#addiction - deprogramming from a cultist doctrine - dealing with a job he's under-qualified to handle - being considered a grunt by

[ndostairlyrium]

Ankh Lavellan / Cullen Rutherford | 1616 words | Comfort not hurt | CW: depressive episode, mental health discussion, child abandonment

In which Cullen doesn't feel like going out in the world out of guilt and not feeling enough, Lav goes all the way to comfort him

Non Oggi

Laid down, eyes fixated on a small flower pot, fluffy blanket covering his waist.

He could put on the second layer of under armor, before the ennuie hit him in the shoulders. Those relaxed, along with his muscles, but as anticipated, that wasn’t the good kind of relaxation.

It simply wasn’t a good day to be a human, and Cullen felt like dropping everything he was doing and returned to bed. To stare at the void. It just happened to be manifested by a minuscule sprout of basil, cradled by a terracotta vase.

There his brain just started spinning, making every system of his body malfunction until a complete shut down.

And so Lavellan had found him in such condition, after Ser Rylen - who was expecting a report – confessed that he was worried. No sarcasm needed, and that in return worried her.

The ladder wasn’t put down as always, ceiling hatch was sealed shut, so she just went outside and climbed the wall until reaching the hole in the upper ceiling. Descending for her was as easy as climbing, due to her background of perching in the worst places at the worst timing, even though the echo of Ser Rylen’s “Can you check on him?” had reached her feet, betraying her balance a couple of times.

When she landed, Cullen didn’t even flinch.

She took a couple of seconds to observe what looked like the very depiction of Emperor Drakon on his death bed, as pictured in the vestibule of the Winter Palace. Then, her eyes wandered and found his armor, his second skin, scattered on the bed. That painted a more realistic picture of what was going on.

“Can I help?” she asked. No answer. “Hungry?” Again, no answer.

She got closer, to see if the jug of water he kept close to bed was in need of a refill, then she started to collect all the armor pieces, to place them on the mannequin near the window covered in ivy. When the time of lucidity would come, Cullen would hate himself more if he saw them scattered around so carelessly.

That kindness grabbed his attention.

“That goes on the left,” he said, voice crackling like a walk on gravel.

Lavellan rolled her eyes, then moved the arm-guard to the right place. “I was testing if you were paying attention.” “I’m always paying attention.” “Because you’re a control freak.” “Says the pot to the kettle.”

Lavellan would have loved to face him, but she forced herself not to. Instead, she just kept tidying his space like he would, because she knew that the idea of her acknowledging his malfuncioning and giving him – even if by accident – the wrong stare would break him for good.

“I warned the girls to not expect us at Council,” she explained. “Cassandra is covering for us. It’s just trivial matters anyway.”

Cullen took a few moments to elaborate an answer. “You should go back.”

Lavellan turned in his direction, putting on the most neutral face she could wear. No eye contact, just yet. “Do you want me to go back?” she asked.

His weariness looked a lot like apathy. “You need to.”

The thought of holding her back overcame his needs. Lavellan was aware of that. And that’s why she laid down at his side with no hesitation.

She glanced at his back, then sighed. “I’d rather be with you,” she said.

Cullen would usually snap back, scold her, or give whatever retort he would think would work on her. In that case, he just accepted in silence what was happening, too tired to compute.

“You’re the most annoying person I know,” he murmured after a while.

Lavellan smirked. “Ah, you like it!”

He did. Just like he liked being held, which she was, gently.

His brain didn’t stop ruminating, though. A hug was too little to make his thoughts stop. But her arm resting on his hip and her face pressed between his shoulder blades did a good deal of helping.

Lavellan made it sure to avoid being too invasive. Her presence already broke the intimacy of his pain, something he had been guarding since before they’ve met. Trying to talk things out, or force any kind of contact, would do the exact opposite of supporting the man she loved.

Luckily, he didn’t push her away.

“I’m sorry you’re here,” he said, after a full hour of silence. Lavellan explored the back of his neck with her eyes. “I want to be here, vhenas.” “I’m wasting your time.” “How come?”

Cullen paused for a moment. “You should have a reliable colleague, a decent partner, a… different person to deal with,” he explained. His voice had a little hint of frustration in its overall monotony. “And I’m just here, in bed. Avoiding… avoiding.” “You can’t work on sheer will alone, vhenas. Sometimes laying in bed is enough.” “Not that kind of “enough” I’m expected to be.” “And who set that expectation?”

Cullen had a hard time replying, even though the answer was simple as breathing.

Lavellan helped him out instantly. “Look, you’ve been working harder than anyone here, to prove you’re enough. And trust me, nobody outside your head is thinking that you don’t deserve to be here, or that your work is meaningless.” “Ask any mage I’ve hurt, or any templar that thinks I’m a traitor.” “Do you feel like one?” “It’s more complex than that, you know it.” “Yes, I’m aware,” she paused. “Look, I know you feel like you need to show you’ve learnt from your past, but you’re just at the beginning of your path. Taking a break to just exist doesn’t mean you’re not putting an effort into it.” “I know I’m not or you wouldn’t be here, trying to comfort-” “Go fuck yourself, vhenas.” He sighed. “Thanks," he said. And he meant it. Lavellan placed a soft kiss on the nape of his neck. “I got you.”

They embraced silence again for a while, only thoughts buzzing in the atmosphere. “The work we’re doing here,” Cullen resumed “we’re making a difference and I want to believe that I am different.”

“Speaking from experience, vhenas, nobody changes. Context does, our priorities do. You’re still that person, looking at the world from a different perspective,” she said, her voice calm however firm. “But you’re not entirely there, and I get why it’s so frustrating, but… vhenas, you need to give yourself some grace, or this kind of second guessing will chain you to this bed forever.”

Cullen absorbed her words partially, as he was still drowning in grey matter. He just knew she was right, but pain has pride and his happened to be very inflated.

Lavellan didn’t say a word, elaborating would give him more guilt. She just existed at his side, until he was ready to speak again.

After hours of buzzing silence, he turned around to face her.

Wet cheeks, red eyes, not a single emotion on sight. “Can you stay a little longer?” he asked. At least, that’s what she thought he said, because his voice was so distorted she couldn’t make a distinction of his words.

“You know me, I’m persistent,” she replied, with the warmest smile. That was the exact moment to keep eye contact, and she never broke it.

“Annoying,” he corrected her. “Who’s the one brooding over self-inflicting martyrdom?” “Fuck you, Lav.”

She chuckled, he gave her the faintest smile in return.

“Weird to hearing from you that people don’t change.” “Oh, we do, but not in the way that you’d think. You, for example, will always make a terrible use of irony.” “Not helping.” “And you will always have the same passion you had at thirteen. That’s something you can’t change. It’s like your curls, they’re part of you, even when you straighten them.” “But a shrub can’t become a tree.” “A shrub can’t be as tall, but it can be larger.” “You know what I mean.” “As do you.”

He sighed. “I don’t want to stick with that guy.”

“Well, I don’t want to stick with the girl I was either,” she shrugged. “I’ve been making mistakes since I was born, I myself am a mistake by being born and the only thing I can do about it is to dye my hair, otherwise I would look like my father. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to accept these things, and sometimes it gets so overwhelming I feel like every person I know would be better if I wasn’t in their life.”

“That’s… absolutely not fair.”

“See? That’s the point. When thoughts like that hit, I can’t stop my brain from spiraling downwards. Eventually, it reaches some kind of climax, and everything resumes as normal.”

Cullen couldn’t hold back a giggle, that he tried to cover as best as he could. The results were horrible, of course. “So, your brain climaxes when you’re depressed. That explains a lot.”

Lavellan kicked his shins playfully. “Next time you have an existential crisis I’m throwing you a bucket of water!” “Sounds about fair.”

Cullen curled onto her, burying his face on her shoulder as he wrapped her in a hug. Something would come out of his mouth, but she wasn’t entirely sure of anything else but its practical meaning. Lavellan held him tight, as his body seemed undecided if accepting to be comforted or refusing such an undeserved favor. “Just let it spin. I’ll keep you from falling,” she said. He nodded, lightly. “I’m sor-” he paused. “Thanks for being here.”

Relieved, Lavellan let out a sigh. “Thanks for letting me in.” “You broke and entered.” “You know what I mean.” “As do you.”

She held him tighter.