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Title: To the Void and Back
Author: ElCapitan18
Game: Dragon Age
Characters/Pairing: F!Lavellan and Cullen
Disclaimer: All recognizable content belongs to Bioware

~*~

Grey skies expanded across the heavens, a dark armada encumbered by its weighty load. The threat of snow was great but, as Delani and Cullen rode through the mountain pass, winter’s only attack was the icy wind currently sweeping across the landscape.

Her teeth rattled, a chill coursing through her, shaking her with wave after wave of shivers. She could not wait to get home and steal Cullen away to their chambers where they could warm up in front of the fire. After the last few days that she’d had, relaxing in her lover’s arms was the only thing on her agenda.

As a fresh wave of shivers wracked her body, Delani rubbed her hands together and blew onto her gloved digits. Creators, she hated the cold. When Cornelius made a loud and irritated honking noise, she patted him on the neck and agreed with his sentiment. “Me too, Cornelius. Me too.”

Riding along beside her, Cullen spared Delani a glance and a smile before shaking his head. He was bundled up from head to toe, covered in warm furs and protective layers that helped to keep the cold at bay. His pale skin was rosy from the chill, his nose a bright pink that made him look unbearably adorable.

Straightening his grip on Delilah’s reins, when Cullen’s gaze returned to hers there was a cautious set to his features and a tentative shine in his amber eyes. They were going to talk about what had happened in Orlais. She’d avoided the conversation long enough and, now that they were so near to Skyhold, Cullen wanted to know where she stood.

His curiosity wasn’t unreasonable, it was just that Delani didn’t yet know how she felt about everything that had happened. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She felt lied to, betrayed, and infuriated. What she didn’t know was what she was going to do about it.

“We’re almost at Skyhold,” Cullen observed from his place atop Delilah. His amber eyes moved from the horizon back onto Delani and the upward tilt of his lips was encouraging when he asked, “Are you any closer to a decision as to what you will do with Blackwall?”

Grinding her molars, Delani glared at the snow laden clouds above and muttered, “Don’t you mean Thom Rainier?” He didn’t reply, just allowed the question to linger between them. After a few seconds Delani let loose a heavy sigh and shook her head in answer to his question. “I’m no closer to a decision than I was in that jail in Val Royeaux.”

He made a noise of understanding before stating, “You agreed to bring him back to Skyhold, that must mean something.”

Tightening her fists on Cornelius’s reins, Delani replied, “It means that if he’s to be executed I’d rather it not be by the hands of Orlesians,” with a bitter note in her tone. In truth, Delani didn’t want to see Blackwall executed at all. Even after learning everything that he had done she wasn’t sure that taking his life would be justice.

Cullen’s gaze was trained on her as their mounts continued on the familiar path across the mountain. His expression was neutral when he asked, “So you’ll execute him?”

Shrugging, she answered his question with a question. “Should I?”

When she looked over at Cullen, desperately searching his handsome face for a solution to her current predicament, all she found was patient understanding. Cullen would help her work through her thoughts, but he would not make this decision for her. Whatever she chose she had his support, and she supposed that it was all that she could ask for.

“Would you,” he wondered, “if it were me in his place?”

His question caught her by surprise. Delani blinked hard before shaking her head at the outrageous suggestion and scoffing at the notion. “That’s hardly a worthy comparison. You are nothing like Blackwall.”

Cullen lifted a single eyebrow in challenge. “Aren’t I?” he asked before reminding her that there was a time before where he was not with the Inquisition. “He may have accepted money to murder a family while they slept, but I am no better than him. For years I took part in the injustices committed toward mages. I persecuted and generalized them. I ignored legitimate claims of rape and abuse and my inaction caused more than a few to take their own lives.”

Very seriously he asked, “What makes me better than him?”

It was a question to which Delani had no answer.

“Blackwall may have run from repercussions of his crimes, but he has atoned for them as well.” Cullen held her gaze, his amber eyes sympathetic to the man they were currently discussing. “He has helped the Inquisition and he is our friend. He is not the same man who committed that atrocity all those years ago. So, do you punish him for the crimes of another man?”

Twisting her lips, Delani struggled with her answer. Whichever way she leaned felt wrong. Whether or not Blackwall was the same man that had killed that family so many years ago did not change the fact a crime was committed and justice was evaded. But what was “justice”? Was it letting Blackwall go free so that he could continue to atone for his past failings? Or was it punishing him for a past that would always haunt him no matter how long he lived?

To Cullen she asked, “What would you want if you were in his position?”

Cullen let loose a weighted breath and blinked against the cold wind that swept across the the mountainside. With certainty in his voice, Cullen mused, “I would want to make things right. There isn’t a single person alive that can punish Blackwall any more than he has been punishing himself. He is no longer running from his past, he is prepared to face whatever repercussions come his way, and he believes himself to be deserving of them.”

“Oddly enough, that didn’t help me at all,” Delani groused, tightening her hold on Cornelius’s reins.

The upward turn of his lips was sympathetic. His voice was apologetic when he reminded her, “It will take some time for Leliana to smuggle Blackwall out of Orlais. There’s still time before you have to come to a decision.”

As true as that was, how did she even make that kind of decision? Letting loose a weighted breath, Delani focused her attention on the horizon and the steady approach of Skyhold. They were almost home. Home, she thought. The word felt foreign to her. Not because she had never felt it before, but because she had never expected to be able to describe anything outside of her clan as home.

Glancing over at Cullen, Delani admired her human lover. He sat atop his Ferelden mare with certainty in his spine. He was at ease, his shoulders back, his posture comfortable as they continued down the well worn path to the fortress. Covered in furs as he was, Cullen’s already impressive build looked bigger, more muscular than usual. He appeared a mighty beast, ready to fight for all that he loved.

The thought brought a smile to her lips. All that he loved. She fell under that category. During her time with the Faceless Few Cullen had fought for her. He’d searched for her, and came after her, because he loved her and didn’t want to live without her. Delani bit her lip. Even after all this time she still had no idea what she had ever done right in her life to be worthy of him.

He must have felt the weight of her gaze, because he glanced in her direction and tilted his head curiously when he found her staring. An uncertain smile pulled on his lips and he wondered, “Is everything alright, ma atishan?”

Mhm, Delani hummed and nodded. Smiling softly at Cullen, she stated, “I’m just eager to get you home.”

An eyebrow slowly arched upward as Cullen regarded her. “Oh?” he asked, his own smile turning mischievous. His amber eyes glinted flirtatiously, and Cullen’s voice dipped down an octave into a smoky timbre when he wondered, “And what were you hoping to do once you got me home, my lady?”

“Well,” she shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. Waggling her eyebrows, Delani’s voice was also smokey when she answered him. “I was hoping to warm you up, Commander, by whatever means necessary.”

Pursing his lips, Cullen’s gaze fell from Delani’s eyes and did a quick inspection of her body. Her gaze followed his. She was insulated in several layers of fur. Her hood was drawn, protecting her ears from the cold. The warm garbs were practical, they were functional. They were a far cry from seductive. And still Cullen was looking at her as though she were scantily clad in nothing but her small clothes.

Grin turning wolfish, when he met her gaze again there was a smolder in his eyes. With a deep growl he prompted, “Race you there?”

Delani’s grin unfurled in an instant. Without replying to him, she jammed her heels into Cornelius’s sides and sent the hart flying. Having expected no less from her, Cullen was at her side in a blink.

Her laughter was loud in the air as they raced through the snow toward Skyhold. The fortress quickly grew as they came upon in. What had once been a hopeful spec in the distance, its enormity became obvious with each hoof-fall on the beaten road back home. When the sounds of clamoring mounts changed from the earth road to the stone paved bridge, Delani pressed Cornelius to go faster.

The mount’s breaths were strained as he and Delilah fought for the lead. With some encouragement from Delani he was able to push ahead. As she passed him, Delani blew a kiss at Cullen, and laughed again when he rolled his eyes at her.

She crossed the gates a fraction of a second before Cullen, punching the air in victory as Cornelius went full speed toward the stables. Afraid that her mount might destroy the entire structure with his arrival, Delani tugged on his reins and urged him to slow down before they crushed a hole through the wall.

As Cornelius sputtered to a stop, Delani could hear Delilah stomp up behind them. She threw a glance over her shoulder and smirked at Cullen, who was already shaking his head at whatever retort would come out of her mouth next. She couldn’t help her giggle if she wanted to.

“Looks like I won, Commander.”

The subtle smile on his lips was devilish, his golden eyes glimmering with a fire that signaled for something primal inside of her. “What is it they say,” he mused, “to the victor go the spoils?”

Heat spread through her quickly, her body coming alive with each inhale that blew on the ember glowing in her core. Voice turning husky, Delani bit her lip before investigating, “Did you plan on spoiling me, vhenan’ara?”

“It seems only fair,” he smirked, “ma atishan.”

Suddenly in a hurry to get their mounts put away, Delani dismounted from Cornelius’s back and ushered him into the stables. Walking Delilah in the same direction, Cullen caught her fingers with his and interlaced their digits until they had to part ways to get their mounts into their respective stalls. Delani winked at Cullen when the separated, guiding her hart to his private space in the back.

As she tended to Cornelius she sang a lullaby her mother had used to use while putting her to sleep. Quietly serenading her mount while she worked, she removed his reins, his saddle, and all the remaining riding equipment before she combed the sweat out of his thick coat and draped a warm cloth over his back before working some straw between him and the fabric. The day had been a cold one, night promised to be even more so.

When Delani was finally finished preparing Cornelius for the bitterness of another winter night, she turned to exit his stall only to stop short. Leaning on the entrance of the stable with his arms crossed over his chest, Cullen was watching Delani with adoration in his eyes. The smolder of his desire was still there, but something deeper eclipsed even that. Delani knew the sentiment well, as it often felt like the only thing that kept her alive. Creators, did she love this man.

“That was lovely,” he observed, his smile growing as she approached him.

Cullen welcomed her into his arms, his hands naturally molding to the shape of her waist as he smiled down at her. Delani had to stand on the very tips of her toes in order to comfortably wrap her arms around his neck, and even then she used the word ‘comfortably’ loosely. When Cullen leaned down a bit on instinct Delani grinned up at him in gratitude. She toyed with the downy curls at the nape of his neck and stared into his gorgeous honey colored eyes.

With a shrug, she supplied, “It’s just something my mother used to sing to me when I was growing up.” Smiling, she added, “Typically on key if she could help it.”

At that Cullen chortled. Gently combing her hair away from her eyes, he smiled down at her as he admitted, “I think you have a nice singing voice.” He then dipped his head down and buried his face in her neck. “I intend to hear it again before the day is done.”

Delani purred, curling her arm around his neck and securing him to her. Her other hand fisted the furs of his cloak, her fingers clutching on to him as though he were the only thing keeping her anchored in this plane of existence. When his tongue snaked out and skated over the surface of her skin, Delani groaned out a strained, “You are a wicked man, Cullen Rutherford.”

The noise he made was irritatingly self-satisfied. “Let us get you to our chambers then, shall we?”

“Sooner rather than later would be preferable,” Dennet’s gruff voice sounded from further down the stables.

Cullen pressed his forehead to Delani’s before releasing a long sigh. After a brief second he looked up from her and down the structure’s length to were Dennet was watching them with an expression that was a cross between unsurprised indifference and amusement. They parted only partially, their hands falling from each other’s bodies only for their fingers to become intertwined between them.

Sounding only a little irritated at having been interrupted, Cullen bowed his head apologetically at Dennet and said, “On this you and I are of like mind, Horse Master Dennet.” When the older man quirked an eyebrow, Cullen did his best to hide his blush behind a smirk and started to tug Delani from Cornelius’s stall.

Stifling a giggle, Delani closed the stall’s gate as they left. She pressed herself to Cullen’s side, his strong arm around her shoulders as they exited the stables, and offered the other man a playful wink before they stepped back out onto the lower courtyard. She took a sharp breath once they were back in the cold. Her eyes pointed heavenward as she watched the weightless white flakes flutter from the sky.

A smile inched across her lips as she slowed her paces, easing out from under Cullen’s arm as she watched the snow start to come down. Grinning widely now, she met Cullen’s curious gaze and astutely observed, “It’s snowing.”

He lifted his hand toward her and beckoned her back to his side. When Delani placed her small hand in his, he gently pulled her toward him and laughed at her expression. With a glance up at the clouds, dark grey with the burden of their cargo, he stated, “It’s going to really come down soon.”

Looking back down at Delani, his rosy features were bright when he winked at her. “We better get you inside, my lady. We have to warm each other up, after all.”

They started up the steps to the upper courtyard and Delani asked, “Is that before or after you make me sing?”

“While.”

Delani purred deep in her throat. Squeezing his hand, she tucked herself into the shield of his side and growled, “Commander.”

Just as Cullen predicted, all it took was the short climb of stairs for the weather to change. The wind quickly picked up in strength, the snow fell in a flurry, flecks of snow clumping together and falling heavy from the skies. Not wanting to be outside when the snow started to really come down, they hurried up the stairs to the Keep and sighed when they were welcomed by the warmth of multiple hearths burning down the long hall.

Several gazes were pulled to them upon their arrival, the familiar din of prattling nobles a welcome sound after how long she’d been away from home. Varric was at his writing desk, his nose buried in parchment as the quill in his hand worked. He gave them only a sparing glance, a brief nod, and a grunt in greeting before he set back to work.

She looked up at Cullen to find him smiling down at her. With his hands on her shoulders, Cullen offered to take her cloak from her, and Delani hesitantly agreed to let him. She unclasped the hook on her collar and allowed him to pull it off of her. Once she was free of the heavy cloak, Delani rolled her shoulders back and twisted the tension from her back. They started down the hall but were quickly intercepted before they could make it to the first door of their chambers.

Delani almost groaned. Back for nearly half an hour and already they were being set back to work. Who did she have to kill in order to get a moment of respite with Cullen? Corypheus, her mind provided. Oh right, there was still a world she had to save. She’d almost forgotten.

Leliana walked beside them for a few paces before speaking, “Welcome back, Inquisitor.” Her gaze moved to Cullen and she nodded in welcome, “Commander.” When he nodded in return, her focus was back on Delani and there was a shadow in her eyes. “Josephine was hoping to meet with us all in the War Room.”

Rolling her eyes, Delani ground her teeth and shook her head. They’d just gotten back from a long journey, her’s even longer than Cullen’s who had joined her in Orlais only after she’d sent for him. If they had to get sucked into the thicket of work, the least Leliana and Josephine could do was give them a few hours.

“Can it wait, Leliana?” Delani forced herself to pose it as a question and not a command. “We just got back and we’d like to—“

“It’s about your clan,” Leliana interrupted her before she could finish.

She and Cullen both stiffened with the revelation. They shared and uncertain look before searching Leliana’s features again. The shadow in her eyes was a permanent fixture that Delani had become accustomed to long ago, but it was darker today, and Delani didn’t know what to make of the change. Nodding sharply, she gestured for the Spy Master to lead the way to Josephine’s office and the war room there after.

As the three of them walked, Delani demanded, “What’s the news? Do you know?”

Leliana shook her head. “Word just arrived,” she said. “I know nothing for sure.”

“If you were to venture a guess,” Cullen asked the question that Delani had been thinking.

The other woman pressed her lips into a thin line and refused to do even that much. Delani’s stomach felt heavier as they neared the war room, as though it were lined with stone. Leliana had never refused to at least entertain ideas before. If she was refusing to touch the subject it was because she knew more than what she was letting on… and what she knew was not good. Once they crossed Josephine’s office and opened the door to the last hall separating them from the war room, Delani grew increasingly less certain she wanted to know what news had come. Perhaps it could wait for a day or two.

As though he could sense the tension growing inside of her, Cullen’s hands found her shoulders and squeezed them tightly. His touch was a reassurance. Whatever awaited them in that cylindrical room she was not alone. As long as he drew breath she would never be alone again. Steeling her resolve, Delani sucked in a deep breath and took comfort in Cullen’s support.

Whatever came next, they could handle it.

Cullen pushed the door open and allowed her and Leliana to enter before shutting it behind him. The Spy Master made her way to her usual place at the table, but Cullen remained at Delani’s side. His nearness was a comfort as Josephine struggled to maintain a neutral expression.

“Inquisitor, Commander,” she said, greeting them both with a steady voice. “Welcome back, I trust that your travels were uneventful.”

Not caring for the small talk, a nervous tick that Josephine was typically better at quelling, Delani bit out, “Leliana said that you’d received word from my clan.”

Josephine hugged her clipboard to her chest and bowed her head. She worked her jaw as she ground her teeth. Each second that Delani’s question was left unanswered felt like an eternity. When the ambassador did finally look up to meet Delani’s gaze her hazel eyes were glistening with an apology.

“Word from Wycome,” she corrected Delani before removing a page from her clipboard and passing it over. As Delani took the parchment from Josephine’s hands, the woman stated, “I’m afraid that the news isn’t good.”

Delani’s gaze was still trained on the ambassador, reading Josephine’s features before she dared to turn her eyes onto the paper in her hand. Her heart was racing, nervousness and dread were spreading through her like the shadow of night. Sucking in a deep breath, Delani forced herself to read the message crinkling in her slightly shaking hand. Cullen was still behind her, his support was constant. It was just a letter, how bad could it be?

She started reading.

Ambassador Montilyet,

I regret to inform you that a contingent of soldiers gathered from other cities in the Free Marches attacked Wycome and slew most of the elves within, including all of the Dalish clan.

They avoided attacking humans when possible, and were willing to meet with us once their bloody work was done. They professed shock that Duke Antoine had been using red lyrium and insisted that all they knew was that the elves had rebelled and killed the rightful rulers of the city.

This has all been branded a tragic misunderstanding, and the nobles who now rule Wycome insist that they will repay the Inquisition for this horrible mistake. I await my return to Skyhold at your earliest convenience.

Yours,
Lady Guinevere Volant

With every word read Delani felt the glass of reality start to chip and crack. Veins of doubt and disbelief spindled over its surface and her composure grew less and less stable with each word passed. Her insides twisted and coiled, tying itself up in knots that she knew she would never be able to loosen again. The dark shroud that had been starting to cast over her now consumed her to her entirety. Delani’s hands were shaking, her entire body was vibrating. Horror and disbelief were vying for dominance in her gut.

If this correspondence was true then her clan was… gone?

Gone.

They were gone. Her people. Her home. Gone. Just like that.

Her breaths were coming to her with more effort now as she struggled to stay calm. Cullen, who had been reading the message over her shoulder, placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her into his chest. His warmth should have thawed her, his presence should have been reassuring to her, but all Delani could feel was numb.

The silence in the room was heavy, a thousand pound beast that could turn aggressive at any moment. Delani could feel their gazes on her, could sense them anticipating her reaction to the news. When none was forthcoming Josephine and Leliana both shifted their weight, not daring to break the silence and prod a reaction from her.

This was not happening. This could not be happening.

Furious with Josephine for daring to jest about this, Delani spat out her accusation with a venom reserved for her enemies. “You’re lying.”

The ambassador’s eyes had become misty. Her chin trembled and she shook her head. When Josephine spoke her voice cracked. “I am so sorry, Inquisitor.”

Delani shook her head, rejecting Josephine’s plea. “This isn’t happening,” she ground out.

Looking back down at the message, Delani reread the words another time. With each reiteration the words made less and less sense. How could this have happened? They’d tried to handle the situation at Wycome peacefully. Against all of her instincts she had sent diplomats instead of soldiers. Delani had tried to avoid bloodshed, she’d wanted to spare as many lives as possible. And this was the result of that effort? The massacre of an entire clan, of her clan?

Creators, this wasn’t happening.

… This has all been branded a tragic misunderstanding, and the nobles who now rule Wycome insist that they will repay the Inquisition for this horrible mistake…

A tragic misunderstanding… The murder of her people was a because of a misunderstanding? The lives of the elven alienage were lost over a misunderstanding? A misunderstanding that should have been avoided because Delani had sent an envoy to stop this very thing from happening?

No. Delani refused to believe it.

Her eyes sharpened as she regarded the Antivan woman. Growling from someplace deep in her chest, Delani snarled, “Tell me that you are lying, Josephine.” Rage was growing rapidly inside of her. The parchment in her grasp was tearing under the pressure of her fist and she waved it at Josephine, demanding that the woman give her a proper explanation as to what had actually happened in Wycome, what fate had truly befallen her people. “Tell me that this is nothing more than a thoughtless jest.”

When the other woman tightened her lips, her expression twisting with regret and sorrow, Delani shouted loud enough to cause the others to flinch away from her volume. “Tell me, Josephine!”

She shook her head and her voice trembled. “I can’t,” she croaked before biting down on her bottom lip, clamping her eyes shut, and sending a trail tears to course down her cheeks.

Heaving each breath into her now, Delani let Josephine’s words settle in her stomach. Josephine couldn’t tell Delani that she was lying, because she wasn’t. The letter was not some poorly conceived, ill-thought prank. It was real. This was real. This was happening.

No. Delani’s mind started to fracture. The cracking glass of reality was shattering. Her whole world was falling to pieces. No. Creators, no.

“So my people…” she started, breathless under the growing weight and realization of all that she had lost. “The women, the children… my mother…”

In a small, soundless voice Josephine confirmed, “They’re gone.”

Cullen’s grip on Delani’s shoulders tightened, his intent was to comfort her, but Delani would never know the meaning of the word again. Shaking his grip from her shoulders with a shrug, she stepped away from him and the moment that she severed contact the world was lost. Realization hit her like a fresh wave, socking her in the gut, ripping her heart out from her chest and threatening to withhold it for the rest of time.

Blackness was spreading through her. A disease, a pestilence, anger and bitterness accompanying its inky shadow. This was her fault. She had trusted the lives of her people to shemlan and this was the result. They were gone. They were all gone because humans did not know the meaning of the word peace.

To herself she stated, “I try to be diplomatic with you people and this is your response?” When she looked up it wasn’t her advisors she was seeing in the war room. All she saw were three humans. Murderers. How could they have done this to her people? Clan Lavellan had only been trying to help Wycome. Her mother had only been trying to assist a city that had been in such desperate need of it. And this was her repayment.

Dragging her fingers through her auburn hair, Delani tugged on the strands and a sob racked through her. “To kill my entire clan, to steal from me the only family that I have left?” She absently reached for the edge of the war table, needing it to hold up herself up. Without it she would double over, her pain would be too much. It already was.

Unable to see past the thick film of tears covering her eyes, Delani seethed, “You are savages.”

“Delani,” the voice who spoke was masculine, familiar, registering in some distant part of her mind. But she couldn’t recognize anything other than her pain, the only thing she could stand to acknowledge was the rage swiftly slipping from her control.

In quiet warning, Delani said, “Give me the room.”

Cullen took a step in her direction and Delani screamed, “GIVE ME THE FUCKING ROOM!”

They filed out quickly, leaving her to her anger. She felt Cullen’s gaze on her as he lingered by the door. She could feel the sorrow emanating off of him, but she couldn’t pay attention to that now. All she had the mind to focus on was the fact that she had trusted the lives of her people to the hands of humans and now they were all gone. Delani needed to be alone.

When she turned her back to him, Cullen left without a word and shut the door behind him. Once she was alone, Delani’s shoulders sagged. The full weight of her loss came crashing down on her and her knees buckled. Delani collapsed, still clinging to the table’s edge, trying to support herself against this force swallowing her up. But it was for naught, why should she have even bothered? Her clan was gone. Her family was dead. Her mother was forever taken from this world over a ‘misunderstanding’.

Sobs wracked through her body. Tears stabbed her eyes as they poured out of her like freely flowing water rapids. Delani felt like she was going to vomit, but only dry heaves punched out of her. Delani was being beaten senseless, brutalized by an overwhelming sense of loss she had thought that she’d be lucky enough to never know.

This happened to other clans. Countless numbers of Dalish were massacred this way, slaughtered by humans who thought that they had just cause… A tragic misunderstanding… The unrestrained murder of an entire people… A tragic misunderstanding… a mistake that nobles were going to pay off in gold, like they always did. They were going to throw money at the Inquisition, at her, and hope that it would resolve the problem.

What were the lives of her people worth? One hundred and ninety eight sovereigns? A piece of gold for every life in her clan. Like they were little more than animals, livestock, regarded as even less in life.

This happened to other clans, it was not supposed to happen to hers. She was the Herald of Andraste, that should have meant something to these shemlan. It should have protected her people from their ignorance. But it hadn’t… she hadn’t protected them… She’d been off fighting for the Chantry, fighting for the same humans that killed her people. She had done this to them. This was her fault.

Rage filled her. Her tears burned with her fury. Her breaths were strained with her anger. Delani pulled herself back onto her feet and clung to the war table so fiercely that the color had drained from her knuckles. She had failed her clan, and now she was alone.

Filled with righteous fury, Delani screamed at the top of her lungs and flipped the heavy table over. The clamor in the war room was loud as she continued to destroy everything she could get her hands on.

They had taken everything from her.

Mamae, she thought of the mother that she would never see again. Ir abelas, mamae. Ven dareth na uth shiral.

~*~

Cullen cringed at the sounds coming from the war room. Glass was crashing, wood was breaking, and Delani had not stopped screaming since she had started. His heart ached for her. How badly he wanted to go in there, to grab her amidst the turmoil and hold her to his chest. Though he did not feel her loss as keenly as she did, he was also struggling with the news they had come home to.

Her clan was gone. Her people, her family, her mother, they were all gone. He couldn’t begrudge her for wanting to vent her emotions in privacy, but she needed him, and he needed her. If they were going to make it through this it had to be together.

Another crash sounded from the war room, and Josephine flinched from the sound as though it had been a physical blow. Her face was buried in her hands and she too was crying. Josephine’s shaky voice was muffled through the cracks in her hands. “She’s never going to forgive me,” she sobbed.

Josephine looked miserable, each crash of one more thing being broken made her fold over herself. The tears had not stopped streaming from her eyes, the twin rivers were constantly flowing as she cried. But it was not Josephine’s sadness that troubled him.

At the sound of what Cullen imagined to be a wine bottle connecting with the wall, followed by a string of unintelligible of Elvish curses, Josephine jumped from where she was leaning atop her desk. She pressed her hand to her mouth and peered toward the door leading to the war room.

“She’s never going to trust me again,” the Antivan woman lamented. Shaking her head, she blinked and a fresh stream of tears fell from her bloodshot eyes. “I told her not to respond with force. I insisted that we could end this peacefully.”

Burying her face in her hands again, Josephine cried, “Her clan is dead and it’s because of me.”

Cullen’s gaze went from the door to the woman hunched over in front of him, bawling her eyes out as guilt and regret ran ramped through her. As much as he wanted to be inside of the war room to help Delani through this hardship, he knew that he would not be welcome back in there. Delani needed to be alone, and he needed to respect that. Josephine’s upset was much less volatile, and the ambassador was more inclined to welcome his efforts.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, hoping that the contact would be enough to calm her tears. Softly he reminded her, “It is because of misinformed bigots and racists that her clan is dead, Josephine. You couldn’t have known that this would have happened.”

His gaze returned to the door and he absently finished his thought. “No one could have anticipated this.”

Pulling her face from her hands, Josephine looked up at Cullen with misery in her eyes and observed, “You did.”

With a shake of his head, he gently corrected her, “Never in a thousand years would I have predicted something like this.”

Quietly, Josephine whispered to herself, “She hates me now. I know she does.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Josephine,” Cullen returned his attention to the distressed woman still leaning on her desk. Her face was red and swollen from crying, her eyes were glistening with tears still left unshed. Even as he said the words Cullen wasn’t entirely certain of their credibility. Delani’s emotions were uncontrollable and unpredictable at the moment. When things cooled down, Cullen was sure that Delani would see reason. He knew that Delani would understand that Josephine had only suggested what she thought was right.

Knowing that Josephine needed to hear the reassurances for herself, he continued, “She doesn’t blame you. You were just doing your job. You advised on the course of action that you thought was best. The only ones to blame are those blasted nobles.”

All of a sudden the crashing and screaming coming from the war room came to a stop. Silence stretched out, ominous and terrible, a thousand times worse than the ruckus that had preceded it. Both his and Josephine’s gaze snapped to the door and they held their breaths as they waited for something to happen, for anything to happen.

The minutes that followed felt like an eternal stretch of time. When the door from the hall to Josephine’s office opened, Delani quietly emerged. Her long auburn hair was mussed from running crazed hands through it. Her features were swollen from anguished tears, her green eyes were surrounded by a red that brightened their color. When Delani glanced over at them she appeared lost, uncertain of who they were or where she was. Without acknowledging either of them, she left Josephine’s office with quick strides that betrayed the emotions still ravaging inside her.

As he and Josephine watched Delani leave, the Antivan woman’s voice shook with certainty and dread when she said, “She’s going to kill them, Cullen. You know she will.”

In her current state anything was possible, but Cullen still shook his head. “She won’t,” he stated with a conviction he didn’t feel. “I won’t let her.”

Moving his gaze back onto Josephine, he offered the ambassador an encouraging look before taking a step toward the door. “My apologies, Josephine, I have to go check on Delani.”

“Go,” Josephine agreed, wiping the remaining moisture from her face. Voice shaking with tears, she stated, “You’re the only way that she’s going to make it through this.”

He nodded once in farewell before turning on the ball of his foot and racing out of Josephine’s office. Once in the great hall he looked from the door to their chambers to the Keep’s exit. There were one of two places that Delani would go. Either she would seek out the privacy of their room, or the comfort of her mount. Typically he was better at guessing where she’d run, but the situation was different now.

When a group of nobles saw him hesitating, they guessed at his purpose and pointed toward the door to their chambers. Cullen nodded at them in gratitude before kicking down the door and bolting up the stairs. There was an urgency to his steps that he couldn’t fight. Instinct was warning him that Delani should not be alone for greater reasons than her simply needing him.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he quickly reached the catwalk connecting to the door of their room only to find Cole pacing down its length. The boy’s thin legs kept moving, like an agitated wild cat, he paced back and forth, quietly muttering to himself.

Surprised to see him outside of their bedroom, Cullen greeted the boy with a question in his voice, “Cole?”

“She hurts,” the boy absently replied. His words were not for Cullen, they were for himself as he tried to sift through and understand the emotions storming up inside of Delani. It seemed the only time Cole was able to get proper a read on her was when her emotional state was so far beyond her control that she was projecting them outward like a beacon.

Still pacing the catwalk, Cole continued, “A black chasm tearing through her chest like the Void. Hate where love once was. Anger burning like a destructive fire. Death would be better than this. Falon’Din, take this pain. Take me to them. Out of control. Deaf to this world. The cold winter wind is the only thing that feels right. She’s not ready. This hurt is too great.”

Cullen ground his teeth as he struggled between shouldering past Cole and going straight for Delani, or trying to use the boy to gauge what her next move would be. Hurriedly he asked, “Will she see reason, Cole?”

The boy stopped pacing. His haunted grey eyes met and held Cullen’s gaze and he asked, “Would you?”

No. If it were Cullen in Delani’s place he doubted that reasonable would have been an applicable term to describe what he was feeling. With nothing left to discuss with the boy, he abandoned the conversation and stormed up the stairs to their chambers.

It was cold in their room. Winter’s chill welcoming him in bitter greeting as he climbed the last steps. Once he was in their quarters he immediately noticed the open balcony doors. Snow was flurrying into the room. The fabric of the canopy draped over their bed was fluttering wildly as a frigid wind tore through the open doors. The fire burning in the hearth struggled to combat the biting wind and snow. It took a quick scan to confirm that Delani wasn’t inside of their room before Cullen rushed toward the balcony.

His heart stopped in his chest, his breath catching in his throat, at the sight of Delani standing precariously on the balcony’s railing. Snow blasted around her silhouette and into their bedroom. Her arms were spread as she embraced the winter wind, welcoming the cold as she would one of her kinsmen. Horror turned Cullen’s blood to ice. Not daring to call out to her and accidentally send her toppling, he stepped up to the railing and quickly hooked an arm around her waist before yanking Delani off of the ledge.

She struggled in his arms, fighting for freedom, but Cullen didn’t let her go until she was safely in their room and the doors to the balcony were sealed shut. When he finally released her from his protective grasp, Delani jumped away from him with a growl. All he could do for a moment was stare at her, terror coursing through him at the thought of what might have happened if he had been a second too late. Would Delani have done it? Would she have stepped off of the railing? The thought was too painful to bear.

“Maker’s breath, Delani,” he panted, his heartbeat was wild against his rib cage and his breaths were strained by the tightness in his chest. He had almost lost her. A few more seconds and Maker only knew what might have happened next.

Her hands were in her hair and she began to pace the room. “They’re dead,” she whispered to herself, not even acknowledging his presence in the room anymore. With a trembling voice Delani said, “They are all dead. My whole clan, the women, the children, my mother…”

“Delani,” he took a tentative step toward her, reaching out to pull her into his embrace. Words seemed impossible, nothing he said would ever be sufficient, but Cullen tried anyway. “I am so sorry.”

When he was close enough, Cullen gently grabbed Delani by the shoulders and wrapped her up in his arms. Still in the cloak he’d worn while traveling, the furs closed around her and cocooned her in his warmth. Delani didn’t react to his embrace, just stood stiffly against his chest as he rubbed her back.

Her voice was dangerously level when she remarked, “They were slaughtered, Cullen.” Her breaths were coming to her with more force now as her emotions started to climb again. Placing her hands on his chest she shoved herself out of his arms and backed away several steps. Her absent gaze was staring past him, only seeing all of the possible horrors that could have befallen her people.

“They were killed in the streets like dogs.” After a second anger pinched her features. Her thick auburn eyebrows furrowed and a snarl twisted her lips. Her sea green eyes were filled with fury, hatred, and promises to respond to the violence against her clan with action. “That’s all that we are to you people, no better than dogs. Worse than even that. Not even dogs suffer the way that my people do.”

Recognizing that the path her thoughts were following was a dangerous one, Cullen tried to remind her whose feet she should have been placing her blame. “Josephine didn't kill your people, ma atishan. I did not kill your people. We're not just shemlan were your friends.”

She shook her head, a refusal to recognize his words as true or to be swayed by them. “Can shemlan and elvhen be friends?” asked Delani, voice filled with doubt, eyes filled with the restless flames of outrage. “I had once hoped, but now I can see now way.“

“Delani—“

Sea green eyes suddenly snapped into focus and Delani met Cullen’s uncertain gaze with dawning realization in her features. She raked a shaking hand through her hair and secured it to the back of her neck. With a shake of her head she whispered, “Why am I here?”

Confused and concerned by her question, Cullen asked, “What?” and hoped against hope that she would clarify.

“What am I still doing here?” Delani started moving. She circled around the room, picking things up as she went. First it was her pack, then provisions for travel, followed by a change of clothes, and sturdy leather armor. As she worked, she reminded them both that, “The reason I joined the Inquisition was to protect my people, to make sure that they survived the very fate I sentenced them to. And now they're gone. They're all gone. Even the children.”

Delani furiously shook her head. With every word her movements turned more and more aggressive, the seal containing her rage thinning as she gave the fate of her clan heavier thought. “Over what, a misunderstanding? My entire clan was murdered over a misunderstanding? Why am I here? What am I still doing here?”

In addition to his earlier confusion and concern, Cullen was now also feeling dread and uncertainty. Delani was packing. She was planning on leaving. Where was she going? What would she do? Would she return? The lack of precise answers to any of his concerns made his heart hammer loudly in his ears. Cullen couldn’t be without Delani and, despite her current state, he knew that she needed him just as badly. He couldn’t let her leave. Cullen couldn’t chance losing her now.

“Delani,” his voice was pleading when he asked, “What are you doing?”

Without looking up at him, or answering his question, she said, “I need you to get Solas.”

Solas? What could she possibly want with man at a time like this? “Why are you packing?” he asked, following her as she crossed the room to rummage through her pilfered collection of grenades and potions. When his question went unanswered he ventured onto the next one, “Where are you going?”

Shoving the items into her quickly filling pack, Delani finally spared him a response. “I’m going to Wycome,” she said. Still refusing to meet Cullen’s gaze, she explained, “Solas will help me to see the memories of what happened to my clan.”

Desperately reaching for anything that might make her stay for even a moment longer, Cullen stated, “We just got home, Delani.”

She pinned him with a furious glare. “My family is dead, Cullen. My clan. Are you truly asking me to stay?”

Cullen stared at Delani, his mind working as he decided on his next move. Somehow he knew that whatever he allowed to happen next would be a defining moment in their relationship. One misstep now and he would lose her forever.

“I’m coming with you,” he stated, his mind made.

He knew that if he let her go without him there was a possibility that she would never return. Why would she? The reason she had joined the Inquisition had been slaughtered in the streets of Wycome. Cullen would not survive without her, there was but only one solution that kept them together.

“No,” Delani argued, shaking her head, adamant about leaving him behind. “You have to stay here, where you belong.”

That was a blow better felt than any blade could ever cause. Setting his jaw, Cullen raised his chin, resolute. He would not be swayed. “Where I belong is at your side,” and that was where he would stay, whether or not he was welcome.

Delani glared at him, wanting to argue with him. But with a heavy sigh and a shake of her head, she dropped the argument. She didn’t have the energy for this battle, and she had learned to choose them wisely. “Fine,” she glowered at him. “Get Solas and prepare our mounts. We leave within the hour.”

Backing away slowly toward the stairs, Cullen watched Delani as she continued to pack. No longer was she handling her belongings, she was now packing theirs. She had agreed that he could come, and Cullen would happily accept the victory. Losing Delani was not an option. He would fight for her until his dying breath, even if it was her he had to fight.

With his hand on the banister, Cullen said, “I love you, Delani.”

Her shoulders stiffened. Without looking at him, she replied, “Just go, Cullen,” and ripped his heart right from his chest.

Losing her clan had changed her, and all Cullen could do was hope that it hadn’t changed how she felt about him as well. Bowing his head to hide the tears brimming in his eyes, Cullen left their chambers in search of the apostate.