forehead on the paradise blue quartzite slab she spent four years trying to find. The same place that sold her the Blue Louise slab for her kitchen called her when they got it in. They knew she had a thing for blues. She let the water beat down on her back and sent a prayer to the Maker that Greer would be gone by the time she got out of the shower.

            That prayer was not answered.

            When Rory exited the bathroom in her silk robe, hair tossed up in a t-shirt to dry for a while, Greer was lounging on her bed, answering emails on his phone. He smiled at her when he looked up, patted the bed next to him.

            “I would have joined you, but you looked rather relaxed,” he explained. “Have any plans for the day?”

            “I was actually thinking of going to Redcliffe for the day.” Liar.

            “Redcliffe? Maker, what for? That town is a tourist trap.”

            “I think it’s charming. I was there a month ago or so with a friend. I wanted to tour the castle, but we didn’t have time.” She went to her closet, taking far too long to look for outfits. Maker, just leave. “That or Lexie was wanting to hang out soon, so I may go see her instead. She and Rylen are getting pretty serious.”

            He grunted. “I’m not a fan of Rylen.”

            “I adore him. He’s sweet.”

            Greer hummed and went back to his phone. Rory continued to fake look for clothes. She pulled out a sweater and stopped. It was one of Cullen’s. She had borrowed it on First Day while they were at Hacks. Someone had spilled their drink on her. Her thumbs felt over the wool blend, worn soft by years of wear. Tears welled in her eyes before she could stop them. She should just call him. Though, the message had been made clear. Maker, but she missed him. She sent a quick text: Can we please talk? There was a knock at her front door and she practically ran to answer it. When she opened it, Eliot stood on the other side, two coffees in hand.

            “I swear to the Maker,” he sighed and entered her living room, “there is only one good place to get coffee in this Maker forsaken Ferelden shithole and it requires a blood sacrifice to get there.” He looked her up and down. “You look like shit.”

            “Thanks, Eliot.” She shut the door after him and took the coffee he offered her. “Thank you. There’s a good Antivan coffee shop down the street. I’ll take you some time. Cullen is addicted.”

            “Speaking of, you have men’s shoes by the door,” he said accusingly with an eyebrow raised.

            “Ah. Yes. Greer.”

            “Greer. His name is Greer?”

            “That is exactly how Rosalie said it.” She smiled and sat on her couch, curling her legs under her. “You’re here early. I figured you’d be gone to go get her.”

            “I’m leaving soon. I wanted to check on you. She’s going to spend the weekend with me.” Eliot sat in a chair and crossed his legs. “I’m thinking of buying an apartment here,” he stated.

            Rory blinked in surprise. “Really?”

            “Well, I thought about Redcliffe, considering its proximity to Honnleath, but Denerim has more to offer. And you’re here,” he added.

            “And I’m here.” She watched him sip his coffee and then smiled. “You really like her.”

            He groaned and dropped his head to the seatback. “I really like her.”

            “She really likes you too.”

            “She does?” He perked up and leaned forward. “Did she say that?”

            “In her way. You better hold on to her. I like her.”

            “Sorry, who’s this?” Greer asked from the doorway to the bedroom.

Rory turned slightly to look at him. He had put on pants, but kept his shirt off, weirdly flexing his chest muscles. “This is my brother, Eliot.”

            “Brother?” Relief flashed across his face.

            “Older brother,” Eliot clarified, not keeping the scowl off his face. “And you are half-naked in my sister’s apartment because?”

            Greer cleared his throat and had the decency to look embarrassed. “I’ll just leave you two to it then.” He retreated back into the bedroom to gather his things.

            Eliot rolled his head back to look at Rory. “Really?”

            “Lexie says it’s self-harm.”

            Eliot hummed and watched Greer walk back through, neglecting to say goodbye to Rory. He didn’t like him. He was squirrelly and posh.

            “Did you read the email?” Rory asked, sipping her coffee slowly.

            “Ah, yes. The one from our father.” Eliot glowered. “If you think we’re going to let him stop us from talking to you, you’re not very smart,” Eliot simply said, stopping to take a sip from his coffee.

            “Eliot,” Rory started to protest.

            “I mean it. I may be a coward, Rory, but I’m not so much of a coward to give up my sister. Antony and Liam agree. Antony has been squirreling away money since he was a child.”

            Rory looked surprised. “He has?”

            “Of course. Every dollar that was given as a present. Not to mention cash withdrawals. He’s got an account out of Tevinter or Nevarra. One of those two.” He sipped his coffee. “And I have contacts. Besides,” he scratched Titus along his back, “Father can’t and won’t disown all of us. He needs an heir.”

            “I can’t ask you all to do this.” She took her hair out of the t-shirt and shook it out gently with her hand.

            “You aren’t, Roar. We’re offering.”  He smiled at her, his boyish, annoyingly charming smile. “I like your hair.”

            “I had a crisis.”

            “Well, it looks good on you.” He watched her. She was curled across from him, her legs drawn up to her chest. There were bags under her eyes and her skin was splotchy. She’d been crying. “Something else is wrong.”

            She gave a bitter chuckle. “I don’t know. Cullen is ignoring me. That’s not why I’ve been crying though,” she explained. “I did tell him we needed distance, but Maker, I didn’t mean no contact.”

            “He’s ignoring you?” Eliot narrowed his eyes and pulled his phone out.

            “What are you doing?”

            “I’m telling Rose so she can beat the shit out of him.”

            “Eliot.”

            “What?” Titus leaped into his lap and Eliot paused for a moment to pet him. Rory stared him down. “Well!”

            “He wants his space, let him have it.” She shrugged. “It was my idea in the first place.”

            Eliot kept his phone in his hand but made no move to finish his text. “Doesn’t mean he has to give it to you. Rose wants to know how you are anyway.”

            “I’ve been better. I’m sorry I canceled on you guys.”

            “Don’t be.”

            “I was looking forward to it. Then I got the email from Hawthorn and,” she trailed off.

            “We understood. We stayed in that night anyway. It was nice, just the two of us lounging. Normally, I’m not one for just lying about,” he teased, “but it was nice.”

            A knock on the door broke the conversation. Eliot rose to get it, setting Titus off to the side to curl against a pillow. Rory wasn’t expecting anyone. It was likely Mrs. Hornigold with her grocery list. Rory had told her Wednesday to bring it by, but truth be told, she had forgotten about it. The cool breeze from the open balcony doors blew through and rustled the paper on the coffee table. A text from Varric chimed on her phone and Rory smiled.

            Varric: How you doing, Classy?

            Rory: Any advice for being disowned by your father and jeopardizing your brothers’ future?

            Varric: You don’t want my advice for that. Your father is a fool.

            Varric: Listen, I’m having a party next weekend to celebrate my thirteenth book. Come eat and drink. We miss you, kid.

            Rory: I’ll do that, Varric. Send me an invite and I won’t miss it. Is it okay if I bring a date?

            Varric: Only if he’s uglier than me.

            Rory: Well that won’t be hard to do at all.

            “Rory, you’ve got a guest. An Orlesian.”

            “An Or–– Leliana!” Rory got up from her chair and rushed to hug her. “I’ve missed you.”

            Leliana chuckled and hugged her back. “I have missed you as well. You cut your hair. I like it. It suits your face shape.”

            “I did. A few days ago. I was in crisis.”

            The taller woman nodded. “The body carries trauma. It’s only natural to want to change it. I’ve heard about your father. I’m sorry.” Rory nodded and motioned for Leliana to sit. “You got a cat!” She reached out and let Titus sniff her hand before picking him up and cuddling him to her chest.

            “The same day Cullen brought King home. I have a fish as well. Or really, he’s Titus’ fish.”

            “He’s perfect.” Leliana smiled over Titus’ head and snuggled him.

            “Oh, Leliana, this is my older brother Eliot.”

            “Nice to meet you.” Eliot stood to the side of Rory and watched Leliana skeptically.

            “Yes, I recognized him from his picture. When we checked on them for you,” she explained. “I suppose you know why I’m here.”

            “You found her.”

            “Found who?” Eliot asked, looking between the two with furrowed brows.

            “Our mother,” Rory explained calmly.

            Eliot sank into a chair and watched. Their mother. Leliana had found their mother. The last time he saw her, she was leaving. She had never contacted them, had never even tried to see them.

            “Is she alive?” Rory finally asked.

            Leliana nodded. “She is. Alive and well. She lives just outside of Denerim.”

            “She…she lives here?” Rory felt like she was sinking through dark water. “She’s been this close the whole time?”

            Leliana waited for the information to process. “She would like to meet with you,” she said gently.

            Eliot stood up and paced in front of the seating area. “No.”

            “Eliot,” Rory pressed.

            “No. She thinks she can just walk out of our lives and then walk back in like nothing happened?”

            “Eliot, she’s only asking for a meeting.” Rory watched him wear holes in her floor. “Do you think it was easy for her to––”

            “Yes! She left, Rory. The last memory I have of her is her back. She never tried to contact us. No calls, no letters, no emails, no Maker damned crows! Nothing.” His face contorted in anger, nose scrunched up, eyes narrowed.

            “Eliot,” Rory approached him calmly, “do you think Hawthorn would have let her? Even if she wanted to?”

            “She should have at least tried.”

            “How do you know she didn’t?”

            Hurt clouded his eyes and he turned away from her. Deep down, Eliot was still a little boy whose mother had left him.

            “Can you arrange a meeting?” Rory asked gently, her hand reaching out for Eliot.

            He left the room.

            “If that’s what you wish.”

            “I do. I do. I… it may just be me. I’ll let Antony and Liam know, but…” she shrugged softly, “I don’t know if they’ll come.”

            “Of course.”

            “Can I ask you something else?” She waited until Leliana gave her a nod. “Have you heard from Cullen?”

            “I have. He’s working from home. Well, was. Is everything alright?” Leliana gave her a puzzled look.

            “Yes. I just wanted to confirm. Thank you, Leliana. For everything.”

            Leliana watched her like a hawk for a few moments. Rarely did she feel uncomfortable around Leliana, but this was one of those times. “Something is bothering you. It’s Cullen.”

            She sighed, seeing no point in lying to the woman. “He’s made it clear, rather painfully, that we’re… I’m not sure. Friends at least talk to each other.”

            Leliana looked confused. “He’s not speaking to you?”

            Rory shook her head. “Won’t respond to any of my emails. Or the few texts I’ve sent.” She shrugged and sighed. “I was the one who said we needed distance. I just…Maker, I thought we would at least talk during it.”

            Leliana nodded and crossed her legs. “Cullen is… well, he’s a man. He’s always been very stubborn and hard-headed. I think he’s worried he’ll lose you if he dates you.”

            “He’s losing me now.”

            “I know. Just don’t give up on him yet.”

            Rory sighed and drew her knees up to her chest, petting Titus over his back. “I told him not to do this again. And here he is.”

            “Just doing what you suggested,” Leliana offered with a smile.

            “I didn’t say no talking! Just…distance. I tried to kiss him again. I leaned in first this time.”

            “And he leaned back.”

            “No, but he stopped it. I can see where he’s coming from, I can, but… Maker, Leliana, I’m not going to hold a relationship with someone who hurts me.”

            She nodded. “I understand. But I think you and Cullen are meant to be more than friends. And I’m not just saying that. I mean it. You’ve been drawn to each other since you met.”

            Rory gave a short nod but remained silent otherwise.

            “When was the last time you talked to him?”

            “Nearly two months ago. We’d been emailing––”

            Leliana held up her hand. “Which email?”

“The only one I have of his. Ferelden gov.”

 Leliana winched. “Rory, his work phone busted. And he’s been with Dagna, so he’s not been working on his computer––”

            Rory paled. “Oh, Maker. Leliana, I need you to delete a couple of emails for me.”

            “Consider it done.”

            After she left, Rory borrowed Eliot’s car and drove to the beach. Maker, she was an idiot. It wasn’t completely her fault, Cullen could have texted her first, but Maker…She picked a large rock and sat on the chilly surface. Gulls were cawing softly as they scanned the rocks for any type of food. A man was fishing about thirty feet from her. Every so often he would shoo the gulls away and recast his line.

            Brave face, Trevelyan.

            He answered on the second ring. “Hey,” he said almost hesitantly.

            “Hey,” she sighed. There were minutes where neither said a word. “I…We’ve been stupid.”

            “Have we?”

            “Yes. I…I’m upset with you.”

            “With me?”

            “Yes. And with me.” She sighed and rubbed her face.

            “Do I hear seagulls? Tell me you aren’t at the beach alone.”

            “I’m not at the beach alone.”

            “You Maker forsaken liar,” he laughed.

            She smiled and then stopped herself. “Stop distracting me.”

            “I’m terribly sorry, continue.”

            “Why haven’t you called? Or texted?”

            “Because you haven’t…you said we needed space, so I’m trying to give it to you. And you have texted either.”

            “I emailed. And I did send a text that you never responded to. I sent you one today too.” She chewed on her lip. “I said distance, Cullen, I didn’t say no contact.”

            “You’ve emailed me? Maker, Rory, I’m sorry. My work phone busted, Leliana is supposed to be sending me a new one, but the mail is a bit slow out here. I don’t have my computer with me either, I’m at Dagna’s.”

            “Leliana said. You could have also told me.” She watched the fisherman cast his line out again. She wondered if he would catch anything this close to the shore.

            “What’s wrong? Rory?” he asked again.

            “I really needed you…I don’t know why I didn’t text you. Probably because you never responded to my emails, so I didn’t think you would answer a text back and I…” she put her face in her hand. “Why are we so stupid?”

            “I know. I know. Wait, why did you need me?”

            Her throat tightened. “I cut my hair.”

            “That’s why you needed me?” he laughed.

            “No… Well, yes, but no. I read my father’s email. The one that’s been sitting in my inbox since your parents’ place.” She swallowed. “I’m to accept Henri’s proposal, return home until the wedding, or be cut off. If I’m cut off, my brothers are allowed no contact with me, or they give up the privileges that come with being a Trevelyan.”

            Cullen cursed. “Well, you aren’t going to marry him.”

            “No,” she whispered, “of course not.”

            “Rory.” She could picture him rubbing his forehead, moving his hand down to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Maker, I didn’t think that’s what the email would be. I thought it would just be ‘you’re no longer a Trevelyan’.”

            She laughed through her nose. “I know what you mean…” she trailed off, thought about the emails, got angry again.

            “Rory?”

            “Cullen, when was the last email you got from me?”

            “The 21^st of Drakonis. I got to Dagna’s on the 6^th.”

            Rory took a breath in and tried to calm herself. “I see.”

            “Rory?”

            She swallowed. “So you just decided to ignore me for a month? Couldn’t be bothered to text me and tell me, or even call me and tell me that you weren’t getting emails? Apparently, everyone else got the message. ”

            “Rory, I–”

            “You what, Cullen?” His silence said everything. “Do you remember what I said to you in the library at the palace?’

            “Rory––”

            “No, Cullen. I think you’re right. I think you’ve been right all along.” She could hear a car door shutting.

            “We aren’t ending this until you let me explain.”

            “What is there to explain, Cullen? Can you explain?”

            The car revved to life. “Not in a way that I think you’ll forgive me for.”

            “Then what is the point?”

            “It needs to be said. I’m sorry I didn’t respond.”

            “I needed you, Cullen!”

            “But you didn’t reach out any other way, Rory! After our last text, I thought…”

            “You thought what, Cullen? Honestly? You thought what?”

            “You didn’t call.”

            “Neither did you!”

            Silence enveloped them again. He was right. Rory knew he was right, but she had been texting him and he had been ignoring her. He could have let her know he wasn’t getting emails. Emailing had been his idea in the first place.

            “If I had sent you another text, if I had called, would you have answered?”

            “I did today, didn’t I?”

            “Why did you ignore me?”

            Maker, she wished she could see him. Could see his expressions. “Because I…”

            “Because?”

            “Because I can’t fall in love with you.”

~

            After Rory hung up on him, Cullen called her nearly every hour. Had been calling her every day for a week. Numerous texts, voicemails, even a handwritten letter. She deleted every one of them. She needed time before she talked to him. Time to calm down and think rationally before they went any further. She asked Nat to be her date to Varric’s party. Greer was busy and Rory didn’t have anyone else on her roster that she wanted to bring. Maker be damned if she would go alone. Varric lived on the upper east side, close to the palace. Rory thought about stopping to see Aurea and Alistair after. Nat kept his hand on Rory’s back as they rode the elevator up to the penthouse. He was handsome, Rory couldn’t deny, had a good sense of humor. And he knew how to dress for the occasion without asking. Even brought her flowers when he picked her up.

            The door to Varric’s was open, laughter and music spilled out into the otherwise quiet hallway. Rory entered first, Nat taking her hand in his. There were balloons and streamers all over the red, gold, and black, styled apartment. There were dozens of people on couches, chairs, standing, crowding around a bar.

            “Classy!”

            Rory smiled and rushed towards Varric, dropping Nat’s hand so she could hug him. “Varric, I’ve missed you.”

            “Missed you too, kid.” He surveyed Nat and smirked. “I see you kept your end of the deal.”

            “Of course. I told you it wouldn’t be hard. Nat, this is Varric, a very dear friend.”

            Varric shook Nat’s hand, “Nice to meet you. You look good, kid,” he said as he looked her up and down. “The hair suits you.”

            “Thank you. Crisis looks good on me apparently.”

            “How’s the thing with your father?”

            “I…am not sure yet. My brothers have it handled, I have my doubts.” She gave a weak smile. “I’m meeting my mother tomorrow for brunch.”

            Varric’s eyebrows raised.

            “I know,” she laughed. “I’m nervous. It’s just me. Antony and Eliot need time. Liam… I don’t know. He said he couldn’t fly this far.”

            Varric nodded in sympathy. “You okay to meet her alone?”

            “I think so. We’ll find out.”

            “You have some explaining to do!” Dorian shouted as he approached, Bull following close behind. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been about you? Dodging lunch dates! With that hair, it’s no wonder. What have you done to yourself?”

            Rory smiled and went into Dorian’s hug. “I missed you too. So much. I’m so sorry.”

            “Maker, darling, are you crying?” Dorian gestured to Bull, who hugged her from behind. “What happened?”

            “I just really missed you.”

            “Well, why wouldn’t you? Any word from Cullen?” he asked after he pulled away.

            Bull shook his head behind Rory, making a knock-it-off motion at this throat.

            “No.”

            “Liar. Who is this pale fellow lurking behind Bull?” Dorian looked Nat up and down with a disapproving gaze.

            “This is Nat. My date for the night.” She motioned for Nat to come forward and linked her arm through his. “Hack’s nephew.”

            “Nice to meet you, Dorian. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

            “Strange, I’ve heard nothing about you.” He gave a pointed look to Rory.

            “I know, I know, I’m sorry. But be nice to him.”

            Nat just smiled. “Well, I am Ferelden’s best-kept secret. That and the griffons.”

            The night went surprisingly well. Dorian and Rory caught up on the couch while Bull and Nat brought them food and drinks between their game of poker. Cassandra and Josephine joined them later, sliding into the conversation as easy as butter on a hot skillet. It was the first time Rory felt like her old self.

            “Cullen wanted me to pass a message along to you,” Cassandra said after Rory was good and tipsy.

            “Why doesn’t he just call her himself?” Dorian asked, sipping languidly on his Bordeaux.

            Rory sighed and swirled her gin. “Because I’ve been ignoring him.”

            “He’s worried about you,” Josephine interjected before they could get too far off-topic. “He knows he made a mistake. And he’s ready to take the blame for yours as well.”

            “Mine!” Rory sat up, ready to be angry, then slumped back against Dorian’s side. “No, I suppose you’re right.”

            “I am missing out on the gossip and I don’t like it.” Dorian nudged Rory.

            “If I may pass along the message please,” Cassandra sighed. “He said, ‘Lean back in with me’. Whatever that means.”

            Rory stood up, a hot flash coursing over her skin. “Nat!” he turned to look at her, cards held up in front of his chest. “Take me home.” 

~

            When Rory woke the next day, Nat was gone. He had been a complete gentleman the entire night, asked her multiple times if she were okay with where he was kissing, touching, cleaned her up after. There were two pain pills and a glass of cold water on her bedside table. There was a note he had left about having to work he volunteered at a youth outreach on the weekends. She checked her phone, shut off the alarm that was set to ring five minutes later. A text from Cullen was at the top of her notifications.

            “He said, ‘Lean back in with me’.”

            The shower she took was quick, just enough to wash the night off her body. She picked out a light spring dress and a pair of knee-high boots, a simple trench to wear over the top. With Titus and Triadus fed, she left her apartment. The Singing Maiden served the best brunch in Denerim. Possibly in all of Ferelden. She got there a half-hour early, she assumed she was the first. But when she gave the hostess her name, she informed her that ‘her guest’ was already there waiting.

            “We had a table empty so we placed her there. It works out great that we had a cancellation so early.” She was still speaking, but Rory’s only focus was on her mother.

            Victoria Trevelyan sat next to a window, the late morning sun illuminating her soft brown hair that was starting to gray around the edges. She had wrinkles around her eyes, a few smile lines. Her face had softened the older she had gotten, but it suited her. She wore a simple red wrap dress, a sunhat rested in a chair next to the table. Rory’s breath caught and she slowed, taking her time to watch her mother for a few moments. She wondered what it would feel like to meet her again, but this…it wasn’t a feeling she recognized.

            “Here you are. Can I put a drink order in for you while you wait?”

            Victoria looked up into the face of her daughter and froze. Neither woman said anything until Rory cleared her throat and asked for a Bellini. The hostess left Rory standing next to the table, her hand clenched tightly around her bag.

            “Rory,” her mother whispered, a smile slowly spreading across her cheeks. “Maker, look at you.” She stood up and approached her slowly. “Can I hug you, Rory?”

            Rory nodded and let herself be wrapped in the arms of her mother. She hugged her back, bringing her hands under her mother’s arms and placing them on her shoulder blades. She still smelled the same: jasmine and crystal grace. An expensive perfume out of Antiva. Victoria squeezed her tightly before she let her go, gestured for her to sit down.

            “I suppose…well I…” Victoria cleared her throat and sat down.

            “How long have you been in Denerim?” Rory asked curiously, trying to break the ice.

            Victoria smiled. “Around ten years now.” She took a drink. “I was in Ostwick for a few years after… I had to move though. Val Royeaux. Lydes. Redcliffe.”

            Rory nodded and stayed quiet.

            “I imagine you have questions for me,” Victoria pressed gently.

            “Why didn’t you contact us?”

            “Oh, honey,” Victoria reached across the table and took her hand, “I tried. I called, I wrote letters. I even showed up at the house. Hawthorn…Well, you know by now how your father can be.”

            “But after? I mean…I just…”

            “You wanted me to try harder. No, it’s alright,” she said when Rory tried to speak up. “You should. I’m your mother. You should expect the world from me. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder for you babies.”

            “Why did you leave?”

            Victoria sighed sadly and leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. The waitress came by, giving them both a moment to breathe. They placed their orders, refilled their drinks.

            “Your father and I… He was charming at first. Maker, I did love him. That’s why I stayed as long as I did. But over time…I noticed it with Antony first. He got…cruel. The love just went out of him. I defended you babies as well as I could, I fought for you all–”

            Rory nodded. “I remember. When you and Hawthorn would fight, Eliot would come and find me.”

            Victoria smiled. “He’d always been a good older brother. How…how are my boys?”

            “Well…Antony is in finance. He’s back in Hercina with Liam. Eliot is here, in Denerim. He’s dating a friend. He’s thinking of getting an apartment here to be close to me. We… well we hadn’t really spoken since I left home for college. Liam,” she hesitated.

            “Maker, what happened? Is he alright?”

            “He had cancer, he’s fine now! He’s no longer being treated for it. Has a clean bill of health from the doctor.”

            “Oh, oh that’s good…that’s…” she wiped a tear from her eye. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

            “You were talking about why you left,” Rory pressed.

            Victoria sniffed and nodded. “Yes, I was. I fell out of love with him. I was going to stay, for you all, but…Maker, he was a terribly mean father. I told him I wanted a divorce, he could have everything, except for you babes. That was all I wanted.” She shook her head. “That was a mistake.”

            “He knew what you wanted and he attacked what you loved.”

            “Rory…”

            “I’ll explain. Continue?”

            “Threats were made, threats I knew he could follow through on. So I…I did the hardest thing I ever had to.”

            “You left.”

            “I left,” she dabbed at her eyes, “I left and I’ve looked back every day since.” She reached and took Rory’s hand in hers. “I’m sorry. Maker, I am sorry. I should have tried harder after you all turned 18, but I didn’t know where to find you. I foolishly thought that you wouldn’t want to contact me. After years of not hearing from you, I just…I’m sorry. That’s an excuse, but I’m just trying to make you understand.”

            Rory nodded. “I do. I do understand. More than I think you know.” She smiled and squeezed her hand. “So, what have you been doing? Are you married? Kids?”

            Victoria smiled and pulled out her phone. “I am married. No children besides you four. I couldn’t…It never felt right. It was hard enough to remarry. There,” she slid the phone over, “Bastian. I met him in Val Royeaux. He’s a lawyer. A very good one I’m sure he’d like to meet you sometime.”

            “I would like that.”

            They went quiet again, neither knowing what to say to the other. The food was brought and set in front of them where it was picked at politely.

            “You said something earlier, Rory, about your father going after what I loved.” She waited for Rory to nod her confirmation. “What’s happened? I saw…I read about the engagement. I know I’m not,” she swallowed, “you may not consider me a mother, after all these years, but–”

            “I was angry with you,” Rory said. “For the longest time. I think I even hated you there for a while. I didn’t understand, not until recently, exactly how far Hawthorn would go. I think though, it came from a place of hurt. Resentment. I wanted so badly for you to take me with you.” Victoria nodded and Rory continued. “We felt abandoned, all of us. That you could just walk out so easily. And then I went and did the same thing.” She sighed, “I apparently have a hard time for forgiving people who commit the wrongs that I do. Cullen…”

            “Cullen? Is he a boyfriend?”

            “A friend. I…it’s complicated.”

            “We have time, darling.”

            By the time Rory explained, brunch was turning into lunch. Leliana must have booked the table for the whole day, because no one bothered them unless it was to refill drinks. “And now,” she said, “he wants to lean back in.”

            “I see…May I…”

            “Please.”

            “Forgive him. You were both responsible. He’s reaching back out. You just have to take his hand. The first incident…we often lash out at the people who we care about the most, because we know they’ll still be there. It’s not right and it isn’t fair, but we’re human. This time, it was a lack of communication, darling. Did you ask him why he said he couldn’t love you?”

            “I may have hung up on him before it got that far.”

            Victoria hummed and drank her tea. “As a mother, I want to tell you to leave. Find a new apartment, date someone else. As a woman…It sounds like the two of you have been drawn to each other for a long time. He’s scared. Talk to him, at least let him explain.”

            “I don’t know if I can.”

            “Rory?”

            Rory spun in her chair, looked back to find Eliot standing awkwardly.

            “Eliot.” Victoria stood up, her hands shakily setting her teacup down. “Eliot Andrew Theo Trevelyan, Maker, look at my little prince…”

            Rory swallowed back tears and got up to take Eliot’s hand. “Come on,” she whispered. she tugged twice before Eliot let her lead him to the table.

            Victoria smiled, tears rising in her eyes once again. “I always knew you’d come out tall. Maker, at twelve you were already taller than me.”

            Eliot said nothing, simply stood still next to Rory, her hand firmly clutching his.

            “Come sit,” Rory pressed.

            “Rory was telling me about Cullen,” Victoria explained.

            “Am I supposed to sit here and talk about Rory’s boyfriend like…like you haven’t been gone for the last twenty-two years?”

            “I’m sorry, Eliot. I should have tried harder. I regret not trying to find you after you were eighteen. I should have. I’m sorry that I left you. I am, Eliot. You deserved better. I only hope that you’ll try and let me make it up to you.”

            “If you knew our father was as terrible as he was, why have kids with him? Why marry him? Start there.”

            Victoria blushed, but answered truthfully. “Your father wasn’t always cruel. He was kind at first. I got pregnant. Your father was arranged to marry Lady Gertrude, Duchess now, I believe.”

            “Henri’s mother?” Rory asked confused.

            “That would be the one. His father had arranged it. Her family is one of the most powerful in Thedas. Maker, Henri is third in line to the throne. Fourth, if his sister marries before him.”

            Eliot rubbed his forehead. “That’s why Father was so adamant about you marrying him.”

            “We…had a fling. Nothing serious. But…” Victoria trailed off again, letting the past explain itself.

            “I want to be the one to tell Antony he was an accident.”

            “Don’t you dare,” Rory chided.          

            “Hawthorn’s father was furious. We married before Antony was born. We passed him off as a preemie, Maker, Hawthorn even donated to the hospital so Antony could stay in the NICU ward. That’s part of the reason why there’s such a large age gap between Antony and Eliot. It took us some time to reconcile. He never forgave me for ‘ruining’ his future.”

            “Which is why he takes it out on us,” Eliot confirmed.

            An ache started at the base of Rory’s skull. “I forgot to mention, M-…Mom, I have your jewels, clothes, purses…”

            “Keep them,” she smiled, “those are yours now. Sell them if you wish. The jewels, most of them are family heirlooms. I could tell you who they belonged to, if you’d like…”

            “I would love that.”

            They said goodbye when it got dark. Victoria got into an unmarked black sedan after hugging both of her children goodbye. They had plans to meet the next week for dinner. Eliot was still cold, not yet ready to give up his hurt. Not that Rory blamed him. He drove her home, kept quiet the entire drive until he bid her goodnight.

            “Eliot, are you alright?”

            He smiled. “I’m fine. I just…I’m fine. I’m going to go see Rose before– before she goes back. I may not see her for a while.”

            “Okay,” Rory hesitated, not quite believing him, but not knowing how to get him to talk to her.

            “I love you, Roar.”

            Rory leaned across the console and hugged him tightly. “I love you too, El.”

            He waited until she unlocked the door to the building before he drove away. She stopped by Mrs. Hornigold’s apartment and dropped off the dinner she had picked up for her at the restaurant. She was ready for a nice long soak in her bathtub with a glass of wine and an eye mask. She opened her door, reached to turn the light on before she realized it was already illuminating her living space. Eliot must have turned it on before he left. But why would he–

            “Rory.”

            She jumped, ripping the pepper spray out of her purse before she recognized Antony on her couch. “Maker’s balls, Antony! You can’t just sit in my apartment with no warning! How did you even get in?”

            “Your neighbor. I told her I was your brother.”

            “I’m going to have to have a talk with her.” She slipped her shoes off then froze. “What’s wrong? Is Liam alright?”

            “Liam’s fine. I… I’m sorry.”

            “Antony?”

            “Sit down, Rory.”

            Rory stopped, frozen to the space she occupied as Hawthorn Trevelyan strolled out of her kitchen, drink in hand. She looked back at Antony, saw the ache etched on his face. Her body ran cold, face flushed: fear. That was the feeling. Fear.

            Eliot.

~

            When Cullen’s phone rang he was going to ignore it. Too busy flexing his feet and legs like Dagna had told him to practice doing. Then he saw Rory’s name. He answered on the third ring, fingers fumbling to keep his phone in his grasp as he picked it up.

            “Hello? Rory? Maker, I’m so sorry. Please, just let me explain–”

            “I’m so sorry,” she cried, gasping. “I’m so, so sorry, Cullen.”

            “Rory? What’s happened?” He was looking for his keys, fuck what Dagna said. “Rory, talk to me, baby, where are you?”

            “I-I can’t,” she gasped.

            He grabbed his keys off the stand by the blue front door and started trying to shove his feet into shoes.

            “Commander Rutherford, where are you going?” Dagna flew out of the kitchen, flour on her face. “You can’t leave! I told you, the leg–”

            “Fuck the leg, Dagna! Maker damn the leg.”

            “Cullen.”

            Rory sobbed on the other end, taking in short deep gasps.

            Maker fucking damn it all. “Rory, you have to calm down. I need you to breathe, darling, can you do that for me? Come on, breathe with me. Just like I taught you, remember?” He breathed with her, repeated, in for four, hold for seven, out for eight. You’re doing great, baby, stay with me. “Talk to me, Rory. What’s going on? What’s happened?”

            “I c-can’t.”

            “Rory?”

            “I’m so, so sorry, Cullen.” She sobbed again.

            He felt like there was a knife in his chest. He slumped against the wall, put a hand in his hair. Listened to her sob on the other end. “Just, just stay with me, okay? Dagna, I need your phone…Now!” She fumbled it out of her pocket, tossed it to him, and waited. He dialed Rylen’s number. He called again. And again. Rylen finally answered on the fifth call. Before Rylen could even ask who it was, Cullen was speaking. “Rylen, it’s Cullen, I need you to go to Rory’s, now. Take Lexi.”

            “I’m on my way. What happened?”

            “I don’t know. Just go get her.” He hung up with Rylen and tossed the phone back to Dagna. “Rory, listen to me, listen to my voice. I’m right here. I’m right here, darling.”

            “I’m sorry,” she hiccupped.

            “I forgive you.” Maker, what was he even forgiving her for? “I forgive you, Rory.”

            “I’m so sorry.”

Chapter Text

Lord Hawthorn Trevelyan and Duke and Duchess Demarchelier

invite you to join them to celebrate the engagement of

Duke Henri Demarchiler and Lady Lorelai Trevelyan

on Summerday | 6:00pm

at First Andrastian in Denerim

Chapter Text

            Eliot unlocked Rory’s front door and shut it hard behind him. A picture rattled on the wall, but nothing else in the house stirred. He made for her bedroom, his hands shaking by his sides. Rory was curled up in bed, her face half-hidden by a thick comforter. Titus stretched and yawned, glanced at Eliot before getting up and prancing to the kitchen. Eliot paused a moment before he walked into her bathroom and started to run cold water into the large white tub. While it was filling, he walked back into her bedroom, grabbed the covers and ripped them back, and scooped her up. She screamed, smacked him in the face before she realized it was him.

            “Eliot, what are you doing?” She gripped onto his shirt, smacked him again for good measure. “Eliot!”

            He kept walking and dumped her, clothes and all, into the tub of water. She shrieked and floundered about until she righted herself, shoving wet hair out of her face. The cold water shocked her out of her sleep as violently as possible.

            “What in the Maker’s name have you done?” he finally screamed at her.  He threw his hands up, paced the white tile floor. “Have you lost your mind! Two weeks. You kept this from me for two weeks! Dinner with our mother! You kept this from me!”

            “What was I supposed to do!” she screamed back. “What was I supposed to do, Eliot! Let Cullen go to jail? Let you break Rosalie’s heart?” She sloshed water at him, her hard breathing echoing in the room. She watched Eliot pace, watched him contort his face into several different emotions at once. When they were little and he cried, he would scrunch his face up, get wrinkles in his nose. She dropped her face into her hands, her sniffs echoed in the bathroom.

            Eliot slumped against the wall opposite the tub and slid down it, his long legs stretching out in front of him. “I told you I had it handled,” he whispered.

            “You said Liam and Antony were accepting. That they had my back. And then Antony showed up here with Hawthorn and cornered me! You didn’t warn me!”

            “I didn’t know! That night I was going back to Rose, I was…Maker, I was going to end it but I couldn’t. I tried, I…I didn’t know they were here, Rory. I told father I was going to marry Tabi, he agreed. I thought that was the end of it.”

            “If I had known Liam and Antony weren’t sure, I could have handled it better. You lied to me, Eliot.”

            “I had to! You’re my baby sister, Rory, what was I supposed to do?” He kicked his foot in protest. “Maker damn you.”

            Rory sniffed, didn’t wipe at the tears sliding down her cheeks. “I couldn’t let you take the fall, Eliot. Liam has never gotten a chance to live. Not really. Antony…Maker, Eliot, Antony is gay. I couldn’t let him be stuck in a marriage to Tabi Demarchelier. And you…you love, Rosalie, Eliot.”

            He slowly looked up at her, didn’t argue. “I would have taken this.” There were circles under his eyes, his face was haggard and a three-day stubble took up residence on his jaw.

            “I’m the only one of us that doesn’t have someone they love, Eliot.”

            “Cullen?”

            She winced, looked away. “Cullen and I never would have worked. Doomed from the start.”

            “Who knows?” he asked when the silence stretched on too long.

            “Everyone but Cullen.” Cullen who she hadn’t spoken to since the night she called him crying. Cullen who sent a text that read: You can ignore me now, but when I come back, you’re in for it. “You can’t tell Rose… Not yet. She’ll tell Cullen and… I can’t face that yet.”

            He sniffed, wiped his nose on the back of his jacket.

            Rory drew her knees up, rested her chin on them. “I need to get ready for work.” She sat for a few more minutes. Grateful to feel the cold rather than nothing at all.

            “Let me do this.” Eliot looked at her, watched her rise from the water, shivering and dripping.

            “It’s already done, Eliot.”

~

            The museum was empty when she came in through the back. The security guards nodded their mornings to her while she went through the metal detectors. Her heeled boots clicked on the empty marble staircase down to the basement. She walked the long hallway until she got to another security desk, showed her id, though at this point in her career it was unnecessary.

            “Good morning, Titus,” she said quietly, setting her bag down next to her. She couldn’t be bothered to walk to the lockers. The marble statue said nothing back but watched her with uncaring eyes.

            Her phone rang in the silence, startling her out of her work. Cullen. She held the phone in her hand, considered ignoring it, and then answered.

            “Hello?” she whispered. Cleared her throat once and said it again.

            “Rory? Maker, I’ve been worried sick about you. Are you alright?”

            She swallowed. “I’m fine, Cullen. Thank you for your concern.” She watched Titus watch her.

            “Thank you for your concern– Rory, it’s me. Not some stranger.” He sounded annoyed at best.

            Say it. Say it, you coward. “I think…I think it’s best if we become strangers, Cullen.”

            “Rory if this is about our fight–”

            She shook her head though he couldn’t see. “It’s not. It’s not about that.”

            “Then what is it about? You’ve ignored me for two weeks. Two weeks, Trevelyan!”

            “I can’t explain yet.”

            “I need you to.”

            She watched rain splash against the high windows. Tell him. Just tell him. “It’s just seeing my mother–”

            “Bullshit, Trevelyan.” King barked in the background. “He agrees. Bullshit. Tell me what’s actually happening? Rosalie told me Eliot’s been crying for the last two weeks. What happened? Honestly though,” he added, “I didn’t think your brother was capable.”

            “Seeing your mother after twenty-two years fucks with people a little, Cullen.”

            “Rory, please,” his voice softened. “Please, just talk to me. It’s been two weeks, Rory. I can’t help if I don’t know. Look, if I need to leave and come and find you, I will. Maker damn the leg.”

            “Why doesn’t Dagna want you to leave?”

            “It’s…complicated. The leg…Maker, I don’t know what it runs on. I have chips in my leg that connect to something in the prosthetic and it can sense my movements–– It doesn’t matter.”

            “It sounds interesting…”

            “Stop changing the subject.”

            “Look, Cullen, I’m at work. I have to…I have to go. I’m sorry.”

            “Maker, stop saying that! Stop saying that and just tell me what’s going on.”

            “I have to go, Cullen.”

            Rory hung up and turned her phone on do not disturb. She worked in silence until her team started to show up and then she slipped headphones into her ears and turned her music up. At some point, Lexi slid into the space beside her but made no move to get her attention. Rory worked, repaired the canvas in front of her with delicate skill and sharp precision. After some time of silence, Lexi got up and moved across the table to work in front of Rory. Her legs started to cramp, but she ignored them, stretched them out at her seat before bending them at the knees and resting them on the rungs of the stool. An ache started at the base of her spine and slithered its way up into her shoulders, her neck, her forehead. She skipped lunch, breaks, sat dutifully in front of the pastoral scene she was restoring.

            Lexi worked across from her until the sun started to darken. She stood up from her seat and approached her. Rory could hear her talking to her, but otherwise pretended she didn’t hear her. “Are you going to talk to me or just pretend you can’t hear me?” Lexi leaned against the high table and crossed her arms. After a few minutes of Rory continuing to ignore her, Lexi screamed, “Okay, everybody out! Go home early!” Everyone scattered within five seconds. Lexi pulled the headphones out of Rory’s ears. “You lied to me.”

            “I did.” Rory didn’t look up from the painting.

            “I’m angry with you.”

            “I know.”

            Lexi whipped her chair around, jostling Rory out of her work. She nearly painted a black streak across the canvas. “I am your best friend, Rory. And I will kick your ass if I have to. You know I can. Explain.” She waited, green eyes boring into hazel. Lexi leaned closer, waiting.

            Rory sighed and put her brush down. “Sit down.”

~

            “Shit,” Lexi sighed.

            Rory nodded. “Shit.” She rubbed her face, rolled her shoulders.

            Lexi sighed and went to her locker, pulled out a bottle of gin. “Come on.” She opened the bottle, took a sip, and passed it to Rory.

            “This could get us fired.” Rory took a drink.

            Lexi smiled and took the bottle back. “Do you care?”

            “Not really.”

            “Out of your brothers, I did not think Eliot would be the one to… Well, Creators, I thought he’d be the one to betray you.”

            Rory laughed and took another swig. “I know. But, here he is.”

            “Charming, asshole.”

            “He always has been.”

            “He better marry Rosalie Rutherford, or so help me.” Lexi took a large swig. She chewed her lip, watched Rory look at the painting next to her. “Are you sure this is the only way?”

            “There’s no way out of it this time, Lexi. Not without hurting everyone I care about.”

            “And what about you, Rory?”

            “You always did say I was fond of sleeping with men as a form of self-harm.”

            “I suppose… Maker, this is bullshit.”

            “Tis,” she gave a high-pitched sigh and rolled her head back.  

            “Can we just run away to Tevinter?”

            “You think you’d have an easier time there?”

            “I’ll crop my ears.”

            “Lexi.”

            “I’m kidding.” Lexi sighed and dropped her elbows back onto the table. “I’ll support you, Rory. No matter what.”

            Rory dropped her head onto Lexi’s shoulder. “Thanks, Lex.”

            The blonde kissed the top of her head, rested her cheek against her. “I love you.”

            “There’s been a lot of confessions of love here lately. I don’t know how I feel about it.”

            “You are kind of walking to your death.”

            Rory grew quiet, watched the clock on the wall tick the seconds by. “I’m meeting with Henri tonight at Hacks to discuss terms and conditions. I asked for two weeks before the invitations were sent out. I needed to think. Really, I’ve been trying to find a way out.”

           “Rylen and I will be there.”

           “I’d rather Cullen not know.”

           “He’ll get the mail eventually.”

           “I didn’t send him an invite,” Rory confessed.

           “Rylen is going to tell him.”

            Shit. Rory hadn’t thought of that. Her head fell into her hands and she groaned deep in her chest. “Why? Why did I ever get close to him? Why did I help him? I should have just left him on the damn stairs.”

            “Yes, because Rory Trevelyan is definitely the type to leave a wounded man to struggle on the stairs.” Lexi dropped her head back on her shoulders and sighed. “You lied to me for two weeks.”

            “That’s exactly what Eliot said.” Rory leaned on the table, suddenly absolutely exhausted. “Put the gin up. Let’s go.”

            Rory had ignored calls from Liam, from Eliot, Antony, her mother, her father, Henri, Rosalie. Maker, she just needed to shut her phone off. Lexi said she would go to Hacks with her and there was no room for argument, not that Rory would have had the energy to argue if there was one. She did agree to leave Rylen at home at least. Lexi had driven Rylen’s car to work so there would be no motorcycle ride; Rory said nothing about their progressing relationship.

            Hack, looked murderous when they walked in.

            “What, have you done?” he asked as soon as the door shut behind them. “I know for a fact you don’t like that vile little worm.” The entire bar grew quiet the louder Hack got.

            “Can you not yell at me please? I’m tired of people yelling at me.” Rory slid into a booth, Lexi following. “Can I please have a drink? Strong?”

            “Why are you marrying him?” Hack demanded.

            “I don’t have the energy to explain my reasoning. Again. He’ll be here in fifteen minutes, can you please be civil while I lay down ground rules?”

            “No.” Hack started making drinks, cursing the whole time. “And what does Cullen say about this?”

            “Cullen doesn’t know, Hack.” She rubbed her temples. “And even if he did, he would have zero say in my relationship choices.”

            Hack stopped making drinks and looked up. “You haven’t told him?”

            “And I’m not going to.”

            “So, you’re just going to let him walk into this unprepared?”

            “Why does it matter!” Rory screamed.

            Lexi flinched beside her but turned to look at Hack. She wanted to say, She’s seconds away from breaking down, please don’t make this harder than it is.

            “He doesn’t love me, Hack. We were never going to work.”

            “Then why haven’t you told him?” He slammed the drinks on the table and stormed off into the back.

            Rory downed her drink and then took Lexi’s from her. She hated this. She hated every part of this. She could feel Nat watch her from behind the bar, his eyes following her every movement. She liked him. In another life, maybe they could have been something. When she finished Lexi’s drink, Nat brought over two more and an order of fried pickles and mushrooms. Rory didn’t want to eat, but she rhythmically picked up pieces, dipped them in ranch, put them into her mouth. Chew, swallow, chew, swallow. Drink. She should slow down, should stop drinking.

           “Darling!” Henri yelled when he entered the bar, slipping his coat off and over his arm.

            “I’m not your darling,” she snapped. She didn’t even look up to greet him.

            He slid into the booth across from them, smiling broadly. “You are. Your father will be here soon.”

            Rory’s head snapped up and her eyes narrowed. “You invited my father?”

            “It seemed like something he should be in on.” Henri shrugged and dramatically wiped the table down before he sat his arms on it.

            Lexi drummed her fingers and considered driving her fist into his face. She would take an assault charge. Rory put her hand over Lexi’s, likely to stop her from hitting him, but it could also be because the drumming was getting on her nerves. She could call Rylen. Rylen would love to take a swing at Henri. He’d been fuming since they opened the mail the night before. Lexie wasn’t going to tell him yet, was going to let him figure it out on his own, but he saw the invitation over her shoulder.

            “I see no sense in prolonging until my father gets here. I will be keeping my apartment.”

            “No, absolutely not. How would it look–”

            “I don’t give a damn how it looks, Henri, I’m keeping my apartment. I will be staying here in Denerim until we get married. I don’t believe we should live in the same house until we are married. After we are married, we will remain in Denerim.” She normally wouldn’t give a shit, but any excuse to stay as far away from him for as long as she could was a good enough excuse for her.

            “You want me to live here in this hell hole?” Henri scoffed and snapped his fingers to get Nat’s attention.

            “Yes. You have no work in Orlais, your father takes care of everything. I have work here. We will live in Denerim.”

            “No. I’ll allow you to keep the apartment here–”

            “Allow?” Rory and Lexi asked at the same time, their hackles rising. Hack would help them hide a body if they needed to.

            Henri seemed to sense his mistake because he said nothing else.

            “I will give you one child,” Rory continued after he sat in his shame long enough. With any luck, the Maker would make her infertile.

            “I need a boy.”

            “One child. Get a mistress pregnant if you must, but I will not be giving you more than one.”

            “Mistress? So I’m allowed them?” He smirked, ordered Nat to make him a vodka soda. “How generous of you, Rory.”

            “You can have your affairs as long as I have mine. I will be tolerant if you are tolerant. If not, Henri, I can and will make this marriage a literal nightmare for you.” Meanwhile, she was working on an ironclad prenup. Anything she owned before the marriage, would remain hers if they divorced. Henri would have no claim to the Lavenmile, or to her family jewels, her apartment, book royalties. Nothing. The man would get nothing from her.

            Lexi nudged Rory discreetly as Hawthorn entered the bar. Rory saw, waited, prepared for the worst. Henri would be easy to order about. Her father, however…

            “As for you,” Rory said confidently before Hawthorn could be seated. “My brothers will marry whomever they choose. Whomever they choose. Eliot will move here to Denerim, Liam too if he wishes. I will keep my name. And Cullen Rutherford will be left alone.”

            Hawthorn dropped into the booth, glaring and frothing at the mouth. “That boy–”

            “Will be left alone, or I will burn this family to the ground one way or another. It’s by the grace of the Maker alone that I haven’t done it yet.” She met her father’s eyes, held them until he blinked first. “Remember, Father, I’m in Ferelden. Aurea would wage war to protect me. You may be Lord but she is Queen.”

            Hawthorn was silent at that. It was an aspect of their relation that he had not considered. Aurea was unstable at best and overprotective of the people she loved. Had she a mind to, she could crush him under her boot and would think nothing of it.

            “We both know you want me to marry Henri here because if I don’t, and one of my brothers marry his sister if he gets married, he’ll be in line for the throne ahead of her. That’s your end game, isn’t it? Having a daughter on the throne since you weren’t in the position to do so?”

            Hawthorn clenched his jaw but otherwise said nothing.

            “My life will be ruined no more than it has to be. The wedding will be small.” Her father and Henri started to protest and Rory held her hand up. “Small.” The men sat quietly, watching Rory down another drink that Nat had sat down in front of her. She motioned for another and turned back to them. “Hawthorn, I’m genuinely curious, what do you think having me on the throne will accomplish?” She smiled sweetly. “I may not be able to do much against you now, without harming my brothers, but when I’m on that throne,” she leaned forward on the table, folded her arms in front of her, “I will burn you.”

            Lexi smiled beside her and crossed her arms.

            “Henri, you may go. Hawthorn, I would like a word.”

            Henri opened his mouth to protest and Lexi shot him a look that said, I will rip out your jugular with my teeth, you pathetic little pig. Hawthorn and Henri awkwardly shuffled out of the booth. Rory expected more of a fight from them, honestly. Especially from her father. Hawthorn sat back down, gestured for Rory to continue.

            “What do you have on my brothers? To stop them from walking away?”

            Hawthorn saw no reason to lie. His children were right where he needed them. “Eliot has various legal fiascos I’ve covered up that will land him in jail. Antony’s money isn’t nearly as hidden as he thinks it is and I know about his friend he visits in Ostwick, I would hate for anything to happen there. And when Liam realized he’d have to pay back his medical bills, well it was an easy decision. And when he realized I knew he stole the things out of your mother’s room. What he did with them though, I can only imagine.” Hawthorn eyed a diamond ring on Rory’s index finger. “And you, my darling daughter, have a weak heart.” He shrugged.

            Rory threw her drink in his face. She felt the pressure rising, the anger making her shake and her skin flush. It was throwing her drink at him or stabbing him. Lexi gasped next to her and flinched in surprise. Hawthorn pulled a handkerchief out of his suit pocket and wiped his face.

            “Maker, you are a disgusting human. You would destroy the lives of your own children to get what you wanted?”

            “Without hesitation. Life is not a fun circus ride, Rory. It is a chess match. One that I intend to win.”

            “Spoken like a true villain.” Rory yelled for Hack. When he came to their table, arms crossed, and glaring at her father, she told him to kick him out. “Just so you know Hawthorn, I look forward to the day I bury you.”

~

            When Rory was good and drunk, Lexi carted her home. She was going to stay with her, but after some persuasion, she went home. Rory managed to feed Titus, down some water, eat leftover Antivan, and crawl herself into bed around three in the morning. Her phone lit up next to her: an email about a sale at her favorite makeup store. She scrolled through, bought a new foundation, blush, six lipsticks, a new skincare regime, and three new perfumes. It was an issue sober Rory was going to have to deal with. She laid there for some time, watching the shadows move across her walls. Eventually, Titus finished eating and came in and curled up in a ball next to her, purring loudly and kneading the soft blankets.

            One thought kept circling the drain of her brain: she had to take her father down before she married Henri. She would have to pay a visit to her cousin. Soon. Maybe Eliot could apply for Ferelden citizenship, Aurea could expedite that… Their mother’s husband was a lawyer, maybe he could help. Liam… Maker, she didn’t know about that. Antony was likely already moving in silence. She could sell the Lavenmile, some of her mother’s jewels. Not the heirlooms though. Those she would keep. But the pieces her father had bought her mother could be sold. Maker, her head hurt. With a sigh, she pulled up his contact.

            “Hello?” he answered sleepily on the sixth ring. His voice was deep and gravely with sleep, confusion dancing at the edges.

            “Maker, I’m sorry,” she slurred, “I figured you’d be awake by now.”

            “Rory?” She could hear him moving on the other end, likely sitting up. “Are you alright?”

            She sighed and nuzzled her face into Titus’ belly. “No. I don’t know.” She rolled onto her back and itched her nose. “I’m drunk.”

            Cullen chuckled, “I can tell. Hard day?”

            “Yes.”

            “Would you like to talk about it?”

            Yes. “No. I just…I wanted to talk. I miss you.”

            He sighed deeply. “I miss you too. Look, I…I’m sorry. About this. Everything.”

            Rory shook her head, immediately regretted the motion. “Don’t. We were both idiots. And I don’t forgive people apparently. Except for my Maker forsaken brothers.”

            “I understand a thing or two about that. Branson stole my girlfriend once.”

            “He did not!”

            “He did. I mean, I was twelve, but still. A boy doesn’t forget a thing like that.”

            Rory laughed. “Young love is a very serious matter.”

            Cullen hummed and both of them grew quiet. Their breaths floating in the distance between them. “You had me worried, Rory.”

            “Had myself worried. Tell me about this leg.”

            “Smooth subject change,” he chuckled. “It’s…getting there. I’m struggling to get used to it honestly.”

            “You said something about chips?”

            “Mm. Dagna implanted six I believe. Hurt worse than being shot, honestly.”

            Rory frowned. “You’ve been shot? Maker, I don’t want to know.”

            “Sorry. No, haven’t been shot.”

            “Maker forsaken liar.”

            He chuckled quietly and King groaned in the background. “One for each nerve I think. I can’t remember. I tried to block it out. They apparently sense…movement? Or intention of movement. Basically, I imagine moving my foot, my toes, I make the motion and they communicate to the receivers in the prosthetic and they make the motion.”

            “Sounds high tech.”

            “It is. Dagna’s…well, she’s odd but clever. Very, very clever. She’s working on a waterproof model right now so I can shower and swim with it. Should be ready in a few weeks. Maker, if she can nail this down,” he trailed off.

            “It could help a lot of people,” Rory finished. “It sounds amazing, Cullen.”

            “I can’t wait to show you. When I get home, let’s go to Hack’s.”

            “I’d like that.” Come back soon. “When are you coming home?”

            “I wish I knew. Dagna said it could be a few more months.”

            “Of course.”

            They laid together in the silence. Rory watched the shadows move, watched the sun start to fill her room with soft light. Titus snored softly next to her. Cullen breathed lightly on the phone with her, King occasionally breaking through with loud snorts. And then an annoyingly soft snore from Rory.

            “Rory?” Cullen smiled on the other end when she snored again. “Goodnight, Trevelyan.”

Chapter Text

            She woke the next morning with a hangover the size of the Free Marches. Sitting up proved to be a disastrous mistake as the room tilted in her vision. Dropping back down, Rory pulled her phone from the nightstand and checked her messages and emails. There was a text from her mother: Eliot told her about the engagement. There were three texts from Lexi: one letting her know she got home, the other checking on her, and one telling her Rylen had called Cullen that morning. She groaned loudly and threw an arm over her eyes. Well, it’s not like he could leave Dagna’s yet. She answered a few emails with blurry vision and then tossed her phone to the side. The more she thought about it, the more she worried that Cullen hadn’t called or texted since this morning.

            “You really, really need to get better locks. Maker–– stop screaming, it’s me,” Aurea sighed, “you really need a guard dog. You sleep like the dead.” The queen stood in the corner, wearing an all-black outfit that fit her rounded belly snuggly.

            “Maker’s balls, Aurea!” Rory threw a pillow at her, ignored the pounding in her head. “What in Andraste’s tits are you doing? How are you even here?”

            “Well,” Aurea said, sitting on the bed next to her, leaning against the headboard, “imagine my surprise when I received an invitation to your engagement party yesterday. To Henri Demarchelier. A vile loathsome little worm of a man. And fucking Orlesian to boot. Alistair nearly had a heart attack, I thought I was going to be a widow before these two were born. And I snuck out. South tunnel.” She patted her large stomach.

            “I didn’t–– Two?” Rory turned to face her cousin, a large grin spreading across her face. “You’re having twins.”

            “I am having twins.” Aurea smiled back and let Rory pull her into a firm hug.

            “Twins!”

            “They do run in our family.”

            “On our side, yes! But I didn’t know they were on your side as well. Though, I should have guessed with you and Nox.”

            Aurea nodded and then steeled her face. “Back to the matter at hand. What the actual fuck, Rory?” She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow.

            The brunette sighed and leaned against the headboard next to her cousin. “I was actually going to come to see you and ask for some help.”

            “Name it.”

            “I don’t exactly know what to ask for, is the problem.”

            “Explain the problem and we’ll find a solution.”

            Aurea sat and patiently listened as Rory started from the top. She told her everything, her father smacking her, Cullen punching him, the engagement, the traps, the blackmail, everything. Aurea listened carefully, her face giving nothing away; a skill she had long before becoming queen. Despite her calm appearance, underneath Aurea was boiling.

            “I see,” she said when Rory was done. “Is Hawthorn still in Ferelden?”

            “I don’t know. Not that I’m aware of, but I doubt he’d tell me if he was.” She rubbed her face. “I thought maybe if you gave Eliot citizenship…”

            Aurea hummed. “They could extradite him… Alistair and I would deny the request of course. What’s he done?”

            “Hawthorn didn’t say. He just called them ‘legal fiascos’. I’d have to ask Eliot.” She thought for a moment. “But if I know Eliot, it’s just speeding tickets, likely teenage vandalism. Nothing serious.”

            “I’ll talk to our lawyers as well. I know you said your mother’s husband is a lawyer, but use ours for the prenup. Henri won’t dare break it.”

            Rory nodded.

            Aurea sighed and put her hands on her stomach. “I’ll talk with Alistair, see what we can do for Antony and Liam. Alistair and I have a discretionary fund, it would cover Liam’s medical costs. Which are likely already paid for by your father, so I’m assuming he would take Liam to court for the cost.”

            “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

            The blonde nodded. “As for the jewels. You say they were your mother’s?” Rory nodded. “I see. If she got them in the divorce, they’re legally her property.”

            “I can’t see her just willingly leaving them. She said Hawthorn made threats she knew he could follow through on. From what I remember, she left very quickly. All of her clothes, jewelry, makeup, she left behind everything.”

            “That doesn’t sound like a woman who went through a casual divorce. Ask your mother for her prenup. I know she had one. Has she gone through the jewels?”

            Rory nodded and pushed the hair out of her face. She had yet to find a way to wear it up. “Yes, we organized them. The jewelry Hawthorn gave her is all in one box. I have the rest.”

            “Good. Keep them for now. If they were your mother’s and she left them to you, or Hawthorn denied her access, he has no legal claim to them. As for Antony and his friend, do we have a name? Are they dating? I feel odd just calling this person his friend.”

            “No name. I have no idea. Antony has always kept it to himself.”

            “Well, we can give Antony and his friend asylum here. I can also make a few personal threats to your father. I know he’s afraid of me.”

            Rory laughed and leaned her head on Aurea’s shoulder. “I know he is. Until we get it sorted, I still have to go through with everything. So, I’m asking you, please hurry.”

            “I promise, Rory.”

            “Twins,” Rory said again after some time.  

            Aurea smiled and laughed. “Twins. Should be here soon. Alistair really likes Duncan for a boy’s name, but Maker…”

            “Maybe a middle name?”

            Aurea hummed, “Maybe. But it feels wrong to say no. He wants it so much. Duncan was important to him. Oh! Maker, I hate this part. It feels like an alien.” She winced at the kicking in her stomach. “I swear, they do it for fun. Thing one, the girl, was shoved up under my diaphragm the other day. Couldn’t take a full breath in for six hours.”

            Rory put her head on Aurea’s stomach and smiled. “Listen here, little ones. Your mother and your favorite cousin are trying to figure out a way to stop me from marrying someone truly awful. I mean, you don’t want an Orlesian to be your uncle, do you?” The fluttering stopped and Rory laughed. “That’s what I thought.” She sat up, “Well, at least they listen…I thought you didn’t want kids?” she asked gently.

            Aurea nodded. “I didn’t. For a while. It was… I saw what losing Zi was like for Mom. Scared the shit out of me. And then I lost Nox and… Maker, that kind of ache nearly killed me. I didn’t think I would survive losing a child. And then, I didn’t think I would be a good mother. But with Alistair,” she smiled softly, “it’s different. I’m still scared shitless, and I still think I’ll be a terrible mother, but with Alistair, I know he’ll be a good father and he’ll make sure I’m a good mother. Last thing I want is to fuck up a child.” She smiled at Rory, said, “I feel safe enough to want with him.”

            Rory felt a tear slide down her cheek and wiped it off quickly.

            “Are you alright?” Aurea frowned and took her hand.

            “Yes. I just…”

            “I know.”

~

             Around two p.m., a week later, there was a soft knock at Rory’s door. She finished putting her shoes on and gently swung it open. Cullen’s voice echoed in her head that she needed to look before she just opened her door. She hadn’t heard from him in a week. Not since Rylen had called him. Rosalie stood on the other side of the door, rain dripping from her closed pink umbrella at her side. Her soft lips pulled into a quiet frown as she took in the state of Rory’s face.

            “Rose. It’s good to see you.” Rory hoped her smile didn’t look like a grimace. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

            “Eliot told me, Rory. May I come in?”

            Rory swallowed and stepped to the side. “Please.” So Rose knew. “Does Cullen–”

            Rosalie shook her head and stood by the couch. “No, no, he doesn’t know.” She turned to face Rory shutting the door. “That I know of. But he likely will soon if I know Rylen.”

            “Lexi said he called him, but I haven’t heard anything.” Dread pitted in her stomach again.

            “Rory…” Rosalie trailed off, chewed her bottom lip while she searched for words.

            “Rosalie, I love you, but please don’t tell me I don’t have to do this. I…I’ve been thinking for weeks how to get out of it.” She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.

            “I was going to say thank you.” She a slight smile pulled the corner of her lips up. “I…I know we haven’t been with each other long, but I really care for Eliot.”

            Rory gave a nod and pulled her coat off the wall hook. “I know you do. He cares about you too. This is the longest relationship he’s ever had.” She took a moment to look over the young woman standing in her apartment. Her eyes puffy, she’d likely been crying earlier, she was wearing one of Eliot’s sweaters cropped up over a silk shift dress. She had cut her hair recently, layers and curtain bangs. The brown knee-high boots she wore were new, from Eliot’s favorite fashion house judging by the stamp on the side. And there, on the ring finger of her right hand, was a large pink diamond. Rory smiled and Rosalie hid her hand as soon as Rory noticed.

            “It’s not what you think,” she said quickly.

            “That, my dear, is exactly what I think. Eliot gave you a promise ring.” Rory’s smile grew bigger when Rose nodded. “He’s serious about you.”

            “It’s just…it’s all so fast.” She twisted the ring back and forth on her finger.

            Rory frowned and put her hand on Rose’s. “Rose, if you aren’t ready for this, tell him. It won’t scare him off. He’s not the type.”

            “I don’t think it is. We’ve not known each other long, but…”

            She squeezed Rose’s hand. “Your father told me that when you know, you know.”

            Rose smiled and gave a nod. “He and Mom married pretty quickly. I just…It felt wrong to tell you.”

            Because I’m marrying the devil. “I understand. I’m not upset, Rose. I’m happy for the two of you. Eliot deserves to be happy.” She smiled and squeezed Rose’s hand again before letting it go. “The city looks good on you, are you considering moving here?”

            “I want to, but leaving Mom and Dad,” she trailed off. “Eliot says we don’t have to, that we could live in Redcliffe or Honnleath even.”

            “I’m happy for you both, Rose. Listen, I have to go,” Rory started.

            “Oh! Don’t let me keep you. I should have called–”

            “I have to pick out a dress for the engagement party, would you… Would you like to come with me?”

            Rose let out a breath and smiled. “I would love to.”

            Tevantine was a high-end boutique that had quickly become one of Rory’s favorites when she moved to Denerim. Their style was modern classic: clean lines, rich colors, and neutrals, classic architecture. Understated opulence. Eloise greeted them with a large smile, kissing both women on the cheek. A glass of prosecco was offered and Rory took it gratefully. She was starting to understand why she remembered her mother drinking wine so often. Rosalie declined her glass, made her way around the store carefully and quietly. Rory suspected she wasn’t used to a shop as high-end as this one. Though, if she were going to marry Eliot, it would be best to get used to it. He had a love of rich brands. Rory picked up a beautiful light blue cashmere sweater and handed it to Eloise to put behind the counter for her. Then a suede camel-colored pencil skirt. She saw Rosalie eyeing a white linen sundress and discretely told Eloise to pick her size as well. Eloise had a knack for knowing someone’s size as soon as they walked in.

            “Can I help you find anything, Rory?” she asked when she noticed Rory standing in front of a rack of clothes.

            Eloise had met Rory when she stumbled into the store, soaking wet, and needing a new outfit for her first day at the museum. And a new umbrella. The Denerim fall had ripped her umbrella inside out and she was drenched in a matter of seconds. She was Orlesian and Dalish, a soft face with angular features. Strikingly bright green eyes and soft red hair that fell down to her mid-back. She had been helping Rory construct a wardrobe that would see her into her adulthood since Rory was in her twenties.

            Rory sighed. “I need a dress for an engagement party. My engagement party.”

            Eloise started to smile and congratulate her when she saw Rosalie shake her head behind her. “Of course. Blues?”

            “I don’t feel like myself, so not necessarily. Would black be too morbid?” Rory joked, but Eloise shook her head.

            “I have a dress that came in a month ago, beautiful, but no one’s been able to wear it yet. Too daring I think. It’s not usually what we carry, but I wanted to branch out a little.” She went to the back, pulled a long black dress off one of the racks. It was silk, Antivan lace, and velvet. The main body of the dress was a rich, cool velvet that hugged the body down to the waist, the sleeves were lace that reached a rough edge at the wrists. At the waist, the velvet branched out, forming a five-inch train that touched the floor behind the wearer. In the opening of the train, the same lace as the sleeves covered cool black silk. The design was relatively simple, but the fabrics were lush.

            “Now, that’s something to consider,” Rory said with a smile, gently running her fingers over the dress. “Maybe for my wedding. I’m looking for something a little more…”

            “Rory?” Rosalie held up a deep red silk charmeuse gown.

            It was Cullen’s color. While the front featured pencil-thin straps and a deep v with intricate ruching, the back, or lack thereof, was completely open. There was a small train, perhaps three inches, that drug the floor behind the feet. The fabric overlapped at the hips, creating a sort of a bandage pattern. And Rory had the perfect set of jewels to go with it: a diamond and ruby necklace, with a long string of tear-shaped diamonds and a teardrop ruby that would dangle to midback.

            Rory smiled and took the dress from her. “Eloise, might I try this on? And the black. I think I’ll wear it to my father’s funeral.”

~

            Rosalie laughed across the table from her before taking a drink. “‘I think I’ll wear it to my father’s funeral?’ Maker, you are dramatic.”

            Rory smiled. “It’s a nice thought, isn’t it?”

            “You really want him dead?” Rose asked before sipping on her tea.

            Rory considered the question for a moment. Did she? She had never really loved the man, to be sure. It was hard to love a tyrant. “I would not be sad.” Rory took a bite of her steak, swallowed. “Rose, can I ask why you picked that particular shade of red?”

            “Is it a particular shade of red?” she asked with a smile at her lips. “I just thought it was pretty.”

            “Oh, of course.” Her phone alerted her to a call from Antony which she ignored. “So, will you be Eliot’s date to the party?”

            “You want me to come?” Rose sounded genuinely confused.

            “I’m going to need a friend.” Her phone buzzed again, this time from Liam. She ignored it. “Besides Lexie. She’ll murder someone if left alone for too long.”

            “Is your mother coming?”

            Rory shook her head. “No. I thought…she knows about the engagement. Eliot told her. I didn’t think it wise she and my father be in the same room.”

            Rose nodded and took a sip of her drink. “Can I ask why you don’t want Cullen to know?”

            “I think you know, Rose.”

            “I want to hear it from you.”

            Rory sat her glass down gently and met eyes with Rose. The younger woman waited patiently, keeping soft eye contact. “Because this will royally piss him off.”  

            “That’s the only reason?”

            “The only valid reason, yes.” Rory knew what the younger woman was hinting at, but refused to give her more than that. She couldn’t give her more than that. Cullen could no longer influence her life. Not that way. However worried she was, the sinking feeling of losing Cullen as a friend weighed heaviest.

            The women parted ways at the restaurant. Rory headed back to her apartment and Rose went back to Eliot’s hotel room. Rory decided to walk home, savoring the late spring weather. Summerday was looming menacingly close. It felt like no time had passed since she left Cullen, yet at the same time, it felt like it had been years. She wasn’t enjoying her work anymore, she was finding it exhausting to keep in touch with friends. Maker, she hadn’t read anything in months. A cool breeze cut through her coat and she sighed. It’d been almost a year since she’d first met Cullen. What would have happened had I taken the elevator that day? Had I left him on the stairs to struggle alone? Her chest ached beneath her sternum and she sniffed away tears.

            In her apartment, she opened her fridge, surveyed the empty shelves, then shut it again. Titus was asleep on the counter, curled up in the wooden bowl that used to hold fruit. She pet him softly, bent, and kissed his head before she left. Coat and all, she crawled into her bed and pulled the covers up. She dozed until her phone vibrated against her thigh. Startled awake, she fumbled for the phone in her pocket.

            “Hello?” she mumbled.

            “Hello.” Cullen sounded confused.

            “Did you need something?” Rory asked, not quite registering the voice.

            Cullen was silent for a few seconds before he cleared his throat. “Are you alright?”

            “What do you think?”

            “I think you sound… different. Is everything okay?”

            Rory sighed deeply and curled further into her blankets. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

            “You tell me, Trevelyan.”

            His tone of voice made her take a pause. He didn’t know. There’s no way he knew, not with how calm he sounded. “No.”

            “I had a feeling. Do I need to come over there and get you?” There was a smile in his voice.

            “Yes.” She started to cry, let the tears slip down her cheeks and into her ear and hair.

            Cullen sighed painfully. “Oh, love, what happened?”

            She couldn’t tell him, not like this. Maker, but her chest ached with needing to tell him. He’d never let this happen. He’d come and get her and they’d run away to Navarra or The Anderfels or Orlais even. Somewhere. They could live on a farm, be self-sufficient. Rory could paint. She could sell the Lavenmile, they could live off of that until they died. They could have chickens, even though Rory hated chickens. They could get horses and go riding every week. She could make jams and breads and sell them at a market. She could even teach a painting class.

            “Rory?”  

            “Please, just…” she wiped at her face. “Please, just come get me. I know I’m vulnerable, I don’t care. I don’t care, Cullen. I need you. I’m vulnerable and you’re the one person… Please?” She sniffed and stuttered a breath in. "That's what friends are supposed to do right? Be there when the other is vulnerable? Please do this for me, Cullen. Please," her voice wavered and then broke. “I don’t want to be alone.”

            “I’ll send a car. I’ll meet you in South Reach.”

Chapter Text

A blacked-out SUV showed up a half-hour later. The driver got out and opened Rory’s door for her, shut it gently behind her. A dark partition divided the space between the driver and the backseat, leaving Rory to privacy. Her favorite cakes and cookies were on a tray in the backseat along with a latte and a bottle of water. She wondered how many favors Cullen had to call in for this. She left a note with Mrs. Hornigold to feed Titus and Triadus in the morning for her. She had packed a quick bag, something casual to change into, chargers, computer, and then left. It was about a two or three-hour drive to South Reach, and Rory planned on sleeping. Until her brothers called. Again.

            “What is it, Antony?”

            “Look, I’m sorry––”

            Rory pinched the bridge of her nose. “For what, Antony? Telling Eliot to lie for you? Lying to Eliot about having my back? Not telling me what Father was doing? For me being the sacrificial lamb? For what?” She watched the Denerim streets start to fall asleep.

            “I never asked you to be the sacrificial lamb.”

            “You never asked me not to.” After a few moments of silence, she spoke again. “Look, I’m angry and not in a great space to deal with this. Tell me why you called.”

            “Rory, please, just–”

            “Antony, you have already done what you did, I have already felt how I felt, and there is nothing that can change that. I’m trying not to be angry at you. I know what Hawthorn has on you, I am doing this willingly because I can’t let my brothers burn. Stop apologizing and tell me why you called.”

            Antony sighed and she could picture him rubbing his forehead, or pulling on his ear like he did when he was a child. “I’m trying to fix this. I just need some time. And your help.”

            Rory fell asleep after her talk with Antony. She still ignored Liam’s call and felt guilty for it, but she needed some time. She did send him a text, said what she had said to Antony, then turned her phone off. When the car finally stopped, it was in the parking lot of a themed motel. There were six other cars in the lot, all spaced far away from each other. The driver rolled down the partition and gently spoke to wake Rory.

            “Miss. Miss Trevelyan, we’ve arrived.” His accent was thick Starkhaven,  even thicker than Rylen’s.

            Rory stretched and slipped the leftover cookies into her bag. “Thank you. Did he happen to say what room?”

            “No, Miss.”

            Rory nodded and slipped out of the back, gently closing the door after her. She walked quickly across the dark parking lot, kept an eye on her surroundings while she made her way inside. The lobby was done up in shades of pink and orange, with palm trees and coconuts, and flamingos. Behind the front desk sat a middle-aged man with a parrot perched on his shoulder. It looked almost like a bad taxidermied parrot one would find at a circus, but when Rory entered, it turned its head to follow her across the carpet. It squawked twice, a terrible hoarse sound and its person shushed it harshly. Rory had the strong urge to take it home with her.

            She approached the desk and sat her bag down quietly. “Hi, I’m meeting a friend here, but I’m not sure what name they put the reservation under. Rutherford or Trevelyan.” She smiled sweetly, hoping he wouldn’t give her any trouble.

            He eyed her up and down before flipping his monitor on and looking for their names. “Room five,” he said, “check out is at noon.” He handed over the key without checking her id or making her sign in.

            Rory muttered her thanks and quickly left the lobby. Back outside she stuck close to the building, giving a wide breadth to the doors when she crossed them. Room five was oddly enough the furthest away from the lobby. She opened the door, quickly turned on the light. It was decorated like they were in the forest: the bed was a four-poster where the posts looked like birch trees, a canopy of fake leaves covered the bed. The carpet was patterned to look like moss and woodland flowers. The bathroom was all stone and granite. A large gray stone tub rested in the corner and looked big enough to fit three people. She checked for cameras, trick mirrors, and anyone who might have snuck in. After her inspection, Rory sat down on the edge of the bed and waited. Having no idea where Cullen was coming from, she took her coat off and changed into the pajamas she had brought along with her. She slipped into the white shorts with lemons and the matching silk camisole and slid into the motel sheets she hoped had been washed.

~

            Cullen took the key from the clerk behind the desk with a glare. The man spent the last five minutes arguing with him about having a dog. When Cullen showed papers to prove that King was a support animal, the man finally handed the key over. King gave an annoyed growl and walked out of the lobby beside Cullen, pausing to give one more bark before the door shut. Cullen patted his head and the two of them made their way across the parking lot. His stomach fluttered and his heart rate jumped. Maker, it had been months since he’d seen her. He picked his pace up to a light jog. King barked excitedly beside him and bounded ahead when the door was in sight. The light was on behind the Curtains, the tv softly playing through the door. He took a moment, breathed in deep, then slid the card into the lock. It beeped quietly and he slowly pushed the door open.

            In the pale light of the room, his eyes found Rory on her side on the bed, her front to the door. Her hair was much shorter than he remembered, coming down to her chin now instead of mid-back. Even in her sleep, her lips pulled into a frown, her brows knit together. Her hands were clenched up by her face like she was ready to fight at any moment. Cullen quietly took his shoes off and sat his wallet and keys on the table. King waited patiently at the foot of the bed, his back end wiggling with his tail. Cullen gently lowered himself into the bed, scooted until his bent knees touched Rory’s shins. She didn’t stir, just made a quiet whimper.

            While Cullen tried his best to think of how to wake her without scaring her, King decided he was through waiting. He inelegantly lumbered his way onto the bed. Rory jerked back and threw a fist that Cullen caught easily in his hand.

            “It’s me! It’s me. King couldn’t wait–” Rory threw her arm around him and shoved her face against him. “Oh, love.” He pulled her closer, hooked his leg over hers to draw her hips into him. He rubbed her back gently, kissed her forehead. “I’m here.”

            Rory clutched at the back of his shirt and pushed her face harder into his shoulder. King dropped on the bed behind her and rested his head on the curve of her hip above Cullen’s leg. He whined softly and bounced his chin on her. Maker, she missed him.

            “Talk to me, Rory. What’s going on?” He leaned back a little, curled his arm around the back of her head to brush her hair away. “Cassandra hasn’t seen you since Varric’s party, said they hardly hear from you. Rylen is worried sick about you, told me to get my ass home. And every time you call me, you’re crying. Even Lexi called me to yell at me. And I thought she hated me.”

            Rory shook her head and sniffed. “It’s just…everything.”

            “What’s everything?”

            She swallowed and leaned back to look at him. He had started to grow a short beard since she last saw him. Strangely, it suited his face more than she thought it would. She reached her hand up and cupped his jaw, rubbed her thumb across it.

            “You grew a beard.”

            “I did. I got too busy to shave there for a while. Stop avoiding the question,” he said gently. “You need to tell me what’s going on. I can’t help if I don’t know.”

            Rory kept her hand on his jaw and looked at his lips for too long. “It’s…” Tell him you coward, tell him. “Eliot lied to me. Antony and Liam weren’t on board.”

            Cullen grimaced and rubbed her back more. “I’m sorry, Rory.”

            “I just…I feel like there isn’t a way out of this.” Tell him. Just open your mouth and tell him.

            “We’ll figure something out, Rory.”

            She nodded but said nothing, just wormed her way closer. “You smell different.”

            Cullen chuckled wiggled until he got more comfortable. “I changed cologne. Something out of Nevarra.”

            Rory nodded and inhaled again. He smelled like tobacco, vanilla, rum, warm instead of the woodsy she was used to. It suited him, she thought. She let him trace patterns on her back, lulling her into a state of relaxation. “What if I told you I was marrying Henry?” she hesitantly asked.

            Cullen laughed and continued to draw across her shoulder blades. “I would tell you that you were crazy. Ask you what you were thinking?”

            “What if it was the only way?”

            “There are always two options, Rory. One is just easier than the other.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “If your brothers are too cowardly to go against your father, then they don’t deserve you. You deserve someone who will run into the flames for you, not out of them.”

            “I don’t think that person exists.”

            “I’ll be that person for you. If you’ll let me,” he added.

            As much as Rory wanted him to, as much as she ached for it, she knew better. “You’re not ready, Cullen. And I’m not going to push you.”

            “I’m here, aren’t I?”

            She nodded. Are you? Her stomach growled lowly and she hoped Cullen didn’t hear it, but after a moment she felt him look down at her.

            “When was the last time you ate?” he asked her.

            “I had cookies in the car.”

            “I mean an actual meal, Rory.” When she didn’t answer, Cullen pulled his phone out of his pocket. “What are you in the mood for?”

            “Nothing. I’m not really hungry.”

            He simply hummed and scrolled through options until he found a restaurant that looked intriguing. He placed an order, entirely too much food, and slipped his phone back into his pocket. She felt a little skinnier as he held her, but he said nothing; his mother raised him better. His fingers carded through her thick brown hair and massaged at her scalp. Cars passed by and cast their lights through the curtains on the wooded wallpaper. King snored softly at Rory’s hip, his back rising and falling softly. They were breaking so many of their own rules. Rules they had made for good reason. Yet the more time Cullen had spent away from Rory, the more he wanted her. The night he told Cassandra to pass his message on to Rory, he’d been heartbroken. He got as far as the driver’s seat before Dagna caught him. The leg was too delicate, he was still learning, and Dagna was infuriatingly right when she said he couldn’t risk it. Maker, the number of times he’d almost gotten in his car and driven to her.

            “You’re thinking too loud,” she whispered.

            “It’s a terrible past-time.”

            “If I asked you to run away with me, would you?”

            “You can’t run from your problems, Rory. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

            Yes, was what he wanted to say. The fact that he would drop everything and take her wherever she wanted to go, should have terrified him. If anything, he felt at peace with it. He was skilled, he could do just about anything. Running a farm seemed the best option. He could still freelance for security. Rory loved her job though and after a few months, he had no doubts that she would be miserable with regret. It was selfish, but if he could feel her pressed against him every night like this, he would risk it. He would risk everything for her.

            “Tell me it will be alright?” she asked him quietly.

            “Rory, it will be alright.”

            His heart beat wildly beneath her ear. He was lying to her, she knew. The lie sounded good at least. He felt stronger under her hands. She wondered if it were work at the farm that made him feel larger, or if it had just been the distance. Maker, she missed him though. Rory moved her hips against Cullen, tried to wiggle closer. Taking the hint, Cullen moved his leg from over hers and drew hers over his hip. King huffed and moved so he laid against Rory’s back, annoyed at Cullen for making him move. Cullen’s knee slid between her legs, his thigh pressed up against her. She tried not to let him notice the sharp breath she took in. Too close, they were too close, too many rules.

            “Cullen…”

            “I know,” he whispered. Fuck, do I know.

            They stayed together, Rory’s body tensed, Cullen’s heart hammered against his ribs. He was sure he was breathing heavy. She was sure she was shaking. His leg was heavy against her, pressed as close as he could get it. Rules, Rutherford. They were her idea. She’s vulnerable, do not take advantage. Comfort. Move your Maker damned knee. He kept his touch light on her back, fingertips barely tracing along the silk of her camisole. Her breath fanned softly over his neck and he shuddered. He could feel her tilting her face to look at him, tried desperately not to tilt his down. Her lips were right there– Stop looking at her lips. They were full and she had parted them slightly. Maker, he wanted to kiss her. He tilted his head down, swallowed. The delivery driver knocked on the door. Cullen pulled himself from Rory, shaking his hands out and ignoring the shake in them.

            Rory sat up and ran her hands through her hair, ignoring the throbbing between her legs. Maker, he had barely even touched her and she wanted to jump him. He talked freely with the driver, passed him a wad of cash. Rory drew her knees up to her chest and leaned against the headboard, a hand reaching out to stroke King along his back. Maker, she had to tell him. Cullen took the food and shut the door, sliding the deadbolt once it was closed. The food smelled delicious. Warm spices and rich flavors filled the stale air around them. Cullen sat the bags on the bed, laid them out like a buffet.

            “Cullen…I have to tell you something.”

             “You can tell me after you eat,” he said, pushing a piece of candied fruit into her mouth. “Eat, then talk.”

            Rory swallowed the apricot and sighed. There was no point in arguing. And if she were being honest, the fruit tasted amazing. King roused himself from the pillows and sniffed at the boxes of food Cullen set out. Rory snuck him a piece of meat and booped his nose for good measure. They ate in silence until Cullen turned the tv on. An old black and white movie in Tevine flickered to life on the screen. Cullen turned the channel, found his favorite home buying show. He smiled, remembered his first night with Rory.

            “Is she a hamster farmer? Or a yak milker?” Cullen asked and loaded up a plate of food.

            Rory made a gagging noise. “For the love of the Maker, the first.” She devoured her food. “Their budget is 1.7.”

            “He wants beach views and she wants city.” To their surprise, that was exactly what they wanted. “I told you!”

            “You’ve seen this one before!”

            They settled in their silence, making comments and voiceovers.

            “Did I tell you? Mia is having a girl.”

            Rory smiled and shook her head. “You didn’t. Is she excited?”

            “Scared shitless,” he laughed. “Ma put the curse on her so often when she was a teenager and Mia is terrified it’s going to act just like her.”

            “Now I’ll have to go shopping again.”

            “She loved the books and onesies you sent.” He should have ordered a six-pack. Then again, alcohol would only exacerbate the tension. “Do you want kids?” Maker’s balls, Rutherford, really?

            Rory swallowed her food and thought for a moment. “With the right man at the right time. Do you want them?”

            Cullen nodded. “I do. Eventually. With the right woman.”

            She nodded and set her food down. The thought of children with Henri left a sour taste on her tongue. The couple on the television argued about the beachfront views. They weren’t enough for him and she was content. Rory wondered how many of these couples got divorced by the end. She could feel Cullen’s gaze on her. Her head stayed forward, gaze still on the tv. The idea that he could read her like a book was terrifying.

            “I’m worried about you,” he finally said.

            Rory gave a quiet chuckle and nodded her head. “I’m worried about me too,” she whispered. King dropped his head into her lap and whined, nudged her hand with his large head. She scratched him behind the ears, massaged his face gently. “Let’s run away to the Wilds. King would love it.”

            Cullen smiled and passed her a cheese-filled bread ball. “And what would we do?” He wanted to say, yes. Yes, let’s run. Let’s run.

            “I could give painting lessons. You could run a farm. We could sell vegetables and handmade soaps.”

            “Handmade soaps?” he asked with a smile.

            “Yes. Made with yak milk.”

            Cullen laughed and took a drink. “I’m not sure anyone would want to soap made from yak milk. You just gagged at the mention of it.”

            “It’s just the name. Yak.”

            “You’d never survive a farm.”

            “I could try.”

            Cullen cleared his throat and fed King a piece of cheese. “What did you want to tell me?”

            Rory licked her lips and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. Tell him. Rory, tell him. Tell him. He deserves to know. “The museum is having a gala. Next month, after Summerday. You should come.” Coward.

            He smiled. “I would love to.”

            After they were finished eating, Rory having a few more bites of fruit and cheese, Cullen cleaned up their makeshift picnic. Rory and King watched from their place on the bed, Rory holding King in her lap. He put the food in the small mini-fridge in the corner, gave himself a mental reminder not to forget it. Cullen crawled back into bed when he was finished, spooning behind Rory. She pushed her back against him and pulled his arm around her.

            “Thank you, Cullen,” she said sleepily.

            He kissed the back of her head and put his leg over hers once more. “Goodnight, love.”

Chapter Text

            Rory woke at three, a gurgling hunger making itself known. She was still wrapped in Cullen’s arms, his face pressed into her hair. King curled against her front, snoring loud enough to shake the windows. She smiled, placed a gentle kiss on his furry head between his ears, and slid out from between them. Cullen’s arms tightened briefly before they relaxed in his sleep and let her move out of them. He rolled to his back, one arm thrown over his head, one across his ribs. Rory watched him for a moment, taking note of how relaxed his face looked when she slept. The lines in his forehead were gone, his mouth slightly open and not pulled into a frown. His chest rose and fell slowly, deeply, while he drifted back into sleep. Rory quietly pulled her phone off the nightstand and snapped a quick picture of him before turning her attention to the minifridge. A stabbing hunger was starting to surface and it was only a matter of time before she felt too sick to eat. Her left knee popped softly when she knelt to look inside, finding the food toward the back behind their leftover drinks. The bottles clinked together when she pulled them off the small white rack and she winced. Waited for a disturbance in Cullen’s breath. When she heard nothing, as softly as she could, she placed the drinks on the small desk above and worked on pulling the food out.

            “Need some help?” Rory shrieked and twisted on her heels, knocking into the desk and jostling the drinks. He choked back a laugh and rubbed his face. “Sorry. Are you okay?”

            “Laugh it up, Rutherford.” She stood and grabbed the boxes of food and their drinks. “I’m okay. How long have you been awake.”

            “Long enough to know you took a picture.”

            Rory felt the blush rise on her cheeks. “King looked adorable.” She passed the boxes to Cullen and climbed back to her seat in the middle. “You wear your prosthetic to bed?”

            Cullen shook his head and yawned. “Not usually. You can with this one. Dagna wants to see how long it can be left on for. I take it off to shower, and if my leg hurts.”

            “Does it?”

            “Not as much as it used to.”

            Rory watched Cullen rub at the calf of his prosthetic. “It looks so real.”        

            “She even added the freckles I used to have. My scars.”

            “And hair.” Rory reached out gently. “Feels real.”

            Cullen swallowed and nodded. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked after a few moments of quiet.

            Rory pulled her hand away and picked up a fork. “Woke up hungry.”

            Cullen let her eat in silence for a few moments. Watched her flip through infomercials until she settled on an old cartoon he used to watch when he was a kid. She ate slowly, worried her bottom lip between bites. A few times he found his hand rising to wipe along the tender flesh. He just wanted to hold her. She looked so…broken. Like she was a shell of the woman she used to be. There was something she wasn’t telling him. Rylen knew and Cullen knew he knew, but he wasn’t able to work it out of his friend in the slightest.

            “I need you to tell me what’s actually going on, Rory.” He watched her fork stop midway through a piece of chicken. “Please, Rory.”

            She sat back against the headboard and left the fork in the container. “I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

            “Is it something I can help with?”

            Rory smiled softly and shook her head. “No. No, it isn’t. But it’ll work out. Eventually.”

            “And if it doesn’t?”

            “Then I will burn that bridge when I get to it,” she said with a smile.

~

            Dawn started to unfurl its rays through curtains. Rory faced Cullen’s back, watched his shoulder rise and fall with his breathing. She leaned forward and kissed his shoulder.

            “Cullen. Wake up.” She wrapped her fingers around the curve of his shoulder and pulled him to his back. “Cullen, run away with me.”

            He woke slowly, blinked his eyes, and rubbed at them gently. “What?” He looked to the clock on the wall, then back to Rory leaning over him.

            “Runaway with me. We can stay with Dagna until she says your leg is ready. But let’s run away together. Please? We’ll leave my brothers to clean up their mess and you and I can go.” Her voice was breathless and her words were rushed together. There was a tightness across her chest and shoulders, almost painful. She couldn’t breathe properly, but when she looked at him she knew it would be alright. It had to be.

            Cullen watched her carefully. He knew a spiral when he saw one and she was spiraling down. His choice laid only in if he would catch her. “When do we leave?”

            “Can Leliana send my things without anyone knowing? And Titus and Triadus?”

            “She can. Leliana can do anything.”

            “I’ll tell Lexie of course,” she trailed off and pulled her phone out. “I have plenty of money in the bank. I’ll email the museum, and tell them I’m quitting. Or see if they’ll let me work remotely.”

            Cullen said a soft okay, and watched her fingers type away at her phone. He picked his own phone up and sent a message to Leliana. Like he knew she would, she agreed, Rory’s things and the animals would be at Dagna’s by the next day. As per usual, Leliana didn’t question his motives or the reasoning. She likely knew better than he did himself.

            “Will you tell me why?”

            “Yes,” Rory finally said after she stared into his eyes for a minute and a half. “But, you can’t say anything. Nothing. Because we’re doing this. Right?”

            “You have my word.”

            Rory watched him a little longer before she finally pushed the words out. “Father blackmailed everyone so I would marry Henri. Aurea can handle the mess. She’s already agreed. She’ll move your sister and my brother into the castle until they can get it sorted. The engagement party is next month.”

            Cullen clenched his fist in an effort to remain silent. All he did was nod and watched as Rory packed their room up. He should have known, honestly, what Hawthorn was up to. It all made sense: Rory’s rash behavior, Rose’s secretive nature that popped up in the last few months, Rylen telling him to come home–– Rylen.

            Cullen: You are DEAD, Stewart.

            Ry: Ah, fuck. She told you.

            Ry: She told you!

            Ry: Fucking thank the Maker, I thought I was going to have to.

            Cullen: You should have!

            Ry: Lexie asked me not to, Rory asked me not to! I love you, but you forgive easier than the both of them.

            Cullen: You sure?

            Cullen tossed his phone on the bed and glowered. It chimed a few times and he ignored it. Maker damned bastard. He should kill him six ways from Sunday. It still wouldn’t be enough.

            Cullen: Did you know?

            Varric: I know many things, Curly. But yes. We all knew.

            They all fucking knew. “Why was I the last person you told?” he asked when he couldn’t stand it any longer. There was a white-hot rage burning across his face and chest.

            “You promised,” Rory sighed and kept her back to him, folding her clothes gently.

            “I lied!” he yelled and threw his hands up, startled King off the bed.

            Rory sighed and turned to face him, crossing her arms under her chest. “Because I was scared. I was scared, you didn’t want me, we had rules.”

            Cullen ran a hand threw his hair and stood up. “Fuck the rules, Rory.” He approached her slowly. “Maker damn the rules, woman. We made them, we can break them. And you having to marry Henri is a reason to break the rules.”

            “Well, I know that now. But there isn’t anything I can do about it. Are you going to help me pack? Or are you going to pout?”

            “Both.”

~

            Dagna’s lab and her subsequent house sat a mile back into the woods, nestled securely against the hillside. In fact, part of the lab was built into the small mountain, keeping it a nice twenty degrees cooler than the rest of the house. The lab was twice the size of her small cottage and served her purposes well. There was a garden out front, flowers, and vegetables, some fruit. To the side there looked to be a small barn and a fenced-in area where it looked like a few animals were roaming. Rory wondered as they approached in Cullen’s car if she would allow Rory a small space for a studio. If not, she was sure she could set a small easel up in Cullen’s room. Of Rory’s things, what wouldn’t fit at Dagna’s were being sent to a storage facility in South Reach, until they could find a place of their own.

            “It’s cute,” Rory said, smiling at Cullen.

            “She’s got some chickens, a dairy cow. And Angus. A demon of a sheep.” King growled at the mention of Angus and his ears went flat. “He hates me and King with a passion. I tried to talk Dagna into letting me butcher him, but she said no.”

            “Of course, that would be your first solution,” she teased.

            “Oh, just wait. The son of a bitch is mean.”

            Dagna met them on the porch wearing an apron stained with various paints, and a metal object in her hand. “You made it back safe! How’d the leg do?”

            “Handled well,” Cullen said with a nod and sat their bags down on the worn blue wood. “Dagna, this is Rory. Rory, Dagna.”

            Rory smiled at the Dwarven woman and held her hand out. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Dagna.”

            Dagna shook her hand gently. “You too! You’re taller than I expected. But everyone is always taller than I expected. You’re on the run then? They won’t find you here. And even if they did, the house is plenty secure.”

            “Yes,” Cullen grumbled, picking the bags up and walking past her into the house, “, especially with the beast Angus keeping watch.”            

            King growled.

~

            Rory smirked in the doorway of Cullen’s room and shook her head. “There would only be one bed.”

            “I did offer to sleep in the lab.” Cullen smiled and started to turn down the bed for them. His leg was starting to ache a little under the prosthetic.

            “Yes, where it’s so much colder.”

            “I like the cold.”

            “I know you do. Mr. Sleeps-with-the-window-open in winter.” Rory pulled her bag into the room and sat it on the small leather chair in the corner. “Are you still mad at me?” she asked gently, beginning to put away what little clothes she had.

            Cullen sighed and sat on his side of the bed, rubbed at his thigh. “I’m not happy with you, but I suppose I can understand why you did what you did.” He watched her pull her clothes out.

            “I am sorry. And I wanted to tell you,” she placed her folded clothes in the small dresser across from the bed. “There were so many times I wanted to tell you. But I didn’t know how.”

            “I’m glad you did.” After receiving the okay from Dagna, Cullen gently started to take off his prosthetic. “What will happen to your brothers?”

            “I don’t know. Eliot texted, he’s already at the palace with your sister. Aurea will keep him there as long as she needs to. She said she’d handle the rest. I trust her.”

            “Maker, Rose is probably beside herself. She’s always had a small crush on your cousin.”

            Rory laughed and shook her head. “Aurea is very pretty. Rose will have a good time. Eliot is going to be miserable though. He hates being cooped up.”

            Cullen winced as he pulled the prosthetic off. “Fuck,” he hissed in a whisper.

            “Cullen?” Rory turned and frowned at the sight of him. “Maker, why did you take it off sooner?”

            “Dagna wanted to see how long it could be left on for–”

            Rory interrupted his sentence, “Yes, well she probably didn’t mean if it was going to leave your leg irritated. Maker, Cullen.” She dug through her purse until she pulled out a small tin of salve. “Move your hands, let me do this. And you’re telling Dagna tomorrow.”

            “I’m alright–”

            “Cullen, you have friction blisters. That’s not alright.”

            “They’re just hot spots.”

            Rory knelt in front of him and batted his hands away. “I’m still telling her.”

            “I already told her and she already yelled at me. I’ll have a soak in the tub tomorrow.” Cullen watched Rory pop the lid off the small tin. “Rory, I can–”

            She looked up at him through her lashes. “Let me do this.”

            He swallowed and gave a tight nod, looking away from her. Rory waited a few moments before she fingered out a small amount and warmed it between her hands. She caught sight of Cullen’s neck twitch as he stared at the wall above the dresser. Gently, slowly, she placed her hands on the end of his leg. She felt him tense harder under her hands and his legged jerked like he was going to pull away from her. After a few seconds, she slowly began to massage the salve into his skin. He took a sharp breath in through his nose, his hand fisted in the sheet beneath him. Still, Rory kept on, slowly rubbing circles into his flesh.

            “Thank you,” she said as she rubbed. “For trusting me enough to do this. I know it must be hard.”

            Cullen let out a shaky laugh. “I’m…this is…”

            “I know.” She took a moment to feel the thick muscle under her hands. His skin was hot to the touch, the golden hairs barely visible in the dim light of the room. “You don’t have to hide this. Not from me, Cullen.” She could feel the bone under his skin and tried not to shudder. It wasn’t that she was disgusted, but feeling a bone that close to the surface that wasn’t supposed to be exposed like that was unnerving. “Does that hurt?”

            “No. Celia,” he cleared his throat, “she couldn’t look at my leg. Even before I lost it. I had to call Cassandra a few times to come and change the bandages for me. Not that I blame her. I threw up the first time I saw the grafts. Mesh grafts, Anders called them.”

            Rory frowned and took out some more salve to focus on the end. “How are they healing?”

            Cullen pulled his pant leg up a little more so Rory could see the graft scars on his thigh. “N-not bad. Anders said the scar should heal fade over time.”

            There was a faint red mesh pattern on the inside of his thigh that looked like it wrapped around the back and a small section on the outer thigh.

            “The calve got the worst of it,” he said. Tried to ignore Rory’s soft hands on his stump.

            “I’m so sorry, Cullen.” She pulled her hands away and rolled his pant leg down for him. “There, all done.”

            Before he knew what he was doing, Cullen pulled her to her feet and crushed her against his chest. Rory wrapped her arms around him and pushed her face into the crook of his neck. He curled his arms around her tighter, pulled her so close she wound up in his lap. When she wiggled he loosened his hold. Rory put her legs on either side of his thighs and pulled him back into her. His cheek rest on her chest and he listened to the calm beat of her heart. Her hands ran through his hair, nails gently scraping back up his scalp.

            “Thank you,” Rory.

            Rory leaned down, her lips hovering just above his own. “You’re welcome, Cullen.”

            He could feel her breath ghost over them. He tilted his head up more, leaned closer.

~

            Dawn started to unfurl its rays through the pale green curtains. The dream still clung to her mind. Rory faced Cullen’s back, watched his shoulder rise and fall with his breathing. His hair was curled and mussed in several different directions, giving him an air of youthfulness. She watched him. Drew her fingers lightly across his back, watched it twitch under her nails. She pulled her hand away, traced the lines of his shoulder blades with her eyes. So much for rules, she thought. There was an itch in the tips of her fingers when she thought about trailing them up to his neck and into the back of his hair, to place a kiss just behind his ear. Maker, she needed to leave. She had been awake for hours, and had requested a car that would be coming soon. She sat up, disturbing King from his slumber. As quietly as she could, she gathered her things, and tiptoed to the bathroom to change into fresh clothes.

            Her own reflection in the mirror startled her. She looked thinner than she ever had, the hallows under her cheeks more pronounced. The dark circles under her eyes were starting to encroach further down. What had she let herself become? She dressed quickly and avoided the mirror as she went. Her car would be there in fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes and then she would be thrust back into her reality. When she exited the bathroom, Cullen was still on his side, King pressed against his back. Having slept between the both of them the entire night, she knew the kind of sweltering heat they were both forcing onto each other. She resisted the pull to crawl back between them. It was stupid, but Rory approached Cullen and brushed a curl clump out of his face. Cullen followed the touch of her hand and sighed.

            “’S time?” he asked.

            “Early. Go back to sleep.”

            “Come back to bed,” he sighed, rolling gently to his back.

            “I will,” she lied softly, “I will. I’m just going to go get more ice.”

            She left him there, on his back, face turned towards the rising sun, and went back to her life without him.

Chapter Text

A light rain was beginning to make small patters against the balcony door and windows. The sun was shining out over the sea, casting white rays into gray choppy water. Rory ran her finger over her lips where it rested gently. She needed to get a haircut again soon. Or she could let it grow out. She almost missed her long hair. It could at least do with new shaping if she were going to keep it long. Maybe she should dye it––

            “Rory, please focus. These place settings––”

            Rory slammed her chair back and stood up, pulling herself away from the table. She stormed to the windows and crossed her arms in front of her chest, one hand coming up to rest under her chin. “I don’t give a fuck about the Maker damned place settings. This was my father’s grand scheme, let him deal with it,” she snarled. After a moment of silence behind her, she sighed, rubbing her face. “I’m sorry, Anna. I’m sorry. I had no right to curse at you.” She turned to face the younger woman.

            Anna smiled and closed the white and silver binder in front of her. “I’ve been yelled at far worse, Rory, I assure you.”

            “That doesn’t mean it’s acceptable.” She slid the ruby pendant back and forth along the thin silver chain on her neck.

            “Rory, this engagement party has put a lot of stress on you. It’s okay to snap occasionally. I know you well enough to know it’s not directed at me.” She motioned for Rory to sit back down. When she reluctantly did so, Anna continued, “We really do need to nail this down today though.”

            “I don’t care where people sit, Anna. Honestly. It’s not important to me. I leave it in your very capable hands.” Rory rubbed the bridge of her nose and scrunched her face. “It’s not important to me. You could always confer with Josephine Montilyet.”

            “I’ll be sure to do that. Can we at least go over the menu then? Surely you have an opinion on that?” Anna asked hopefully.

            Rory sighed. “I can if it is necessary that I do.”

            “You really don’t want a say in this?” Anna raised her eyebrows and watched her old college friend across the table. Most brides to be were meticulous about every aspect of their wedding and if one thing was out of place, there was hell to pay. Yet, Rory hadn’t formed a single opinion on the festivities yet.

            Rory smiled softly and shrugged. “It’s no secret this is an arranged marriage, Anna. Select whatever will make their pockets hurt.”

            Anna gave a cat-like smile. “Oh, that I can do.” She opened the binder back up and flipped to a new section. “Lobster, of course, grass-fed Ferelden Angus, ham of despair…”

            “They still make that?”

            “Yes. It’s disgusting. Orlesians love it. We’ll need strawberries, cherries from the Wilds–– they are out of season, which means what we get in is going to cost your father. Now deserts.”

            Rory sat back and watched Anna in amazement. In a matter of minutes, Anna had planned an entire evening of some of the most expensive food, wine, champagne, and spirits money could buy, and some only that connections could. She named off dishes that Rory had never even heard of.

            All Rory wanted was strawberry jam and bread. Cullen’s mom’s short ribs.

            Rory: I miss you. Can you come back and cook for me, please?      

            Cullen: I’m still angry at you.

            Rory: I’ll make you bread and jam.

            Cullen: …Don’t bribe me, Trevelyan.

            Rory: It’s the only thing I have. I want short ribs.

            Cullen: I spoiled you with those.

            Rory: I spoiled you with jam and bread.

            Cullen: Fair enough. I come home soon. Hopefully by Summerday. Josephine is planning a large surprise party, I just know it, but perhaps you and I could do something smaller? Maybe with Rylen and Lexie?

            The knife that had taken up residence in Rory’s chest twisted. Summerday. Maker, damn it all. She rubbed her forehead and wrote back a reply how she would love to. I’ll be an engaged woman by then, she thought, but sure.

            “Now for flowers–”

            “Yellow roses, poppies, anemones, crab blossoms, geraniums, orange lilies, dark red roses, tansies, and dahlias,” she answered without hesitation. For fun in college, she took a course called the Language of Flowers.

            “Of course. Anything else?”

            “No. Just those.”

            Anna nodded and flipped to the next section in her book. “Is there anyone we need to bar from the event?”

            Rory looked away from the blonde and out the large windows leading to her balcony. “The groom,” she joked seriously. Anna gave a quiet chuckle and asked again. “Cullen Stanton Rutherford.”

~

            “You are keeping something from me,” Victoria said and watched her daughter chew her summer salad with disinterest.

            Rory sighed and leaned back into her chair. “Eliot told you.” She carefully dropped her fork onto the small plate.

            “Eliot told me,” she confirmed.

            “Ass,” Rory grumbled and looked out the window to watch people pass on the street. “Is that why he didn’t show today? To save his own skin?”

            Her mother chuckled and took a sip of her wine. “I imagine so. Would you like to talk about it?”

            “Honestly?” Rory asked, turning her head to look back at her mother. “No. I am all talked out about it. Aurea’s working on it. Until she has it settled I have to go through with it to protect my Maker forsaken brothers.” Rory downed her wine and gently caught the attention of their waitress. “Do you want another glass?”

            “Darling, if you want to get drunk, there are quicker ways.” Victoria smiled softly and finished her own drink off. “I should know.”

            “You drank a lot at the end, didn’t you?”

            “Oh, not just the end. Throughout the whole ordeal. I stayed sober as I could around you all, and I never drove with you, I was always careful. But, alone…” She shrugged softly. “You ran away a few weekends ago,” she changed the subject.

            Rory gave a nod and took a drink of her newly refreshed glass. “I went to see Cullen.”

            “Have you reconciled?”

            “As much as we’re going to, I think. As much as I can let us. Though, currently, he’s very angry at me for just up and leaving him in the hotel room. I told him I was going to get ice.” Victoria laughed quietly. “I just…I had a dream we ran away together and I knew if I stayed, I would have. Then Eliot would marry Tabi and lose the first girl I’ve ever seen him really care about.”

            “Rose? She’s a sweetheart.”

            “He introduced you?”

            Victoria gave a nod and took a quick bite of her steak. “The weekend you left. We all had lunch together. She’s very charming.”
            “The whole family is.” Rory smiled fondly. “Branson, his younger brother, looks just like him. A little cockier and childish than Cullen, but a good man. And they both look like their father. The girls look like their mother. Mia is the eldest. She reminds me of Aurea a little. His mother makes the best short ribs I’ve ever had in my life.”

            Victoria sat and watched Rory tell her all about Cullen and his family. Their farm, their children, the animals. The last few months Rory rarely smiled, but there, talking about this boy and his family, Rory had the first true smile Victoria had seen.

            Victoria: Darling, I’m going to need your help today after lunch with Rory.

            Étienne: Oui, bien-sûr que, mon cœur. Is everything alright?

            Victoria: Not quite. I’ll explain everything when I come home. Have tea ready?

            Étienne: Anything for you.

            “I asked Anna not to put him on the list. In fact, he’s not to be allowed in at all.”

            Victoria held her surprise in. “Is that what you want?”

            Rory smiled and chuckled to herself. “What I want is for Cullen not to go to jail for murder. And if he’s allowed in, he will kill Henri and Hawthorn. Not that I would object to either at this point,” she muttered bitterly.

            “You haven’t told him.”

            “I haven’t told him,” she confirmed.

            “May I ask why? Are you afraid of him?” Victoria instantly straightened in her seat at the realization her daughter might be in love with a man who would hurt her. Memories of Hawthorn pressed in at the edges of her thoughts.

            Rory balked and quickly shook her head. “Maker, no. No. I don’t think I could ever be afraid of Cullen. He’s intimidating, but I’m never afraid of him.”

            “Intimidating?”

            “He’s… intense. But in a good way. He’s strong, mentally and physically. It’s not like Hawthorn. Hawthorn was threatening. Cullen is… not like that. I feel safe with him. As for not telling him,” she trailed off, and traced her finger around the lip of her wine glass. “He’d do everything to make sure it didn’t happen. He’d be furious at me for not telling him sooner, but he wouldn’t take it out on me. In fact, I’m certain he would kidnap me, and then the trio of imbeciles would be on their own and at the claws of Hawthorn. I need to make sure they’re safe before I burn everything down.”

            Victoria smiled. “I know a thing or two about that. Your prenup? You are getting one, yes?”

            “Aurea’s lawyers are drafting one. Apparently, if he even blinks at another woman, I get half of everything.” She shrugged. “I don’t want anything though. I did tell him he could have his affairs if I could have mine.”

            “Do you plan on it?”

            Rory sighed, relaxed further into her seat, and let her decorum slip away. “I honestly don’t know. Part of me says yes, the other part…I don’t know. I did agree to give him one child.”

            “Rory…Children…They’re more than an agreement.”

            “I know. I know that. But, it’s part of the deal. I’ll still love the child, even if it is Henri’s, it’s still half mine.”

            Though the thought of having a child with Henri made her stomach churn. Or maybe it was the four glasses of wine she had consumed since meeting her mother. She tried to picture their child together: curly blonde hair, her hazel eyes, freckles–– Cullen. Fuck it all. Her mood soured all over again. Get over it. It’s never going to happen.

            “It’ll work out,” she told her mother, while wondering if it ever actually would.

~

            “Cassandra says you’re ignoring them again,” Cullen said over the phone.

            Rory shook her head and stirred the pasta around the pan. “I’m not ignoring them.”

            Cullen hummed and Rory heard him take a drink. “Well, we both know that’s a lie.”

            “Okay, maybe it is a lie. But I just…Maker, they’re going to try and fix what’s happening and no one can fix it except maybe Aurea. But I’m working on it. And before you ask, no. I’m not going to tell you.”

            “You’re killing me, Trevelyan. What are you making?” he asked after a quiet moment.

            “Lemon ricotta ravioli from scratch, homemade garlic rolls, and roasted asparagus.” Rory poured herself another glass of white wine. “And wine.”

            “Now you’re really killing me.”

            “Well if you would just come home, you could have some,” she teased and took a sip.

            Cullen sighed on the other end. “I’m trying. Should be soon I think. She’s almost done with the waterproof version. I’m supposed to test it. I’m honestly afraid I’ll get electrocuted.”

            “The joys of being a guinea pig.”

            “Apparently. I’m just going to warn you though, Josie is planning an intervention for you. I don’t know when it’s happening, but it’s happening. Cassandra managed to warn me before Leliana could shush her.”

            Rory loved his three mothers, but Maker, she really did not want to talk about the Henri situation. Even just thinking about the whole thing sent her into a panic attack. Not to mention the sick she felt at being responsible for Cullen’s friends lying to him. Especially Cassandra. After everything she and Cullen had been through, she was now lying to him for Rory. Though, Rory suspected she was doing so because she also didn’t want Cullen to rot in jail for Henri’s murder.

            “Maker, Trevelyan, I can hear you thinking all the way through the phone.”

            “I can’t help it.”

            “You could if you would just tell me what’s going on.”

            “If only you didn’t ask every five seconds.”

            Cullen laughed breathily and Rory could picture him running his hand through his hair. “Well! I’m worried about you. And I’m stubborn. Not as stubborn as you, apparently.”

            Rory hummed and gently pulled her ravioli from the water and moved them to the sauce. “How are your parents? And Mia?”

            “They’re good. Dad is thinking of hiring help out again to get the fields in. Mia is…well, miserable. And I quote, ‘It’s hotter than an Orlesian whore and I have a nuggalope shoved inside my uterus, Cullen.’”  

            Rory couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll send her some things that might help. Did Jasmine have hers yet?”

            “Not yet. I think she’s on the verge of cutting them out. She’s due any day now.”

            “I’ll get a care package together for the both of them.”

            “How are your brothers?” Cullen asked gently.

            She sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve been ignoring phone calls.”

            “Are you alright?”

            Rory shrugged to no one but herself. “I have to be. Right now I’m more angry than anything.”        

            “Understandable. Shit, that’s Dagna. I have to go, darling. Will you call me later?”

            “I will. Tell Dagna I said hello.”

            “I will. Goodnight, darling.”

~

            “You have been avoiding me,” Lexi snapped when she got off her bike.

            “I’ve been avoiding everyone.”

            Lexi pulled Rory into a tight hug. “I’m still mad at you.”

            Rory hugged her back, her hands pressing against her shoulder blades. “Get in line.”

            Lexi let her go after a minute and sighed. “I did miss you though. I know I see you at work, but it’s not the same.”

            She felt tears rise in her eyes as she looked at her friend. “Maker, I missed you too.”

            “Well…shall we?”

            “Did you bring the––”

            Lexi pulled a vape pen out of her purse and passed it over. “Just a few will do it. It’s strong.”

            Rory nodded and took three large inhaled. She hadn’t smoked since college and even then, it was just once or twice. But when she mentioned to Lexi how horrid her anxiety had been, Lexie said she had the perfect strain for it. And today of all days was the day to use it. “Thank you. I appreciate it. I’ve been in a constant stage of flight or fight for the last five months. I should just go to the doctor to get medicated, but even the thought of that makes me nervous.”

            “I’ll get you a pen and some cartridges. I’d rather you smoke than drink.”

            Rory took another puff. Her mother’s car rolled up in front of them and Rory passed the pen back to Lexi. Victoria gracefully slid out of the car and smiled at her daughter.

            “Hi, Mom.” She let her draw her into a hug and kissed her cheeks. “This is Lexi. Lexi, this is my mother Victoria.”

            “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

            “Victoria is fine,” she smiled and motioned to the pen in Lexie’s pocket, “Are you going to share?”

            Lexi grinned widely and passed the pen over to her. “Oh, I like you already.”

            Victoria took a long, slow, puff and passed it back to Lexie. They waited until she exhaled and made their way inside the white and gold storefront. Rory’s breath stuttered at the sight of all the white dresses. Her mother’s arm slid through hers and she pressed a kiss to her temple.

            “It’s just a dress, darling. One you won’t need.”

            Rory gave a nod and felt Lexi’s hand squeeze her shoulder. It’s just a dress.

            “Hello, can I help you!” The young woman’s name tag said, Heather. She had her blonde hair swept up into a bun, but pieces were starting to fall out of it. Her pearl earrings looked like they would hurt after her shift, but were nonetheless gorgeous.

            “Yes, I’m Rory Trevelyan. I have an appointment today to…to find my wedding dress.” She stumbled over the words, and felt her mother’s arm tighten around hers. “We’ll also be looking for bridesmaids’ dresses today. I have four more women coming. This is my maid of honor, Lexi. And my mother Victoria. ”

            “Will you be needing a dress?”

            Victoria smiled sweetly and patted Rory’s arm where they looped. “No, dear. I’ll be wearing my old wedding dress.”

            Rory laughed and nodded. “Please, do. Oh, I would pay good money to see Hawthorn’s face.”

            Lexi looked pleasantly shocked before she let out a soft cackle. “Oh, I really like you. Are you adopting daughters?”

            “I would be more than happy to, Lexi.”

            Heather stood in front of them, a look of shock barely concealed on her face. For some reason, she did not think Victoria Trevelyan was joking when she said she would wear her old wedding dress. “Right,” she cleared her throat, ‘right. Uhm,” she floundered for a moment. “What kind of dress are you looking for?”

            “What’s the most expensive dress you have?”

            Rosalie, Leliana, Cassandra, and Josephine arrived shortly after. Cassandra looked more uncomfortable and angry than usual and barely acknowledged Rory. Not that Rory could blame her. If she was being asked to lie to Lexie for Rylen’s sake, she might be angry with him as well. Josephine was actually excited. Rory tried not to take offense and figured it was more the excitement of planning and dresses. She could understand that and even support it. Leliana, however charming and kind she was being at the moment, saw right through Rory. For that reason alone, Rory avoided being alone with her. Leliana scared her on a good day. Today was not a good day. Champagne was poured, and chocolate was presented. Rory took the champagne willingly and downed it. They sat off into pairs, Heather and Victoria pulling the most expensive gowns they could find, while the three mothers set off in search of bridesmaids' dresses.

            “I kind of feel like I shouldn’t be a bridesmaid,” Rosalie said, looking through a rack of dresses.

            Rory gave a nod. “I know what you mean. You can say no.”

            “I’m not going to say no.” She pulled a dress out and put it back in. “Cullen may kill me though.”

            “Cullen may kill all of us,” Rory clarified.

            Rose nodded and pulled a dress out. “This one?”

            “I like that. Is black too morbid?”

            “Well it is a funeral,” Lexi said. “And I do love black.” She pulled out another dress, a deep V-neck with gathering at the hip.

            Rory smiled and traced her fingers down the side of the dress. “Fair enough.”

            Leliana approached from behind and hummed softly. “Cassandra would look quite pretty in that.”

            Rory jumped and cursed, spilling a little bit of her champagne. “Maker, Leli.”

            Rose picked up the dress she dropped and draped it gently over her arm. “Cullen did warn me that you were quite good at that.”

            Lexi very discreetly put her knife away before anyone besides Leliana noticed. It wasn’t exactly the type of establishment that would welcome blades near the fancy dresses. The redhead merely smiled at her and gave a slight wink.

            “Oh, Rory. Black, really?”

            “It could look quite elegant, Josie,” Leliana insisted.

            Josephine finished walking into the small side room they were in and surveyed the dress that Rose held up. “I suppose so. With the right hair and makeup…accessories…” Josephine pulled out her notepad from her purse and jotted down a few notes. “Anna and I have been talking about the wedding. I like to send her notes.”

            “Oh, good,” Rory said. “I haven’t really wanted to deal with it. I had wondered why she stopped asking me my opinion all of the sudden. Thank you, Josie.” Honestly, it was a relief. Josephine loved planning a party and if she and Anna were in charge, Rory knew it would cost her father more than a pretty penny. She was more than happy to let the two of them overtake the fiasco.

            “Cassandra had to leave,” Leliana finally said. “She had…a prior engagement.”

            “She’s furious at me,” Rory confirmed, “and didn’t want to blow up in a fancy store and get us all kicked out.”

            “Something like that,” Leliana said with a smile.

            “Do you think she’d make it a quick death?”

            Leliana laughed and shook her head. “Oh, absolutely not.”

            “Darling?” Victoria rounded the corner. “We found some options for you.”

            With each dress Rory tried on, anxiety spread across her chest, her stomach rolled and the champagne threatened to bubble back up into her throat. Maker, she just wanted to run. The first dress was an A-line gown with a see-through corset top and lace applique. While pretty, it wasn’t exactly Rory’s style. The second dress was a mermaid-style gown with a tissue bottom and crystals and gemstones sewn into the bodice. The price tag matched, but Josephine said it wasn’t opulent enough. The fifth dress had potential: a cream-colored ball gown with crystals, lace, and pearls. It was the final dress, Leliana’s pick, that Rory settled on. It was a large ball gown with a mesh boat neckline that led into long sleeves that attached to her middle fingers, a cathedral train that drug the ground feet behind her. There were white dainty slivers of feathers along the bottom fourth of the dress. There were branch patterns in crystals and pearls along the length of the dress, coming to a thick explosion across the chest of the dress. The back of the dress had dozens of pearl buttons from the small of her back up to the neck.

            Lexi spoke first, passed Victoria a Kleenex, “I know you don’t want to hear it, but you look beautiful.”

            Rory swallowed and gave a nod. She did look beautiful. The dress was stunning, fit for a queen. She looked fantastic in the dress and she knew it would fit the aesthetic of the wedding perfectly.

            “I think that’s your dress, Roar,” Rose whispered with a hint of sadness.

            Josephine nodded and wrote a note down in her book. “I agree. It suits you perfectly. And will look quite striking in the cathedral–”

            Rory nodded and quickly turned to step off the small pedestal. Her throat was tightening and her eyes were starting to burn. She needed out of the dress. She needed out of the building, out of the country, out. She needed out. Their eyes bore into her back as she left, watching her every movement. She rushed past brides on their own pedestals, a few crying with joy and dabbing carefully at their eyes. Happy brides for happy weddings. The door to the dressing room swung open violently and smacked into the wall before slowly closing behind her. Or, it tried to close, but the train stopped it from shutting completely. Rory turned and began yanking and jerking at the heavy fabric to pull the train the rest of the way into the room. She was huffing and gasping with each pull. The heavy door finally shut and Rory was left alone in the room with nothing but her gasps and her heart thundering in her ears. It felt like the floor was rising up to meet her as she slid down the wall. She pressed herself as tightly as she could into the corner of the room and tried her best to take deep breaths.  

            Victoria knelt down in front of her and cupped her face gently between her cold hands. Rory hadn’t even heard the door open back up. She met her mother’s eyes and shook her head, her mouth opened and closed as she tried to say something, but no words would come. Victoria drew her daughter into her chest and rocked her gently. She didn’t say anything for nothing could be said that would make the situation less than it was. Rory sobbed against her mother’s chest, clenched tightly at the back of her shirt, and laid against her.

            “I don’t want to do this,” she gasped out between her sobs. “Momma, I don’t want to do this.”

            “I know, darling. I know, my darling.” Victoria tried to ignore the blade in her chest at the sounds of her daughter’s broken cries. They would fix it, they would, they just needed time. All they needed was time.

            “Please, please,” she begged over and over. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think. Her heart was thundering in her chest, her face was cold and hot at the same time, and her skin ached and was too tight. She couldn’t breathe in the dress. She couldn’t breathe. “I want Cullen. Momma, I want Cullen.”

Chapter Text

            “Thank you for meeting me.” Rory crossed her legs at the table and picked up her glass of whiskey. “I know you’re busy.”

            “Anything for my fiancé,” Henri cooed with a smile as he approached. He kissed her cheek before she had time to turn her head, then sat across from her. “What did you want to see me about?”

            Rory knew he only called her his fiancé just then to unnerve her. “Why me?” she asked bluntly, seeing no reason to waste time.

            “Pardon?”

            Rory sat her glass back down. “Why am I the one whose proposal you accepted? Or, rather why am I the one you agreed to a marriage with? Surely you have dozens to pick from.”

            Henri flagged the waiter down with a snap of his fingers and Rory’s jaw twitched. “Martini with extra olives. Dry.” He turned his attention back to Rory and surveyed her for a moment. “You’re the first I could stand.”

            She laughed. “I find that very hard to believe. And the fact that I can’t stand you? And am only marrying you to keep my brothers and Cullen out of trouble?”

            “I’ll grow on you,” he said with a smile.

            “Oh, Henri,” she sighed sweetly, “no, you won’t.” She took another sip and swirled the sweet liquor around her mouth. She watched him carefully, noticed his blue eyes shift away from her gaze.  “Who was she?”

            “What?” He looked back at her with surprise etched on his features.

            “The woman your parents didn’t approve of.”

            Henri smirked and leaned back in his seat, draping his arm over the back. He could have been attractive if he wasn’t such an ass. His brown hair wasn’t slicked back with too much pomade today, instead, it was slightly tousled from the wind outside, and looked annoyingly soft. His eyes looked blue-green in the light of the restaurant. He was dressed as casually as Rory had ever seen him before: black jeans, a white t-shirt, a worn brown leather jacket.

            “You think you know everything,” he said. He was defensive. He cracked his knuckles on his left hand one by one. The waiter handed him his martini and quickly left. The restaurant wasn’t busy for a Monday at two p.m., so he likely just wanted away from Henri. Not that Rory could blame him.

            “Who was she, Henri?” Rory asked again with a smile.

            “Leslie Tober,” he answered honestly, his eyes never leaving Rory.

            “Tober…I don’t think I’ve heard the name.” She searched her memory, looking for any sign of a royal family with the name Tober, but none came to mind.

            “You couldn’t have,” he said. “She isn’t royal.” He raised his glass and drained it, motioned for another.

            Rory blinked. Now, that is a surprise. “Henri, how common of you.”

            He gave a slight shrug with one shoulder, let his head follow the motion. “I have the inclination on occasion.”

            They let the conversation lull for a moment. Henri turned to watch people pass by the window and otherwise ignored Rory. She didn’t know why, but it surprised her that Henri was actually capable of loving someone other than himself. For a moment, she let herself think he was hurting just as badly as she was. Despite that, he still could have chosen anyone, even after Rory said no. And now there they were.

            “You want the throne that badly?” Rory couldn’t imagine giving up the one she loves for a title. For the happiness of her brothers, and their safety, yes, but not for a title.

            “I want to survive that badly.”

            Rory tilted her head. “I don’t understand?”

            Henri sighed and swirled the olives around his glass. “One, it will likely be another thirty years or more before I get the throne. My father would have to die, et cetera. And two, if I would have asked her to marry me, I would have been cut off. Stripped of my title, thrown to the wolves.” He took his third drink from the waiter and shooed him away.

            “Could you please stop being a dick to the servers?” she finally snapped.

            Henri held up his hand. “My apologies.”

            “Maker, you could be a half-decent man if you tried.” She looked down at the menu in front of her. She wasn’t hungry, but her clothes were starting to be too big. Her mother’s old clothes were starting to fit her perfectly. Maybe she should wear her old wedding dress. Twist the knife in Hawthorn’s back deeper.

            “Like your Cullen?”

            Rory stopped bouncing her foot and slowly looked up from her menu to find Henri smirking at her. “Henri, even if you made an astronomical effort, you could never be a quarter of the man Cullen is.”

            He smiled. “You know, I did some digging into your prince charming.” Henri took a drink, looked at Rory over the rim of his glass. His eyes glinted with a secret he was about to share. “He’s not as charming as he’s led you to believe.”

            “Believe it or not Henri, but women can think for themselves these days.” She finished her drink. “Cullen Rutherford hasn’t ‘led’ me anywhere.” Not that she would mind if he had.

            “You remember what happened in Kirkwall, don’t you? Kinloch? I’m sure you heard of them.”

            How could she forget what happened in Kirkwall? Maker, the news played it on repeat. And every year on the anniversary. A prison warden was torturing and practically lobotomizing the inmates. There was a huge riot, part of the chantry was destroyed in an explosion, and the riot moved out into the streets. Dozens of people died. Including the warden. Kinloch was also a riot. Dozens of guards and inmates were killed, and a few were tortured before forces could make headway.

            “What does that have to do with Cullen, Henri?”

            “Your farm boy was at both. He was tortured at Kinloch for…oh, around three days. Four maybe, it’s slipped my mind.” He waved his hand beside his face. “Then instead of retiring him or even offering therapy, they shipped him off to Kirkwall. And we know how that turned out. Several prisoners said he personally tortured them.”

            Rory kept her face impassive. “Cullen is not the man he was.” She would hold her judgment until she heard it from Cullen personally. Henri would say whatever he could to disparage Cullen. “Whatever his past, I’ve seen his present and that’s the man that,” she stopped.

            Henri raised an eyebrow in the silence. “Maker. You love him.”

            “We all have our Leslie’s, don’t we?”

~

            Rory walked down the street back to the museum, relished the cool breeze on the back of her neck. Her life was about to be ruined all because of titles. She stopped, a man behind her nearly running into her before he pivoted around her. Hastily, she dug her phone out of her purse. Her heart was a hummingbird in her throat. The line rang, rang, and rang again before it was picked up.

            “Josephine?” Rory crossed the street to the museum. “I need a favor.”

~

            The entire floor smelled like some kind of delicious food when Rory stepped off the elevator. The closer she stepped to her apartment, the stronger it smelled. It was likely Eliot, coming to apologize for ratting her out to their mother. It could have also been Lexi or even her mother. Though, she wasn’t sure if Victoria could actually cook or not. Surely by now, she would have learned how, or perhaps Étienne had a cook at the house. She really would have to talk to Mrs. Hornigold about letting people into her apartment just because they claim relation. Though, she highly doubted a murderer would be making her dinner before they killed her. She unlocked her door and pushed it open quietly. Titus was waiting by the door on top of the sideboard. He meowed quietly when she came in and nudged her hand when she sat her keys down.

            “Hello, handsome. Who’s here to see us, hm?” She picked him up and nuzzled the top of his head. “Hm? Maybe a nice murderer?” She sat him back down on the sideboard and slipped her heels off. Maker, she needed a pedicure. And a manicure. And a massage. She should call her mother and see if she wants to have a spa day or something. A mother-daughter bonding.

            There was a quiet humming coming from her kitchen. It sounded like a man, but as far as she knew Eliot was tone-deaf. She followed the sound and rounded the corner, expecting to see Antony or even Liam standing at her stove.

            “Darling, where the hell is your wine opener?” Cullen turned around and smiled, held his arms open.

            Rory shrieked excitedly and ran across the kitchen to leap into his arms. “You’re home!”

            Cullen’s arms wrapped tightly around her and he pressed his face into her neck. “Surprise.”

            Rory kissed his cheek and pulled back to look at his face. “Indeed! And you’re cooking!”

            “Well,” he said, “someone wouldn’t stop whining about my short ribs, so I decided I should just come home and make them.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

            Rory grinned and looked over his shoulder to the pan of ribs on the stove. “You came all this way to make me short ribs.” She watched his face with a smile. He had kept his stubble, and she noticed a few more gray hairs than the last time she saw him.

            “I came all this way to make you short ribs,” he confirmed.

            “Wait, where’s King?”

            Cullen sat her down and kissed her forehead. “He’s helping Mrs. Hornigold at the store. Now, wine opener?”

            Rory opened a drawer next to the small wine fridge and pulled out the silver opener. She held it up with a smile.

            Cullen tightened his lips into a thin line and took it from her. “I swear I looked there.”

            Rory hummed and sat on the counter behind him while he cooked. “When did you get back?”

            “This morning. I went grocery shopping and stopped by the office. It’s getting harder and harder to sneak into.”

            “Well, it is the National Security Agency of Ferelden, Cullen. I don’t think being able to sneak in is a good thing.”

            “No, I don’t suppose it is. I half expected a welcome back party.”

            “Josie has it planned for a week after Summerday.” she pinched off a piece of bread and ate it with a cocky smile.

            “Maker. That’s two weeks from now!”

            Rory hummed. “That it is.”

            “Well, you and I will just have to go…visit my parents.”

            “Oh! Did Mia and Jasmine get my care packages?”

            “Yes! They both loved them. Mia especially loved the dress you sent. She apparently hasn’t taken it off. Jasmine is going to be induced in two days. I don’t think she can wait.”

            “I imagine not.” Rory watched him cook with a smile on her face. “You’re really home.”

            He laughed and nodded his head. “I’m really home.”

            They talked as he cooked, Rory laughing at his stories of Dagna. It was like nothing had happened between them, like Rory’s engagement party wasn’t in a week. Like Cullen hadn’t leaned back. Cullen explained the leg to her: how he could run and shower and swim with it. He was most excited about the running, even asked Rory to come with him. She politely declined. There was a bark at the door and Rory slid off the counter and ran to answer. When she did, King barreled into her, knocking her down so he could lick across her face. He whined excitedly and spun in circles while Rory laughed and tried to pet him.

            “I missed you too!” She pulled him into a tight hug and kissed his face. “Look at this handsome gentleman! I think you got more handsome since I left you.”

            “Don’t flatter him! His head is already too large!”

             They sat on the couch and ate, Rory’s feet shoved under Cullen’s thigh. King snored loudly in front of the couch, and Titus curled up against his belly.

            “How’s Titus? The statue?”

            Rory finished her sip of wine and set the glass back down with a soft clink. “Something’s different. I still can’t put my finger on it. Lexie says he looks the same to her, but…I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.”

            “Any word on the magic lipstick print?” Cullen teased.

            Rory flexed her toes under his thigh and glared. “Ha ha. I’m talking to the director now to allow Dagna in to do some tests. I think it could help.”

            Cullen sat his bowl down on the coffee table. “Do you want more?”

            “I’ve had three helpings already, Cullen. I’m going to burst.” She leaned back against the armrest and yawned. “Excited to sleep in your own bed tonight?”

            “Oh, extremely.”

            “I would have put fresh sheets on if I knew you were coming home.”

            He shook his head. “Honestly, after being in the templars so long I could sleep on a dirt floor.” He leaned back and rested a hand on her leg.

            “You don’t talk much about it.”

            He tensed a little. “There’s not much to talk about. I made mistakes, I’m trying to atone for them.”

            “You’re a good man, Cullen.”

            He smiled and rested a drew circles on her calf. “I’m glad you think so.”

            She watched him watch her. Saw the worry in his eyes and tried to ignore it. “You promised to take me to the beach again,” she said.

            “I did promise you that. This weekend?” He let her move the conversation. “We could pack a picnic. Bring King along.”

            “It’s a date.”

            “It’s a date.”

~

            “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us you were home,” Cassandra growled at him the next day. She threw her pen at him and crossed her arms over her chest.

            Leliana shook her head. “I should have expected as much, honestly.”  

            “I’m surprised you aren’t tracking my phone,” he chuckled, joking, but really meant it. It was a surprise that she wasn’t.

            “Well, I for one am shocked at you, Cullen. You weren’t supposed to be home for another two weeks!” Josephine made a note in her book before snapping it shut.

            “Technically a week,” he said with a smile. He laughed when Josephine gasped. “I didn’t want a big fuss.”

            “We’re excited to have you back! And small party,” Josephine started to explain

            “A small party!” Cullen laughed and sat up straighter in his seat. “The last small party you threw me was 75 people!”

            “That’s perfectly small!”

            “I tell you what,” Cullen said with a smile, “you tell me what Rory is hiding from me, and I’ll let you throw me the party you really want to.”

            The room went quiet and all their eyes fell on Josephine. Cullen caught her gaze and held it, waited for her to break. Out of the three of them, Josephine was the best chance he had to find out exactly what was going on with Rory. He had already cornered Rylen about it to no avail. They all said the same thing: she was upset about her brothers and meeting her mother was a huge shock. Which, granted he would admit that could be responsible for a little of what Rory was going through, but not the whole thing.

            “That,” Josephine started after clearing her throat, “is something that you are going to have to talk to Rory about.”

            The other women relaxed beside her and Cullen sighed. He should have known that no matter how big of a party Josephine wanted to throw, she wouldn’t give up Rory that easily. “You all really aren’t going to tell me?”

            “No,” Cassandra started to explain when Bull rushed into the room.

            He took the tv remote from Cullen’s desk. “You need to see this.”

            Cullen knew. Even before the tv fluttered to life, he knew what it was. His skin went flush and his heart started to race.

            “On the southside of Starkhaven today. No word yet on how many were injured. Authorities and paramedics are on the scene. Owen Hosten is there now. Owen, can you tell us what’s happening?”

            Cullen’s ears filled with static as he watched a man with curly red hair standing in front of a police barricade. There was smoke and flashes of flames in the distance behind him. Paramedics were carrying people out on stretchers, people covered in ash and blood were stumbling around, looking lost. Two men came into focus carrying a third between them, the lower half of his leg gone, a bloody stump hanging down.

            Blood. Blood everywhere. Where is Castelo? Where– His hand. His hand: where’s the rest of him? Under the rubble? Maker, this ringing. No. No body. My leg. Maker, my leg hurts. Move, you have to move, Cullen. Get up. When will the ringing stop? Is that my blood or someone else’s? Open your hand. Open your hand, Rutherford. Open your hand and grab your weapon. Move, damn it! Whose shadow? Gun. Grab your– Jim! Jim, I can’t move. I can’t… this damned ringing! We have to call for backup. We have to find Castelo before he bleeds out. Why aren’t you listening to me! Why can’t I hear you? Why can’t you hear me?

            Maker, this pain! Jim, my leg. Jim, something is wrong with my leg. Why are you smiling? No. No, I have to stay. I’m not finished yet. They have to know. I have to tell them. Stay awake. Stay. Awake. Stay…awake. Stay…

            “Sleep.” Gray eyes.

            Not Jim. You’re not Jim. Jim. Castelo.

           “Sleep, Cullen.” Pointed ears. Gray eyes. Sharp smile. “I’m sorry.”

            He vaulted out of his seat and rushed to the trash can beside his desk. That morning’s breakfast hit the bottom with a disgusting squelch. A large hand rested on his back, the weight of it grounding him to the spot.“I’m alright,” he coughed and then vomited again.

            “How many more?” A second voice. A woman?

            “As many as it takes.”

            He let Bull lead him to a chair. He sank down into it and for a moment he felt like his body was falling through the floor. His heart rate spiked, he started to sweat through his shirts. Cassandra knelt in front of him, placed a hand on his knee and the side of his face. They felt like hot irons branding his skin. He tried to focus on her, tried to breathe in deep through his nose and out through his mouth, but it was almost as if his diaphragm was seized up. She breathed with him, kept her eyes locked onto his while Leliana sprang into action behind them.

            “There were two of them,” he stuttered.

            “Two of what, Cullen?” Cassandra searched his face, took note of how wide his pupils were.

            “Bombers. One was a woman I think. He said my name. Apologized. Said, ‘Sleep’. But I didn’t. I stayed awake. The woman, I think it was a woman, they asked him, ‘How many more?' And he said, ‘As many as it takes'.”

            “Okay,” Cassandra stayed with him, tried to get him to breathe with her. “Okay.”

            He closed his eyes.

            “What about him?”

            “He’ll bleed out.”

~

            “There you are,” Rory whispered with a smile. She placed her warm hand on his cheek, rubbed her thumb across the bone there. “I was wondering when you’d come back to me.”

            “Rory?” They were in his apartment on his couch, his head in her lap. He blinked a few times, searched her face for something he didn’t know to look for. She was wearing that blue dress with white flowers he had first seen her in. When she helped him up the stairs.

            “You’re alright. Bull brought you home. You’ve been disassociating pretty hard. He gave you some kind of pill, you slept for…about six hours now.”

            He looked up at her, swallowed the lump in his throat. “You didn’t leave?” She was always leaving.

            She frowned, wiped the wetness away from the outer corner of his eye. “I’ll never leave you alone, Cullen. I’ve been here the whole time. You’re not alone.”

            He rolled to his side, turned his face into her hips. She ran her fingers through his hair and sighed softly. He felt King shove his nose into the small of his back and huff against him. Lesson learned: take the dog to work always. Work. Another bombing.

            “Did it happen?” he whispered into her. “The bombing. Did it actually happen?”

            Rory paused her hand in his hair for just a few seconds, but he knew. “Yes.”

            “How many lost?” He could feel her hesitation.

            “One hundred and seventy-five,” she said slowly. “They’re still finding some alive though. Rylen’s family is safe. He managed to get ahold of them before the lines got clogged. This has been the biggest one.”

            Cullen nodded against her. Maker, he felt weak. A scared schoolboy. It was too much. It was all too much. Castelo. Blood. Rubble. Trapped. He rolled away from her suddenly, took gasping breaths in. He stumbled off of the couch and to the floor, shakily pushed himself standing.

            “Cullen?” Rory stood up and approached him slowly.

            He shook his head and backed further away from her. His apartment was blurring around him. The walls were shrinking, the dark afternoon light did nothing to help. King followed him, licked his hands, and whined. Cullen snatched his keys off the bookshelf. He needed out. Maker, he couldn’t breathe. His apartment was too small, too hot.

            Rory vaulted away from the couch and took the keys from him. When she saw the wild look in his eyes she held her hand up. “I’ll drive you. Just tell me where.”

            “Anywhere. Maker, please.”

~

            Rory kept her hand on Cullen’s the whole way. She sped through the streets, ran lights where it was safe to do so. She kept the windows in his car down, let him feel the air on his face. He was taking shuddering breaths beside her, but she could tell he was trying to calm himself.

            “What can I do, Cullen?”

            “Drive faster.”

            Her foot pressed the pedal to the floor.

            He closed his eyes and breathed as deep as he could, which wasn’t deep enough. King whined from the backseat and leaned forward to rest as much of his chin as he could on Cullen’s shoulder. His hand squeezed around Rory’s and he felt her squeeze back. The city flew past them in a blur, then the suburbs, then woods, then the coast. When Rory pulled into the sea-side parking lot ten minutes later, Cullen wasted no time in throwing his door open and leaping out, King hoping over the center console to join him. He couldn’t breathe, his chest ached, his heart was slamming so hard against his chest he could feel it in his throat. He needed a reset. The breeze blew across the rocky sand past the waves that softly rolled into the shore.

            By the time Rory got out of the car, Cullen was halfway across the beach and heading for the water. She called after him, but he kept walking, sometimes stumbling in the rocky sand. She yelled his name again and King barked loudly. A scream nearly ripped from her throat when Cullen dove straight into the water. The longer he stayed under, the quicker she ran. She didn’t even take her shoes off, just threw the keys onto the beach and rushed in after him. King howled behind her, but she kept going. Is this where he went in? This has to be where he went in. Maker, how am I going to find him?

            Cullen exhaled into the dark water and closed his eyes. It was freezing, but he needed it to be. The roar of the sand beneath the waves drowned out the thundering of his heart. He let the water push him back and forth, let the sand swirl around his feet. A delicate pair of hands grabbed at his shirt and pulled, pulled again. Rory. He let her pull him to the surface, and gasped in a breath of air. King was barking wildly on the beach, running the same ten feet back and forth, snapping at the waves. Cullen blinked through the water pouring from his hair, his cognac eyes focused on Rory, noticed the terror in her hazel eyes. She was crying, taking panicked breaths in and out. She reared back and slapped him, pins and needles springing up on his cold cheek where her hand clapped. He blinked and watched a tear slide down her cheek.  

            “Don’t you ever do that to me again!” she screamed, grabbed onto the front of his shirt, shook him, swayed back and forth with the waves pushing and pulling against them. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again!”

            Cullen cupped her face and drew her into him, felt her hands ball up against his chest. A sob broke free of her chest. She desperately wanted to hit him again. He watched her eyes trace his lips, watched her exhale a sob. His whole body was shaking with adrenaline. Saltwater stung his eyes, but he just kept staring at her lips. He needed– Maker, damn it all.

            He drew her face closer, leaned down. She quickly jerked back, looked at him for a moment before she darted in, stopped frozen. Cullen crashed his lips against hers, felt her hands slide up to his neck. Maker, it was like lightning through them. He pulled her body against him. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, leaped up, and wrapped her legs around his hips. She tasted like salt water. He wrapped a hand in her hair, pulled her head back, and followed. They shook against each other, lips moving rushed against each other. Maker, her lips were soft, she was so soft against him. Her hand slid up his neck and around to the back of his head, pulled his mouth harder against hers. His tongue traced her lower lip, just enough to taste. Hers traced the outline of his scar and he shuddered against her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and heaved her as close as he could get her, leaned his head back up into her kiss. Maker, he just wanted to disappear inside her. He regretted every time he never kissed her, every moment that his lips weren’t on hers.

            They finally pulled apart with a gasp. Cullen pressed his forehead to Rory’s, brushed his nose against hers. She was shaking against him, but she couldn’t tell if it was from the water or the kiss that left her weak in the knees. They stayed like that in the water, Rory’s thighs tight around his waist, her hand still in his hair, still against his neck. His kiss had left her dizzy and wanting it again. Wanting it for the rest of her life.

            “Cullen,” she whispered, her breath ghosting over his lips.

            He nodded against her. “I know.”

            After a few minutes, he carried her out of the water. King nipped sharply at his ankles, his own way of slapping him. He deserved it. Maker, he scared them both. He dropped them down onto the warm sand, curled Rory against him. King barked at Cullen, knocked his thick skull against Cullen’s chin. His teeth clacked together, but he still reached out and ran his hand over King’s warm fur. Rory shivered against him again and he drew her closer.

            “I’m sorry I scared you,” he said against her temple.

            Rory nodded and curled into his warmth. She had kissed him. He had kissed her. Maker, he kissed her.

            A half-hour later, they were drying in the warm sun together. Cullen leaned back against Rory’s chest. Her knees were bent against his sides, her skirt ridden up to the bottom of her ass, his arms resting over her thighs, his hands lightly tracing up and down her calves. King lay at his feet, quietly chewing on a piece of driftwood he found. They hadn’t spoken since they got out of the water. Rory wrapped her arms around Cullen’s shoulders and rested her chin there. His body felt like he had just overworked himself at the gym. He let his eyes slip closed and relaxed into the feeling of Rory’s chest rising and falling beneath him. He had kissed her. And Maker did it feel good. Still, the image of her terrified face looking up at him clouded his mind.

            “I’m claustrophobic,” he finally said.

            “Oh! I’m sorry!” She started to unwrap herself from him, but he gripped her legs and pulled them around his waist, her ankles hovering over his belly button.

            He chuckled and rubbed her calf again. “I don’t mean now. I mean…I don’t know what I mean. Back at the apartment. When I had to leave?”

            “Oh. Oh, that first elevator ride makes sense now. I thought you were going to break my collarbones from gripping me so tight.”

            He nodded against her lips on his temple. “I have been ever since…” he opened his eyes and watched the waves crash into the shoreline, “ever since Kinloch.”

            “Cullen, we don’t have to talk about it.”

            “You deserve an explanation.”

            “Not at the cost of your comfort.” She kissed his temple again.

            “I want to tell you.” He felt her nod against him and hold him tighter. “I was only nineteen. Fresh out of training, wanted to make a difference.” He let out a bitter laugh. “I was naïve. Followed orders, kept my head down. Ignored the injustice I saw. When I did question it, it… well, it didn’t go well. When the riots happened, I…” He gripped her legs tighter. “I got trapped in a cell. I was tortured for days, had to watch them torture and murder the people I called my friends.”

            Rory’s breath caught in her throat as he told her what happened. She wanted to cry but knew it wouldn’t help him. So, she listened. Listened as he told her about Kinloch, about Kirkwall. He never faltered, he never stuttered. At times he would pause, take stock of what he wanted to say, how he needed to say it, but he told her everything he knew she could handle hearing.

            “At the apartment, I just…Everything started closing in. I needed to get out. When we got here, well… I don’t know. Getting in the water made the most sense. Cold water is supposed to help with panic attacks and anxiety. According to Anders at least.”

            “I’m sorry I slapped you,” she said.

            He chuckled and patted her leg. “Don’t be. I deserved it. I’m sorry–”

            “Don’t,” she said, “don’t lean back again.”

            “Oh, darling, from here on out I’m leaning in.”

Chapter Text

            Rory sat on one of her balcony lounge chairs in the cool morning with an afghan covering her bare legs. She watched the sea in the distance and traced a faint speck of a sailboat between waves. Titus slipped out of the gap in the door and slinked his way across the tile. Rory smiled and patted her lap, watched him jump, and then waited for him to situate himself. He finally dropped himself down with a sharp purr and curled into a loaf. She chuckled quietly and scratched between his ears. The city was just starting to wake below her. It was her favorite time of day before the sun rose before the moon disappeared. Time seemed to stand completely still in those few hours. The world hung suspended, for a moment she could pretend.

            “You’re up early,” Cullen said, opening the door wider so he and King could venture out to join them.

            “Couldn’t sleep. Did I wake you?” she asked, leaning up to kiss him when he leaned over her. His lips were soft but the scruff of his beard itched at her skin. She made a mental note to buy him beard lotion. She wondered how long he was going to let it get. He didn’t seem the type to grow a full beard, but she never thought he would let it get past scruff in the first place.                

            Cullen smiled and caught her lips once more before he wiggled in behind her, his legs on either side of hers. “No. King with his pea-sized bladder did.”

            King huffed and dropped dramatically onto his side.

            “Don’t embarrass him,” she chided with a smile.  

            “I’m making coffee.” He kissed the side of her neck, smiled when she hummed, and shivered. “Have a spinach and caramelized onion frittata in the oven.” He kissed behind her ear. “Thought we could eat together before work.”

            Rory leaned back against him, drew his arms around her middle. “I’d like that.”

            They were moving slowly, or trying to, but Cullen spent the night. Rory had had a meeting with Hawthorn and couldn’t stand to be alone, so Cullen came over. Their kiss on the beach had remained between the two of them thus far, but Rory knew she was going to tell Lexi. Cullen was going to tell Rylen. One look at Leliana and she would know. While Rory loved their friends, she wished they could keep their secret a little longer. She wasn’t even sure what she was going to do about Cullen and Henri in the first place. A wave of nausea hit her having kissed him when he didn’t know that she was technically engaged. It gnawed at her. She was lying to him, she was letting him think she was free when in reality she was tied to a man she didn’t want.

            “Cullen?” Rory felt him hum behind her. “I need to tell you something.”

            “You don’t like frittatas? Damn. It’s so fun to say though.”

            She laughed at Cullen’s repeated dramatic pronunciation of the word and shook her head. “I’m sure your frittata will be heavenly.”

            “It better be. I used like twenty dollars of cheese.”

            “We are too old to be eating that much cheese.”

            “Speak for yourself.”

            “Maker, you’re as bad as Alistair.”

            Cullen laughed and kissed her temple. He was about to ask her what she needed to tell him when his phone interrupted their quiet morning. “Damn. I’m sorry, darling,” he sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Rutherford.”

            Rory could hear a woman’s voice on the other end but wasn’t sure who it belonged to. Cullen’s chest warmed her back and she leaned a little more against him. She had kept herself awake the whole night through, worried about how she was going to tell him about Henri. She was running out of time. Summerday was in three days. It was going to kill him, but she needed to tell him before it was too late. Maker, it was already too late.

            “Okay, I’ll be in.” Cullen hung up his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. “I have to head in early. My day will be filled trolling security footage and mug shots, passport photos of everyone who came into Ferelden before the first bombing.” He nuzzled her neck and groaned. “I can already feel the migraine coming on. What did you want to tell me?”

            The words froze on her tongue, her heart raced in her chest. If she told him now his workday would be harder than it was already going to be. “I’ll tell you tonight at dinner.”

            “Okay. Should I pick something up?” He tightened his arms around her for a moment before he let go and maneuvered himself from behind her.

            “I could. I get off earlier than you. Usually. Probably defiantly today,” she teased.

            He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you tonight then.”

~

            Rory stood in front of Titus and crossed her arms under her breast. Something was different about him. Maker, she just couldn’t tell what it was. She drew her hand up to chew gently at her thumb. There was something off, she knew it. Slowly, she walked around the marble, scanning every inch with her eyes. She had pulled the security footage and no one had touched him or moved him while she was gone. Besides, it took a team of men to even get the statue into the building and down to the basement in the first place.

            “You still think something’s different with it?” Lexi asked behind her, dropping her bag onto the table.

            Rory jumped and put a hand to her throat. “Maker damn you, Lex.”

            Lexi grinned and slinked over. “You startle to easy.”

            “Just for that, I’m not telling you what I was going to tell you. And it was good.”

            “Oh, come on!” Lexi did her own walk-around Titus. “You have to tell me. I’m your best friend.”

            Rory stopped back in front of the statue and sighed. “Cullen kissed me,” she said nonchalantly. There was silence for a few moments before Lexi let out an unholy sounding shriek from behind the marble. “I have never, in all my years of knowing you, heard you make that noise before.”

            “He kissed you!”

            “He kissed me.” Rory dropped herself down onto a stool and rubbed her forehead. “I kissed him and he still doesn’t know about Henri.”

            Lexi stopped her excited prancing and turned her sharp gaze onto her friend. “What?”

            “He still doesn’t know about Henri. I haven’t told him.” She swallowed the knife in her throat. “I’m going to try to tell him tonight, but I just… I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything about the kiss. He stayed the night last night and made breakfast this morning. And he’s still kissing me, but…”

            “But?”

            “I can’t do it to him, Lex. Maker, I can’t…He deserves a wife and children and to be able to grow old with someone who isn’t married.”

            “Gods, Rory, Summerday is three days away. I thought you said Aurea was helping you?”

            “So is Leliana and Josephine and Cassandra. It’s been months now, Lexi. I’m not getting out of this.” Her body felt like it was being pressed down into the earth, her lungs couldn’t seem to get their fill. Her hands started to shake, her heart raced in her chest. “I think I’m having a panic attack.”

            “Yeah, you are.” Lexi sat down next to her and gently put a hand on her back. “In for four, hold for seven, exhale for eight, right?”

            Rory nodded and drew a deep breath in for four seconds. She stuttered halfway through but kept going, let her lungs ache with the stretch. This is so unprofessional. At Lexi’s count of seven, Rory slowly let the air seep from her lungs. Her body took in several deep breaths. She could tell from the heat across her face that her cheeks were flushed. The tension across her shoulders didn’t lessen, the ache in her nerves only settled deeper.

            “I can’t tell him, Lexi.”

            “Do you want Rylen to tell him?”

            Rory shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t… This will kill him.”

            Lexi sighed and crossed her legs. “I think you underestimate the strength of our dear lion. He’s going to find out eventually, you know that.”

            “I know. I know.” She leaned her head against Lexi’s shoulder and sighed. “I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him tonight.”

~

            Cullen sat at his desk, back hunched over awkwardly as he watched security footage over and over again. His eyes were starting to dry out and burn when he blinked, focusing became harder and harder. He canceled dinner with Rory but kept checking his phone for a message from her. Maker, he felt like an asshole. He had tried to text her early enough that she wouldn’t have to go to the store, but after no response, he began to worry. He sighed and sat back in his chair. King snored loudly at his feet, half under the desk. In one last effort, he picked up his phone and dialed Rory again. Hello, you’ve reached Rory Trevelyan. I’m away from my phone right now, but if you leave your name, number, and a brief message, I’ll be sure to get back to you. He hung up and tossed his phone on the desk. His face scrunched and he placed a hand over his eyes.

            He wasn’t sure how long he sat there staring at the back of his eyelids when a voice broke through the quiet hum of the ac.

            “You look exhausted.”

            Cullen snapped open his eyes and found Rory standing in the doorway to his office. She was wearing a light green summer dress and had a basket draped over one arm. He stood up and approached her quickly, a smile on his face. “How’d you get in?”

            Rory hugged him with one arm and breathed him in. “Leliana. I brought dinner. She said you skipped lunch.” She pulled back from him enough to glare at him. “You have to stop skipping meals.”

            “I’ll stop skipping them if you stop skipping them,” he countered.

            “Ha ha.” She followed him further into the room. He had a Lavenmile landscape hanging on the wall across from his desk. The two large bookcases on either side were full to bursting. There were two leather chairs across from his desk on top of a worn red and gold area rug. “I expected…something clinical. I don’t know why.”

            “Ouch,” Cullen laughed. He cleared off a space on his desk for her to set the basket on. “I’m here more often than not. I needed to make it homey. The chairs fold out into twin beds.”

            Rory chuckled and started to unpack the food she had made. “That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

            “What is that smell?” He peered over her shoulder and into the basket, watched her pull out biscuits and a large tub. “Tell me it isn’t.”

            “I called your mom and asked her what to make you when you’re tired and stressed out. She gave me her biscuit and her sausage gravy recipe. I’ve never actually had sausage gravy, so…I don’t know if I did it right. But she walked me through it.”

            Cullen’s mouth opened and he stared at her. “You’ve never had–” he sighed and shook his head, “I’ve failed you as a Ferelden and as a friend.”

            “So dramatic,” she teased. The nagging feeling settled in her chest again. “I actually wanted to talk to you too. About this weekend. Summerday to be exact.”

            “Is everything okay?” Cullen sat down and watched her closely. She was pulling bowls out and gently setting them on his desk with a soft tink. He could tell she was nervous; she was worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, hyper-focused on setting their dinner out. “Roar?”

            “I…” She could feel him watching her, could feel his amber eyes studying her every move. You coward, just tell him. “Fuck,” she wiped her eyes and sniffed, “I’m sorry. I just, I don’t want to hurt you.”

            “We can take it slow,” he finally said, gently pulling her to stand between his legs. “The kiss was sudden. We’re still rocky. We can take it slow. Okay?” He gently wiped a tear from her cheek and gave her a soft smile. “You aren’t going to hurt me. I’m not going to hurt you. We’ll take it slow. How about we spend some time apart this weekend, okay? We can do our own thing, take some space to think about what we want from each other.”

            “It’s not that,” she whispered. She cupped the side of his face, traced her thumb over his cheekbone. He looked up at her with something that almost looked like hopeful innocence. Maker, he was killing her. She was a terrible person who deserved a life with Henri.

            “Darling, I can’t help if I don’t know.”

            “I…I just want to try and fix it before I tell you. I just need to know that it can be fixed before I tell you.” She would tell him then. She would…Maker, damn it all to the fade. “I’ll tell you after Summerday. Okay?” When I can no longer hide it.

            “Alright. In the meantime, I’m here. Let me give you some comfort.”

            Rory smiled and ran her hand through his hair. “I don’t deserve you.”

            Cullen smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Darling, you are everything I never thought I would have. You have me whether you think you deserve me or not.”

~

            Cullen breathed in softly next to Rory. She had managed to drag him out of his office around two a.m., but it took some coercing on her part. It wasn’t until she started to fall asleep curled up in one of his leather chairs, that he finally scooped her up and took them both home. This time he had asked her if he could stay. We’ll take it slow they had said. She gently brushed hair off his forehead with a frown. Taking it slow apparently meant sharing a bed. Again. King snored softly at the foot of the bed, Titus curled up on top of him, purring loudly. Turning her attention back to Cullen, she traced gentle paths over his face with her index finger.

            “I’m marrying Henri,” she whispered. “Our engagement party is Summerday.”

            Cullen’s nose twitched when Rory traced around it. She gently kissed his forehead and slid out of bed, grabbed her phone on the way out the door. She tiptoed her way through the dark apartment until she came to the balcony doors. They slid open with a quiet whoosh and she slid them back closed. She curled up on one of the chairs again and dialed Lexi. It rang five times before it clicked over.

            “Hello?” Rylen’s gravelly voice answered.

            Rory checked the contact id before she put the phone back to her ear. “Rylen? Why do you have Lexi’s phone?”

            “Rory? I thought it was mine. Maker, are you alright?”

            She let out a surprised laugh and put her fingers over her mouth. “Cullen is in my bed. Cullen is in my bed and I’m…Maker, I’m engaged. I’m engaged and the party is in two days. Two days and I haven’t told him.”

            “Slow down, love.” She could hear him moving on the other end of the line. “Just breathe, okay?”

            “I can’t tell him, Rylen. Why can’t I tell him?” She let the tears slide down her cheeks.

            Rylen sighed and shut a door with a soft click. “Because you love him.”

            Rory choked back a sob and nodded.

            “Do you want me to tell him?”

            “I don’t know. Maker, he’s going to be so hurt, Ry.” She put her hand over her eyes, sniffed softly.

            “Aye, but he’ll get over it. He loves you, Rory. He’s not going to walk away.”

            “Maybe he should. Maybe I should.”

            “And how did that work out for you the last time you two tried that? The last two times you two tried it? You two keep coming back to each other for a reason, Trevelyan.”

            “I just feel so fucking helpless, Rylen.”

            He laughed softly. “You aren’t helpless, Rory. Just because things aren’t happening as fast as you need them to doesn’t mean you’re helpless. You’re working on it. But you need to tell him. He’ll be pissed, he’ll throw his fit, and then he’ll spring into action.”

            “I can’t. Every time I open my mouth to tell him, I just…I can’t do it. The words just won’t come out and I get so afraid of…”

            “Of him?” Rylen asked cautiously.

            “No. No, not of him. Of…of losing him. Again. And at this point, it feels like I’m avoiding the inevitable.” She would tell him and she would lose him. Or she would not tell him and then lose him anyway when he found out she was lying to him.

            “Well, you kind of are, love. One way or another he’s going to find out the truth.”

             Light flooded her living room. “Will you…will you stay on the phone with me?”

            “You’re going to tell him now?”

            “He’s awake…my bedroom light just came on.”

            “Do you want me to come over?”

            “Don’t leave Lexi.” Rory watched Cullen make his way across her living room. “Rylen…”

            “You can do this, Rory. He’s going to be pissed, but he loves you.”

            “Is it enough?”

            Cullen slid the door open and squinted. “Darling? Are you alright?” He yawned softly and rubbed at his shoulder.

            Rory watched him, her mouth open, her heart climbing her throat.

            “Breathe, Trevelyan,” Rylen whispered in her ear. “I need to tell you something.”

            “No, I’m not.” She swallowed. “I need to tell you something.”

            “Good. That’s good.”

            Cullen walked out and sat on the chair across from her. “I’m listening.”

            “Hawthorn, he… I…” Does it matter? You don’t have time to explain.

            “Rory, you’re alright. You can do this,” Rylen assured her as best he could. “My brothers are in trouble, Hawthorn is blackmailing us, I’m engaged to Henri.”

            Cullen sat with the best air of calm he could muster. Something terrible was about to happen. He could see it in her face. He could hear it every time they had talked for the past three months. Whatever she was about to tell him was going to destroy them both. He caught sight of the phone in her hand and waited. Maker, he hoped no one was dead.

            “I’m engaged to Henri,” she rushed out.

            The world stopped. The sounds of the city faded away, her vision tunneled in on Cullen, her chest rose and collapsed with each quick breath she took. Cullen stared. Rylen was speaking into her ear, saying her name, telling her to breathe. She watched Cullen, studied his impassive face, wondered if he could see her heartbeat in her throat. The phone slid down into her lap and her hands dropped to her sides. They stared at each other. Cullen’s face remained impassive. She could see his breath quicken, his jaw clenched, hands tightened into fists.

            “Cullen…”

            He leaned back.

Chapter Text

“Rylen Stewart you open this Maker forsaken door so I can murder you!” There was a loud bark in response.

            Of course, he brought the dog. Rylen glanced at Lexi where she stood pulling her shoes on and sighed. “Can you get an icepack ready?” He stood up from his seat on her black velvet couch and steeled himself on the way to the door. He would let Cullen get one hit in, just one!

            “You get your own icepack, I need to check on Rory.” She finished shoving her feet in her shoes and stood up to root through her coat rack for her purse.

            “Let me open the door first because he’s going to swing.” He quietly unlocked the door, placed himself to the side, and swung it open. “I’m sorry–” Cullen drove his fist into his jaw, but Rylen could tell he pulled his punch. “Ow! Alright, you hit me! We’re even!”

            “Even! Even?” Cullen stepped back so Lexi could walk between them. King circled around them with a sharp bark, stopped to let Lexi scratch between his ears, and wagged his stub tail excitedly.

            “You break anything in my house and I’ll break both your kneecaps,” she said to both of them, holding eye contact with each of them before she nodded. She kissed Rylen gently and closed the door behind her.

            Cullen stood across from one of his oldest friends. “You lied to me.”

            Rylen opened his mouth to explain and sighed. “Yeah.”

            “Maker damn you, man!” Cullen turned away from him for a moment and violently drug his hand over his face. “You are my best friend, Rylen. You have been pushing me to her for months knowing she was engaged!”

            “I didn’t think it would get this far! Maker, not with your three mothers and the fucking King and Queen of Ferelden trying to help!”

            Cullen slowly turned to face him. His eyes narrowed into slits, his voice dropped into a growl. “Excuse me?”

            Rylen let out a nervous chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck. “Mate, did you really think they didn’t know?”

            He stared at Rylen blankly; they lied to him. All of them lied to him. Every single one of them. “Why?”

            “Why? Why? Because I didn’t want you in jail. And I knew if you were told you would wind up killing Henri or Hawthorn and I couldn’t lose my best friend to an Orlesian prison. Free Marcher, fine, but Orlesian? I draw the line, mate.” Rylen watched him with a look of guilt on his face. He knew he was going to feel like shit when he told Cullen, but he didn’t think it would be this awful. “You okay?”

            Cullen cast him a look that could only be described as, What the fuck do you think? “No, Rylen. I’m not okay. I finally, finally, was able to move past Celia, to accept the idea of dating again, and then she does this.” He sat on Lexi’s couch, across from the large floor-to-ceiling windows. “Maker, I knew something was wrong. I could hear it every time she talked to me, something was wrong.” He stood back up and paced. “I begged her to tell me, Rylen.” His shoes clicked on the floor, loudly filling the silence. There was a feeling settling deep in his chest that he couldn’t put a name on. He was angry, but this…stung deeper. It was behind his ribcage, under his sternum, weaving through his ribs like a vine.

            “She was scared, Cullen.”

            “And she didn’t have to do it alone!” He threw his hands up in the air and continued to pace around the room. “Maker, Rylen, does she not trust me?”

            Rylen sighed but stayed where he was. Cullen was going to pace around the room like a lion in a cage and there was no point trying to keep him in eyesight. “You should really be having this conversation with her.”

            “I’m too angry to talk to her right now. I need time to cool down.” He paused in front of the windows, watched storm clouds move in. “I should have come home. Fuck the leg.”

            “That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. That’s one of the reasons she didn’t tell you. Dagna needed you to stay and you needed this. If we told you, you would have come storming back.”

            “She needed me.”

            “She needs you now, you great ass!” Rylen threw his hands up and huffed. “Maker, you are so fucking thick sometimes, I don’t know how your head fits through a door.”

            “Two days, Rylen. Her engagement party is in two days. How am I supposed to help her?”

            “You don’t walk away from her for starters.”

            “I can’t be a background character in her life, Rylen.”

            “No one is saying you have to. She isn’t saying it. Maker, she’s been putting off telling you because she knew she was going to lose you. Again.” Rylen gave up and dropped himself down onto the couch, crossed his ankle over his knee. “Mate, I love you, but Andraste’s flaming tits you are terrible at relationships.”

            “I beg your pardon?”

            Rylen sighed and dropped his head to the back of the couch. “You work too much. You’re terrible at communication. You have a temper the size of the Frostbacks. You don’t know how to forgive.” Rylen cracked the knuckles on his right hand one by one with his thumb. “I’m honestly surprised you and Rory made up. Which is a sign that you two belong together because you keep coming back to her.”

            “I’m not impossible.”

            “I never said that.”

            Cullen sat down next to him and dropped his legs open. “You were thinking it,” he sighed. He dropped his head to the back of the couch.

            “Well, if I was, I would be right.”

            Cullen looked at the silver hand-painted stars on Lexi’s ceiling. He could picture Rory and Lexi laying on their backs on scaffolding to paint the lines. “I leaned back again.”

            “Because you’re a dumbass.”

~

            Rory lay face down in her bed under a mountain of comforters. She could feel Titus curled on her lower back, his loud purrs vibrating against her.

            “Rory? Are you alive under there?” Lexi asked from somewhere in her bedroom. She hadn’t even heard her come in.

            She stuck a hand out of her covers and waved slowly, then brought it back in to curl under her chest.

            “Alright, I’m coming in.” She took her boots off, dropped her bag, and lifted up the end of the blanket so she could slither her way under them. “Gods, how many blankets do you have? How have you not smothered? You’re like a lizard.” She finally reached Rory’s head and stopped moving with an exhausted huff. “Hi.”

            “Hi.” She kept her eyes closed but could feel Lexi staring.

            “Are you going to hide under here all day?”

            “Yes.”

            “We have work in an hour.”

            “I’m not going.”

            “You’re going if I have to kick your ass the whole way there.” Lexi reached out and pushed the hair out of Rory’s face. “You are not going to be miserable in bed the entire day. You feel better when you work. Besides, Dagna is coming to test Titus, remember?”

            No. She hadn’t remembered. “Damn it.” She finally opened her eyes. “Did he say anything?”

            “Not really. He punched Rylen.”

            “What!” Rory recoiled back and felt Titus jostle.

            “I don’t think he used his full strength. Rylen didn’t seem pissed about it.”

            “Maker, Lexi, why didn’t I just tell him?” Rory rolled to her back and apologized when Titus went tumbling off of her.

            Lexi pushed the covers back and yawned. “Fuck if I know. I’ve been telling you to tell him.”

            “Everyone was telling me to tell him.” She rubbed her face. “I think I was scared to really lose him again. And now that I’ve finally told him so late I think I really will. Maker, Lex, his face this morning.”

            “Heartbroken?”

            “I haven’t seen that look on his face since Celia left him.” When he leaned back away from her, she almost couldn’t breathe. His brows had knitted together and his mouth pulled down into a deep frown. “I’m a terrible person.”

            “You’re not a terrible person. Now get up, get dressed, we’ll grab breakfast.”

            “No.”

            Lexi rose to her knees and leaned over Rory with a menacing look on her face. “I will drag you out of this bed like I did our freshman year.”

            Rory remembered that with abject horror. She had been embarrassed and ridiculed by their art history teacher and she was going to drop the class. The night before she told Lexi she felt odd and hoped it wasn’t the stomach flu. The next morning she put her plan into action, only for Lexi to call her on her bluff. She had dragged her all the way to class with Rory in her pajamas. Her pajamas that had nugs and hearts on them.

            “I hate you sometimes.”

            “I’m your soulmate, Rory. You couldn’t hate me if you tried.”

            “Bah.”

~

            “Woah,” Dagna whispered. “He is huge.”

            Rory smiled and nodded her head. “Very. We have several ladders though, so reaching the stain should be no issue.”

            “And you’ve done scans?”

            “Yes. I’ve tried every test available to us that wouldn’t damage the marble.” Rory watched Dagna circle Titus and quickly scribble notes on a black notepad. “You’ll have access to all the equipment here at the museum. As long as the marble isn’t damaged, you’re free to run whatever tests you like. My main questions are what is the lipstick print made of, how old is the stain, and how has it stayed on the marble for this long?”

            Dagna nodded and continued to write in her book. “I’ll see what I can come up with. It would be easier if he were at my lab, but I suppose I’ll make do.”

            “Thank you, Dagna. I appreciate the effort.”

            Lexi rose her head from its position over an oil painting she was cleaning. “So, you’re the genius responsible for Cullen’s prosthetic?”

            “I am,” she answered proudly.

            Lexi smirked and nodded. “It’s good work. I have a question though if you’re willing to answer.”

            “I love questions.”

            “Can it be tattooed?”

            Dagna paused for a moment and then smiled. “That is something to think about, isn’t it… A new test to run,” she muttered and wrote it down in her book. “I’ll have to try it when I get back. Can you buy a tattoo gun online?”

            Lexi chuckled and nodded her head. “You can buy anything online. Just don’t use it on yourself.”

            “I mean, the leg feels real,” Rory said, taking a seat in front of the tapestry she was repairing. “I would imagine it would hold ink.”

            “You felt his leg?” Lexi tilted her head in question.

            “Of course I did. When I went to South Reach. I’m surprised he let me honestly. He gets a little squirrelly.”

            “You should have seen him when I had to take measurements. I thought I was going to have to tie him down,” Dagna chimed in as she circled Titus one last time.

            The three women worked in brief silences, occasionally asking questions of each other. Dagna moved around the space like she had been there for years. Rory couldn’t tell if it was because she was just that confident or if it was because she was just that unaware. Either way, she admired her for it. Dagna hummed softly while she worked and jotted notes down. Rory couldn’t help but wonder how Cullen got along with her. While a very sweet man, Cullen could be a bit of a grouch at times. Between repairs, she texted Cullen: Can we please talk?; Are you really going to ignore me?; Maker, Cullen, I know you’re mad but please?; I will make you bread and jam until we die if you at least acknowledge you’re getting my texts.

            He text her back a very simple, fine. So he was angry. She expected as much from him. It was fine. They would move past it. Maybe. Or, maybe she should just let him go. If she could not actually get out of marrying Henri, it would be no life for Cullen. He deserved a wife and kids if he wanted them. A family to come home to. She couldn’t give that to him.

            Rory: Will you please meet me for lunch so we can talk?

            Cullen: No.

            She sighed and put her phone face down on the table next to her work. Fair enough.

            “He’s kind of off-putting, isn’t he?” Dagna asked, breaking the relative quiet in the restoration room. She was looking over Titus, her brows knitted tightly together.

            “Rory thinks there’s something different about him,” Lexi said without looking up from her work.

            “Because there is. I just don’t know what. he’s been different since I came back from the Free Marches. Lexi thinks I’m crazy.”

            Dagna smiled brightly. “Well, I don’t think you’re crazy. Something is off about him.”

~

            “You three, my office, now.” Cullen didn’t wait for Cassandra, Leliana, or Josephine to respond. He could feel the eyes of the other agents on him as he stormed past their desks and into his office. He kept his back to the door and looked out the windows onto the city below. His jaw was starting to ache from having it clenched for so long.

            “Care to explain your current ire?” Leliana asked, taking a seat in one of his chairs, crossing her legs at the knee. She could see the tension across his shoulders.

            “Is everything alright?” Josephine asked and clutched her tablet to her chest.

            Cassandra sighed and shut the door, leaning her back against it. “She told you.”

            Cullen spun around to face her. “You’re Maker damned right she told me!”

            “Who told– Oh,” Josephine whispered softly.

            “You three are some of my most trusted friends and you kept this from me!” He snapped his gaze to each of them. “Explain.”

            Cassandra rolled her eyes. “You are acting like a child. Use those critical thinking skills I know you must have somewhere in that brain of yours for five minutes.” She held his glare and waited until he crossed his arms before she continued. “What would you have done had we told you? You would have left Dagna’s, ruined any chance you had at getting this new prosthetic, something that has drastically improved your quality of life, and could potentially get you back out into the field again. Then, you would have either killed Henri Demarchiler or Hawthorn Trevelyan. Now, Alistair and Aurea are good, but you would have been serving life in an Orlesian prison and Rory would be left alone.” Cullen opened his mouth to speak and Cassandra held her hand up. “I am not finished. You are a rash man when you are angry and we need you to be calculating. I regret that Rory waited this long to tell you, but look at the reaction you are giving right now. Had she told you, given the delicate nature of the relationship you two had, you would have reacted possibly worse than this. Now, are you going to stop acting like a spoiled child and help us? Or are you going to pout?”

            Leliana and Josephine sat patiently and waited for Cullen’s answer or nod of agreement. When he finally gave a terse nod, Leliana smiled. She knew, they all knew how angry he was going to be when he found out, but this was better than she had hoped for. The fact that Dagna took less time than they originally thought was an oversight on all their parts, but the pieces of the puzzle could only be laid so quickly.

            “What are you doing to fix it?” he finally asked.

            Josephine pulled her tablet down. “Her majesty is working on granting Antony Trevelyan and his partner…friend? We still have not established what they are– Regardless, she’s offering them asylum. Liam’s medical funds will be covered. Right now, we are simply trying to make sure he isn’t arrested for stealing the jewels he sent to Rory. Most of them were family heirlooms, her mother is looking for the documentation as we speak. Eliot however, is a different matter. He got into quite a bit of trouble back in Hercina. I’m working on trying to get the charges dropped.”

            “And I’m working on making them disappear. We’re going to see whose method is faster,” Leliana explained with a smile. “No one was ever caught regarding the crimes, Hawthorn made sure of that, but he does have proof that it was Eliot. All he has to do is hand it over and Eliot will be arrested. Even if he is a citizen of Ferelden, he can be extradited, and likely will be.”

            “Do I want to know what he did?” Cullen asked with a raised brow.

            “No,” Leliana said it in a way that Cullen did not question. “It was young stupidity. But no, you don’t want to know. And Rory will never be told.”

            “So why can’t we do this all now?”

            “For starters, we aren’t ready. Really, Eliot is the only holdup. My agents are going to infiltrate the Trevelyan estate during the engagement party. Whatever proof Hawthorn has is in that house. It’s no issue to hack his phone and computer when he’s here to find any backups. Though, I doubt the man is clever enough for that. He’s old school. Doesn’t like digital.” Leliana re-crossed her legs and gently pulled a thread from her shirt.

            “I’m also looking into an old lover of Henri’s for Rory. They wanted to marry but his parents didn’t approve because she was not of royal blood. If I can find the proof–”

            “Or forge it,” Leliana interrupted.

            “And get her royal status back, Henri will be free to marry her.”

            “Will he though?” Cullen asked. He finally took a seat at his desk, most of his anger at them dissipating. They weren’t wrong, that was the infuriating part. They knew him too well. He would have murdered Hawthorn if Rory told him sooner. He would have left Dagna’s lab and forfeited the leg. “Henri is an asshole who strikes me as the person to want something just so no one else can have it.”

            “He can be persuaded,” Leliana explained.

            “And if none of this works?” He wasn’t sure why he asked. He knew the answer. It was simple, Rory would marry Henri. He would lose her. “Fuck.”

~

            Rory waited for Cullen to come home that night. It was around three am when she finally fell asleep on her couch. Cullen still had not walked down their hallway, still had not responded to any of her texts. She should have told him the minute Hawthorn showed his face. As of late, she had been wishing she were a harsher person, more selfish, someone who didn’t care about anyone other than herself. Deep down though she knew, she cared too deeply about her family, about Rosalie. The role of a dutiful daughter was one that she would never escape from. It was around four am when her front door unlocked. She couldn’t quite bring herself to wake up fully but recognized the smell of Dorian’s cologne. Very gently she was lifted from the couch, and Titus picked up from his place by her head. He let off a quiet chirp before settling down again.

            In the morning she woke to the smell of bacon and rich coffee floating in her open bedroom door. Titus was nowhere to be felt. She suspected he was sitting on the counter mooching off pieces of bacon from whoever was cooking. And seeing as Dorian refused to cook unless absolutely required, she assumed it was Bull in her kitchen.

            “Darling, when was the last time you actually cleaned out your wardrobe?” Dorian asked from the side of the bed. He was holding two dresses in his hand, an offended grimace on his face. “I mean really. Look at these. Rory, they look like something a middle schooler would wear.”

            “I like those dresses,” she yawned. “Is Bull cooking?”

            “Yes. He made cinnamon rolls. He’s very excited. Now, explain.”

            “The dresses?”

            “Cullen.”

            “Maker,” she groaned, “I don’t know. He’s furious with me. Not that I blame him. And there’s not anything I can do to remedy it. At least not right now. I wanted to meet with him,” she sat up, “to try and sort the whole thing out. To explain that I was going to tell him, break things off. But then he kissed me and it just…got so much more complicated than I meant it to.”

            “So you’re really going to marry Henri?” Dorian went back into her closet and started throwing clothes out onto the floor in a pile. “Maker, it’s like a sophisticated school teacher lives here.”

            “Leave my aesthetic alone.” She grabbed her hairpins from beside her bed and began twisting her hair up. “And yes, it appears as if I am actually going to have to marry Henri. Nothing is happening as fast as I need it to. And the wedding is not long after the engagement party tomorrow,” she trailed off into a whisper and dropped her hands into her lap. Tomorrow. Her breathing started to shallow, her heart ached against the cage of her ribs, and sweat started to break out over her forehead. Maker, she started to feel as if she would pass out at any moment.

            “Easy, Rory,” Bull was in front of her, a calm expression painted on his features. “Take deep breaths.” He put his large hands on either side of her face and took a deep breath in. “Come on, with me.”

            Dorian continued to throw clothes out of her closet. She knew it was so he didn’t panic along with her. If it made him feel better to ransack her wardrobe, then so be it. Most of the items he was tossing were things she had not worn since college. She focused on Bull, let her chest rise, and fall with his. He smiled and pressed his forehead against hers gently.  

            “We’re taking you away today. Bull rented a cottage on the coast and we’ll spend the night there. Lexi and Rylen are coming. And Eliot and Rosalie.”

            She hadn’t seen Eliot in weeks. He’d been avoiding her and then she had been avoiding him. “Are you spoiling my cat?” she finally asked. Needed to ask. Needed to stop her mind from spiraling.

            “Oh, I am definitely spoiling your cat. Us one-eyed bastards have to stick together.” He kissed her forehead with a loud smack and stood up. “Come on, come eat breakfast. I made bacon, fed half to your cat, eggs, fed some of those to your cat, and cinnamon rolls. And Dorian made his fancy coffee from Tevinter.”

            “Thank you, Bull.” She watched him drag Dorian from the room, Dorian lecturing Rory about holding onto clothes that no longer serve her. She sat in the quiet of her room a little longer, her knees drawn up to her chest. Bull started singing to Dorian, or Titus, in the kitchen while plates clinked together in the background. She strained to hear any noise in Cullen’s apartment, but nothing came. With trepidation, she picked her phone up from beside her bed. There were no calls or texts from Cullen.

            Rory: I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Cullen.

~

            Rory stretched out on her beach chair and readjusted the large black sunglasses perched on her nose. Her sunhat lifted a little with the wind, but otherwise remained firmly pinned in place. Lexi reached out for her hand and passed along a bottle of some kind of alcoholic drink. She drank it greedily, the lime flavor coating her tongue. It may have been midmorning, but it was never too early to drink. Not with her current circumstances.

            “We should do this more often,” she said, digging the base of the bottle into the sand.

            Lexi chuckled, “We both burn too easily. I’m going to have to call Rylen over here soon to slather more sunscreen on me.”

            “I think the shade of lobster suits you. Compliments your eyes.”

            “You are so funny.”

            Rory cracked a slight smile and readjusted her position. Rylen and Bull were still continuing their match of volleyball. Or rather, what was supposed to be volleyball. Dorian had retreated inside the house for more refreshments and then promptly positioned himself under his large umbrella. From the sounds of his delicate snores, the alcohol and sun had lulled him asleep. A large shadow crossed over Rory and she opened her eyes to look up. She expected Bull or Rylen. Even Eliot. Instead, Liam gave her a crooked smile.

            “You’re going to burn,” he said.

            Rory threw her book off her hips and leaped up. “Liam!” Her arms wrapped around him tightly as she pulled him in for a hug. “What are you doing here?”

            “I came in early. Eliot brought me.” He let her go and held her at arm’s length, looking her up and down with a frown. “You cut your hair.”

            “It’s grown out some. It was chin length. I don’t know if you recall, but I had a bit of a crisis a few months ago.” She couldn’t help the glare that crossed her face. “Liam, this is Lexi and Dorian. Bull and Rylen are the ones currently trying to murder each other using a volleyball.” She was going to let it go. What happened had happened and it was no one’s fault but their father’s.

            “Nice to meet you both.”

            Lexi tilted her head to look Liam up and down with indifference. “Nice to meet you. I don’t like you.”

            “Lex.”

            “That’s fair,” Liam said with a smile. “We did kind of throw her under the bus.”

            “Kind of?” Lexi asked, pulling her sunglasses down to the tip of her nose. “Kind of.”

            “Yes, that’s what I thought I heard,” Dorian muttered. “Kind of. You and your brothers sacrificed her to the wolves. She may forgive you, we don’t.”

            Lexi gave a nod and slid her sunglasses back up.

            “Can we perhaps take it a little easy on Liam?” Eliot asked carting suitcases up the steps to the house. “Blame Antony, that’s what I do.”

            “Oh, we’re angry at him as well,” Dorian snapped. “And you.”

            Rosalie danced across the sand with a smile on her face. “Jasmine had the babies! Did Cullen tell you?” She hip bumped Liam, who took Rory’s seat, out of the way and wrapped Rory in a tight hug. “Here, I have pictures.” She pulled her phone out of the pocket of her dress. When she turned it back around, two babies with thick blonde hair crowded into the screen. “Ella and James.”

            Rory smiled and felt tears spring forward. “Maker, look how little. Oh, their chubby little cheeks though. How is Jasmine?”

            “She’s good,” Rose said, swiping through pictures to show Rory. “Ma is staying with them while she recovers from the c-section. Eliot and I are going to visit them after…”

            “Please give her my best. I can’t wait to meet them.” She wiped at her eyes. “Grab a drink and relax with us.”

            Rose hugged her again tightly. “I missed you,” she whispered.

            Rory wrapped her arms around her shoulders and sighed. “I missed you too. I need to go talk to Eliot. He and I need to.”

            “He’s been trying to call you, but…I don’t think he knows what to say,” Rose offered. “I know he’s sad though and misses you.”

            “I miss him too.”

            Rory found Eliot sitting on the edge of his bed for the night. He had his phone in his hands, eyes downcast. He looked like a child in front of the principal’s office.

            “Can we just act like everything is fine with us and put it all in the past?” Rory asked.

            Eliot looked up quickly and then smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, we can do that. Please, can we do that?”

            Rory smiled and sat next to him, elbowing his ribs gently. “I’m sorry.”

            He sighed and elbowed her back. “I’m sorry too…I have something to show you.” He reached behind them on the bed, rifled through his bag for a moment. “You can’t freak out.”

            “Oh, now I’m going to out of spite. If it’s a positive pregnancy test,” she trailed off as she looked at the ring box in his hand. “Is that…”

            “I’m going to ask her to marry me.” Eliot smiled and ran his hand through his hair. He smiled so wide his dimples made an appearance. He looked so much younger than she ever remembered him. Even when they were kids. Happiness, she thought, That’s what happiness looks like. “Think she’ll say yes?”

            “I have no doubts she’ll say yes. Congratulations, Eliot.”

            “She hasn’t said yes yet.”

            “But she will.”

            Eliot opened the box and passed it to Rory. A princess-cut yellow diamond sat nestled in a halo of smaller white diamonds. The silver band was etched with soft intertwining vines. “Think she’ll like it?”

            “She’ll love it, Eliot. When are you proposing?”

            He smiled widely. “Oh, that I think you’ll love.”

~

The bright afternoon sun warmed Rory’s skin too quickly and despite her slathering of sunscreen, she could feel herself getting pink. She sighed and sat up, looking around for an available hand to reapply sunscreen to her back and shoulders. Lexi was lounging on top of Rylen’s chest, their legs tangled together. Rylen had a book of poetry from a Starkhaven writer. His voice was a murmur against the waves, but Lexi’s smile said everything Rory needed to know. Iron Bull was snoring loudly across from them next to a sandcastle he had built with Rylen a few hours before. Dorian was lazily sprawled in a chair with a large sunhat and glasses perched on his nose. Judging by his open mouth and dropped book he had fallen asleep again. Eliot and Rose were out in the water, Rose’s arms wrapped delicately around her brother’s neck as they talked. As quietly as she could she retreated back into the house where Titus was no doubt lounging in the sunroom under a plant or two.

            As she walked up the wooden steps and across the deck, she checked her phone again. Still no messages from Cullen. There was one from Dagna though.

            Hello Rory! So, I got the samples back to my lab. Not that your lab isn’t great, but mine has more stuff. I’m a bit of a packrat, but you never know when something is going to come in handy. Anyway, so I managed to get a sample of the stain, I’m not going to tell you how because you’ll freak out, but I promise you I didn’t damage the marble. Not where anyone can see anyway. I’m kidding. Kind of. It’s so porous anyway, you just have to like, get in there. I may have used tools they said I couldn’t… but it was just because they didn’t understand them! The marble isn’t damaged, I promise. No one will be able to tell. It did get me thinking about other kinds of tools that I should make to get a better look at it. If you really wanted to remove the stain, you could try something with an acid-base. However, I don’t think that will help you. There’s definitely some kind of barrier on the marble. I’m really glad you were all so distracted yesterday because you would not have liked what I had to do to get in there. I don’t know what it is though. I’d have to bring one of my bigger tools and I don’t think your people will like that. Where was I? Oh! It is lipstick! Well, what they used to make lipstick out of. Mainly ground-up insects, some ruby dust, animal fat, some nasty chemicals that we didn’t know were nasty. I did some research and the insects that were used in the lipstick were really popular among the Dalish. I sent a chemical report to your email. With your permission, I promise not to damage the marble, but I’d like to bring more of my equipment to run some tests on Titus.

            Dag

            Rory went through the seven stages of grief reading Dagna’s email. She assumed Dagna would use whatever means she had to figure the puzzle out. If it actually was lipstick, how had the stain remained? Rory and her team had used every chemical combination they could think of, every combination that had worked before, to get the print off and it still remained. She looked up to pull the door open and caught her reflection in the glass. She wasn’t sure who was looking back at her. She used to know; if you would have asked her months ago who she was, she could have told you with absolute certainty who she was, what she stood for. Now, nothing made sense, nothing felt right. She sent two words back to Dagna: Do it.

The door opened with a well-practiced creak into the open living room. In another life, she hoped she could live in a house like this on the coast. Everything was white, shades of blue, and sage. The furniture was plush and deep, the beds were soft and airy. The linens smelled like saltwater and dryer sheets. The kitchen sink overlooked the quiet slopping dunes. The beaches this side of Denerim reminded her of Tevinter. She made her way to the back of the house where she was sharing a room with Rylen and Lexi. Little did he know he was likely going to wind up sharing a bed with Bull and Dorian. She shut the door to the light blue room and leaned against it for a moment. She needed to try at least one last time.

“You’ve reached Cullen Rutherford. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

“Hi,” she said cautiously. “I know you’re ignoring my calls so you don’t kill me. At least, that’s why I’m hoping you're ignoring them.” She climbed onto the bed and sunk down into the blankets and pillows. “I’m sorry, Cullen. I know I keep saying that, but I mean it. I’m sorry. I just…Maker, I don’t know. I feel like if I try to explain myself I’ll just sound like I’m making excuses. Maybe I am.” She rubbed her forehead roughly. “I didn’t know how to tell you. We had that fight and I really didn’t want to tell you, because then it didn’t matter. Then we made up and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to forfeit the prosthetic. And then I didn’t tell you because I was scared and it was happening so fast I…” she took a deep breath. “These are all excuses, I know. I was just hoping I could fix it before you came home and then it wouldn’t matter. But I couldn’t fix it. Not even with everyone’s help. Rylen keeps telling me that just because it’s not happening as fast as I need it to, doesn’t mean it’s not happening. But there is a time limit on this. I tried to tell you and I wanted to tell you so many times, Cullen.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “You know, when I first agreed to this, I gave Henri conditions.” Rory laughed, “One of them was affairs. He could have them if I could. And you know the first person that came to my mind?” Her voice stopped, she looked at the sand under her nails. “I thought of you, Cullen. It isn’t fair to you though. So, I’m letting you go. I don’t…I don’t know if I can stay friends with you. I don’t even know if you want to stay friends with me. You deserve a life, Cullen. A wife. Babies if you want them. I’m so sorry I lied to you, Cullen. I’m sorry that things worked out this way… I… Goodbye, Cullen.” You coward, Rory Trevelyan.

Chapter Text

Dawn broke over Summerday like an egg into a frying pan. Cullen woke covered in sweat, phantom pains clinging to the space where his leg used to be. He gently rubbed at the prosthetic, pressed into it a few times to try and soothe the strange ache. King snored softly beside him, his belly towards the ceiling, paws up, tongue hanging out of his mouth. Lucky bastard. Cullen swung his legs over the side of the bed and sighed. His phone, face down on his nightstand, taunted him. Rory’s message replayed itself over and over in his mind all night long. The goodbye sounded so final, so…sure. He rubbed the heel of his hand into his eyes and watched the spots dance behind his lids. Maker, how did they manage to let it get this bad?

            After a few moments of mentally berating himself, he got up, showered, ate his breakfast, flipped through more passport photos of people who came into the country before the attack. By three his eyes ached and his head throbbed. “Goodbye, Cullen.” He slammed his laptop closed and shoved it away from him. “I thought of you, Cullen.” “He put his hands on me and all I could think about was you!” He wanted to throw something. He leaned forward and put his hand in his hands. His lips crashed against hers, her hands slid up his neck and into his hair. Her hips pressed against his and she wrapped her arms tight around his shoulders. She tasted like salt water. His hand wrapped in her hair, tongue slid out to trace against the seam of her lips. Maker, everything about her was so soft. She pushed his mouth harder against hers, tongue tracing, teeth nipping at his scar. He picked up his glass and threw it before he knew what he was doing. It shattered against the wall and King barked loudly.

            “Damn it,” he sighed. “I’m sorry, King. I’m sorry.” He rubbed between King’s ears lightly. “Don’t walk over there until I get a broom.” He muttered to himself while he got a broom to sweep up the shards. “Maker damned fool. Acting like a child. We don’t throw things.” King made his way over and proceeded to lick Cullen’s face in an attempt to either shut him up or make him feel better. Cullen hoped it was both. “Yes, thank you. Daddy was just an idiot and is now going to have to call his therapist. Again.” Marge was a good therapist, all things considered. Cullen especially liked her because she was straightforward and was not afraid to tell him when he was being an idiot. Which he was quite often.

            While he was sweeping up shattered and splintered glass from the floor, his apartment door swung up. King ran towards it with a menacing bark but an excited tail wag. It was more than likely someone who had the keys to his place. If it was not, so be it. He had some pent-up rage he could stand to let out.

            “What happened here?” Cassandra asked from the doorway. She raised an eyebrow coolly and watched him rise to his feet.

            “An accident. Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready?” He harshly emptied the pan into the trash bin.

            Cassandra shrugged and scratched King between the ears, letting him sniff her hand excitedly as if he could determine her secrets from it alone. “I have some time. I wanted to check on you after last night.”

            “I’m fine. It’s done. She said goodbye.” His throat stung.

            “Bullshit it’s done. It’s not done until you say it’s done.”

            “Well, I’m saying it’s done.” It was done. She said goodbye, he was letting her.

            “Maker, you’re an idiot. I have always wondered how a man so smart could be so incredibly stupid.” She left her place in the entryway and sat down on one of his chairs. “You love her. You can’t just let her walk away.”

            “She made her choice, Cassandra.”

            “She didn’t have a choice!” Cassandra groaned in exasperation. “She didn’t have a choice. And if she did, it wasn’t much of one.”

            “What else am I supposed to do, Cassandra? I can’t change her mind. And I can’t very well steal her.” Not that he hadn’t thought about it. He had, quite frequently. Cullen sat across from her, rubbed his temples, thought about how his head felt like that glass he shattered on the wall.

            “Do you love her?”

            “Come on, Cass.”

            “That’s an honest question and I expect an honest answer.”

            “No.”

            “Maker forsaken liar. Are you just going to give her up that easily? Without a fight?”

            Cullen watched her face twist into something that looked like heartbreak. “What else do I do, Cass? She said goodbye.”

            “And you’re going to just let that be the end of it?” Her face twisted into anger. “All my years of knowing you and I have never in my life been this…this…”

            “Angry?”

            “Disappointed. I’m disappointed in you, Cullen.”

            It stung worse than her anger. Which, he guessed, was probably the reason she said it. He leaned forward, put his palms on his forehead, his thumbs almost painfully pressed into his temples. “I won’t let you fall, Rory.” “I have no doubts, Cullen. But I will take you with me.” “I have no doubts, Rory,” he laughed. She dove forward and his heart flew into his throat.  “Look!”  His hands grabbed at her hips yanking her back towards him. “It’s sea glass! I’ve never found a piece before!” Cullen looked at the piece she held up and smiled. “Next time could you warn me? I thought you were going to pitch headfirst.” “Cullen.” “The glass is beautiful, Rory.” She slipped it into her pocket and smiled. “Do you think there’s more?” “There usually is.” He kept an eye on her, a hand on the back of her coat just in case. She practically danced across the rocks, picking up pieces of glass and shells as she went. Each one she held out for him to look at, asking his opinion, and on occasion, throwing pieces back that needed more time. He watched her face as she looked, watched the smile reach her eyes. Maker, she was beautiful.

            “Cullen.”

            “I know.”

            He put his hand on her shoulder gently and tried to turn her to face him. When she didn’t, he stepped around in front of her, standing between her and the dark sea. She turned her face from his gaze, a blush spreading across her cheeks. Cullen took her chin and raised her face once again. “Why were you thinking about my hands?” His mouth was running dry, his hands threatened to shake. He stepped closer to her still, felt her breath hitch. “Rory, why were you thinking of my hands?” He watched her throat as she swallowed. “I…” He watched her lips, watched as they parted with her quiet exhale. She was thinking about his hands. Maker, she was thinking about him. His hand traveled to the side of her neck, cupped it gently. Her pulse raced under his fingers. He leaned down, pressed his lips to her forehead. “Why were you thinking about my hands?” “I think about them more than I should.”

            “How am I even supposed to get in?” he asked, leaning back in his seat.

            “I can handle that.”

~

            Rory downed her third glass of champagne while Lexi twisted her hair up.

            “I’m cutting you off now. You can have more later, but you cannot be drunk off your ass when you go down there.” Lexi gently shoved a gold starburst hairpin with a diamond in the center into Rory’s braids.

            “I can’t do this, Lex,” Rory forced out, her throat tight.

            Lexi caught her wild gaze in the mirror and held it. “Yes, you can. You have to.” Rory gave a nod and took a stuttered breath in. “Remember: Leliana has agents at your father’s house right now looking for his shit on Eliot. And at the police station. You just have to get through tonight.”

            “What if it doesn’t work?”

            “It will, Rory.”

            “Are they coming tonight?” she asked panicked, shifting in her seat.

            “Stop moving,” Lexi snapped gently. “I don’t know. Cassandra, yes. Josephine wouldn’t miss it and Rose–”

            “Is running late, I’m so sorry.” She dropped her garment bag on the chair next to the door and sighed. “Your brother is impossible to get out of the house. I practically had to drag him. He’s so jittery tonight.” She crossed the room and kissed Rory’s cheek. “How you doing? Do you need a drink?”

            “Lex cut me off. And that’s probably a good thing honestly.”

            “Stop moving, or this braid isn’t going to work. Gods, I wish you hadn’t cut your hair. I mean it looks cute, but it makes braiding it so much harder.” Lexi pulled tighter on a strand she had in her fingers and weaved it in carefully. “Rose, am I braiding your hair?”

            “If you have time, please.” She sat in a chair across from Rory and pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Did you get the baby pictures from this morning?”

            Rory smiled and nodded her head an inch before she stopped herself. “Yes, Maker, they’re so cute. I can’t wait to hold them.” She appreciated the distraction. “How’s your mom?”

            “Good. Loving every minute of Branson and Jasmine’s. Dad said he hoped she didn’t want another one because he doesn’t have him in him.” She shuddered. “Sometimes I wish they wouldn’t tell me these things.”

“You’re back from the hospital!” Rory smiled up at him and came up the last few steps to be eye-level with him. Maker, she really just wanted to get home. She was going to make her excuses and then leave, until she really caught sight of him. He was sweating, pale, out of breath. “Hello, Lorelai,” he said with an attempted smile. “Cullen, are you alright?” She watched him take more weight off his leg. “I,” he started to lie to her. “It’s my leg, I injured it. I just need to rest for a moment.” His face was bruised and there were stitches on the right side of his face going through his lip. “And your arm? And your face? Why didn’t you take the service elevator?” She raised her groomed eyebrow at him and cocked her hip out to the side. “We have one? It was dislocated. I have to wear the sling for another two weeks” Rory laughed and adjusted her bag again. “Yes, Mr. ‘I’m a health nut so I only take the stairs’, we have an elevator.” She looked him up and down slowly, took in the state of him. Maker, he was in a lot of pain, she could see it in his eyes. “Do you need help getting up this flight?” He furrowed his brow and looked down. “No, I’m okay.” Rory smirked and crossed her arms. “For someone in security, you are a terrible liar.” He slowly smiled with her, wincing when it pulled on his stitches. She stepped next to him and put her arm around his waist. “Lean into me. I’m stronger than I look. I’m surprised the hospital didn’t send you with crutches.” He walked with her and she could feel that he wasn’t going to put his full weight on her. He forgot them, he said. “I’m not going to break, Cullen.” She took his arm and moved it over her shoulders. His hand was calloused but soft, so much larger than her own. “These old buildings have the worst stairs, but the views are so wonderful.” “I see you sometimes in the morning on your balcony.” Maker, which means he saw her in her pajamas. Why did that bother her? Why had she never noticed him on his balcony?

“I still don’t understand why he didn’t reapply sunscreen.”

Cullen nodded and then Rory was hugging him. She wrapped her arms tight around his wide chest, hands fisted in the back of his shirt. He hugged her back, resting his chin on the top of her head. He felt solid against her. His arms were heavy against her back, his hand cradling her neck, fingers rubbing at her hairline. “Anything you need, Rory. I’m here.” “You’re a good friend, Cullen.” She looked up at him, eyes lingering over his lips a moment too long. She opened her mouth, eyes darting back to his full bottom lip. Maker, what is wrong with me! Cullen leaned forward, his eyes searching hers for some unspoken permission. A sign it was acceptable, it was wanted. She gave it, tilted her face up, raised on her tiptoes, pressed her chest closer to his.

“Now he’s all red and peeling. I warned him.”

“Bull is coming. I need you to take these, we need to get your fever down.” She fed the pills to him and pressed the glass to his mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “Wasn’t this bad,” he croaked. Water dribbled down his chin and she wiped it gently. “You are soaked. I’ll be right back.” Rory stood and quickly left through the second door to his bedroom. She found his clothes in the second drawer of the dresser and pulled out a new long-sleeved t-shirt. When she reentered the bathroom, Cullen was slumped against the wall, his chin touching is chest. Maker, he looked so ill. With Cullen’s cooperation, she stripped his sweat-soaked shirt from him and wiped him down with the washcloth. His ribs were yellow with the healing bruises, the stitches were finally out of his shoulder and the scar was red and puckered. She leaned his chest against hers while she wiped his back down, occasionally rewetting the cloth. Unlike the first time they met, this time he rested his full weight against her. His cheek rested on her shoulder and his breath fanned over her neck in short bursts. “I’ve got you, Cullen.”

“Rory?”

“Sorry,” she said, blinking herself to the present. “What was the question?”

“Do you like the hair?” Lexi asked her with a look of concern.

            Rory looked in the mirror and the intricately braided updo Lexi had crafted. “It’s beautiful, Lex.”

            “Good. Hop out so I can get started on Rose.”

            “I can’t believe you didn’t notice my tattoo the night I lost my leg.” Rory laughed and shook her head, setting her beer down before it spilled. “I was a little preoccupied worried you were dying! Looking at your cat tattoo wasn’t my priority.” Cullen raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, cat tattoo? He is a lion, Trevelyan.” “Yes, very manly.” Cullen smacked her with a pillow and knocked her to her back on the couch. “I don’t like your tone.” “You can’t just hit me when you don’t like my tone,” she laughed and kicked at him gently. He grabbed her ankle firmly in his grasp and yanked her under him so he could sit on her hips. “I can’t help but feel like you are insulting my lion?” “Me?” she asked with a smile, “never”. Before she could blink, Cullen was digging his fingers into her sides. Rory screamed and thrashed under him. King barked loudly and nipped at Cullen’s foot in displeasure. “Cullen!” “Say it’s manly!” “You have a kitten on your chest!” “Say it!” Rory laughed and pushed at him, dug her fingers into his ribs, and grinned in triumph when Cullen laughed. “It seems,” he breathed heavy, “We are at a standoff.” “You’re ticklish.” “Just admit the lion is manly, and no one has to get hurt.” Rory danced her fingers on his sides again and Cullen laughed and tried to jerk away from her. “Surrender, Rutherford.” “For you? Always.”

~

            First Andrastian church was completely bare of flowers. There were two large arrangements at the doors, two at the riser where Henri and Rory waited to greet their guests, and small vases on the tables around the room. The music was dark and somber, which seemed to Rory to fit the atmosphere that was surrounding her. She kept her face calm but refused to fake happiness or excitement. Everything was gray, white, and black. Modern. She hated it all.

            “Interesting dress choice,” Henri said between guests.

            “I quite like the color.”

            “I thought blue is your color?”

            Rory nodded at an approaching couple. “Thinking isn’t your strong suit, Henri.”

            She caught sight of Bull and Dorian, Lexi and Rylen, and Eliot and Rose seated at a table across from them. The couples kept light conversation, but mainly kept an eye on her, though they pretended not to. Their presence should have been comforting to her, but for some reason, it made her feel more like an animal at the zoo. She took a sip of the champagne next to her and checked the large clock on the wall across the room: 9:00 p.m. The guests should be finished. Or, near to. She wondered when Eliot was going to propose to Rose. Maker, she hoped it would be soon. She needed to see Hawthorn’s face when Eliot got down on one knee.

            Quiet gasps around the room broke Rory out of her disassociation and she looked around, trying to find the source. Alistair and Aurea walked down the center of the room in full regalia. Rory wondered how Aurea’s neck survived carrying the massive crown she was wearing. When the striking couple reached them, Henri and Rory gave a slight bow. That is before Alistair wrapped Rory into a tight bear hug. She chuckled and hugged him back, pressed her face into his shoulder. Maker, she felt like crying. He must have sensed the feeling because he squeezed her a little tighter.

            “Quit hogging my cousin.” Aurea elbowed him out of the way and took Rory into her arms. “You look beautiful. Red suits you.”

“It may just be my new favorite color.” Rory kissed Aurea’s cheeks when they ended their embrace.

“We met Antony yesterday for lunch. It was very promising.” Aurea smiled and raised her eyebrows slightly. “He’ll be staying with us tonight for a while.”

Tonight. Rory nodded with a smile. Antony would be safe tonight. One down. Two to go. “I’m sure he’ll love that. Now I’ll have a reason to visit more.”

“You’re always welcome with us,” Alistair said with a pointed look toward Henri.

“Come darling, we’re holding up the line. Rory, we’ll speak later? Tomorrow?” Aurea squeezed her hand before she and Alistair walked to the table of Rory’s friends.

“I don’t think they like me,” Henri joked.

“Maybe you’re smarter than I thought, Henri.” She tilted her head back and downed her champagne.

“Where're your bridesmaids, Cassandra and Leliana?”

“Leliana had an emergency and Cassandra seems to be running late. No reason to concern yourself.” She accepted a refill from a waiter and took another sip.

“Well, well. Look who showed up for you, darling.”

Rory followed Henri’s gaze across the room and her breath caught in her throat. The champagne flute slipped from her grasp.

Chapter Text

Victoria walked in with her husband on one arm and Cullen Stanton Rutherford on the other. Rory’s heart stuttered in her chest. Cullen found her gaze across the room and held it as he approached.

            “Did you do this?” Rory turned and watched Henri with a narrowed gaze. Someone was cleaning up glass and champagne next to her, but she couldn’t make herself acknowledge them. “Henri, did you do this?”

            “Of course not.” Henry set his drink down and disguised a sneer as a smile as the trio approached. “Cullen Rutherford. We meet again.”

            “It would appear that way,” Cullen said, his eyes never leaving Rory.

            Why was he there? What was his game? Was he just trying to hurt her? To rub it in her face one last time? “Hello, Mom.” Rory kissed Victoria’s cheeks before she drew her into a hug. “Thank you for coming.”

            “I wouldn’t miss it, darling. This is Étienne.” Victoria let go of her daughter and presented her husband.

            He smiled warmly, took Rory’s hand in his, and gently kissed the back of it. “Call me Éti. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He smiled and stepped back, shook Henri’s hand. “You look just like your mother, Rory.”

            Rory returned his smile and avoided Cullen’s gaze. “Thank you. I think so too.”

            “Have you run into Hawthorn yet?” Henri asked curiously.

            “Not yet,” Victoria confirmed. “I imagine word of my presence will get to him eventually.”

            Cullen’s cologne filled Rory’s nose. She was looking everywhere but him, but his eyes that still lingered on her. Maker, she felt like they were burning through her. There was a tightness in her throat, a sharp pain in the center that pierced her every time she took a breath in. Finally, she turned her gaze to his. Her breath caught as she held eye contact. Take me home, Cull. Please, take me home.

            “Excuse me.” Rory picked up her dress at her hips and left the room as quickly as she could. Tears were starting to burn at the edges of her vision, but she continued to walk through the islands of people. She heard her father’s voice to the left of her, calling for her to come and speak with his acquaintances. Varric to the right of her, offering his car. She could barely hear them over the thundering of her heart in her ears. Maker, she just needed to get somewhere.

            “Victoria?”

            “Hello, Hawthorn.”

            “Mom?”

            “Momma!”

            “Rory!”

            “Rose, I have loved you since I met you.”

            “Why are you here?”

            “You think I would miss our daughter’s engagement party?”

            “Roar!”

            Their voices faded with the music as she rounded a corner and darted down the hall where she had been put together. She made her way toward the receiving room as quickly as she could. A moment was all she needed. Just a moment. There were footsteps clicking in the hall forcefully behind her. The door pushed open under her hands. Rory swung it shut behind her, but as she assumed, it didn’t close behind her. Cullen stepped through, shut it quieter than she would have.

“Why are you here?” she demanded, spun around to face him. His tux was expertly tailored, his hair was smoothed back, stubble cleanly lined.

            He locked the door before he answered. “I was invited.”

            “Bullshit, Cullen. I didn’t invite you.”

            He calmly pulled an invitation out of his jacket pocket. “Someone did.”

            Rory swallowed, watched as he slipped it back in. “That was a mistake.”

            “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” His calmness unnerved her. She expected him to yell, to be furious, but this. This was like he had accepted it.

            “Truthfully?” She waited until he nodded. “I didn’t want to.”

            “Why?”

            “Because I…It wasn’t your business.”

            “Why, Rory?”

            “I just said–”

            Cullen stepped toward her, invaded her space. “I want the truth, Trevelyan.” She recognized it as his security voice. The one he used when he needed to assert himself.

            “Don’t you take that tone with me,” she pointed a delicate finger at his chest, “I’m not one of your men, Cullen.” Maker, he was large.

            “I’m not buying this self-sacrificing bullshit, Rory. I want an answer. Why didn’t you tell me?”

            “What choice did I have Cullen? You were going to go to jail–”

            He scoffed, “Alistair would have had me out of jail and back in Ferelden in five minutes. Do you think I can’t survive a Free Marcher jail? But that’s not what I’m asking you. Why didn’t you tell me?”

            “Eliot was going to break your sister’s heart–”

            He stepped towards her again. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

            “Stop.”

            Another step, the same question.

            “I said stop!” She looked frantically from side to side, tried to find an exit path where he couldn’t catch her. He was forcing her back further and further into the room. Another step. The same question. He was inches from her. She could see his eyes clearer now in the damp lamp light. They were dark and angry, intensely staring at her in a way that made her want to fidget and look away from him. Furious. He looked down at her lips, looked back up at her.

            “Tell me.”

            She pulled her own gaze away from his lower lip. “Because I don’t love you.” She didn’t know why she said it, but it had the desired effect: Cullen took a step back, just a step, but Rory gained a few inches.

            “You’re lying,” he said.

            “Am I?” She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and waited. She watched him watch her, he was looking for a weakness, a sign that she was lying. She prayed he couldn’t find one. Then he smiled. Rory’s breath caught in her throat and she stepped back, bumping into the sofa. She quickly moved away from it, away from him, and towards the door. “I have to get back.” His hand caught her wrist, pulled her back. Maker, he was fast. She didn’t even hear him move across the room. “Cullen, let go.”

            “Say it again.”

            “Let go–”

             “Not that bit.” His fingers curled around the delicate underside of her wrist. “Say it again.”

            Rory swallowed, met his eyes, felt the muscles on the right side of her neck twitch as she steeled herself. “I don’t love you.”

            Cullen looked down at her, watched the words slide past her lips. “Liar. You Maker forsaken liar.” He kissed her.

            Maker, did he kiss her. The moment his lips touched hers, she let out a helpless and all-around needy whimper that she would be embarrassed of later. His large hands cupped her cheek and neck. Cullen pulled her in closer, slanting his lips over hers. Finally, she fisted her hands in his lapels and leaned into him. His tongue traced over her lips and she shuddered. She felt like fire was racing through her veins. Her skin tingled wherever he touched her. She wanted him to touch her everywhere. His smell invaded her: thick woods and tobacco, rum and vanilla. He must have layered his cologne.

            Cullen pulled her against his chest, wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, and slid it into her hair, gripped it tightly as he slanted his lips over hers again and again until they were breathless. Until Rory buckled against him. Maker, he was so angry with her. His hands abandoned her and he knelt down to pick her up, arms shoving under her dress to her hips, hoisted her legs around his waist as he walked her towards the wall. Fuck the chair, fuck the couch. She hit with a thud and a gasp into his mouth, which he took in his own, pressed forward into her until she groaned. Fuck, she tasted like honey and strawberry jam.

            Rory groaned into his mouth again, gripped the hair at the base of his neck, and pulled until his chin tilted up and she could nip at his throat and jaw. He was salt on her tongue. She smirked at his needy moan when she bit the space under the curve of his jaw. His hand worked between their bodies, shoving around her dress to push her panties to the side. A shudder coursed through her at his surprisingly light touch. Slowly, he teased a finger into her. She clenched around him, hissed against his neck, and bit down sharply. Gently, he curled his finger, worked her open before his thumb grazed over her clit.

            “Cullen,” she gasped, lolled her head back. “We can’t.”

            “Can,” he groaned into her neck when he felt her clench around his finger.

            “Shouldn’t,” she whined. Fuck, his thumb was relentlessly swirling loose circles around her clit, slowly driving her higher and tighter.

            He leaned forward and bit her neck gently, not enough to leave a mark, but enough that she would feel it. “Have to.”

            She was already embarrassingly close to shattering on him. “You’ll ruin the dress.”

            “Fuck the dress.” He slowly slipped a second finger into her. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

            She placed a hand over her mouth to try and stifle the whine that slipped out too loudly into the room. “They’ll know.”

            “Maker, Rory, I don’t care.” He was pressed uncomfortably hard against his slacks. “Help me.” He pressed her harder into the wall, tried to pull her dress up further without dropping her.

            Rory grabbed her dress from him and pulled it as high up on her waist as it would go, her thighs bare to the room around them. Her head swam with pleasure when his thumb left her and he ground the heel of his palm into her, his fingers slowly working her. She gasped when he pressed the tips of them into her g-spot, grabbed his face in her hands, and kissed him hard. She bit his lip on a particularly sharp thrust and tasted copper.

            “I’m sorry,” she gasped, “Oh, Maker, Cullen.”

            “Not yet,” he panted. He withdrew his hand from her and worked frantically at his zipper.

            She whined at the loss of his fingers. Cullen’s hand flattened against the wall next to her head and she nipped at the side of his wrist, smiled when he cursed. Her own hands joined his, pushed them to the side so she could work him out of his slacks. Maker, he was hard and hot in her hands, thicker than she had imagined. Andraste, did she imagine him. She gave him a few firm strokes, watched his head fall back with a groan, swiped her thumb across his tip, smearing the pre-cum with her thumb.

            “Maker, damn you, woman,” he growled and pressed forward to kiss her. “I’m so angry with you.”

            “I know.” She pulled him closer, pressed her heels into his ass. “Hurry.”

            Cullen took himself in his hand, caught her wild gaze with his own. Her pupils were blown wide, lipstick smeared across her mouth. She was right, they were going to know and he couldn’t be happier about it. Rory leaned forward to kiss him, but he pulled back, wanted to watch her face when he pushed into her. He rubbed his tip over her, felt the wetness smear over both of them, watched her eyes go wide when he started to push in. She clenched around him again and he steeled his jaw.

            “Ease up for me, love.”

            “Cullen, please.” She wanted him, needed him in her. When he pressed in another inch, she gasped, took his face in her hands. His eyes were locked on hers, a siren call she didn’t want to escape from. Maker, it felt like he was going to split her open. She let out a wild whimper and closed her eyes, dropped her hands to grip his broad shoulders.

            “Almost, love. You can take it.” He watched her mouth drop open in a quiet gasp, her brows knit together. “That’s my girl.” With one final hard push, he settled against her ass. He waited a moment, let her relax into the stretch. He should have worked her open more, should have made her cum before he slid home. He rocked against her, watched her roll her head back against the wall. Maker, he could have watched her come apart against him all day. He slowly rocked into her again and again, rubbing gently at her clit.

            “Please, Cullen, please. Close,” she gasped. Rory could feel him move against her, slowly withdrawing an inch before pushing back into her. Their breaths filled the space around them, rushed into her ears. His thumb went back to her clit, rubbed hard circles around it until she cried. “Too hard. Too hard.” Immediately, he lightened his touch. “Better. Like that, Cull, please.” Her pelvis tightened, head swam with pleasure.

            He wasn’t going to last. Maker, not with the way her nails were digging into his shoulder, not with the way she was looking at him. When she bit her lip, he groaned and rushed forward to take it between his own. “Cum for me, Rory. Please,” he almost whined. Almost. Pressed his forehead against hers, rubbed his nose against hers. “Cum, love.”

            With three more shallow thrusts, Rory came apart around him. Her back arched, chest pressed into his. Her walls spasmed around him clenched so tight he didn’t move for fear of hurting her. He kept his thumb lightly swirling around her clit, pushing her more and more. She rolled her hips into him, cried out, and let him muffle her with his kiss. Cullen gave one more shallow thrust. His face pressed into her neck, tried not to bite her shoulder as his orgasm washed over him.

            “Stop,” she gasped, “sensitive. Cullen, please.”

            He withdrew his hand, put it on the wall next to her chest. They breathed heavily against each other, Rory’s still stuttering. She felt him kiss his way up her neck and across her jaw before he took her lips one last time. It was slow, tender even. He took her lips over and over again, nipped gently at her lower lip, soothed over the spot with his tongue. She spasmed around his cock again and he smiled against her.

            “Don’t look so proud,” she whispered. She ran her hands through his hair, smoothed it back when she was finished. “Cullen…” Her warm hand cupped his jaw and he leaned into her for a second before he pressed a kiss to it.

            “I’m still angry with you,” he said.

            Before Rory could respond there was a loud knock at the door. Her eyes widened in fear. Cullen slowly pulled himself out of her, covered her mouth when she started to whine.  

            “Rory?” It was Lexi. Maker, it was just Lexi.

            “I’ll be right there!” She felt Cullen pull her underwear back in place and he slowly lowered her to the floor. He kept himself pressed against her, waited until she caught her footing. “I have to go. Don’t…leave. Okay? Just…go back home. I can’t… not with you here, I–” Cullen kissed her.

            “We aren’t done talking.”

            Rory nodded and stumbled away from him, felt his hand steady her hip. She stopped in front of the mirror by the door and quickly tried to clean her lipstick up. Maker, she looked like she had been doing exactly what they were doing. Her hair was coming loose, braids pulled out in places, her lips were swollen, there was a mark on her neck.

            “Rory!”

            “I’m coming!” She fumbled with the doorknob, cursed herself. Tears started to sting at her eyes. When Cullen’s chest pressed against the right side of her back, Rory took in a short gasp. His large hand moved hers gently, unlocked the door. He stepped to the side where Lexi wouldn’t be able to see. Rory didn’t, couldn’t look at him. The door opened quickly and Lexi stood on the other side, worry contorting her features.

            She paused and took in the state of Rory “Come on. Let’s get you fixed.” She took Rory’s hand and pulled her out into the quiet hallway. “Cullen, you best go out the back.”

Chapter Text

           Rory stared at the stucco swirls on her bedroom ceiling. Titus purred loudly from his resting place on her pelvis and kneaded the flesh on her hips. Unblinking, she found his head and scratched between his ears while replaying the events the night before. 

           Cullen. Cullen showed up at the engagement party. Cullen followed her. Cullen…

            “Almost, love. You can take it.” Her mouth dropped open in a quiet gasp, brows knit together. “That’s my girl.”

           She groaned and threw her forearm over her face. Her phone chimed menacingly from the nightstand again. And again. And again. It had been relentlessly making noises since she walked out of her engagement party the previous night. She turned slightly, Titus chirping at being jostled, and pulled the phone towards her. Dorian, Dorian, Lex, Bull, Lex, Rylan, Rylan, Rylan, Dorian, Dorian, Dorian, Dorian, Mia, Rose, Rose, Mia, Rose, Lex, Leliana, Varric, Leliana, Varric, Varric, and Cullen. Her body went cold, and her heart beat wildly against her ribs. Rory unlocked her phone and swallowed the anxiety working its way through her body. 

           Cull: We need to talk, Lorelai. 

           “Fuck,” she whispered. 

           Cull: I’m coming over. 

           Rory quickly moved Titus and vaulted out of bed. She stumbled towards her closet, where she threw on a pair of sweats and a baggy sweater hanging out of a laundry basket. She threw her shoes in the closet and shoved the basket after them. Titus watched her from the corner, his ear back in annoyance. 

           “I’m sorry, but I’m panicking a little, okay?” she asked him.

The knock on her door sent her scrambling to answer it. Until she passed her mirror. There was a faint mark on her collarbone and a darker one on her neck; she traced them lightly with her fingers. She didn’t remember him leaving them. She stared at the faint red and bluish mark on her neck until another knock startled her. 

           “I’m coming!” 

           She threw herself around the corner of her door frame and into the living room, pausing to breathe before she opened the door. It swung open quicker than she meant. Cullen stood on the other side with a drink carrier holding two coffee cups and a brown paper bag clenched in his hands. The circles under his eyes were darker than usual, his stubble was a little longer (she hadn’t noticed last night…), and his hair was a curly mess. His gray sweatpants had the University of Ferelden logo on the right pocket, the mabari mascot across the chest of his red shirt. King sat patiently by his side, his butt wagging from side to side. 

           “Are you going to let me in?” Cullen asked with a raised brow.

           Rory muttered an apology and moved to the side to let him walk past her. She shut the door quietly after King and took a moment to scratch between his ears. Cullen sat the cups and bag down on her coffee table before he dropped himself onto the couch. He rested his forearms on his knees and let his head fall between his shoulders. Rory quietly walked towards him and stood behind her wingback chair. It felt like the only sort of protection she had. 

           “What…” Cullen cleared his throat and then shook his head. He started unpacking the bag: Danishes, donuts, croissants, and a couple bagels. 

           Rory watched him move with a dangerous curiosity. The way the muscles in his forearms moved and corded, the gentle rise of the green-tinted veins. She noted how small the travel cup looked in his hands. 

           “Are you going to come and sit? Or just stare at me?” 

           “Who says I won’t do both?” Still, she walked around the chair and sat at the far end of the couch, her legs curled under her, back against the armrest. Cullen passed her a cup of coffee and a Danish. Rory picked weakly at the pastry and nibbled slowly. 

           “Why didn’t you tell me?” he finally asked. 

           Rory swallowed her bite and brushed her hair behind her ear. “I was scared of losing you. I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

           “Because you love me.” 

           Her gaze stayed locked on the coffee table in front of them. “How did you know? In the library, you called me a liar.” 

           Cullen leaned further back on her couch and took a sip of his coffee. “Your pulse. It’s why I grabbed your wrist.” 

           Rory couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s cheating.” 

           “Well, I had to do something! I knew you were lying…or I wanted you to be lying. That was the only way I could be sure.” 

           “You didn’t answer any of my messages,” she said quietly. “I mean, I get it, but…” 

           “I needed time to calm down. I’ve been told I’m quite rash when angry,” he confessed sheepishly. “The last thing I wanted was to say something to you that I couldn’t take back or that I would regret later. I also needed to yell at the three mothers for knowing and not telling me.” 

           Rory hummed and sipped her coffee. “I swore them to secrecy. I didn’t want you jeopardizing your prosthetic. Or winding up in prison. I also know I would have if you asked me to run away with you. I almost did.” Cullen looked at her with a question on his face. “When I met you at the motel? And I did tell you I was marrying Henri at the motel. You just didn’t hear me. Which is fine. I didn’t want you to, and I don’t think you wanted to either. I asked you to run away with me, and you said I couldn’t run from my problems. I asked you to run away to the Wilds.”

           “Well, obviously, I’m regretting that now,” he grumbled. “We could have been happy there, I think. Though,” he sat his coffee down and leaned back, “I worried you would resent me for taking you away from the museum. I don’t think you’d be happy away from it all.” 

           “I worried you’d resent me for taking you away from your work,” she laughed. “I had a dream that I told you. We left the motel and went to Dagna’s… you were mad, but you got over it.” 

           “I’m working on that now. I’ve also been told I’m very stubborn and pigheaded.”

            “You really are.” 

           “Do you want to tell me why you didn’t invite me?” 

           “Are you really that dense, Cullen, that you can’t figure it out?” Rory watched him stare down at his hands as he curled and uncurled them. She sighed deeply and dropped her head to the back of the couch. “Because I knew the minute I saw you, I would waver. My heart would break again, and everyone in that room would see it.” 

            They sat in silence for a moment before Cullen spoke. “I don’t… What happened last night, it shouldn’t have happened.” 

           “Oh.” She tried to swallow the barbed wire in her throat. 

           “You were vulnerable, and I—”

           She huffed harshly. “You’re just using it as an excuse to pull back.” She sat her pastry down. “Maybe I should let you.” 

           “I took advantage of you.” 

           “I didn’t tell you to stop, Cullen.” 

           “You did, though. And I kept pushing.”

           “I wanted you to stop because I knew the minute you touched me, it would have been over,” she stressed again. Rory sighed heavily and moved to lean her head on his shoulder. He tensed under her before moving to wrap his arm around her. “We’re a mess.” 

           Cullen chuckled and pressed his lips to the top of her head. “We are.” 

           “You didn’t take advantage of me,” she reassured and slid her arms around his waist. “If I asked you to stop while we were having sex, you would have.” 

           “I was too rough.” 

           “I liked it,” she whispered. “You would have stopped if I wanted you to. I didn’t want you to.”

           “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. I had a plan,” he admitted. 

           Rory laughed and pressed her face into the side of his chest. “You had a  plan ?” 

           “Yes. I was going to take you to King Maric III’s park. They decorated it for Summerday. There are all these little fairy lights in the trees, and the flowers are blooming.”

           “And you were going to woo me under the lights?” she teased. 

           Cullen chuckled, “I didn’t say it was a good plan.” 

           “It was a perfect plan.” 

           Cullen breathed slowly under her, remembered his training to keep himself calm. “On the phone, when you left that message… you said you thought of me.” 

           “I always think of you.” She prayed he wouldn’t ask, he wouldn’t bring it up, that he would just leave it for both their sakes. 

           “You said the first person you thought of when you gave Henri conditions was me.” 

           “It was. But I can’t. It’s not fair to you. You deserve someone who will give you babies. Who can share a life with you. Not make you some…” 

           “Mistress?” he asked with a smile. “You can’t give me babies?” 

           Rory froze against him. “I…Cullen…” 

           He shrugged slightly and trailed his fingers over her arm. “There’s not anything stopping you.” 

           She pressed her face into his side again. “I want to give you everything. But it’s not fair to you. You shouldn’t be hidden.” Rory tightened her hold on him and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Can we just…Can we just go to bed and forget this for a moment? Just pretend that everything is fine?” She felt the tears begin to sing her eyes.

           “We can do that.” 

           Rory rose from the couch and pulled him up and towards her. His chest pressed against hers, and his hand cupped the side of her face. Her eyes found his, and she pressed harder into him. 

           Cullen leaned in. 

           He took her lips in a kiss and slid his hand to the back of her neck. Rory clutched at the back of his shirt and scraped her nails across his back. She tried to wrap her leg around his hip but couldn’t before he slipped his hands under her thighs and hoisted her up. Her arms looped around his neck as he carried her to her bedroom, occasionally leaning forward to bite at her neck or shoulder. 

           “Is this okay?” he murmured against her neck when they crossed the bedroom threshold. 

           “Yes. Maker, yes.” 

           Her hand pulled at his hair, forced his head back so she could kiss him. She didn’t even care if he tripped and sent them both flying. She needed her mouth on him, needed to consume every inch of him, to be consumed. He groaned into her, tightened his hands on the back of her thighs. Rory pulled back to look at him, to take in the state of his wild eyes. 

           “I want this,” she whispered, threading her hands through his hair. “I want you. I want you to devour me, please. Maker, Cullen, I don’t want to exist outside of you.” 

           He kissed her, his lips gently took hers, and he inhaled her gasping exhale. “You’ve always had me, Rory. Since that first Maker damned day on the stairs.” 

           She smiled, and Cullen returned it. Before she could kiss him again, Cullen sent her falling onto her bed. Rory bounced with a giggle that turned into a gasp when he pulled her towards him by her ankles. She lifted her hips so he could pull her sweats down her legs. In hindsight, she could have worn better underwear. Cullen’s slow gaze traveled up her legs, lingered over her thighs, traced the lip of her light pink underwear. His hands followed his gaze; the soft touch made her shiver under him. 

           He fisted his hand in the center of her sweater and pulled her up and forward. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and searching his. He leaned down and kissed her quickly, nipping her lip as he pulled away. The sweater was pulled up and off her, tossed in some corner of her room. Cullen traced the curves of her chest, watched how her nipples tightened under his gaze and the air conditioning. 

           Rory felt a cold chill course through her. His hand slid around the back of her neck, and he leaned down to kiss her again. Gently, he guided her back, kissed his way down her neck, across her collarbones, down her sternum. She dropped her legs to the side so he could lay between them, his chest pressed against her hips. Rory carded her fingers through his hair as he gently kissed her chest. 

           “Can I take these off?” He traced his finger under the band of her underwear. 

           “So help me if you don’t,” she laughed. 

           He sucked a nipple into his mouth and forced a gasp from her. His body was warm against hers, his weight pinning her to the bed. A nerve sparked when he closed his teeth around her, gently running his tongue around her hardened nipple. 

           “Cullen, please.” 

           He hooked his fingers into the sides of her underwear, pulled them down as far as he could with his mouth still on her. “Stop squirming,” he chuckled. 

           “Stop teasing.” 

           Cullen sat up with a smile to pull her underwear the rest of the way off. “Teasing is half the fun, darling.” 

           The underwear was tossed behind him. He trailed his hands up her legs, massaged the back of her calves, and brought her leg up to kiss at her knees, thighs. She shuddered under him and watched his eyes darken. He slid to his stomach, keeping her leg over his shoulder so he could reach the center of her. She tensed under him, brought her hands down to clutch at his. 

           “Okay?” he asked softly, nuzzling her thigh. 

           Rory gave a short nod and looked at the ceiling. “Yeah, yeah.” 

           “Rory, look at me.” 

           Slowly, she drew her gaze back down to where he lay between her thighs. His face was flushed, and pieces of curl hung loose around his eyes. Maker, the softness in his expression nearly killed her. 

           “This doesn’t have to happen. I can stop.” 

           “No,” she rushed. “No, I just…” Rory traced her fingers over his jaw. 

           Cullen kissed her fingers gently. “Talk to me, love.” 

           “Nervous. I’ve never been with someone who liked…” 

           Cullen blinked slowly before it dawned on him. “Oh. I see.” He hummed softly and kissed her thighs again. “I promise you that I very much enjoy this. If you’ll let me.” 

           Rory swallowed and nodded her head. “Just… stop looking at me like that.” 

           He smiled and gently nipped at the flesh of her thigh. “Never.” He removed one of his hands from hers. “Relax, darling, I’ve got you.” 

           Rory let herself sink down into her pillows and tried to relax. Cullen kissed along her thighs again, his fingers gently massaging into the muscle on the backs of them. He could feel her tense up beneath him the closer he got to her cunt. Slowly, he guided his hand toward her, let his fingers slip teasingly around her opening. He didn’t comment on how wet she was for him already. Instead, he sucked and bit a mark into her right thigh. It was hard not to smirk when she gasped his name, her hands finding a solid grip on his hair. 

           A high-pitched moan escaped her when he slipped a thick finger into her, curled it gently against her g-spot. It wasn’t fair the man knew exactly where to touch her. Her toes curled into the blanket, hips thrust gently against him. This was Cullen. Her Cullen. 

           Her body jolted when he kissed the space above his finger. She tensed her tights to keep them from closing. He must have felt it because he looped his free arm under her thigh and pulled it further apart. 

           “Relax, darling,” he murmured against her. “Breathe. Just feel me.” 

           Cullen pressed his finger more firmly into her g-spot, stroked a little faster. When he felt her thighs relax against him, he licked into her gently. Her gasp sent a shock straight to his cock. His tongue found her clit, gently circled it before taking it into his mouth. 

           “Fucking Maker, Cullen.” Rory whimpered, and her back arched, her hips moving away from him. Still, he continued. She pulled at his hair, felt him groan sharply around her. “Cullen, Cullen, please.” 

           He ate at her like a man starved. The noises escaping into her room made her cheeks flush with embarrassment, but Maker did it feel good. Sinfully good. Her orgasm was approaching faster than she wanted it to. She wanted this feeling to go on and on until she had to beg him to stop. And then maybe just a little longer for good measure. 

           “I’ve got you, baby,” he said before putting his mouth on her again. 

           A second finger moved in with the first, and Cullen picked up his pace. He could feel her clench around him, her hips bucking into his mouth and against his hand. An ache was starting to form where her hands gripped his hair, but he didn’t care. He  needed  to make her cum in his mouth before he sunk his cock into her. From the sounds of her gasps and moans, she wasn’t too far off. Maker, he could listen to her gasp for him all day and never tire of it. 

           “Cullen, Cullen, wait,” she gasped. Rory groaned and arched her back, feeling herself gush around Cullen’s fingers. The more he pressed his fingers into her, the more it felt like it rushed out of her. She pulled a hand from his hair and pressed it against her mouth to stifle her keening. Finally, she relaxed into the sheets; her body twitched every time Cullen licked lazily at her or curled his fingers again. 

           “I don’t…” she gasped weakly.

           Cullen gently pulled his fingers from her and kissed his way back up her stomach. “Breathe, love.” 

           “I never… felt that.” Cullen smiled against her. “That kind of orgasm, I haven’t…” 

           “I’ve been told it feels like you’re going to pee.” He slated his hips against her, his cock pressing against his sweats. 

           Rory nodded and pulled him down to her, nuzzling his neck. “Take off your pants, Rutherford.” 

           “Do you need a minute?” 

           She grabbed his jaw and pulled his face to look at her. “Take. Off. Your. Pants.” 

           Cullen was only gone from her for a few seconds before he was back and pressing his bare chest against her. “Condom?” 

           “Birth control. And I’m clean.” 

           Cullen gave a nod and took himself in hand. Maker, he ached to be in her. The way she was looking up at him, her hair in a mess around her, and her cheeks flushed red. 

           “Kiss me, Cullen.” 

           He leaned in. 

           Cullen leaned in so far, and fast he felt himself disappearing into her. Her hands cupped his face and held his mouth against her. His groan slipped into her when she gently bit his lip, took his tongue into her mouth. Rory wrapped her legs around his hips, pressed her heels into his ass. He swallowed her gasp when he pushed his cock into her, relishing the feeling of her shuddering against him, clenching tightly around him. 

           “Big,” she gasped. “Maker.” 

           Cullen chuckled and kissed her quickly again. “Need a minute now?” 

           “No. No, I can’t wait. Just, just slow.” 

           Cullen gave her a nod and slowly pulled himself out, and gave a hard thrust back. Rory bared her neck to him, put a hand on his chest, and dug her nails in. He’s not sure how long he stayed there, slowly thrusting in and out of her, watching her writhe and moan underneath him. It could have been centuries and still would not have been long enough. 

           “Need to cum, Cull. Please.” 

           “Go on then, love. Show me.” 

           Rory whined but pushed her hand between them. She jolted when she first pressed her fingers against her clit, and relished in his groan when she clenched around him. Her pelvis tightened deliciously as her orgasm spread like fire throughout her limbs. Her legs shook around him, her toes curling into the balls of her feet. A cry escaped her when Cullen pinched and rolled a nipple between his thumb and index finger. 

           “Cullen, please. So close, so, so, close.” 

           Cullen pushed into her a little rougher and dropped his hand against her headboard. “Give it to me then, love. Come on. Let me have it.” He watched her face contort in pleasure, her mouth drop open — he leaned down and took her open mouth with his, pressed into her as close as he could get without throwing his thrusts off. “Let me have it, Rory. Give me what’s mine.” 

           Rory cried out against him as her orgasm flooded her system. Her head tossed back, neck bared to the man in front of her, Maker, her legs tensed and shook around him. Cullen moaned while he watched her, while she spasmed around him, determined to drive him to his own orgasm. 

           “That’s my girl. That’s my fucking girl.” He gripped her hips in his hands and held her while he drove into her harder and faster than before. She cried out with each thrust, her eyes rolling back. “I want one more. Okay? Can you do that for me?” 

           Rory shook her head but made no move to stop him. Her body ached yet craved more of him. She didn’t think she could, had never cum more than twice. Sensitivity prevented her from ever going past one. Two was a miracle. Three was head trauma. Still, Cullen continued his hard thrusts into her. Skin against skin echoed around her high ceilings. 

           “Tell me what you need,” Cullen groaned above her. She shook under him, her hands limply gripping his waist. 

           Rory weakly opened her eyes, watched the man above her. Cullen’s face was flushed, and sweat clung to his brow, where his curls bounced with every hard thrust. His pupils were wide, made him look wild for her. Harsh breaths rushed out of his open mouth with each thrust into her. Maker, he was beautiful. She didn’t think she could come again, and yet each thrust sent her spiraling closer and closer. 

           A gasp of his name and he moved a hand to her clit. Gently, gently, he remembered from the night before. If she wasn’t sore before, she was going to be now. As soon as he touched her, her back arched, and she squirmed under him. Each thrust was accompanied by a sharp cry that went straight to his cock. 

           “That’s it, baby, come on. Cum for me, let me have it.  Fuck , I want it.” He wanted to kiss her, wanted to drown in her again, but couldn’t without moving his hand or slowing his thrusts. He was getting close, hurtling towards an orgasm he knew would take him down. “Cum, Rory.” 

           Rory’s orgasm rushed at her. She gasped, struggled for breath as it rolled over her, wave after wave of dizzying pleasure. She let out a breath, held another, couldn’t take another. Her nails pierced the skin at his waist. Cullen let out a feral groan and stilled his hand, pressed his forehead to hers. 

           “Fuck, breathe, Rory,” he gasped out. 

           Rory gave one last gasp of air before she melted into her sheets, let Cullen weigh her down while he filled her. He was twitching inside of her while she spasmed around him again and again. Her hands weakly found his back and gripped the muscles there. His lips pressed to her jaw, took her earlobe gently, kissed her neck sloppily. He tried to keep most of his weight off of her, afraid of crushing her to death. 

           After a few moments, he slid out of her, and she whimpered against his ear. “Let me clean you up. I’ll be right back.” He kissed her deeply and slowly slid out from her legs, watched as she finally let them fall closed. 

           The light in her bathroom was nearly blinding while he searched for a washcloth. Finally finding one in a linen cabinet and took it to the sink to wet it with warm water. He caught his reflection in Rory’s mirror and had to smile to himself. There was a hickey at the junction of his neck and shoulder, lines from Rory’s nails at his waist, his hair was completely messed and pulled out of its usually kept nature. He looked happy. Quickly, he washed himself at the sink before getting a new cloth and wetting it for Rory. 

           When he returned to the room, she was right where he left her, this time starfished across her bed. He smiled at the sight and carefully brought the cloth to her swollen sex. Cullen tried to remember the first time he learned that women swelled when aroused, blood rushing to the area and all, but he couldn’t. Not that it mattered. 

           Rory jerked and tried to close her legs when she felt Cullen’s hand on her. “No, Cullen, please, I can’t—”

           “Shhh, I know. I’m just cleaning you up, love. It’s alright.” 

           She whimpered and gave a nod before tossing an arm over her eyes. Her body felt like jello. Like resting after a long run, melting into a hot bath with lavender and eucalyptus. Sated. She must have fallen asleep for a moment because when she opened her eyes, the sheets were clean; Cullen held her against his chest, his soft breaths stirring the hair at her crown. Rory slid her hand from between their chests and gently cupped his stubbled face. He smiled and turned slightly to press a kiss to her palm. 

           “Thought I lost you,” he whispered, eyes still closed. 

           “Never…” 

           “I leaned in.” 

           “ I noticed,” she said with a smile. And then, “I love you, Cullen.” 

Chapter Text

“Just let me go, Cullen!” Rory shoved the possibly over-proofed croissants into the oven and let the door slam shut.

            “I can’t! I’ve tried!” Cullen stalked angrily behind her, both of them circling the island while Rory tried to straighten it up. “I have prayed to the Maker himself to please, please, help me let her go. And each time I come back. Each time you come back. And I’m just left where I started. Waiting for you!”

            “You leaned back, Cullen! You leaned back! You have leaned back every time I have leaned in! I can’t…I keep waiting for you to lean back in! To tell me you love me! To tell me you’ve loved me since that first moment on the stairs!”

            She couldn’t even bring herself to look at him. Caught somewhere between love and the urge to throat-punch him. Now there they were, fighting in her messy kitchen while Titus and King took cover in the living room. Like children of divorced parents. The image would have made her smile if she wasn’t so furious.

            “You lied to me about having a fiancé!” he screamed, throwing his hands up in the air. “I think that entitles me to a moment of leaning back. And I do love you, Maker, damn you! I have loved you since that first Maker damned moment on those stairs!” He slammed his fist down on the island. “Maker, fuck, I’m sorry.”

            Rory crossed her arms and watched him. Her brow raised coolly on her flushed face. “This is how you tell me that you love me? Beating up my counter like a child?”

            Cullen sighed and dropped himself into a chair at her kitchen table. “I never said I was rational.”

            Rory watched him, the slump of his shoulders, the messy hair that hung down around his ears, freckles that smattered across the tops of his shoulders. He was perfect. He was perfect and —

            “You love me.”

            Cullen let out a harsh chuckle and leaned back in the chair. “Yeah.”

            Rory kept her smile hidden and slowly walked herself over to where Cullen sat. He watched her approach, a hungry but cautious look in his eyes. Rory pulled her light blue silk nightdress up around her thighs and straddled Cullen’s lap. She was still sore, but that didn’t mean she could tease him just a little. His hands settled on her hips. Looking down at him, she gently fisted the back of his hair in one of her hands, and the other rested gently on his sternum. “Say it again.”

            Cullen pulled at her hold, wanting to kiss her at least, but she kept him in place. “I love you,” he said firmly, without a question, without hesitation. His amber eyes trapped her where she was, breath caught in her throat. “I. Love. You. Rory.” He watched her face for a reaction. Struck with the knowledge and, finally, the admission that he had loved her since he met her. The entire time he has loved her.

            Rory felt Cullen’s heart thunder under her hand like a bird’s. “I love you too.”

~~~

“So.” Rory slapped down a queen down on the bed and waited for Cullen’s move. “Antony is with Aurea and Alistair.”

            Cullen gave a nod and played his own card. “Leliana eradicated Eliot’s indiscretions.”

            “All we have to worry about is Liam.” Rory eyed her cards carefully before putting the next down. “Has Leliana said anything else?”

            Cullen cursed quietly under his breath and sighed. “You had to play that card. No, I’ve not heard anything else about Liam.” He played the next card. “You think your father would really accuse him of stealing? I mean, Maker’s sake, look at Liam.”

            “I wouldn’t put anything past Hawthorn.” She took a moment to scratch King between the ears. “It’s been two days, Cullen…”

            Cullen put his losing hand down on the pile and crawled across the bed to situate himself on his stomach between Rory’s legs. Rory laughed as he wrapped his arms around her hips, pulling her down to the soft sheets. Cullen gave a satisfied hum when Rory slipped her hands into his hair.

            “They’ll get Liam safe,” he assured her. “What happened to saying in bed and pretending nothing happened?”

            “We did that. It’s been two days.”

            “Not long enough.”

            Rory sighed and looked up at the ceiling, her fingers still carding through Cullen’s hair. “We go back to work tomorrow.” She chuckled at his groan. “I know. If I could lay in bed with you all day and beat you at cards, I would.”

            “You weren’t beating me,” he protested with a muffle into her hips.

            “No, no, of course not. You just decided to throw your cards down and comfort me out of the goodness of your heart.”

            “Exactly.” His hands trail up her shirt and against the skin of her back. “Take a bath with me.”

            “Cullen Rutherford, are you saying I stink?”

            “Not at all. You’re just a little ripe. Like a peach.”

            “Oh!” Rory wrapped her legs around him tight and dug her fingers into his sides. Cullen lurched beneath her, a laugh choking in his throat. “You take it back!”

            “Rory!” Cullen pushed at her legs and tried desperately to get away from her tickling hands. “Woman!”

            Rory laughed at her new-found sense of power. The fact that she waited so long to exploit the knowledge he was ticklish was poor planning on her part. His laugh was infectious and deep, coupled with a snort escaping every few minutes.

            Suddenly, in a brief moment of clarity amid the torturous onslaught, Cullen caught Rory’s wrists and pinned them to her sides. Cullen leaned up over her heaving form and tried to control his own breathing. The way she smiled up at him nearly made his heart stop.

            “Say it again,” she demanded breathlessly.

            “I love you.”

~~~

            “I just want to know why you couldn’t tell me!” Cullen jerked at the socks on his feet before throwing them across the room.

            “Because you reacted so well when I did tell you —”

            “I had a right to be angry.”

            “Of course you did, but then you shut me out! That’s what you do, Cullen. You get pissed off at someone, and then you just leave!” Rory twisted the hot water knob on the tub open.

            “I need time to process things!”

            “I gave you time, Cullen. I didn’t tell you because you keep looking for reasons to lean back.” She ripped her socks off before pulling at her pants.

            “That’s not fair.”

            “It isn’t! It’s not fair. It’s not fair that when I’m vulnerable with you, you run. Or when I have to tell you something you won’t like, you run. You’re a runner, Cullen. You should just wear running shoes constantly.”

            “First of all,” Cullen jerked his shirt off over his head and threw it at Rory, “I don’t run every time you’re vulnerable.”

            “You do so.” Rory pulled the shirt from her face and threw it on the floor.

            “I lean back because I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

            “Maybe I want you to.”

            “Well, stop that! Second of all, I tend to lash out when I’m angry, and I was trying to spare you from that.”

            “Well, stop that!” she threw back at him.

            “Third, I’m perfectly capable of running away in any shoe.” Cullen took his pants off next, watching Rory pull her own down over her thighs that held his marks beautifully. “You kept it from me for months.”

            “I was scared, Cullen!” She yanked her shirt off next. “I knew the minute I told you that you would lean back for good.”

            “I didn’t, did I?”

            “For a moment.”

            “I’m allowed a moment.”

            “Not when it comes to me,” she whispered.

            Cullen slowly walked over to her and traced his knuckles over her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

            “I’m sorry too.” She leaned into his bare chest and sighed. “You can’t do that anymore.”

            “I won’t.”

            “Promise.”

            Cullen cupped his fingers under her chin and pulled her to look up at him. Her hazel eyes were large and watery when she finally looked at him. “I promise you. I won’t walk away again.” He kissed her gently and brushed her hair back from her face. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

~~~

            The bathwater felt lush against Cullen’s skin. He was never much one for baths, always preferring a quick shower, but there, nestled in Rory’s large white tub with all her fancy bath products, he thought he could get behind it. She had put some kind of lavender oil and bubble bath in with the steamy water, and Cullen relaxed almost immediately.

            “Masks off, darling.” Rory pulled the sheet mask off her face and dropped it in the trashcan next to the tub, and Cullen followed suit.  

            “What was that mask again?” he asked her quietly, making sure his voice didn’t echo around them. He hated that sound.

            “Caffeine stress relief. Helps with redness, puffiness, moisture, what have you. Or it’s supposed to. All I know is it smells like coconuts and feels good on my face.” Rory leaned further back so her head could rest on his collarbone. Her hands roamed up and down his legs, one bent up next to her, the other stretched out.

            Cullen hummed appreciatively and kissed the top of her head. “Feel like I could go to sleep.”

            “It’s the lavender.”

            “You spray it on your sheets, too, don’t you?”

            “Mmhm. I launder them with it also. Have lavender sachets in my closets.” She felt his leg tense under her touch when she got too close to the end of the stump. “Cullen?” He grunted, and she took that as a sign to continue. “Why do you get uncomfortable with me touching your leg?” He went rigid behind her, and for a moment, she feared she had crossed a line. Yes, he said he loved her, but what if he was just saying that? What if it was a tiny love? Or a love like she loved Lexie or Rylen even?

            Cullen slowly wrapped his arms around Rory’s shoulders and rested his head close to hers. “I think because I find it ugly. It’s scarred and puckered in spots, and you can feel the chips that Dagna put in. I don’t want it to make you uncomfortable or to —”

            “Cullen Rutherford.” Rory removed his arms from her and spun around to face him, water splashing over the sides of the tub. She took his face in her hands forcefully and made him look at her. “Please, don’t talk about the man I love that way. I love every piece of you, and that includes your leg. I can understand how you feel, I think. Or certainly empathize with you. But your leg does not scare me. It does not repulse me. Okay?”

            Cullen’s mouth was dry as the Hissing Wastes, and he struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. All he could do was nod at the fearsome woman laid against him. The look in her eyes told him she was telling him the truth. She meant every word she just said to him, and he loved her too much to doubt her.

            “Now, if me touching you actually causes you pain, then I’ll stop. Without question. But don’t pull away from me because you think I can’t handle it. I’m here.” She cupped his face gently and stroked her thumb along his cheekbone. “I’ll even help you get out of this tub without calling you an old man.”

            “I love you.”

~~~

            Cullen placed the spinach and caramelized onion omelets on the plates next to the stove. Kind barked impatiently, and Cullen slipped him another slice of bacon.

            “Last piece. You’ll get fat, and the vet will yell at me.” He opened the oven door and pulled out the two warming croissants, hissing when the steam burned the tips of his fingers.

            “Look at you,” Rory said with a smile. “So domestic.”

            “I’m a regular Stepford wife. Grab the O.J. for me.” He carried the plates to the table, stepping over Titus and King. “Are you working late tonight?”

            Rory carried the glass carafe of orange juice to the table and sat down. “I am. The gala is coming up in a few days, and I’m meeting with the board and party planner to finalize some last-minute changes.” Cullen sat, and they both began digging into their breakfast. Rory swallowed the dryness in her mouth and took a sip of orange juice to help. “Would you… be my date?”

            Cullen looked up from his phone and smiled warmly at her, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening. “Always. Do I need a tux?”

            “You do. I’m wearing blue.”

            “Not red?”

            “Oh, I didn’t say that,” she whispered with a cheeky smile.

            “Filthy.”

            The behind-the-scenes of the museum was chaos. By ten a.m. Rory had a headache the size of a large child setting up house behind her left eye. Yet all she could think about was Cullen. Cullen’s hands. Cullen’s mouth. Cullen’s eyes. The freckle shaped like a bear on his left shoulder. As if sensing her thoughts, her phone buzzed lightly in her pocket.

            Cull: Can we go back to bed yet?

            Roar: You’ve read my mind. It’s going to take three days for this headache to be evicted.

            Cull: I can think of a few things to help a headache.

            Roar: Cullen Stanton.

            Cull: Water, elfroot…

            Roar: Ha ha.

            Cull: A massage.

            Cull: Meeting your boyfriend for lunch.

            Roar: Boyfriend? Do I have one of those?”

            Cull: You do. And I must say he is devilishly handsome.

            Roar: Naturally.

            Cull: Charming. Funny.

            Roar: Ticklish. Distracting.

            Cull: Noon at Red Lotus?

            Roar: See you then.

            “Mrs. Trevelyan?”

            Rory snapped her attention back to the six board members in front of her. “Forgive me, a few last-minute questions.”

            “We were asking about the Titus statue and if it would be ready?” Josh Contique asked with a judgmental brow raised high up on his forehead. It wasn’t natural.

            “Yes. The Titus statue is almost finished. There’s one last stain on his back that should be out in time for the gala.”

            “And the mark on his cheek?”

            Rory gave a nod. “That remains. It is very likely that it will remain that way permanently.”

            “I thought you were the best?” Josh snorted.

            The headache was sapping her patience. “I am. However, the stain on the cheek of the statue will not be removed, short of chipping it off. I highly doubt investors want that. As it stands, the lipstick print remains will remain. Lean into it. Everyone loves a good story. Tell them it’s magic. Tell them that it was left by his lover after he was turned to stone by a mage. However you need to spin it, do it. Because it will remain.”

~~~

            Cullen pulled Rory against his chest when she started to sink into him. “Long day?” he murmured against the top of her head before he kissed it.

            “Yes,” she groaned. “The board was upset with me about Titus’ lipstick print. Josh Contique started it, and the rest chimed in.” She sat down in the chair Cullen pulled out for her. “But what am I supposed to do, Cullen? Chisel it off?”

            “I’m sorry, darling. Want me to break his legs?” he teased.

            “Yes.” She was completely serious. And then Cullen laughed, and she couldn’t help but smile at him. “How was your morning?”

            “Long,” Cullen sighed while taking his own seat. “I’m still looking through passport photos of everyone that came into Ferelden the day of the first bombing.”

            “That sounds intense.” Rory picked up the glass of water on the table and took a generous sip. Cullen hummed, and she continued. “Are you doing okay now? With that?”

            He shrugged lightly. “I think I have the tools now to handle everything better, but… I still have nightmares. There are still certain things that trigger me that I never thought would have been a problem.”

            “Anything I’ve done? I want to make sure I’m careful with you.”

            He took her hand across the table and gave it a firm squeeze. “You’re perfect. Therapy has helped some.”

            “I need to go.”

            “You do.” Rory laughed and playfully kicked him under the table. “Nice try, but that’s my fake leg. And I mean that in a loving manner. Your dad alone is enough to send anyone into therapy.”