The Visitor
She had been sleeping too heavily. She had not woken to the gentle tug on her magic of the wards being disarmed, the restless noises the animals would have made at the approach of a stranger and the quiet sounds of someone stealthily entering her small cabin. She’d been so exhausted from the day’s hard work that she’d gone to bed early instead of sitting through the gradual sunset of summer solstice. The sun had still not extinguished when she woke to the sound of someone in armour moving a few feet away from her. She sat up abruptly and pressed herself against the wall beside the bed crouching with her legs curled under her, out of the immediate reach of the intruder. Her arms on either side of her in an illusion of surrender, but her hand was placed close to a hidden dagger. She looked into the eyes of her living nightmare and knew the weapon was useless to her. She could never manage a pre-emptive strike or move in time to defend herself against him if he chose to attack and even if she did, he was twice her size, could negate magic and had two hands to her one. She tried to calm herself with the thoughts that he hadn’t tried to kill her while her only protection was a thin blanket, he hadn’t stripped her of her magic, he hadn’t attacked her in any way. (Yet… a small sharp inner voice spoke to her)
The man jerked a chair over and sat down, folding his arms in front of him, an act that was both intimidating and calming at the same time. Whatever he had come for, it wasn’t to cut her down as soon as she was in reach of his sword. The fading sunlight shone on his face with such a blazing gold that he looked more like a brutal, metallic construct than a man. He stared expressionlessly at her and said nothing for a long time.
“You! You owe me an explanation. Several explanations.” he barked.
She didn’t quite manage to suppress the way the sudden noise made her flinch and knew that it had revealed her fear of him, as if that had been in any doubt. To evoke fear was doubtless his purpose. He wanted her to be as on guard as he clearly was himself, there would be no careless moves to provoke an unfortunate reaction. The best way to handle him would be to not to try to “handle” him. Soft words would not soothe him, quite the opposite, in fact.
“As I recall, I was doing that very thing when you flew into a rage, used both a spell purge and a holy smite on me and while l knelt on the floor gasping for breath, you grabbed a valued staff and smashed it against a stone mantle until it was nothing but splinters and shattered crystal, while ranting about lyrium shackles, blood magic and tranquility. Every possible curse that anyone could aim at a mage was thrown at me. I left as soon as I could rise to my feet and stagger away and if I looked back then or at all in my subsequent journeys these past months, it was simply to ensure you weren’t chasing me down. Why are you here?”
“You wrote to me many times.”
“Not once did I suggest you drop in any time or hint as to where I would be should you decide to do so. Again, why are you here? I’m not the only one who can provide the information you need to fill in that substantial gap in your memory. I’m not even the best source of information. I wasn’t there with you prior to the conclave and I was away on missions more than I was with you when I was the Herald. There are others who would know more about the details of your life and whose word you would trust. You wouldn’t even had need to consort with “lying, dissembling Maleficar”. You could have received adequate explanations from several of our trusted companions, some of whom were known to you prior to your lost years, one of whom is the Divine herself. I would hope you wouldn’t term their words demon tricks?”
“None of them are my wife.”
“You’ve chosen to take my word on that now have you? Or were you simply assured of it so many times with verbal descriptions of my appearance, perhaps accompanied by sentimental portraits and published histories of the inquisition that you were forced into acceptance of the idea that you, Cullen Rutherford, former Knight-Captain of the Gallows had willingly wed a mage.”
He looked away from her, his jaw tight, a scowl creasing his brow. It was actually a good sign. He was no longer studying her like a hunter facing down a cornered predator and his eyes were briefly downcast like he might be experiencing at least a flicker of shame. Truthfully she felt a little shame for the way she had abandoned him. He’d been damaged by poison meant for her, he survived what would have certainly ended her life. He couldn’t help that he had lost so much of his memory going back to the time prior to the Kirkwall explosion but that loss also meant that he couldn’t help thinking of mages as dangerous, and as less than people. He was wrathfully paranoid and trained to react ruthlessly against her kind. She was certain that none of the vows they made when they married meant willingly remaining at the side of someone who was what you feared most. She would not stay by a man who was so angered by her mere existence that he had bullied and threatened her grievously and had given her every reason to believe he could carry out worse. She had not expected him to easily accept her presence when he had so much shock and upheaval to deal with but she also hadn’t expected him to attack her when she was alone with him for a few minutes. When they first became close, he had occasionally spoken of his Templar past as though he had been a danger to any mage due to his terror of magic, but she had never been able to see it in the carefully-spoken man she knew until her beloved husband had transformed into a flat-eyed, shouting beast who used her own magic against her. Even though his templar powers were weak without lyrium, it had felt brutal.
She had travelled for months to avoid him while leaving an ample trail of letters to be passed through the hands of friends, letters that made it clear that an answer would find her if he wished to reach out to her in any way, even if only to ask that their marriage be annulled. She had received exactly two terse notes from him, both rejecting direct contact at the time of writing, neither seeking any answers from her. She had written him weekly for 6 months before she stopped, then hadn’t tried to contact him in 4 more, not since she had decided to settle on her own on this remote parcel of land. The fact that it was inaccessible without passing through the territory on which Cassandra was re-establishing the Seekers had made it appealing to her. She didn’t wish to be traceable by anyone other than the scant handful of people she could still trust. It was secure and protected against unexpected visitors, or it least it should have been. She wanted a solitary refuge in which to simply sink from sight. She wished to be rumoured dead or irretrievably missing. She had no desire for visitors, not wanting proximity to put others at the risk of harm, not after what happened to Cullen. And she wanted to avoid him. She had given up hope of anything, even a clean break, from him. She had finally admitted to herself that she was incapable of coping with her fear of the vast array of hurt he could deal to her. Every letter had she had sent, no matter the tone, whether it was angry or conciliatory, no matter the actual words, or how mundane or impersonal the subject, had the same implicit plea under the surface “Don’t hurt me again”. But she had avoided staying in any place for more than a few weeks because she would open herself to the possibility he could. She let go of her anger at him at the same time she had let go of hope that there would ever be any possibility of repairing what they had lost, just an eventual ending. She had assumed that their ties, when cut, would be cut with the assistance of intermediaries. Rather than continue to delay any plans for the future due to questions of his part in it, she chose to start a quiet life for herself on land that been bequeathed to her directly by a noble who died after the inquisition had been formally disbanded.
Informally was another matter, in truth, the Inquisition she had led was over, but the Divine Victoria had begun immediately to set up a shadow inquisition to stabilize Thedas as most of the formal organizations had been thoroughly decimated by the machinations of Corypheus and the various civil wars that had broken out before and after the explosion at the conclave. It’s core purpose was to prepare for the looming threat of Fen’Harel and his plan to unmake the world. She could have no part of it other than as a figurehead and as a figurehead, her main function would have been as a target for the ire of malcontents. She’d had more than enough of attracting dangerous attention.
He looked back to her before he spoke again. At first his voice, though he spoke clearly, was barely above a whisper. “I’m no longer so lost as to assume our marriage could only be the result of trickery and illusion…. I have no clear idea of what should happen between us, but I regret what did happen the last time I saw you. I am sorry for the way I mistreated you. I am sorry that you were unsafe with someone who had promised you a lifetime of love and loyalty. I have questions and the answers I need most can only come from you. I can not make any important decisions or put a foot in any direction, never mind put anything right until I can talk to you. ”
“Ask.”
He hesitated, looking like it was hard to choose what it was he wanted answered first.
“We were married, that is …unusual in my experience, not only because you are a mage…. But … What were our plans had marriage between elves and humans not been recognized by the chantry?”
“We would have remained together, that much I know… You asked me to commit to a life with you beyond our bonds through the inquisition. We wouldn’t have tried to make a home with my clan or your family, we were not suited for those lives. We left Skyhold and were in the process of disentangling ourselves from the inquisition to lead our own lives together. We had long assumed that marriage between humans and elves would eventually be possible, since both Cassandra and Leiliana were the most likely candidates to become Divine and they were equally clear that they intended to make that possible. There was no likelihood of success for any who were more conservative about such changes since my support was felt to be crucial in selecting a new divine.”
“Given your position in the faith, given what you experienced, did you become an Andrastian?”
“No. I did accept the possibility that there was much that was true behind the faith, but I did not convert. I have always been open-minded about other beliefs. the Dalish faith is rooted in a tradition that was based in what was regarded as historical truth, a history that intersects with accounts of other peoples. I would say I retained a necessarily altered version of my Dalish beliefs and became convinced that there was a great deal of fact supporting the exaltation of Andraste’s life, but also much that had been obscured to suit the organizations that carried on her faith. I was confronted with uncomfortable truths that changed my own beliefs, I battled one of the ancient Tevinter magisters who despoiled the Golden City and having physically entered the fade and witnessed the Dark City myself, I can not dismiss any articles of faith out of hand, simply because they aren’t my own.” She was unsurprised that one of Cullen’s first questions touched on faith, his own had been crucial to his ability to persevere.
“You refer to your Dalish beliefs as necessarily altered, why?”
“I met two of The Creators, our old Gods. They referenced a world of the ancients which was radically different from the tales the Dalish have handed down. They were far from what I had been taught to expect. One was in the form of a bitter and dangerous human witch who aided us because it served her purpose, though I do not know what it truly was. The other was one of our companions in the inquisition.”
“Solas? There have been attempts to explain him to me, but I can’t make sense of them. He was an immortal God? Not simply a powerful apostate who was perhaps a little mad?”
“He was sufficiently immortal that he was immune to the aging and disease that ends most lives, that much I believe. He would say that none of them were ever Gods and that power had made them dangerous and perhaps a little mad. Unfortunately he seems determined to embrace that danger and madness to bring back the world of the ancient elves. I am not the person to lead that fight. He knows too much about my ways whereas I don’t know enough about his true nature. When I last saw him he was resigned to the need to eventually cut away his kinder tendencies and ruthlessly sacrifice anything to achieve his aim.”
“He is an enemy then. You have a surprising number of enemies for someone who literally saved Thedas.”
“Not so surprising. There were many who suffered irreplaceable losses in the wars that decimated Thedas and they will happily curse all the sides who fought each other. Besides, I had enough power that my influence was feared, I crossed the interests of others and there were no claims on my loyalty that were based in debts that could be called in. By defeating one bringer of destruction, I opened the door for the next. There will be those that blame me for his rise, even though it seems to have been inevitable. Solas is far removed from being an ally. Even if he wouldn’t harm me directly, I have no doubt that those who might seek him would.”
“Is that what happened when I was poisoned?”
“I … I don’t know….. We were able to trace the hired assassin, but she and her associates had been completely wiped out less than a day after the attempt. There were no clues to even hint at who hired them.”
“What can you tell me of the first time we met? I know about our positions in the Inquisition, but what do you remember of our first encounter? What did you think initially? I can’t imagine that I presented an inviting figure to a mage, that I was anyone you would have been drawn to.”
“It was at the remains of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, I was there to to attempt to close the breach, I’m… I’m sure you’ve been told of the rifts and the mark I once carried. You had been battling the demons that were emerging from the tears in the fade. Cassandra, Seeker Pentaghast introduced us on the battlefield, you were the Commander of the inquisition, I was simply “the prisoner”. Despite the suspicion I was under you spoke and looked at me with kindness. It gave me comfort in a terrifying situation. I wasn’t successful in repairing the breach that day, but I did manage to stabilize it enough that the onslaught of demons ended. When I collapsed from the effort, you caught me as I sank to the ground. We have often disagreed but that first encounter made you someone I trusted.” Her voice trailed away as she spoke of the trust she had for him in the past. She didn’t trust him anymore and that thought stopped all other words she might have spoken.
They had spent years building a deeply layered bond together only to have it shred after poisoned fruit had passed his lips.
He nodded then frowned like he was puzzling something out. After a long pause he spoke in a voice at first so soft she could barely hear. … “I have remembered fragments of that. There is so much gone from my memory and what returned is frustrating. I have to unravel a snarl of disconnected strands to mesh with the accounts I’ve heard. I know something of the big events we lived through but none of the little moments of my life, of our life together. I want the emotions that can give meaning to mere facts. I need those most…… I have recovered flashes that all run together; dragons, false Gods, tears in reality that connected to the fade, one so vast it swirled in the sky over the mountains. I remember a little about the explosion that levelled the Kirkwall chantry, but I can’t entirely sort it out from the explosion at the conclave, and mixed in with that is Meredith’s unhinged tyranny culminating in the sight of her turned into a horrifying red statue, and I see monstrous creatures crusted with the same crystal, one of them enormously tall tossing someone I know was you like a doll before an avalanche buried a village…. I remember feeling something break inside me at the sight. I couldn’t draw breath or stand, everything turned into a blur of pain and when my head cleared I was on my knees …. “
He couldn’t remember how it felt to love her, but he remembered how it hurt to lose her.
They were both silent for a long time after that.
“Were we already… involved when that happened?”
“No, we had barely even flirted. And anyway I flirt a little with everyone when I’m getting to know them. We were more drawn to each other than I realized. You were what I thought of most when I regained consciousness and struggled through a blizzard to where the survivors had set up camp. When we reached Skyhold you told me you’d never stand back and allow what happened in Haven to happen again, especially to me, … I didn’t realize until later that you had strong feelings for me. I thought you were speaking as a dutiful Commander, but you were speaking as a friend who genuinely valued me, more so, you were speaking as someone who felt something deeper than friendship… You haven’t ever told me about your pain when I fell with Haven. Hearing it now …. it’s something new to me.”
“You use the word friendship, so there would have been affection and loyalty even if we hadn’t formed a romantic bond. What we had was based on more than attraction and common purpose.”
“Yes.”
She was drained, the adrenaline that had rushed through her on awakening had faded and the mental exhaustion brought about by his mere presence left her barely able to form coherent thoughts. She’d gone almost a year without setting eyes on him and now that he was apparently ready to talk rationally, she just wanted to sleep.
“I’m sure you have many more questions but I ask that we continue in the morning.”
“I do have more and I would prefer to wait for morning too. What I hope to learn will take days at the very least and I have no plans to leave this place while questions remain. I won’t go off to rest elsewhere only to return to your absence.”
“So you trust me not to become an abomination while you have me cornered in an isolated cabin but not to remain in place under such circumstances? I suppose that is an improvement in a warped sort of a way.”
“I suppose it is.”
“Will you actually sleep? Or spend the night watching me for any signs of possession with your hand clutching at your pommel for dear life?”
That was a bit cruel she thought. It verged on mocking him over the horrors he survived at Kinloch, but it was hard not to be a little salty over the possibility her husband might be jittery enough to run her through over the inability to awaken quickly from a bad dream, the sort of dream his own hostile presence could evoke.
She was badly afraid of him. It would be a long time before that might change.
“I suppose we will both have to soften our mutual distrust in order to avoid any pre-emptive murdering.” He growled and then stared at the wall next to her hand. ”A good first step might involve slowly removing whatever you’ve got hidden there and placing it between us, along with anything else you have hidden, I will find it all anyway. Point out the staffs and I’ll move them to a corner, and I won’t damage any of them this time. I’ll set aside my weapons and armour in return.”
“After I’ve disarmed myself?”
“Of things I could easily take away? Yes.”
In lieu of an answer, she removed the dagger from the hiding place, as well as another she had between the mattress and headboard, a short sword she had secured discretely to the back leg of a bedside table and glass flasks with disabling contents that were hidden in plain sight.
“You’re well-armed for a mage.”
“I’m Dalish, I was never prevented from learning hands-on combat skills like the circle mages were and besides, you insisted I enhance my command of physical fighting and stealth to protect myself if I was unable to cast. It saved my life more than once.”
He methodically began removing his gauntlets, pauldrons, and greaves while watching her carefully. Partway through unbuckling the breastplate, he looked puzzled and froze, then rubbed the back of his neck in a painfully familiar gesture, one that she was shaken to realize she still found intensely endearing. She looked away and barely managed to keep her sharp intake of breath from turning into a sob. He placed his sword on the table and removed the dagger from his boot before he removed the boots themselves. He glanced around the room with a deepening frown. He seemed to be looking for a place to rest and was spotting nothing that seemed likely. The wooden chairs were small, rough and uncomfortable, the table inadequate in every way and the floor was cluttered and piled leaving little space for anyone to lie down somewhat straight other than directly next to the bed and that made the prospect somehow ridiculous. He also did not seem to have entered carrying anything that would be useful to a traveller looking for a place to bunk down.
“Where is your sleeping roll?.”
“A very bad bear shredded it in an attempt to shred me. I cut him up in revenge.”
Well that was unexpected. It was (almost) a joke. Even if it did involve slaughter and enraged woodland creatures, she thought.
She knew neither of them would feel especially comfortable so near to each other, she wondered if either of of them would actually sleep. However, he was determined to stay in the same one-roomed cabin as her and she had no interest in bolting barefoot into the night to avoid it. Certainly, that would be far from productive or sensible in any way. It felt mildly reassuring to think that it was more practical to remain under the same roof with him rather than run off for her own safety. Still, she wasn’t sure if her next suggestion would be pragmatic. Should she make things easy for him after he had entered her solitary home knowing he was unwelcome? If there was no place for him to rest comfortably on the floor, maybe he should just put up with discomfort.
They hadn’t shared the same bed since the second night in Antiva City, before everything went to ashes. After that their room had been bustling with healers, friends and Antivan officials, some of whom had no official business connected to investigating or otherwise reacting to the attempt on her life and were clearly there to rubberneck at the Inquisitor and the tragic effects of the assassination attempt. It eventually caused even Josephine’s remarkable diplomacy to snap and she’d raged through the guest quarters of her home throwing out all who were not necessary in treating Cullen. He was unconscious or raving for a day and a half. She didn’t leave their room until he awoke. She rarely left it in the following month while he recovered. Later she’d wished that she curled up next to him on the bed and taken her rest there instead of on the Orlesian-style lounge in front of the fireplace. She had hung back because she hadn’t wanted to get in the way of the healers. She watched mistrust grow in his eyes as his memory failed to return and the accounting of the unbelievable truth of the years they had shared added to his confused frustration rather than clearing it. Looking back, she felt like sleeping by his side might have made a difference to how he reacted when he awoke to a strange new world, though that probably wasn’t a logical thought. It would have made difference to her. it would have been one more small thing to hold on to when she found herself an unwanted stranger to her husband.
“Sleep beside me then. If you are going to stay here, the bed is the most practical option. It’s more than large enough for us both and we’ll have a better idea of what the other is doing if our sounds and movements disturb the other in the dark. We won’t need to startle at every shuffle and sigh as you try to rest on an uncomfortable floor or I turn on a bed that creaks.”
The only light remaining in the room was moonlight through the window. She had no fire in the hearth on such a warm day and neither of them had lit candles when the sun’s light faded away.
As he lay down, she shifted away till she was on her left side with her back to the wall and her legs curled in front of her. He rolled so he faced her, one arm stretched in front of him, as if he was ready to grab her wrist.
She stared out the window across the room, trying to find enough peace to relax by counting the stars. Despite their exhaustion, it felt like hours before either of them unwound enough to slumber, and they both did so fitfully, often waking themselves as much as each other by moving or making noise. She made a point of not looking at him, he had the unsettling habit of occasionally slitting his eyes open as he slept, so she couldn’t be sure when he was watching her, when he was unconscious or, for that matter, when closed eyes meant he was merely trying to fall asleep.
They both finally settled into a deep sleep after the birds began their morning chorus when the night sky paled before daybreak.