((Old habits are hard to break. Nightmares are had by both Cullen and Neria.))
A time after the events of the Exalted Council, Warden Commander Neria Surana has returned with a cure for the Taint, and an heir is born to King Alistair and Queen Anora. Denerim is extremely crowded with the festivities of the Royal Christening. Commander Cullen Rutherford, stifled by the palace, nobles, and too many feelings attempts to find lodging elsewhere. The only place with open rooms is the Pearl. It seems he and Neria Surana had similar ideas. But there is only one decent room. And of course only one bed. Both of them probably needed to stop moping. But in truth it was more alluring an idea to have someone to mope with.
Available on AO3~!
Neria tried very hard to ignore the familiar tingling on the back of her neck as she led Cullen up the stairs to the suite they would, somehow, now both be staying in. She reminded herself, not for the first time, that Cullen Rutherford was no longer a Templar. That the Inquisition had sided with the mages and, reportedly, treated them well. That the Commander of the Inquisition, allegedly, didn’t think mages were inhuman monsters anymore. That there was no reason to be hyper-aware of his footsteps, or how close he was to her, or constantly be searching to gauge his mood, or linger on anything he had said to her after finding him after weeks, possibly months, or torture. He hadn’t even looked her in the eye.
Maker, this was a bad idea.
The door creaked open to reveal a spacious room for a brothel It wasn’t a stretch to say that the suite took up nearly the entire upper floor. The floor was covered in plush carpet. A couch sat before a fireplace that crackled with warmth. The privacy screen hid a spacious tub. The balcony led to a staircase down to the street. If you ignored the single bed, literature, and drawer providing…useful things for the bedroom, it was almost a regular inn room.
“Here we are.” Neria gave a smile that almost felt sincere. She took her pack from the bed, moving it to the couch.
She felt more than heard Cullen’s frown. “What are you doing?”
“I’ll sleep better on the couch. It’s smaller.” It wasn’t a lie. Years of sleeping in small bunk-beds and then small tents had made anything larger nearly impossible to get comfortable in. “Do you mind a candle burning at night?”
It was a question she asked out of habit. Cullen stood at the door, barely stepping inside.
“No.” He answered. His eyes looked everywhere but her. His hand came to rub the back of his neck, and Neria was suddenly happy to know that nervous tick hadn’t changed. “Do you mind an open window?”
She blinked. There were several reasons she minded an open window. Her time spent with a certain former Antivan Crow had made her averse to windows at all. But as Cullen’s gaze went from the window beside the bed to her, she understood. They both had something that grounded them when the nightmares came.
“No.” She finally said, waving her hand in what she hoped was a casual dismissal. “Whatever you need.”
Cullen gave a small nod, his lips pulling up in a grateful smile. Neria moved to settling herself in. The couch was comfortable, and warmer than the bed thanks to the fire. There was an extra blanket and pillows she could use. She heard the soft shuffling of a pack, clothes, and sheets as Cullen seemed to unpack.
“Um…Are you a light sleeper?”
Neria blinked as she removed her candle from her pack. “Light sleeper?”
She turned to look at him, but Cullen was pointedly looking away from her. His posture was tense as he seemed to fold some sort of uniform. His eyes were guilty. She understood then.
“Alistair and I both saw Darkspawn in our dreams during the Blight, and Amaranthine was full of other Wardens. I’m used to it.” She paused. “I’d be more worried about waking you.”
Cullen gave her a glance. “The cure to the taint would have stopped the nightmares of Darkspawn, right?”
She laughed bitterly. “It’s not always Darkspawn.” She heard him clear his throat, almost as if he were trying to find what his next words should be. Neria straightened from her position on the end of the couch, lighting the candle on a small table beside it with a touch. “Do you want me to get a bath drawn for you? They have running water up here. I already had a soak before my nightcap.”
Cullen raised a brow at her. “Nearly a whole bottle of brandy is a nightcap?”
She gave an innocent smile. “Sure it is.”
His eyes drifted to the privacy screen. The rather large tub peeked out from behind it just so. At first, it looked as if Cullen would accept. But then his ears turned pink as he realized the implications of taking a bath with her so close.
“N-No! No. That would be…” He cleared his throat again, but it didn’t seem to find the words as he fumbled. “Um…”
“Really inappropriate?”
Neria’s tone was light, but for a moment her stomach dropped. Cullen’s eyes were wide. He was looking at her as if he’d seen a ghost. It was meant as a joke. It came too naturally. She didn’t realize the conversation she’d echoed until it was too late.
Maker had the alcohol loosened her up this much? Or was her guard crumbling naturally? She had always been comfortable around Cullen before…Perhaps this was just another old habit that was hard to break. At least for his sake, she needed to avoid the topic of the Circle at all cost, yet here she was giving him light jabs as if there was nothing hanging between them at all.
She couldn’t act as if nothing had changed. She was doing him a favor, and was lucky enough that she didn’t have to go back to the castle. She’d spend the week with him in this room and then likely never see him again. That was fine. She was just glad to see he was doing well. She doubted he was ready to address much else with her.
It was on the tip of her tongue to apologize for her slip, but then Cullen chuckled. His posture relaxed, and he brought his hand up to scratch the back of his neck.
“I uh…Did say that didn’t I? Before…”
“Fleeing down the hallway?” Neria relaxed for a moment. Somehow, she was able to temper her laughter and only shrugged. “I probably came on too strong.”
“Of course.” Cullen’s cheeks reddened, “I doubt you meant to.”
Neria opened her mouth to respond. Surely, Cullen wasn’t still ignorant to the fact that she and every other female apprentice in Kinloch had a crush on him. But she quickly thought better. No. No, he was not ready to address that yet.
The next words came out so fast she nearly fumbled them. “I’ll put the privacy screen between us.”
She was moving before Cullen could offer her any sort of approval. It took a moment before his mind caught up with him and he moved to help her. The screen was large and awkward, but the two of them had it placed comfortably between them soon enough.
“It’s not blocking the heat from the fireplace, is it?” Neria asked from her side.
“I don’t think so.”
“Okay. I’m gonna turn in.”
For a moment, she was afraid Cullen would object. But then she started to remove her robe, and he must have been able to see her in silhouette because she heard an odd cough from him before his footsteps moved away.
They got ready for bed in relative silence. Neria only paused to stoke the fire again before climbing onto the couch.
It felt wrong to leave things for the night like that, so she gave a quiet “Goodnight, Cullen.”
There was a pause of silence, and she wondered if he hadn’t somehow drifted off before her. But then a small “Goodnight, Neria.” came.
Somehow, that felt better.
_______
She’d been here before. Alone. On top of Denerim Castle. Archdemon Uthriel bearing down on her. She didn’t look at the scene too closely. If she did she would find something she didn’t like. The Fade tricking her, bringing horrors to life. Instead, she ran forward and picked up the sword she knew would be before her. She would slay the Archdemon just as she had done so many times in her dreams.
It was almost cathartic.
However, as she brought the sword down onto the Dragon’s skull, it cried out with a familiar voice. Too familiar. Cullen’s gruttal cry of pain rang out around her, echoing through her subconscious. She let go of the sword immediately. The Fade shifted. Suddenly, she was no longer in Denerim. She was back in the Circle.
Neria didn’t move. She didn’t want to. But that didn’t stop the cries of pain from ringing out from the floors above. Her sword was now embedded through the chest of a Templar. One of the many fallen around her. All (blessedly) with helmets on, save for the one whose chest was now impaled by her sword.
“Leave me…” The Templar croaked, somehow still alive.
His helmet had slipped off, and Cullen stared back at her. Sweet, curly-haired Cullen looking pained and hateful.
Neria attempted to open her mouth to say something. Apologize. Her hand moved to the sword, but then she realized she was crying out herself as she pulled the sword from him, kneeling down with healing magic at the ready. But Cullen moved, grasping her hand roughly. Neria realized it was no longer the young Templar posing as Cullen, but now the older Commander she’d met that day. He squeezed her arm so hard she thought it might break. Neria had no time to react with her magic before he was once again crying out.
“Leave me!”
Neria awoke with a start. The blankets fell to the floor beside her, pooling onto the floor by the couch. She took a few heaving breaths before turning to the candle to focus on it.
“Just a trick of the Fade.” She muttered quietly, attempting to ease her pounding chest. “Just a nightmare.”
Slowly, her pulse slowed. With a soft groan, she collapsed back onto the couch. Shivering, she pulled the blankets back to her and re-stoked the fire with a simple spell. What time was it? She wasn’t going to be back to sleep for a while. She only hoped she didn’t wake Cullen when she yelled.
“Sweet Maker if I get nightmares like that here I might take my chances at the castle…”
The crackling of the fire was the only thing that answered her. She focused on her breathing, listening for anything odd in the night. She toyed with the idea of sneaking down into the kitchens to make a midnight snack, but the room had been silent, and there was no need to risk waking Cullen. She was about to tuck herself back in when…
“No…!”
His voice was soft but forceful. It slurred as he groaned, clearly still asleep. The sound alone made Neria’s veins run cold. Had that been what turned her dream wrong? How long had been caught in his own nightmare.
She stayed quiet a moment longer, sitting on the cushions with the blanket wrapped around her. Waiting for the inevitable yell. The jolt awake that always came shortly after the muttering and talking with Alistair. She heard the shifting of blankets and the squeak of the bed as Cullen must have tossed in his sleep.
“Leave…Stop…!”
Neria sighed, running her hand over her face. She knew full well how a nightmare could be harder to escape. She stood as Cullen groaned again, slipping on a woolen night robe. The room beyond the privacy screen was dark, but the fire gave enough light to see the bed in the corner. Cullen tossed again, flopping onto his back, mumbling something Neria couldn’t make out.
“Cullen.” She called, padding over as softly as she could.
He had thrown his blanket aside. It hung from his waist over the bed. His mutterings were punctuated by heavy breaths and the occasional arm flail. This was a bad one.
When Neria called him again, it was firmer. “Cullen, wake up.”
Her palm touched his shoulder lightly, and his entire being jolted. His eyes traced the room with wild fervor, slowing only slightly. His breaths were still ragged, but Neria relaxed a little. His eyes fell on her as she removed her hand from him, and she realized too late the mistake she made. His breath had calmed, but his eyes weren’t clear of the dream yet. They darkened when they fell on her, with a hate and anger that made a tendril of fear shiver up Neria’s spine.
She opened her mouth to explain that he was awake now, but Cullen was faster. With a sharp cry he lunged upright at her, as if swinging a sword. She didn’t have time to block before his elbow connected with her side, sending her stumbling back. She barely caught herself on the wall as she clutched her ribs.
“Maker’s breath!”
Cullen’s exclamation did little to make it through the haze suddenly in Neria’s mind as the room spun for a moment. But there was soon a loud clatter as he stumbled out of bed, knocking a few of the instructional books off the nightstand in the process.
“Are you alright?” Cullen’s words came quickly as his hands fluttered around her clearly unsure of what to do “I didn’t…I’m sorry. I knew I was awake. But I opened my eyes and you were…”
He caught himself. Neria laughed bitterly.
“I was still there?”
He crumbled in on himself. Neria frowned. She hadn’t meant to do that. He suddenly looked so fearful. So defeated. She reached out, touching his wrist as his hand hovered over her shoulder. He dropped them immediately.
“I’m fine.” She assured him. She took a breath. The sharp pain in her side indicated he likely bruised or maybe even cracked a rib. Her hand was glowing with a soft healing magic before he could worry further. “In hindsight, I probably should have known that was a bad idea.”
“I’m sorry. I…”
“If this is too much for you, Cullen, I can go back to the castle.”
Cullen didn’t reply as she continued to work her magic throughout her body. After a while, she sharp pain faded, and she gave him a smile. “No harm done. Good as new.”
“Alright.” His reply felt forced. His eyes were glued squarely on the floor, his hands at his side. It was as if he was waiting for a scolding that she had no intention of giving him. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ve fought Darkspawn. I’ve certainly had worse. And I can heal myself. It’s no–”
“Not…Not for striking you. Well, yes for that, of course, but…”
He was stammering again. His hand came up to scratch the back of his neck. Neria sighed. Apparently there was no getting around this tonight.
“Let…Let me get us something to eat.” Neria decided. Cullen raised a brow, a question clearly in his eyes. “It’s easier to go to sleep on a full stomach.”
He only nodded. Clearly, this was not the reaction that he was expecting from her. “Alright.”
He took a step back, sitting on the side of the bed. Neria decided best to slip out before they could start anything.
Serious talks, she found, were always best over a meal. And space was good after a nightmare. She just hoped Cullen could forgive her for running away from it, if only for a little while longer.
((A first dance and an Enchanter’s approval. Maybe I should make a cover for this who knows.))
A time after the events of the Exalted Council, Warden Commander Neria Surana has returned with a cure for the Taint, and an heir is born to King Alistair and Queen Anora. Denerim is extremely crowded with the festivities of the Royal Christening. Commander Cullen Rutherford, stifled by the palace, nobles, and too many feelings attempts to find lodging elsewhere. The only place with open rooms is the Pearl. It seems he and Neria Surana had similar ideas. But there is only one decent room. And of course only one bed. Both of them probably needed to stop moping. But in truth it was more alluring an idea to have someone to mope with.
Available on AO3~!
A soft, lilting melody filled the ballroom, signaling that dancing would start soon. It was a very elegant, comforting melody. Neria caught a glance of Alistair and Anora, and moved to, decidedly, the other side of the room. This was an old dance, and the way Alistair barely met her eyes told her he understood where she stood.
She vaguely wondered if she could slip out if she asked Leliana to make her leaving a Divine Order of the Chantry. She giggled at the thought of the horrified but knowing look that her friend’s face would contort into. However, the nobles approaching to mingle and speak with her told her that would be fruitless after all. Oddly enough, as the Inquisition was announced and entered, she found she didn’t want to leave. The Inquisitor greeted the royalty, but the other members seemed to take their different places around the room. Hawke was introduced and quickly followed. If she could simply stick around them for the night this would pass quickly.
Still, judging by how many people were addressing her as the “Hero of Fereldan,” perhaps this would be rather painless after all.
A sharp crescendo in the song signaled that dancing proper would be soon. Already, she saw people pairing off. Automatically, her eyes searched for Teagan, but Isolde was already on his arm. Her eyes caught Anora, showing concern. She and Neria had already spoken about the first dance multiple times. Nobles would get the wrong idea if she didn’t dance. They would think she was available. In all technicalities, she was, but they didn’t need to know that. She had spent quite a bit of time perfectly constructing her veneer of unapproachability after she and Alistair parted ways. She didn’t very well want that to crumble now.
The elven woman was beginning to wrack her brain to find which noble would be the most painless to explain her situation to and ask to dance when a hand appeared before her.
Neria blinked, finding that the hand belonged to none other than Cullen.
“May I have this dance?” He asked.
Neria faltered. He seemed earnest enough, but Neria hesitated.
“This will give people certain ideas, Cullen.” She cautioned. “You’ll likely have to dance with me every day of this…”
“You helped me with the room.” He reasoned. “Besides, you owe me an explanation about your dog.”
Neria giggled. “Was that…sass, Commander? I didn’t know you could sass.”
Cullen rolled his eyes, but then Neria’s hand slipped into his and he seemed to relax. They began moving to the dance floor, taking a spot rather easily. His hand was rather stiff as he moved it to her waist. Neria wondered if he was rubbed raw by all this as she was. Memories and old habits and too many conflicting feelings bubbling to the surface.
They were different now. Equals. She was the Hero of Fereldan. She had to remember that.
“I owe you for this.” Neria said. “Can you dance at all? I don’t imagine you’ve gotten very many opportunities.”
“I’ll manage.”
There was a pause in the music, and then another, more bouncy melody began. Neria stepped a second before Cullen. There was a fumbling of feet, but soon enough they were stepping in perfect rhythm to the waltz.
“So, about your Mabari…”
Neria groaned as she stepped away from him briefly, and then back together. “Fine…You know of the Ash Warriors yes?” Cullen nodded. “Well, there was a group of them in Ostagar. He was a sick dog, and I got the herb that saved him. I was able to keep him calm and under control, and they suggested imprinting him to me. So, naturally, I asked about names..”
The melody dipped down, and Cullen’s ears turned pink as he twirled her away and then pulled her back perhaps too close.
“So Cullen was already his name.” He surmised.
Neria looked rather sheepish. “Well…Not exactly. As it turns out, the Ash Warriors are awfully superstitious. Mabari can learn new names from a new owner. According to them, it is bad luck to keep an old name, and it’s best to name the dogs after something familiar. Something about the Mabari feeding off your feelings and such. Such as a fallen comrade or friend. And everything with Jowan and the Circle was a tad…fresh. Your name was just what came to mind.”
“And it was better than Barkspawn?”
“Exactly.”
Cullen chuckled. “I didn’t know names were so important.”
“I didn’t either.” Neria admitted. Once again there was a twirl. She noted that she didn’t even have to think about her steps with the dance anymore as they glided across the floor. “Apologies if you were expecting something more grand.”
“Not at all. I believe I know a dwarf that might be interested in the story.”
“Oh Maker, is the next thing he’ll write about me?”
“I think he’s working on something to do with the Inquisition, actually.”
“That will have a much better ending.” Cullen chuckled at that. He looked lighter. Younger. Neria’s chest swelled with pride for a moment, before a nagging unease set in again. They shifted on the dance floor as the song wound into its final steps. “You’re…alright, aren’t you?”
Cullen quirked a brow at her “Yes. I am. Why?”
She paused. “This will have people talking, Cullen. You know that.”
“We’re starting a clean slate, Neria. Wasn’t that the agreement?”
“Right, yes. Clean slate while sharing a room at a brothel, and giving all of the Noble Court the notion that we have eyes for each other.” She laughed when he winced. A pang of guilt ran through her. It was not lost on her that he was trying. “I’m not unhappy about it, Cullen. I just want to understand. Make sure you’re not pushing yourself.”
“I didn’t think before I asked you do dance. I didn’t know that it would matter to you, considering...Does it? Matter to you?”
Slowly, the tune of the waltz faded. She and Cullen bowed to each other. Was he always so handsome? She cleared her throat as the music for the second dance began, and the dance floor shifted. Cullen offered her his arm to lead her away, and Neria found, oddly, when she heard the ring of Anora’s laughter, joined shortly by Alistair’s, there was no pain. No bitterness. No hurt.
“No.” She finally answered. Cullen raised a brow. “It doesn’t matter to me. Let them think what they want. We’re trying to be friends again. That’s all that matters.”
He seemed to relax at that, and she smiled. Over his shoulder, she caught sight of puffy sleeves. A very worried looking Josephine stood beside a concerned Thom.
“I think Lay Montilliet is in need of you.”
Neria nodded behind him, and Cullen turned with a sigh. “Yes I am sure I will get a scolding. Keep me updated on things.”
“Will do, Commander.”
With another polite nod to each other, Cullen was turning towards Josephine, who looked as though she was holding herself back from rushing over and throttling him. No doubt Cullen would play dumb, and things would work themselves out. When Neria turned back to the dance floor, she caught sight of Anora, who’s gaze held approval and something Neria didn’t catch. Alistair was staring as well, but she didn’t have time to catch his gaze before Vivienne was approaching again.
“Well now. That surprised us all..”
Neria rolled her eyes. “It was only a dance, Enchanter.”
“A first dance at a Fereldan Ball. With a Templar.”
“He is Commander of the Inquisition now, not a Templar.” Neria cleared her throat. Her tone was perhaps too disapproving, and she did not miss the way Vivienne’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “And an old friend. He was suitable.”
Vivienne hummed. Across the dance floor, Cullen was scratching the back of his neck as Josephine spoke perhaps a little too quickly. The Inquisitor was soon laughing, no doubt learning the implications of it all from her ambassador. Her gaze swept around the room. A few nobles were already looking between them and whispering. Now that the first dance was over, servants were beginning to make rounds with refreshments and drinks. She noticed even a few of them were gossiping as the nobles. Sweet Maker word would be to Orlais by nightfall.
“Well. Regardless, I approve.” Vivienne stated.
A servant approached with drinks, and Vivienne retrieved one for both of them. Neria blinked as she took it.
“What?”
“I approve, my dear.” Vivienne repeated. “Of you and our dear Commander.”
“I told you it was only a dance.” The look in the Enchanter’s eye told Neria that she didn’t believe her. “If anything it was a ploy to keep other less desirable suitors away.”
“Whatever you say, my dear.” Vivienne gave her a grin. “A pity, though. I believe the two of you would be good for each other.”
With those parting words and a polite nod, Vivienne was stepping away to mingle effortlessly with another group of nobles from Orlais. Neria blinked, struck suddenly by it all. She had admired Cullen back during her days in the Circle. But she had written them off as the fancies of a naïve girl. Had written things off completely after the Circle fell. They were becoming friends again, which was more than she ad dared hope for. She hadn’t at all considered…
Her eyes met Cullen’s from across the room, and suddenly her chest throbbed. A familiar flutter in her chest that only one other had elicited outside of the Circle tower. Her cheeks burned as she turned away, only to find Teagan behind her.
“She’s right, you know.” Teagan said, nodding to Vivienne. Andraste’s knickers had he heard all of that? Neria watched with some form of horror as Teagan looked between Cullen and Alistair, his head tilting as he seemed to examine the commander. “He does seem to be your type.”
Neria sputtered for a moment, unsure of how exactly to respond. She could feel the blush creep up her pointed ears. Her free fist bunched in her skirts as she hid her embarrassment behind a perhaps too-fast drink of the sweet wine in her hands. She was the damn hero of Fereldan, slayer of the Archdemon. Why was she getting flustered over a dance and a few misdirected words? She cleared her throat. She had other, more important, things to worry about than the long buried crush for a man she was on shaky ground with at best.
She was surprised she was able to keep her voice level. “Teagan please don’t tease like that.”
Teagan chuckled beside her. “A thousand pardons, my Lady.”
((Cullen meets a friend, and follows the Mabari to the plot. Also AO3 is already up to chapter 6 because I forgot to post the others on Tumblr so I am doing that now. Maybe I should make a cover for this who knows.))
A time after the events of the Exalted Council, Warden Commander Neria Surana has returned with a cure for the Taint, and an heir is born to King Alistair and Queen Anora. Denerim is extremely crowded with the festivities of the Royal Christening. Commander Cullen Rutherford, stifled by the palace, nobles, and too many feelings attempts to find lodging elsewhere. The only place with open rooms is the Pearl. It seems he and Neria Surana had similar ideas. But there is only one decent room. And of course only one bed. Both of them probably needed to stop moping. But in truth it was more alluring an idea to have someone to mope with.
Available on AO3~!
Something was wrong. Neria had muttered as much to herself as she excused herself to follow the elven servant out of the courtyard and into the palace. Cullen had hoped perhaps Leliana had called her old friend to see her, but when the Warden Commander was absent from dinner, an odd sort of foreboding fell into the pit of his stomach.
“It’s some Warden Business keeping her away.” Leliana, Divine Victoria, had assured everyone who asked. “She assured me she’d be present for the dancing.”
This seemed to set everyone at-ease, though Cullen didn’t miss the pointed look that Leliana and King Alistair shared.
“I don’t like this.” Cullen muttered to Cassandra as they ate. “Something is wrong.”
“Most likely, with our luck.” The Inquisitor agreed. “But you must admit, it will be exciting to watch her work.”
Cullen winced, though agreed. He’d seen Neria “work” before. He was curious, but didn’t fancy a repeat showing. He was about to voice his opinions on things, suggest the Inquisitor question Leliana, but then King Alistair was addressing them. Cullen had to admit it was odd to speak with Alistair, one who had been a bunk mate during their time in the Templars, so formally now.
“Oh wait, let me guess. Then the Archdemon swooped down from the sky onto Haven.” Anora rolled her eyes as Alistair grinned. “I told you swooping was bad.”
Anora did give a giggle at that. It was relieving to see he seemed to have changed little, and certainly still had his sense of humor.
Dinner ended with little fanfare, giving way to another bit of mingling before the true festivities of the ball began. Cullen found himself against a wall, completely out of place. He had rebuffed another noble lady’s offer to dance for the tenth time that night when a dog trotted into the room. A grey Mabari with a rather posh collar. It was a large beast, his fur marred with faint scars, but the grey around his muzzle gave away his age. Cullen blinked as it seemed to trot to his spot on the wall, sniffing at his boots.
“Ah. Taken your spot, have I?” Cullen asked. The dog looked up at him, giving a gruff bark. “My apologies.”
Cullen took a step to the side, making room for the Mabari to sit where he just was.
“And who do you belong to?” Cullen asked. He felt rather ridiculous speaking to a dog, but he was likely a much better conversationalist than any noble there. “King Alistair?” The dog gave a snort. It felt disapproving. “I guess that was the wrong guess.”
The dog looked up at him for a moment, but then his eyes wandered to the other nobles around. The Orlesians seemed to give him a wide space, but a few brave Fereldans ventured to give him a customary pat on the head. He didn’t seem to mind.
“Your owner trained you well, eh? You don’t even flinch at all the strangers.”
The dog’s ears perked suddenly, and he looked a completely different direction. He stood, trotting with little care away from Cullen and down a corridor that led away from the ballroom and further into the castle.
Cullen frowned. That was…odd. The Mabari seemed keen to wait in their spot, looking at every passerby. Was he waiting for someone? And where was he going now? He glanced around the corridor that people had congregated in. The Inquisition seemed occupied with mingling. Surely no one would mind if he slipped away.
With another quick look to ensure no one seemed as if they would be needing him, he turned and followed the Mabari. The dog gave him a glance as he turned down the corridor he had, though seemed unperturbed as he turned again to descend some stairs. Cullen followed. Surely the dog must belong to someone in the castle, lest they both get hopelessly lost. Voices floated to him as they came to the bottom of the stairs and another corridor. It seemed like this was where servants quarters would be?
“And how did you get in here again?” Was that Neria?
“I told you my dear Warden, I was invited.” An Antivan accent answered.
“Invited, of course. Next you’re going to tell me that Alistair invited Sten and Shale too.”
Leliana’s voice he recognized. “I believe Sten declined coming, and Shale was insulted that he invited her with a carrier pidgeon.”
Neria laughed. A right and proper one that echoed a high melody off the stone walls. “That sounds like it would have been hilarious to see.”
The Mabari barked suddenly, his tail wagging happily. He took off, rounding the corner so fast he nearly slid into the wall. There was a startled shriek from Leliana.
“Easy with the paws boy, you know my dress is white now.”
Neria’s voice sounded again, so jovial that Cullen almost didn’t recognize it. “Cullen! There you are! Look at you! You gained weight. Is Anora sneaking you table scraps again?”
The Commander froze for a moment. Was that his name? Another happy bark from the Mabari. Then a loud crash and a cry of pain from the unfamiliar Antivan voice. Cullen rushed forward, afraid something had happened. As he rounded the corner he found Leliana and Neria shoulder-to-shoulder, laughing as an elven man struggled under the Mabari, who seemed to have pinned him down.
“Yes yes you win! You win!” He cried. The Mabari relented. And soon the man was tossing him a small crunchy treat. The dog caught it effortlessly, his tail wagging. “You only won because I was called. Next time, my hiding place will be flawless!”
“Good boy, Cullen!” Neria kneeled, seemingly uncaring that her white skirt was on the floor and a large dog was jumping at her with delight. “Catching that sneaky Crow! That’s my good—”
“Ah. Commander.”
Cullen had thought he’d sneak away, but Leliana had spotted him. He had a feeling she knew he was there the whole time.
“Your Worship.” He greeted. “I uh, didn’t mean to intrude. I was following…Well I was concerned about…”
He couldn’t find the words. He suddenly felt like an absolute fool, following a dog around an unfamiliar palace for…what? Out of curiosity? Because he liked Mabari perhaps too much?
Cullen, the Mabari, gave a happy bark, trotting over to sit by the Commander, not unlike how they had been sitting in the corridor of the party minutes ago. Neria’s eyebrows raised, looking between the two of them for a moment before standing.
“Maker you are so Fereldan.” She turned to Leliana. “Zeveran and I can take it from here.”
“Very well.” She said. “Keep me informed. What should I…Should we inform Alistair and Anora?”
Neria frowned. Cullen didn’t like the way her brows drew into a like of worry. It was odd to see Leliana defer to anyone so completely. Even with the Inquisitor there was an edge between them. She guided and advised, but always seemed to keep Lavellan at arm’s length. As if she didn’t fully trust her. With Neria, however, it simply felt different, but familiar. Complete and utter trust of allies that had been through hardship together. Sisters united for a common cause.
His gut had been correct. Something was wrong.
“Tell Alistair that I’ll be working while I’m here. Don’t mention anything to Anora, though. She has enough to worry about. Let her enjoy herself.”
Leliana nodded. “The dancing will be soon.”
Neria gave a groan and a wave. “Yes, yes I’ll be there soon. Maker, I wore the wrong shoes for this…”
“You certainly did. We can remedy that tomorrow.”
Neria gave a sincere smile to Leliana. The Divine turned to leave, giving Cullen and the Mabari both a polite nod as she left.
“Alright.” Neria was turning away from them both soon enough. “Have you got the map, Zev?”
The elf grinned, producing a piece of parchment. Neria looked at something on the wall Cullen couldn’t make out, and then marked something on the parchment.
“That’s…odd. The placement is all wrong if they’re wanting this to be a summoning.”
“Perhaps we have not found them all.” Zeveran decided.
“I hate to ask you to work while there are supposed to be festivities.” Neria said.
“No need, my dear.” Zeveran rolled the parchment back up to stow it in his vest. He gave her a bow, making a show of kissing her hand. “You know I love to serve.”
Neria laughed again. That was more than Cullen had hard her laugh since…His mind ventured to the Circle and her days with Anders and Jowan. Still, she was lighter.
“Still, I won’t make you do this alone.”
She whistled sharply, and suddenly the Mabari at his side went rigid. He stood, immediately trotting over to Neria. It was impressive, how quickly the beast went from lovable pet to working animal.
“Track. Help Zeveran.” She pointed to something on the wall, which the dog sniffed at eagerly.
Zeveran grinned. “Another contest then.”
The Mabari barked happily at Neria, and with a loving pat on the head and scratch behind the ears, he and Zeveran, the elf, were off. Zeveran seemed to all but disappear as the dog padded down the hallway, moving incredibly silent for a dog his size.
Neria sighed as they disappeared, finally turning to him. “We’re trying to keep this hidden for right now.” She said, “So I’d appreciate it if you kept this from the Inquisition until we have more information. We’re not trying to cause panic.”
Cullen frowned. “Keep what from them?”
Neria gestured to the spot on the wall before her. Cullen moved closer, and his eyes widened. Painted onto the stone of the wall was a circular symbol with a few runic symbols around. It was red, dripping in a few places. His gut churned at what exactly had been used to paint it. He knew a summoning circle when he saw it.
“Blood magic.” The words were bitter on his tongue.
“You’d think so.” Neria said, reaching out to run her finger along one of the runes. “But I don’t feel any magic.”
Cullen blinked. “What?”
“The reason blood magic is usually used for summoning isn’t just because of the way it weakens the veil.” Neria said. “It’s because you can trigger it from a distance. You don’t have to charge the runes with your magic and then cast the summoning spell. The blood IS the magic, so you don’t have to charge it. As long as you’re within range, it will trigger.”
“It’s a little unsettling how much you know.” Cullen commented.
“Yes well. You learn a lot about Blood Magic during a trip to Tevinter.” Neria shrugged. “What I don’t understand is why there is no magic. If it were blood magic there would be something. This is the second one like this. They haven’t charged it either, which means either this one has been used already or this wasn’t done by a mage.”
Cullen’s brows furrowed. “Why would someone who isn’t a mage draw a summoning circle for blood magic?”
“I don’t know.” Neria admitted, then gave him a grin. “A fun mystery, right? Zeveran and Cul—” She stuttered for a moment, clearing her throat to mask it. “My Mabari will find anything else, and we’ll get more answers. Until then, we act like nothing is wrong.”
Cullen rolled his eyes. “Right. No blood mages possibly summoning in mass.” He groused. “And we shouldn’t tell anyone that would be a disaster.”
“Exactly.”
Cullen frowned. He didn’t like that. It wasn’t enough. Already his mind was racing. Guards were needed for security. They could use their scouts to ensure the perimeter was safe. Perhaps a few Templars could be used to ensure there was no errant magic. But then he remembered the merriment of dinner. The smiles of those mingling in groups. The laughter that was a near-constant sound from the festivities in the Market. Chaos would be a disaster for not only the event, but the morale of the people of Fereldan, so fresh from a Blight, rebellion, war, and disaster from the sky.
His thoughts were interrupted by a spark that flew from Neria’s hand. It collided with the symbol, putting a dent in the stone. The summoning circle was ruined, and unable to be used. There was little comfort in that.
“Alright. If I’m late for the dancing after not being at dinner, Anora will have my head.” She straightened her skirt and vest, turning to walk back the way he’d followed her dog. Her heels clicked against the stone. After a pause, she turned to him, “Are you coming?”
He had to admit, he didn’t want to. He wanted to stay and examine the symbol. Hunt for more. Ensure there was no threat. Yet, somehow, when Neria tilted her head at him, he found that he trusted her judgement. Perhaps just because he didn’t see another course of action.
“Yes. I am.” He said, moving to trail behind her.
They walked in relative silence, climbing the stairs, only the sound of footsteps echoing off stone. Until a question came to his mind.
“Did you name your Mabari after me?”
Neria seemed to falter in her steps, nearly tripping over her own feet. “It’s a common name.”
Cullen rolled his eyes, finding himself chuckle. “Of course.”
“It’s very Fereldan. And Alistair wanted to call him Barkspawn!”
At that, Cullen did laugh. “Not exactly the best.”
“It was better than Morrigan’s idea. Dog.”
“The lesser of three evils, then.”
“Exactly.” Neria agreed. “Just that.”
He didn’t believe her, but then they were emerging once again into the corridor with mingling nobles and refreshments. Neria was intercepted by someone wearing formal mage robes, and she happily accepted a drink from them. Cullen moved back to the spot he was standing in before the Mabari met him. A spot for Cullens, he mused as he politely gave a nod to a Fereldan Noble who passed.
The doors to the ballroom opened with a small announcement. As he caught a glance at Neria as she moved to enter, he wondered how someone who faced an Archdemon could look so nervous.
((Cullen and Neria address some things. Plot will thicken from here.))
A time after the events of the Exalted Council, Warden Commander Neria Surana has returned with a cure for the Taint, and an heir is born to King Alistair and Queen Anora. Denerim is extremely crowded with the festivities of the Royal Christening. Commander Cullen Rutherford, stifled by the palace, nobles, and too many feelings attempts to find lodging elsewhere. The only place with open rooms is the Pearl. It seems he and Neria Surana had similar ideas. But there is only one decent room. And of course only one bed. Both of them probably needed to stop moping. But in truth it was more alluring an idea to have someone to mope with.
Available on AO3~!
Cullen groaned as the door clicked shut, burying his face in his hands.
“Andraste preserve me…”
Clarity had shocked through him like a bolt when his elbow hit something solid. The dreams were never solid. Just phantoms, flitting out of existence when he got near. He recognized that he was awake when he took in his surroundings. But when his eyes landed on Neria, the panic nearly choked him.
His head pounded. His body was beginning to ache. His elbow throbbed where it had struck Neria, as if mocking him.
“Maker, what she must think of me now…”
The fire crackled in the fireplace. Numbly, he stood from the bed and stepped out onto the balcony. The air was crisp and probably too chilly. He should probably put on something other than just his breeches, but he felt overheated and sighed in relief. The view, as Neria promised, was indeed grand. The castle in the distance. Rooftops below. A soft glow where the market was, likely still bustling with the festival. His eyes went to the sky.
“No sky in the tower…” He muttered to himself before massaging the bridge of his nose. “Get it together, Rutherford.”
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there in the too-cold Fereldan night, his eyes drifting as his mind attempted to re-focus. Neria’s offer to give him space made something within his chest ache. It was sincere. There was no malice behind it. No hurt. Once again, she was looking out for him. He had thought that he’d been looking out for her too, by offering to keep her away from the palace. To allow her to run away. But if his nights would be like this…The nightmares were always bad. The memories always haunting. And Neria…
Could he withstand that?
He didn’t hear the door open. Or the elven woman as she padded over to him. He blinked when the smell of something pleasant breached the night air, and he turned to find Neria offering him a steaming bowl.
“Here.” She offered. “I was able to salvage some lamb stew.”
Cullen took the bowl gratefully. He didn’t realize how cold he was until his fingers touched the warm bowl, the tips tingling. Neria stood beside him, though seemed to be keeping a modest distance.
“I’ll pack up.” Neria said. It sounded like a decision she had just made. “So by morning, I’ll be gone.”
He found himself protesting, “You don’t have to—”
“They used me against you.” That made Cullen still. He took a bite of his stew, adoring the way that it warmed him to the soul. “I hated them the most for that. In truth, I was planning on avoiding you during this whole ordeal. For your sake. I didn’t want…”
Her voice trailed off as she ate her own stew. Her words hung between them. It felt like she was blaming herself for it all. He needed to apologize, but he found he wanted to break the awkwardness between them more.
“How did you know I wouldn’t like mage-templar play?”
Neria nearly choked on her stew. She coughed, though a smile was on her lips as she tried to stifle her laughter. “Andraste’s knickers, Cullen! That’s what you’re concerned with?”
“Well…No.” He admitted. His eyes fell to the sky again before moving back to her. “I was in a sorry state when you found me…The things I said to you Were unkind. Untoward.” The hand not holding his bowl, scratched the back of his neck as he finally managed to meet her eyes. “I wished you knew that, for the longest time. I’m sorry.”
“I never held any of it against you.”
“Didn’t you?” Neria tilted her head at him. “I…The man that made me. I was angry. I became part of why Kirkwall’s Circle was so unaccommodating. I hated mages. I couldn’t have cared for them back then, and that thought sickens me.”
Unbidden, thoughts of the Inquisitor came to his mind. A dalish mage. He would have seen her as inhuman. Would have seen Neria the same way now. She seemed to consider his words as they ate in silence.
“Do you know what the cure for the Taint was?” Neria asked. Cullen shook his head, mouth full of frankly heavenly lamb stew. “Blood magic.”
It was Cullen’s turn to choke. “Neria…! You didn’t!”
“I did.” She turned to him fully, brandishing her spoon with a flourish. “I ripped the taint from the very veins of my Wardens. I am officially a Maleficar.” His gut churned. Deep inside, the Templar in him roiled. But Neria didn’t seem bothered. Or any different than he remembered her. According to the Chantry, she should be mad with power by now. “My point is that you’re more than what it makes you. I forgave you long ago.”
Cullen chuckled. “You mean I’m more than a Templar, and you’re more than a blood mage?”
Neria looked sheepish. “Yes, well, the analogy did sound better in my head.”
She went back to her stew. Another silence passed between them, but it felt oddly comfortable.
“I didn’t know, by the way. That you weren’t into mage-templar play. I took a guess.” Neria took a few bites of her stew. “Leliana told me you stopped taking lyrium. I just assumed.”
Cullen nodded. The stew was warming him nicely, and the taste was just familiar enough to bring comfort he might not have realized he needed. “I want to leave that life behind me.”
She nodded in understanding, her eyes drifting to the night sky. Their bowls were finished somehow too soon yet not soon enough. Wordlessly, Neria took his dirty bowl and spoon to sit outside the door, and then moved to the couch. She lifted her pack, and Cullen cleared his throat from the balcony.
“You don’t…Have to. Leave, I mean.”
“Cullen…” Neria’s voice held disapproval. Not unlike the tone he took with his soldiers. “You said yourself that you wanted to leave that life behind. I’m not naive. I realize I’m the biggest reminder of that life for you.”
“Yes but…” His hand came up to scratch the back of his neck. Neria tilted her head, waiting patiently for him to find the words. Again, it felt as if she was looking rough through him. How did she do that?
How did he explain that he didn’t want to be controlled by these memories anymore? They were haunting, but certainly unfair. He was a different man. She was a different woman. No longer mage and templar. Both commanders. Equals. Surely, they could share a room for a few days like adults. Surely, they could become friends.
“I’d like to catch up.” He finally said. “I’d like to get to know you better.”
Neria’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but then she grinned. Cullen’s cheeks flamed as he realized what he’d said.
“So forward, Commander.” Neria’s tone was light. “Now who’s coming on too strong?”
Cullen groaned. “Oh hush. You know what I meant.”
“Do I? I’m not sure. I might have to bolt down the hallway.”
Cullen chuckled at that. Somehow, the atmosphere had relaxed. He shut the door to the balcony, allowing the heat to once again spread through the room. Neria eyed her backpack for a moment, seemingly unsure. She glanced at him, but Cullen realized it wasn’t him she was looking to. But rather the balcony’s door. The palace on the horizon.
“If you’re sure.” She finally decided, placing her pack back in the floor beside the couch. She crossed her arms, giving him a smile. “Besides, I’d like that too.”
Cullen returned her smile. Suddenly unsure of what to do, he stepped forward and extended a hand. He wasn't sure if he was trying to pat her shoulder or make some other gesture. Neria caught on soon enough, bringing her hand to his in a shake.
“A clean slate, then.” Cullen confirmed.
“Sounds good.” Neria agreed, giving his hand a squeeze.
It felt overwhelmingly comforting. As if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. She’d forgiven him long ago. It was a good feeling.
“Now let’s get back to bed. The ball is tomorrow, and I am not looking forward to mingling with nobles again.”
Cullen groaned. “I’m not either.” He turned away, going back to the bed. He glanced to Neria, seeing her shed the heavy robe she must have dawned before he awoke. The amount of leg that her nightgown showed felt absolutely scandalous, and he quickly looked away.
“Goodnight, Neria.” He said before he could stop himself, climbing back into bed.
“Goodnight, Cullen.” She answered. “Sweet dreams.”
From her, the sentiment sounded like an order. Cullen decided that he’d do his best to follow it.
