Warning: Brief sexual content.
***
Standing in the empty halls of Kinloch Tower, Cullen's breathing quickened hearing voices in a nearby room. The moonlight cast his path in an eerie blue light as he walked cautiously to the door concealing the source of the sounds. The halls were surprisingly peaceful, yet his gut was in a knot. Pausing before it, his breathing picked up as he recognized the sounds of intense lovemaking. Faint rhythmic thuds coupled with the woman's wanton moans made him hesitate before opening the door, yet he was compelled to catch the rulebreakers in the act. The weight of his Templar armor hung heavy upon him, as he shifted in it uncomfortably thinking about his duty.
The wooden door creaked as he slowly opened it feeling an odd sensation of dread as to who it was he was about to interrupt. Undisturbed by his presence, having opened it the rest of the way to fill the threshold, the man rose to his knees above the woman sprawled on the bed. He had a messy full head of short and straight raven hair and a warrior's physique. With each thrust, his back and glute muscles flexed with effort. Cullen couldn't see the woman's face, which remained obscured from the angle from which he approached them, but he saw tuffs of blonde hair spilling out from beneath her.
The Templar's armor clanked and he began to call for them to stop, but his commands went ignored. Picking up his pace toward them, now angered at the blatant disregard for his orders, he stopped dead when he noticed a large curved scar that cut up the woman's thigh to the side of her hip bone. Her legs wrapped around the man as she tugged him closer to her yelling desperately, 'Harder!'
"Evelyn?" He felt the blood drain from his face, for he knew that singular voice.
The man bent down stealing a passionate kiss from her eliciting another moan. "Mmm, Phoenix," he growled out. Pulling her head up slightly as they parted, the blonde hair he saw was just the ends of her two-toned mutation.
Cullen stood frozen as he watched the two rutted into each other, seemingly unable to stop them. His mind spun as to why she'd place this man before him in her affections, but then remembered they had fought or something… His mind felt hazy and disoriented. Despite knowing they might have separated, his anger rose to bring a hot flush to his face at her betrayal. Allowing his feral rage to take hold, he grabbed the man's shoulder trying to turn to see who it was but was batted away with inhuman strength, until finally he turned to look at his assailant.
"Hawke?!" Cullen's breath caught in his throat at the shock.
"That's right, Knight-Commander. We mages take care of our own, and she will not be tainted by your hate! You don't deserve her for your past sins, I would know." His words were seething, coming out of his mouth like a hiss. "Did you really believe a sensual woman such as she would not seek comfort in another after you spurned her, and over what? Hurting your delicate feelings? Did you think you were the only one who could pleasure her, oh but you didn't, did you?" Hawke gazed down at her as she arched into his embrace, "I'm sure you'll get over it, she's not really a person in your eyes anyway. You haven't changed. Stay or go, it matters not, for she's mine now."
Backhanding Cullen to the ground, he looked up towards the bed as Evelyn finally was aware of his presence. Before she could say anything, Hawke grabbed her by the throat, making her eyes widen in horror. Her limbs began to kick and fight her attacker, but for the life of him, he couldn't move to help her. Cullen's limbs grew so heavy that he could no longer lift them, "No! Evelyn!" He tried to silence the Champion, but it was as if he had forgotten how. Looking down at himself, his Templar armor disappeared and he remembered he was no longer part of the Order. His veins were devoid of the strength lyrium had granted. Helpless, he could do nothing but watch as the woman he loved was at the mercy of a deranged Hawke.
Jerking with unnatural movements, Hawke began to transform into a Desire demon. Horns curled about its head as the skin turned a shade of sickly purple. Its sultry voice held the mage up so her back was now off the bed, but Evelyn was still struggling to breathe. "How selfish of you to keep her from me. Just look at her," Desire's claws traced the contours of the naked woman's body leaving trails of blood in its wake. It purred before laying her back down on the bed rustling its chiming chains.
As the demon continued its invasive exploration of Evelyn's body, Cullen fought as hard as he could to free himself of whatever force held him in place. "Do not touch her, demon!"
"You mean like this?" Desire's claws opened the mage's recent injury on her chest, causing her to scream in agony. "Or this?" The creature drilled her nails into Evelyn's scared shoulder, resulting in wild thrashing. "None of that pet," it spat back at her as its limbs and tail held her down. The mage deliriously cried his name in a way that tortured his soul more than Desire ever could.
As before, there was nothing he could do but whimper prayers. He tried to close his eyes but the demon's power was strong, pulling him over to the bed beside them. His limbs were locked at his sides as he and Evelyn's eyes held his unable to look away.
"I sense that you've stolen her heart. Shall we take a look and see?" Desire suddenly split her ribcage open peeling back the skin to watch her heart still beating in her body. Stabbing a hand into her chest, the demon watched his face with great pleasure as it squeezed the organ like it was a soft rotten fruit, raising it to its mouth to drink the juices. The mage's eyes stared back at him lifeless and dull. Her face relaxed, no longer feeling pain as her limbs fell from Desire with a thud.
That's when he noticed it. Evelyn had no mark on her left hand. Trying to fight through the grief and rage with his rational mind, he attempted to reason his way out of this nightmare. "That's not her," he chanted like a mantra, "it's not Evelyn. It's not Evelyn." His defiant glare, though wet with tears, bore into the purple creature, "She would never succumb to the likes of you! She'd see through you as she's too strong!"
With a growl, it jumped him now with its bloody claws and mouth. Asserting more power over the dream, he found Desire's behavior odd, for they were never this aggressive physically always relying on their tricks and manipulation over violence. It was then his dream flickered, wavering the more he applied reason as he fended the vile demon off of him.
"Your name, demon! I will have it, for you are not Desire! I know its tricks far too well and you are not it," he roared back at it before everything disappeared and he was left in a black void. Hopping to his feet, his amber eyes looked about the darkness for his foe, but all was quiet save for his heavy breathing. His hands shook trying to calm himself, rubbing his hands about his sweaty face.
Suddenly, Evelyn appeared again in a panic and ran at him. She grabbed him, partially pulling him down as she pleaded, "Please, you need to help me!"
"What's wrong?!" He had never seen her so desperate.
An odd surge of guttural sounds rolled up through her, "You need to kill me, now! I'm an abomination!" Letting go of him she thrust a vial of lyrium into his hand, "Take it, and destroy me before I hurt them!"
His eyes widened in horror as his hands trembled at the feel of the poison in his hand. The natural vibrations of the mineral sent goosebumps up his arms as his breath hitched remembering its taste. Blinking a few times in need of a distraction, he asked, "Who do you think you're going to hurt?"
Her shaking hand painfully pointed to a charming farmhouse that had appeared. Suddenly, the landscape around them revealed that they were at his family's home in South Reach. Evelyn cried out in pain as her body slowly began to burn up. Her irises were orange and her veins were glowing, "Please, it's too much! Kill me now before I hurt them!" The door to the house opened and everyone stepped out to greet the two of them with innocent smiles. He began to yell over to them to stay back, but they didn't listen. Trying to hold herself back, Evelyn growled and lunged at them from her knees as her skin began to glow red. "Take the lyrium, Cullen! I will kill them and I'm too powerful for you without it!" Her voice fluctuated between that of hers and the demon breaking her.
"No! You know I can't! Don't ask me to do this!"
"You'd let me kill them all to save your pride?" He couldn't answer her, just swallowing hard, looking from his family to the vial. Her words became venomous, "I knew you were too weak to keep your post. The Seeker should have had you removed long ago. Only a madman would refuse to take it to protect those he loves."
"I can still protect them without it!"
She laughed at him through her growls, "You may need this then." Tossing something through the air at him, he caught it in his hands. It was incredibly hot, burning his palms several times before it dropped to the ground. His lucky coin. As he bent to pick it back up, she had begun her attack.
"No!" He roared as tears streamed down his face as he was once again frozen and powerless to do anything but watch the slaughter. It was his fault. Every life decision he made had resulted in this, and now he was doomed to live through his just reward. For forsaking lyrium. For allowing a mage into his life. For thinking he was fit to be Commander of the Inquisition. He felt the hot blood splatter across his face and neck as he turned numb.
When the carnage had ended, he looked up as Evelyn finally came for him. Covered in the blood of his kin she panted as her eyes roved about him wildly, trying to figure out where to begin. Before she could, however, he plunged a blade into her gut. An otherwordly shriek echoed about the farm as she fell onto her back clutching at the blade. Cullen looked down unable to watch being so emotionally spent. Wriggling and straining in pain, the wails finally subsided into human whimpers.
When her soft pleas reached him, he looked up once more seeing that they were back at Skyhold in her quarters. The olive-green velveteen dress that she always wore had a dark stain growing on it from where he ran her through with his sword. Confused again, as everything seemed normal, she held her hand out begging him to come to her, "It's alright, I know it wasn't your fault. Do not blame yourself." Evelyn's voice was labored as she gasped for air, "You hallucinated… thought I was a demon. But it's alright… I…" Her eyes fluttered shut as her head hit the stone with a thud. She was dead.
Overwhelming panic and grief tore through him, whispering to himself over and over again, "What have I done?" He had gone mad; It finally happened after almost a year without lyrium. He looked about the room again for signs that he was dreaming, but nothing was out of place.
Faintly, he heard the running of soldiers' boots coming from the stairs. "Commander, what have you done?!" It was Rylen, but he couldn't bring himself to look up at him in his shame, "You've doomed us all. Arrest him!" Hands grabbed his upper arms dragging him away from her lifeless body. He struggled, but he didn't have much fight left in him.
"Maker's mercy, I thought she was a demon," his voice was meek, so unlike himself.
"After all this time, you still don't see mages as nothin' other than monsters," Rylen spat at him in disgust. "She was our only hope to stop the Elder One. The Seeker should've relieved ye of duty a long time ago. This is all because of yer selfishness; because ye refuse to take lyrium."
"No, I've had it under control!"
"How dare ye say that with her blood on yer hands! Take him out of my sight." As they dragged him around the corner, his last slight was that of the glowing mark on her hand fading to black.
"Cullen! Wake up, ye bloody bastard, and stop hittin' me!" Rylen's hands gripped his shoulders, shaking him awake. Instinct took over and the Commander grabbed his friend in turn, still not fully out of the Fade. Tears threatened his eyes as he focused on the Templar's raspy voice as he tried to reach him over the last remnants of his nightmare. "Andraste's mercy, it was just a dream! The whole bloody camp is bein' plagued with nightmares!" Calming down slowing as he took stock of his words and surroundings, while a trickle of cold sweat caught the light desert breeze as it snuck through the tent flaps. Rylen's steely eyes softened as he saw the visible signs of relief wash over Cullen, and he released him, flopping down to sit on his cot across from him.
Laying back down and running a hand through his blonde hair, he tried to slow his breaths, "Sweet Maker!" His mind raced through a recap of the horrid dream, shuddering a few times at its memory. Turning to peer at Rylen, he noticed the grimace that was set on his face. "You said the whole camp is suffering from nightmares? Mine, as you know, is caused by lyrium withdrawal, what could make the whole army…" His voice trailed off as the answer stood out clear in his mind, "A demon?"
"Aye, the elven apostate confirmed as much. Says there's one just on the other side of the bloody rift. With the Veil so thin, it's feastin' off the soldiers' fear as they sleep."
Sitting up again, the Commander racked his brain for any memory of a similar situation from his Templar days. However, the appearance of rifts is a new problem and his memory failed him. "Has Solas given us any guidance on to how protect ourselves?"
"He and Sorin have been placin' powerful wards around the camp in a hope to create a barrier against its attacks, but the demon is so large and powerful it may still be able to affect the most vulnerable of us," he paused, "such as yerself."
After assuring his tentmate that he was alright, he skipped having food to delve back into his newest challenge of securing the rift from Corypheus. Heading into the Command Tent, Cullen began pouring over the observations of the rift from Leliana's scouts, his soldiers on duty guarding it, and the mages who volunteered to study it. It was at this time he was sincerely missing Dagna and thought about sending for her, as they had no idea how long they'd be here. The quirky dwarf always seemed to conjure a plan out of nowhere, giving them all hope on each impossible problem she set to tackle. The reports indicated that the rift was vastly unstable which the mages theorized was due to the amount of demons crossing the Veil in one place. Those observing also all reported seeing something resembling a giant spider lingering just on the other side, but the distortion of the rift made it impossible to truly tell what they saw if anything at all.
For the remainder of the afternoon into the evening, the Commander remained in the Command Tent writing countless requests for building materials, laborers, and supplies to continue their extended stay in the Western Approach. Not only that, but he had guard rotations to establish, troops to reinforce, and reports of their dead and wounded to get through. Now and again, flashes of his nightmare invaded his thoughts making him sweat. Only wearing a linen maroon shirt, he rolled up his sleeves past the elbows and loosened the ties at his neck so his skin could breathe in an attempt to gain some comfort. He ignored the nagging thought that it could be the withdrawal symptoms charging up for another assault on him like what happened at Caer Bronch. Forgoing solitude, he had the tent's sides rolled up to collect as much of the weak breeze as he could. It was only when the sun began to set that some relief was to be had. He was Ferelden after all, and this arid climate did not make life any easier for him. He avoided drinking anything hot, including his coffee, asking his valet to leave it even after it had sat out for hours cooling to an acceptable temperature.
Taking a break while staring out at Adamant Fortress, Cullen couldn't help but feel the weight of recent events upon his shoulders. He had just claimed a great victory for the Inquisition, leaving the historic fort in ruins; Adamant was no more. As a military veteran, such nostalgic feelings of remorse over such a place as this should not have bothered him, yet it did. Brooding over it, he perhaps thought because, like him, it had once stood for something before being defiled by demons.
"Commander," Owayne was the only man in the camp who could get away with using the title teasingly, though his humor was subdued. "I was feeling especially serious tonight and thought you'd be the best man to brood with."
Cullen didn't turn to look at him, he simply rubbed his hand over his face, "Thinking is exactly what I'm trying to avoid at the moment." The ache of his sore muscles and head made him stretch and groan at his discomfort. On his left arm were the usual bruises he sustained in combat, but the arm fared better this time having not fractured it again. He arched his spine massaging his lower back, as his companion crossed his arms peering out over the camp.
A rare moment of quiet with the Trevelyan stretched on until a small group of women scouts passed in front of them, eyeing them flirtatiously. Their smiles and whispers made him exhale heavily looking out beyond them. Owayne chuckled, "Hey, take it as a compliment if anything. If younger women are still fawning over us at our age, it's quite an accomplishment."
With a small snort of a laugh and sigh, Cullen couldn't help his sinking mood despite Owayne's efforts, "I'm the same age as your sister, you know, and not quite as old as you. But one woman is proving to be trouble enough for me, let alone if I had a whole gaggle of them."
Lord Trevelyan chuckled heartily, "Cullen, you're with my sister. If trouble is what you were trying to avoid, boy did you fuck that up." After his laugh had faded, his mirth disappeared and was replaced by sadness. "Even growing up Evie attracted trouble. It's part of the reason why mother and she fought so often. Yet, whatever mess she found herself in, she had always the best intentions. But that wasn't what my mother wanted from her. She wanted an obedient pawn for her game of marriage and politics, not a girl who was running about like a Red Jenny do-gooder. My two older sisters were made of the best clay to form into miniatures of my mother, whereas Evie was tough and resistant to the mold. A few months before she came into her magic, I overheard our parents talking about sending her for Templar training. It's funny how the Maker works sometimes."
Cullen's eyes drifted downwards from the sky to rest on the swirling sand. It seemed whatever path that was laid for Evelyn was to be treacherous, either having to be chained by lyrium to the Order or trapped in a Circle with someone like Ryker Aeron. Now, she was the Herald of Andraste and Inquisitor with a mark that could be killing her. It would seem the Maker had a life of pain planned for her no matter what turns of fate found her. He remembered the look on her face after using the mark to break down the gates of Adamant. There was a tiredness to them, the same kind he knew well. By all rights, had the two of them just been average people living in Thedas, they would most likely be settled down with a family by now, not gallivanting about doing damage control from a darkspawn magister. He could be living with his family tending the farm leaving others to sort out the mess from the Conclave. The biggest headache he'd have would be the wellbeing of the crops and what price they'd fetch at the market. The thought was humorous to him, for he felt in his very being that he was meant to serve a higher purpose. It's what guided him into the Templar Order and then to the Divine's service. He was the one the people of Thedas left their fate to; one who could change the course of history along with those in the Inquisition.
Owayne carefully appraised him, watching his reaction deteriorating more, but he was unaware of the tangent his mind went on. "I'm sorry, Cullen, we don't have to talk about her. It's just…"
With a deep breath, he exhaled, "It's alright. She was on my mind anyway, as are they all." He didn't want to be insensitive, knowing he was worried specifically for Cassandra as well.
"We never got to talk again after the whole 'Lord Armand' incident, how are you holding up?"
"She and I haven't talked about it yet, and quite honestly, I'm not sure how I should feel about it anymore."
"What's got you hung up?" Cullen turned to face Owayne, meeting him with a baffled stare. "Oh, come now, she told me everything while she was bedridden back at Skyhold."
As he thought about the exact reasoning, he realized the list of things he was angry about would probably sound stupid to someone like the brunette rogue before him. Despite what Evelyn had told him, he knew she would not divulge the entirety of his dark past to him. "You wouldn't understand."
"Try me." Owayne's face grew stern and serious for once, "I'm the spare heir, my pride and feelings have been long tempered to accept rejection and disappointment. The day my eldest nephew was born, was the greatest day of my life, for it granted me my freedom from the family business and politics. Now, I'm the crazy uncle with questionable morals. So tell me, what has your pride so wounded that you'd rather hold a grudge?"
The ex-Templar rubbed the back of his neck, knowing that aside from all his deep seeded issues that had been amplified through his withdrawal symptoms during Aeron's residency at Skyhold, there was one crippling problem that ate at him. He set his jaw, looking at Evelyn's almost-twin, "Your sister expressed her concern that I could not support her later on in life. That with 'Lord Armand' she would be properly cared for financially."
"Seriously?" Owayne pinched the bridge of his nose, "That is what's so upsetting? Cullen, I had no idea you were so sensitive!"
"I told you wouldn't understand," he scowled at her brother. "I may hold a prestigious title now, but without the Inquisition, I am a commoner. The son of a farmer and miller. Your sister is not only high-born, but the Herald of Andraste and Inquisitor. What makes me worthy of such a woman? What would your father say of it? To have his beloved daughter living on a farm in Ferelden, toiling away to earn a meager living."
Lord Trevelyan gave him a lame look, "Should I hit you now or let Evie when you tell her that load of horseshit? Did you just hear yourself? My sister, care about money and social standing? Your fucking daft!"
"Did she tell you I stopped taking lyrium?" He nodded unimpressed, as his usual level of sarcasm made a comeback. "Then what of security? I'm not a Templar any longer, I can't help her if she'd need it without lyrium."
Owayne threw a hand at him in disbelief, "I've heard you tell her to cool it when her magic was burning too hot! Just because you couldn't help her yourself, doesn't mean you couldn't do anything to help. Besides, even if you took as much lyrium as you used to, not even Cass can silence her alone. It makes little difference now if she's with one Templar, let alone five and a Seeker to boot." They stared at each other hard, "Do you have any other stupid fucking things you'd like to get out before you talk to her? I know you know her better than any man, so I'm starting to believe you just want to sabotage things to end it all. Is that what you want?"
"No!"
"Then stop being so bloody stubborn! Andraste's tits, Cullen, you two deserve each other! It's a wonder you two even got together in the first place being so…" He paused his tirade to let out a long frustrating groan. "She better be alive—they better all be alive and on their way back." As their conversation cooled back down at his words, both looked towards the glowing green light coming from within the ruined fortress. "If I learned one lesson from all this since I first joined you all in Haven, it's that life changes in a blink of an eye and is way too short to not try and be happy. I won't be making that mistake any longer, will you?" The two shared a pained, yet consoling look, before Owayne gave a firm pat to his shoulder leaving him to brood alone once more. "Maker, I pray they return…"
Staring back out across the desert sands, Cullen couldn't help the ache gripping his heart. Life was short, and being made shorter for him by the effects of lyrium and the threat of Corypheus. How did he want to spend the time left the Maker was giving him? Holding a grudge against Evelyn? Who knew how much time she had as well? The thought made his heart quicken in panic that she could be lost to him. If his lucky coin brought her back to him, things were going to change.