#specifically of the fact that i struggle to take in fluids particularly water. everything else here i'm not self-conscious of at all tbh

[emdotcom]

Self-improvement time. I got me some melatonin gummies, to try & cure the fact I cannae sleep on time (they're really tasty).

[blustersquall]

Only Make Believe // Chapter 21: Scars

Art for this chapter was commissioned from vermouthworks on deviantart. The full comic and a link to her work are at the end of the chapter. 

December 26th

---

Cullen winced at the sound of the door to his cell creaking open. Everything was agony. From hearing to breathing, everything he did wracked his body with untold pain. His muscles spasmed intermittently and each time they did he realised he was a little weaker than before. He'd long since given up trying to break the binds keeping him captive. His head was pounding as if his brain was pulsing, growing, and squeezed into a space too small for it. Even opening his eyes to see who was entering his cell caused him pain as thin slivers of cold light offered the only illumination.

It was one of the guards.

He hadn't seen the woman in charge of him for days - he wondered if perhaps she'd grown bored with him, considering he continuously fought her advances and refused her offers. He hoped she had. Perhaps she'd simply allow him to waste away and die quietly. That would be a mercy.

He tried not to think too much about his state of health. He was hungry, and weak, and fading slowly. He could hear his chest rasping with every breath. The damp, cold conditions of his cell did little to help.

Whenever he moved - which was rarely as he tried his hardest not to - his skin seemed to crawl and complain. It was pulled tight over certain injured areas, open sores and wounds trying to heal but struggling without any sustenance to fuel the healing process. A few parts of his skin felt foreign and he could feel an uncomfortable heat when he focused on those areas. He knew those injuries were infected, possibly septic. His body was trying to fight and repair, but he was waning. He knew he was beginning to flag. His survival would be for nothing. The deaths of his friends, his comrades would have been in vain. And he would die, nameless and forgotten within these cramped walls.

He would have wept at his situation if he had the strength and tears to do so. But water was precious - he was given it so rarely, and he couldn't afford to waste it on tears of self-pity.

The keys the guard carried rattled noisily, making the pounding in Cullen's head worse. He closed his eyes against it, forcing a deep breath and grimacing through the pain that raced through his body. The guard stopped and when Cullen opened his eyes, he saw the man standing before him, looking him up and down.

He was not a tall man or particularly well built. Cullen knew the only thing that made the guard bold and confident was the fact he was restrained and weak. Things would be different if he was free from his binds and not half-starved. The man's pale skin seemed almost translucent in places, or perhaps that was the light. He was middle-aged at best, and Cullen noticed his front teeth were crooked when he grinned unpleasantly at him.

"How are you doing?" the guard asked as if striking up a friendly conversation.

Cullen remained silent. Silence was his protest against them. Silence angered them. Silence was his only weapon. If he communicated, it only gave them power. Even if the silence meant beatings and more wounds that would take more time to heal, he would take that over exchanging words.

"Not talking?" A beat of silence and then the guard gave a non-committal grunt. "That's okay. Maybe you'll feel more talkative after this." Cullen watched as he reached into his trouser pocket and removed a small bottle.

Immediately he began to salivate and strain against the binds around him.

The bottle contained a blue liquid, thicker than water, that seemed to hold an iridescent shimmer to it as the guard tilted the bottle from side to side. In all his time with the TEMPLARS, Cullen only ever saw lyrium in pill form, or as a dust mixed in with food. He knew it could come as a fluid, but it was rarely given in a concentrated liquid dose – only in specific circumstances or to those in dire need. What the guard possessed at that moment was more valuable than gold. He probably didn't even know it.

"I thought that might get your attention." The guard's smile broadened and grew uncomfortably smug. "You want this? Hm?" He moved towards Cullen, holding the bottle between his fat thumb and forefinger. Cullen's gaze was fixed on the liquid. If he drank down that bottle he knew in less than an hour he would be back to full strength and coherent. It would be temporary, and the comedown would be horrendous, but for a small window of time the pain would stop. He would be strong enough and aware enough to potentially break out of his binds and escape. At the back of his mind was the question of where the guard found something so valuable. Cullen knew it likely came from the body of one of his comrades, and yet couldn't bring himself to care at that precise moment.

The lack of lyrium in his system was a torture all of its own. He'd heard rumours of the withdrawal and seen a few of his comrades experience it as a punishment, but to go through it himself was excruciating. It seemed to exacerbate everything, making even the tiniest pinprick feel like a bullet wound. His already weak and aching body was weaker for not having his daily dose. He was sure he was deteriorating faster because he was not receiving his regular lyrium in take.

"You want it?" The guard dangled the bottle in front of Cullen's face. Cullen strained against the binds, flexing his muscles and summoning up a modicum of strength from some deep reserves still inside him. "You can have it," said the guard. He uncapped the bottle and the lyrium popped a little. Cullen was sure he was beginning to drool. "If you join us, agree to our terms, you can have all the lyrium you want."

The word 'yes' rammed itself onto Cullen’s tongue, only just being kept back by Cullen biting down on his inner cheek and a tiny voice in his brain telling him to think. It was barely audible over the pounding in his head and the desperate need he felt for the lyrium so close to him and yet... He heard it.

He didn't know the terms of agreeing to this offer, and there was no guarantee this rebel group even had lyrium at their disposal. And could he in good conscience join a group who tortured their captives as they tortured him? A group who mutilated and maimed and broke their captives as he saw them do to his friends? He couldn't turn on his own morals. He couldn't be bought for just one sip of lyrium. He couldn't figuratively spit in the faces of those he watched and listened to as they begged and pleaded for their lives. Those he knew and was forced to watch the life drain out of.

Summoning the fading ounces of strength he still had, Cullen lurched forward without warning. His sudden movement caused the guard to recoil out in shock. The bottle of lyrium went flying from his hand as he reached for a weapon at his hip. Cullen watched his last dregs of hope glide through the air and then shatter on the ground, seeping into the dirt.

The guard screamed indignantly, quickly scrabbling around at where the bottle smashed. He picked up a few pieces of glass, desperately trying to cling on to a few drops. Cullen's body was weak again, and he sagged in his binds. With a bellow of anger, the guard rounded on him. A blade pierced Cullen's skin, pressing deep, slicing through skin to the muscle. Pain ricochet up through his torso from the new wound and Cullen screamed.

Crying out as he woke and jerked awake, Cullen grappled blindly for anything to ground him. His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to find air enough to fill his lungs. His skin felt clammy and cold, almost slimy and the t-shirt he wore to bed was clinging to him, drenched in sweat. Phantom pain shot through him, down every limb and up his spine making the hairs all over his arms stand straight. He reached for where he could still feel the blade pressing into him, confirming to himself it was a memory.

As he fought to calm his breathing, he realised there was something else too. Delicate fingers winding through his hair in a steady pattern. A warm body partly cocooning him protectively. He was curled up, lying on his side and facing the other occupant, though his gaze was square with her torso, and her legs were curled up into his body so they were almost interlocked.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain in his head and the memory still so vivid. Burying his face into Nevena's pyjama top and her belly, he struggled to calm himself. He could feel himself trembling, and his breathing, quick and panicked as it was, shuddered. His lungs felt as though they were burning and it seemed as though every scar on his body was white hot under his clothing. He realised his face was damp, that tears were forming in his eyes. He wrapped his arms tighter around Nevena's middle, cowering further into her.

"You're okay," Nevena's voice above him was soothing and quiet, a far cry from the panicked racing of his mind. "You're safe... I'm here, you're safe..." Her fingers wound through his hair and she shifted the covers around them, pushing them down and giving Cullen air. After that, her hand returned to the top of his back, moving in slow circles while she continued to twist his hair with her other hand.

Nevena hushed him, steadily working his hair around her fingers and her hand on his back, never slowing or faltering. Cullen focused on the movement in his hair, the regular twisting. The gentle tug that he could feel was enough to remind him he was awake and in no danger. He pressed his fingers into her back, closing his eyes against everything but the sensation of her fingers, and the regular thud of her heart that he felt. He counted the beats silently and started to tap his fingers in time with them along her spine.

He slowly began to calm, time losing all meaning as minutes ticked by and he pushed through the panic trying to devour him. Through it all, Nevena was patient and steadfast, never rushing him or asking more of him than he could give. When he felt ready and grounded enough, Cullen tilted his head back to look up at her. She was perched up somewhat on the pillows, peering down at him with a concerned expression, though that shifted to quiet relief when he met her eye.

"Hi," she shifted a little to give him some room. Cullen flexed his fingers on her back, not wanting her to go too far. "Nightmares, again?"

"Always," Cullen said gruffly. "I woke you?"

Nevena shook her head. "I've been awake most of the night. My brain wouldn't switch off."

"I'm sorry." A cold trickle of guilt ran down Cullen's spine. She had enough on her plate without having to nurse him through the torment of his mind.

"It's not your fault." Her fingers slid through his hair, pushing sweat matted curls away from his forehead. "We're quite a pair, aren't we?"

"Yes." Even though he could move up to the top of the bed, Cullen remained where he was, tucking himself back against Nevena's torso. She didn't refuse or argue against it, rather her body curled around him and she began to run her fingers up and down the back of his neck. He reciprocated the affection, sliding his fingertips along her spine.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Nevena asked, after a short silence. "Tell me what you dreamt?"

Cullen tensed his jaw. He never spoke to anyone about the things in his nightmares. Even Solona only knew he had nightmares about his past, not the full, intimate details of them. It was a part of himself he always considered too damaged to share with someone. That if anyone knew the true extent of what he endured in Kinloch and in Kirkwall, they would see him differently. They would pity him or treat him as though he was going to crack at any moment. He didn't want to be treated like he was fragile and made of glass. He wasn't sure if Nevena would react that way. If she would see him in a different light. As he took a deep breath, he hoped not.

"Kinloch," he said, his voice low. "Every nightmare is me reliving what happened in Kinloch when I was nineteen."

"You said you were tortured..."

"I was. I was pushed to breaking point and beyond it... Sometimes I feel as though I'm back there, the pain is so intense... It's almost tangible." He paused, "I can never get away from it. Even on good days, the memories are always there."

"What..." Nevena hesitated and the movement of her fingers faltered. "What did they do to you?"

"I was beaten," Cullen told her, trying to detach himself from the images his words conjured. "I was bound in a cell, shackled. There were spikes pointing up from the floor into my legs so I could never rest."

"Sounds medieval."

"More than once one of their ringleaders tried to... seduce me, I suppose." Cullen’s throat felt dried and cracked and even clearing his throat did nothing to make speech or swallowing easier. "Tried to tempt me with words and gestures to join their cause. Whenever I refused or acted out, I was hurt more directly..."

Above him, Nevena moved. Her hand at the back of his neck came around to cup his face. She tilted his head up and her thumb ran along the scar on his lip. "Did they give you this?"

"No." He took her hand, lacing his fingers between hers. "That happened during the chaos in Kirkwall. A frightened citizen lashing out in the madness. Most of the rest though..."

"The rest?"

"For refusing to speak or... because my jailors felt like it, I was often cut or stabbed - never fatally, obviously." Cullen's lips twisted into a wry smile. "Beneath my clothes, it's... not a pretty sight."

Nevena gave a soft, sympathetic smile. "You lived through it though," she said slowly. "You should be proud of yourself. Of withstanding everything they threw at you."

"I don't know if I should," Cullen replied. His brows furrowed over his eyes and he breathed hard. "I was the only survivor who was caught in the initial incursion and subsequent escape attempt. If it weren't for me, so many of my friends, people I fought and trained with, would be alive..."

"You don't know that."

He gave a mirthless chuckle, "Yes, I do."

"Cullen..."

"I'm sorry." He shook his head, closing his eyes to the ache beginning to pulse behind them. His chest felt tighter than when he started talking. "I don't mean to put all this on you. You have enough to deal with."

"I asked."

"I know." There was a brief pause where neither of them spoke, and the silence seemed uncomfortable. "Is your mind any clearer than it was yesterday?"

"No." Nevena sighed. "I'm pretty sure I owe you a massive apology though. For trying to kiss you. I don't know what was going through my head."

Cullen shifted up the bed so they were lying beside each other, face-to-face. He kept an arm looped around Nevena's waist, continuing to run his fingers along her back. "You were angry and upset. Nothing to apologize for... Though you were definitely trying to do more than kiss me."

"Oh..." Nevena groaned, burying her face in her hands and curling her body towards him. "I was hoping that part was something I imagined." She peeked through her fingers. "I stripped?"

Cullen's lips quirked to one side. "Sort of. You didn't so much strip as... drop your dress around your feet and..." He hummed as he searched for the right wording. "You... offered yourself to me."

Another groan came from behind Nevena's hands. "I am so sorry!"

He chuckled. "It's alright." Cullen lifted his arm from where it lay over her waist, brushed her hair away from her forehead, and pressed a kiss to her skin. "We all make mistakes when we're upset. At least in this instance, things were stopped before big mistakes could be made."

"And thank you for that," sighed Nevena, removing her hands from her face so she could speak and be heard clearly. "I'm grateful that you were able to talk some sense into me. I clearly needed it."

"I wasn't about to take advantage of you. And considering things between us are still..." Trailing, Cullen smiled weakly. In the chaos of the previous day, there had been no opportunity to talk or really think about their relationship and where it stood. Mentioning it now, Cullen worried it would be an added pressure Nevena did not need.

"Yeah," she said quietly, averting her gaze. After an instant of tension, she sat up in one fluid motion and reached for her phone. A few moments passed and Cullen watched a deep frown come to her face. "I have a lot of missed calls and messages..." She began to nibble her lip.

Sitting up beside her, Cullen plucked the phone out of her hand. "Don't start trying to deal with them until you're ready. There's no rush." He gestured towards the bathroom. "At least freshen up first." A small smile quirked at the corner of Nevena's lips and she quickly extracted herself from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom.

After Nevena finished showering and came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, Cullen gave her some privacy and locked the bathroom door behind him. His skin felt uncomfortable and slick with sweat, and he was relieved to peel off his soiled clothing and drop it on the floor. He made a mental note to ask whoever was at the desk about laundry service in the hotel if they chose to stay longer. He was running out of clothes to wear to bed, and he doubted Nevena would appreciate him sleeping in just his boxer-briefs.

While waiting for the shower to warm, he caught a glimpse of himself in the large mirror above the sink. He generally avoided looking at his reflection if he could, he never quite liked what he saw. Even with scars fading and some of them barely visible he was still a sorry sight. Random lines - some straight, some jagged - covered his torso from his clavicle to his hips. There were some scars that were puckered and pinker than others. And other scars that were no wider than a needle, but stretched for several centimetres where a blade was dragged over his skin to leave a mark. There were a handful of small circular burn scars from cigarettes that were put out on him and where his skin was exposed to open flame.

The largest of the scars were on his left shoulder, spilling down his back and over most of his left side, an incident involving a bucket of freshly boiled water being dumped over him. He suffered second-degree burns from that and his body never fully healed from it. If the temperature was too hot or too cold, the area would tingle painfully. The skin was rough to the touch and the whole thing unpleasant to look at.

Somehow Solona managed to look past it when they were together. She always said it never bothered her. That it was simply a testament to what he'd survived. Cullen wondered if Nevena would feel the same. What would her reaction be if she saw the extent of the damage he obtained during his imprisonment? Would she recoil? Would she still be attracted to him? Just thinking about that made his whole body turn cold with a sickly feeling. He wasn't sure how he would feel if she was disgusted by his appearance... And by comparison, she was perfect to him. Perfect skin. Perfect shape. Not a blemish or mark that didn't look as though it was painted on her with purpose, like a master painted a canvas.

Climbing into the bath and under the spray of water, Cullen let it sluice over him, drenching his hair and skin in seconds. He stood with his head under the steady stream, staring down and watching the water as it ran down the plug.

How much longer could he keep this up? How much longer could they avoid talking about their relationship? About what he asked her in the cathedral? He didn't want to press the matter, especially not now she had life-changing revelations to deal with, but a selfish part of him was eager for an answer. It was getting harder and harder to pretend the charged tension between them was simply not there. It was there. As tangible and palpable as the cold in the air outside. There was no ignoring it, and now, without Nevena's family around, there would be no reason or excuses for him to kiss her, or touch her, or hold her hand.

They might have kissed a few times without her family around but those kisses were... There were circumstances around those that made them a little different. It wasn't as though situations like the time in the cathedral would crop up again, and Cullen wasn't sure he could last without being allowed to kiss her. Each one was exciting and only left him wanting another, needing more. It wasn't as though he could ask her.

When he was done in the shower, his hair and body freshly washed and his nightmare gone, Cullen returned to the main room after warning Nevena he was coming out. She sat on the edge of the bed nearest the window, her back facing the bathroom giving Cullen time to dry and dress.

"Did you look at your messages?" Cullen asked once he was dressed and in the process of pulling his shoes on.

"A little." Nevena glanced over her shoulder and put her phone to one side. "Josef sent one, apologising about Ineria and letting me know that Matilda is okay. He’s staying with her and the boys in one of the cabins to keep Ineria away from them. Apparently, once we left she lost it at Matilda… He said he’s thinking of taking them south for a few weeks, just the four of them to his sister’s. I think it’s probably a good idea. There are several from Arienne... More apologies and asking if I’m okay. One from Clotilde which was… well, it’s deleted now."

"Any apologies from Ineria?"

"None. She never apologizes."

Cullen crossed towards her. "Your dad?"

"Nothing..." Her voice dropped, and for a moment her whole body seemed to shrink in on itself before she plastered a smile on her face and rose to her feet. "I'll deal with it later. Honestly, I'm still too mixed up to think about it." She ran her fingers through her hair. "So, what's the plan?"

"Actually..." Cullen opened and closed his hands at his sides, his stomach beginning to coil at the base of his gut. "May I ask you a question first?"

Nevena lifted her eyes to his and blinked several times, a look of confusion filtering across her face. Her shoulders dropped and she tilted her head to one side. "Of course," she said finally. "You’re acting rather serious," she added with a brief smile, clearly trying to lighten the mood and make light of his outward demeanour.

Cullen took a deep breath to settle the nervous energy flying through him like little shocks, and swallowed thickly. In doing so, he could feel his Adam's apple bob in his throat and it felt as though the collar of his jumper was too tight. "I know I am." He brought his hands up to her shoulders, grasping them in a grip he kept loose. He didn't want her to feel forced or trapped. She needed to know she was safe. That she could back away if she felt uncomfortable. "I'm trying to figure out how to ask you something... It's a kind of weird question."

"Okay..." Nevena shifted her weight, her smile broadening slightly. "As long as it's not a marriage proposal or a request for one of my organs, I'm pretty sure you'll get a positive response."

"It's neither of those," laughed Cullen. He began to move his thumbs in circles at her shoulders, glancing down at his feet and steeling himself. Trying to find the right words. He opened and closed his mouth once, twice, the third time he found himself grumbling at how difficult speech was and his brows furrowed over his eyes. "You'd think this would be easy. Given this... Given our situation. But it's not, and I don't think I've ever found myself in this kind of predicament."

Nevena arched a brow. "What predicament?"

"You're unlike anyone I've ever met," Cullen blurted out, lifting his eyes to meet Nevena's gaze. "Did you know that?" His cheeks were burning and his chest was tight as he watched her. He watched for anything. A change in her expression, a glimmer of emotion, of fear, of amusement, of happiness. He felt raw and vulnerable, and a little foolish for behaving with so much intensity towards her, and yet he couldn't bring himself to regret the sincerity with which he spoke. He watched Nevena's cheeks bloom to scarlet, the colour spreading up to her forehead and down her neck.

"Well..." When she bit the corner of her lip, Cullen focused his gaze on that gesture for a moment a hunger flaring in his belly. "Thank you." She smiled and Cullen could see her moving her hands at her sides, unsure what to do with them. "I think you're kind of amazing too." She brought her left hand up to curl his hair behind his ear. Her hand remained, slightly cupping his jaw. "Cullen, what's going on?"

"I want to kiss you," said Cullen, voice hoarse with the weight of the emotion he was trying to convey. Nevena blinked, apparently shocked by his sudden admission. He didn’t blame her. He was shocked at how bluntly he said it. "I want to kiss you so badly..." he closed his eyes, "but I know it's selfish. You've just had a massive shock and I... I shouldn't be putting this on you, but I..."

"It's okay..." Nevena replied, keeping her voice softer than his. "To be honest, I... feel the same." She inched closer and instinctively, Cullen lowered his head until he touched his forehead to hers. His hands at her shoulders dropped, sliding down her arms and encircling her waist. Nevena rested both her hands on his shoulders. "Cullen..." she sighed, "what are we doing?"

"I'm not sure." He breathed through his nose, his eyes drooping closed. Close as she was, he could feel the puffs of her breath on his lips. He could smell her soap filling his head, and felt the way her heart was racing as fast as his own. "Nevena," he almost groaned her name, "I would like to kiss you."

"So you've said."

"Will you allow me to? I mean..." He lifted his right hand up from her waist to gently cup her neck and jaw. Artfully, he tilted her head a fraction, smoothly running his thumb along her jaw bone. Her lips were a hairsbreadth from his, tantalizingly close and distractingly tempting. If either of them moved there would be no more need to ask. Cullen waited. He had asked and not yet received his answer, and would not move or take the kiss he so desperately wanted without her say so. If she refused, he would respect her wishes. If she wasn't ready, then he would wait. He knew, deep down, he would willingly spend a lifetime waiting for her to be happy and comfortable and content with him. "Can I kiss you, Nevena?" Cullen asked again after what felt like a day had passed. He licked his bottom lip, watching Nevena's eyes flutter closed. "Please?"

Nevena fought with every ounce of willpower she possessed. The urge to give in and let Cullen kiss her was immense. One of the strongest urges she'd ever felt in her almost thirty years of life. She knew she could give in. That she could lose herself in him, in his kiss and his touch, for a while, an hour perhaps, and then she would have to return to reality and the mess her life now was.

He didn't deserve her when she was mixed up and confused. He deserved her when she was clear-headed and everything made sense. When she could eloquently and completely reciprocate his feelings, without feeling muddled or as though she was somehow lying to him. She wasn't. She was attracted to him, and before everything exploded the day before, was on the cusp of agreeing to what he suggested in Redcliffe; that they drop the facade and give their clear chemistry a chance.

Now though? Now she could hardly concentrate on a single thought for more than a moment, before the revelations of the previous day before swarmed her mind like a cloud of locusts. Noisy and encroaching, taking over everything. It wouldn't be fair to Cullen if she agreed to kiss him, and wasn't completely certain. "Cullen..." Nevena clenched her eyes closed, summoning up some minor reserves of strength. She would regret this, she knew she would, yet she knew it was the right thing for them at that moment. "I... I can't." Immediately his eyes opened and he retreated a little. Nevena wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. He looked at her with such confusion and hurt, it made her chest ache. He put his feelings out in front of her and she had effectively stomped on them, and crushed them under her boot. "Let me explain," she said quickly. Cullen's silence made her uncomfortable and anxious - she needed to explain as much as she needed to fill the void of quiet. "It's not that I don't want to. Or don't want you. I do. It's... I couldn't do this in good conscience with where my head is right now. It wouldn't be fair on you." She sighed, her shoulders sagging, suddenly exhausted. "You said last night you didn't want me to make a mistake. That you didn't want to be a mistake - well I don't want you to be a mistake either. I don't want to rush into... into whatever is here and not be completely clear on everything." Groaning, she ran her hands up and down her face before peering up at him, feeling about an inch tall. "Does that make sense?" She waited for a reply, dreading what he might say and fearing he might simply turn away from her and walk out the room without speaking. She feared that in refusing, she had spoiled her opportunity with him. That this was the only time he would approach her like this, and her refusal was the nail in the coffin. She could blame her dysfunctional family as much as she wanted, but so much of it came down to fear. To be wanted by someone the way Cullen wanted her, so earnest and with such intensity; it was a frightening thing in her mind. She was running away from him again. Running away from what she wanted and the potential for the happiness she somehow convinced herself she did not deserve. Cullen exhaled very slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Nevena could feel a sharp pain behind her eyes but didn't dare move. She realised she was behaving more like Cullen was a wild animal that would lash out if she moved too quickly, rather than a man. A habit she fell into with Rick. A hard habit to break. "I understand..." said Cullen after a long, dragging silence. Nevena's knees felt weak with the relief that flooded through her. "It's okay." He took her left hand, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "I'm not angry." "Cullen-" "I'm not," he insisted. "I understand, I do. Really." His smiled broadened a little, but Nevena was sure there was a hint of pain behind his expression. He brought her hand his lips, kissing her knuckles. "Is that okay, at least?" Nevena nodded, smiling almost sadly at the gesture. "Yeah... That's okay." "Good." Cullen dropped her hand and eased his hands into his pockets. Turning away from her, he peered out of the window and onto the snow-covered outline of Redcliffe Castle a small distance away. Nevena's stomach was a knot, and she started when Cullen cleared his throat. "Do you want to see what Redcliffe has to offer today?" he asked conversationally. "Sure." Nevena tucked her hair behind her ear, trying to will the tension in the room to dissipate. She went to the small sofa to put some distance between herself and Cullen and began to pull on her boots. As she did her stomach growled loud enough for the both of them to hear. Nevena laughed sheepishly, burying her face in her knees. A soft chuckle came from Cullen where he stood at the window. "Maybe we should eat first," he said and began to gather up his coat.

They ate at a busy café after walking further into the city. The snowfall the night before was up to Nevena's calves, but most of the pavements were gritted and shovelled for safety. There were people bustling around, visiting shops that were open promoting their post-Christmas sales and harassing the workers who were given those unenviable shifts. Nevena and Cullen glanced in a few windows, but most of the shops were crammed with people vying for the best deals and desperate to spend vouchers or money they received for Christmas. Neither of them was particularly fussed with going into any of the shops, and they left the main shopping district of Redcliffe after eating, venturing further towards the castle.

As they walked nearer the castle, the number of people they saw lessened. The noise died down, and it was actually pleasant to wander down the hill towards the castle grounds and get up close. The castle itself was closed to visitors until the spring, but the vast parks and gardens were open to walkers and botany enthusiasts so they decided to walk there. Without the maintenance, the pathways and lawns were covered with a thick layer of pristine snow. The only sign of disturbance on most of the snow was from the occasional bird or fox, striding light-footed over the open area.

Despite what took place in their room, and what almost occurred, Nevena felt like the atmosphere between herself and Cullen was relaxed. They strolled side-by-side, Nevena with her arm looped through Cullen's. They discussed the mad crowds of people desperate for a sale bargain, and about how quiet the castle grounds were. They veered carefully around the topic of 'them' - a topic Nevena felt was exhausted for the day.

She still felt guilty for refusing Cullen's request. And when she thought back to it, thought back to how close he'd been, her lips tingled. She thought back to the mad, frantic kiss in the kitchen that Matilda interrupted. And to the warm, intense, heady kiss in the cathedral. The kiss where she wanted to keep kissing him. Then there was the brief, affectionate kiss she gave him in bed on Christmas Eve. Each one different, with different circumstances surrounding it, yet each one had left her breathless and hungry for more. More kissing, more touching, more of him.

It was confusing. Not just for herself, but for Cullen too. She could only imagine how frustrated he was with her. How she ran hot and cold, kissing him one minute, and telling him not to the next. If things were easier, better, or not as complex as they had become, then it wouldn't be such an issue. She might be able to give in to this chance she was being given. This chance that was lying before her that she was too afraid to grasp. This opportunity to actually be happy, and accept that she was wanted.

But it wasn't simple. It wasn't easy. The whole arrangement came about because she wanted to deceive her family, to avoid conflict and being belittled-only her family found other things to comment on. Other things to criticise and mock her for. There was a contract too, that both of them signed. In a way, it was funny. Nevena felt a little like Cinderella. That somehow the contract cast a magic spell, and when the time was up at noon on January 5th, the spell would be broken, and there would be nothing keeping Cullen near her. Nothing holding them together. It would hurt when that happened, she knew it would, she'd become overly attached to him and she wasn't lying when she said she liked him, that she was attracted to him.

If she could just let go, for once. Just shut her brain off, her worries and neurosis, then maybe she would allow herself to feel what she was feeling without second-guessing herself. Without throwing up walls and barricades because she was so fucking afraid of getting hurt. Because, at the heart of it, she wasn't the remarkable person Cullen thought she was; she was a fucking coward, running scared from everything she felt towards him because she knew if she embraced it, she would drown.

As Cullen wandered a little further away, squatting, phone in hand, and inching closer to a cardinal bobbing on a stone birdbath, she dusted off a wooden bench and sat down. They'd been out and walking the grounds for a few hours. It was getting colder. Soon night would draw in and they would have to find their way back to the hotel. They had only booked until the following day. She needed to decide what to do. The choices before her were to leave and return to Denerim or go back to Haven. Go back to Haven and to try and repair the chasm between herself and her family that the truth bomb Ineria dropped had created.

Nevena fished her phone out of her pocket. It had hardly stopped vibrating all day, and looking at the screen, she saw six new voicemails, and ten new messages. Most of the messages were from Arienne, asking to know if she was okay. There was one that stood out, her father's name as the most recent message.

Checking where Cullen was - at least twenty feet away, still trying to take a photo of the cardinal - Nevena swallow back on the bile rising in her throat and tapped the message.

Dad: 'We need to talk. You should know the truth. I want to tell you about your mother. Dad.'

She read the words over and over, trying to let them sink in. It was hard to know the sentiment behind a typed message, or something so short. Nevena was struck by how curt the message was. No apology. No asking after her, if she was alright having been given a shock. It was him. Just him. She assumed he wanted to talk because he was feeling guilty. It was nothing to do with her or wanting to actually talk to her. He only wanted to massage his own conscience.

There was the issue of her mother too. Her birth mother at least. Since discovering she was adopted three years ago, she sometimes wondered what her birth parents were like. Why they gave her up and if they would be happy with the person she was now. The truth was... not what she expected. Her birth father was the father who raised her. The father she'd known her whole life who was not affectionate or warm. Who was not supportive or even very nice to most people, but whom she adored growing up. And who she missed the most and felt hurt by the most when he offered her no support in her decisions with Rick.

And her birth mother... Her birth mother was still a mystery with a tragic end, and Nevena was no longer sure if she wanted to know any more about her than that. Knowing she was the product of an affair was bad enough. She couldn't help wondering if she was the reason her mother killed herself. That somehow her accidental conception and her birth were a tipping point, a catalyst. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know anything about the woman who was responsible for half of her. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know why she was adopted by her father, and not taken in by any of her mother's family members.

It hurt her head to think about all the new information she now had. Nevena leaned forward and dangled her head between her legs, suddenly feeling a little light-headed. Boots crunched on the ground approaching, and Cullen sat beside her. He placed his hand on her back.

"Feeling sick?" he asked.

"Falling into an abyss of the unknown," Nevena replied, laughing weakly afterwards. "Let it be known, I have a flair for the dramatic."

Cullen rubbed her back. "What happened?"

"I got a message from my dad," Nevena explained and handed him her phone. She sat up and watched him scan the message. When he handed the phone back to her, his expression was puzzled. "I don't know what to do."

"You don't know whether you want to talk to him?" Cullen squinted and brushed some snow off the back of the bench. "Or you don't want to know about your mother?"

"Both? Neither?" A light, strained laugh escaped from Nevena's throat. "I don't know." She got to her feet and began to pace. "I'd got used to the idea I was adopted. Suddenly everything made sense to me. Why my sisters didn't like me. Why my mother was so cold. I came to terms with it. I could live with it. And now... Now that's been turned on its head. I'm only kind of adopted? I'm actually related to my family, sort of. I'm the product of an affair. I just..." With a growl, she ran her hands roughly through her hair and stomped her feet. "I don't know what to do with this information. How am I meant to deal with it? How am I meant to make it make sense?!"

"You're angry."

"Damn right, I'm angry!" She realised she was actually angry. That if it was possible, steam would be escaping her ears. She wasn't upset or on the verge of tears anymore. She was angry about being lied to her whole life. She was furious for having her identity kept a secret. To have who she was turned on its head once, to get used to that, only to have it turned on its head again three years later. "I'm... How can you lie to someone for their whole life about who they are?!"

"I don't know."

"He saw how Ineria, Clotilde, and Arienne treated me. He saw how my mother... HowKatrin was towards me. He knew how badly they bullied me growing up, but he never once took me aside and explained the reason for it." Nevena resumed her pacing, gesturing wildly, flinging her hands as she spoke. "When I found out about my brother being killed, I somehow knew I was just a replacement for him. I should have known there was more to it than just that. I just... I don't understand how he... how they all could keep it quiet from me. That they would never say anything. And trust Ineria to hold onto that tidbit of information only to use it when she could hurt me."

Sinking down, Nevena wrapped an arm around her knees, pressing her face into the sleeve of her coat. Cullen leaned towards her and tucked her hair behind her ears.

"You don't have to think about it right now."

"Yes, I do," Nevena mumbled, glowering at the floor. "I don't want to leave it hanging in the air. It'll just cause a bigger rift between me and them."

"Would that be so bad?" asked Cullen. He leaned back, giving Nevena a little space as she lifted her head to look at him curiously. "Would you be missing much if you weren't in contact with your family?"

"I'd be missing my niece and nephews," Nevena half-smiled. "Ineria turning her anger on them is my fault, after all.”

Cullen hummed for a few seconds before getting to his feet and offering a hand. "I can't make the decision for you," he explained as Nevena took his hand. He tugged her to her feet. "And you don't have to decide what to do right now, this second. Let's try and enjoy the rest of the day at least. Okay?"

"Sure," sighed Nevena, her anger cooling. "I can make a rash decision tomorrow."

"Excellent." Cullen tucked her against his side and they continued walking.

Varric: 'Curly, the anticipation is killing me here. Did you give your not-girlfriend the book or not? Did she like it? Come on Curly, don't keep me in suspense!'

Cullen smirked, reading Varric's message again. It was gone eight in the evening, and the message arrived an hour ago. Without it, Cullen was likely to have forgotten about the book. Now he had it in hand as he approached Nevena on the couch, where she was vaguely watching the weather report on the small television.

Cullen: 'I'll let you know.'

He sent his reply and placed his phone on the desk.

"Do you have a minute?" asked Cullen, clenching his fingers around the wrapped book. His palms felt sweaty. He hoped she liked the gift. He was almost certain she would. She told him it was her favourite book, after all. Gift giving always made him nervous and question his choices. No. She would like it. Of course, she would.

"Mhm-hm?" Nevena clicked the television off. "What's up?"

She was brighter and happier now they were in the hotel and she had walked off most of her earlier frustrations. When they finished walking the gardens at Redcliffe castle, they grabbed something to eat and took it to their room. Now they were relaxing, winding down, and enjoying each other's company. Despite how the day started out, it was coming to a rather pleasant end.

Cullen sat beside her and held the book towards her. It was wrapped in rather plain silver paper, with white glittery snowflakes on it. A rushed job - Cullen was not an expert at wrapping presents - but presentable at the very least. "I was going to give this to you yesterday, but in the aftermath of... everything... I forgot." He cleared his throat, realising Nevena hadn't taken it. "So, here." He moved it closer to her.

With a short bark of laughter, Nevena got to her feet. "Hold that thought for one second." She quickly darted around the couch to the bed and started digging through her bag. Perplexed, Cullen watched her rummage through her things and listened to the occasional mutter of annoyance. He sat awkwardly, turning the book over in his hands and waited. After about thirty seconds, she gave a yelp of triumph and returned, a large package in hand, wrapped in paper covered in snowmen and penguins. She looked sheepish, passing it to him. "I wanted to give this to you in private. It's nothing much... but..." She shrugged, clasping her hands together between her legs.

The item she placed in his lap was far larger than the book he held. He felt as though he should have added something to his own gift to make up for its lack of size. Feeling Nevena's eyes on him, he tucked the book between them and began to tear at the paper to get to what was inside. At the first glimpse, he knew what it was and the paper came off more eagerly.

He recognised the chessboard as similar to the one he saw at the market in Edgehall, just like the board he played a few games of chess with Rowan on. It was folded in two, hinges in the middle and a smart brass hook-and-eye clasp keeping the two halves together. The wood was varnished and polished to a shine, the dark squares a deep, dark brown, and the light squares carved from some kind of pale wood, like birch. Before he opened the board, he realised his name was carved into the side in an ornate script.

Opening the board, he saw the pieces all pressed into a plush navy velvet interior, keeping them safe. He removed one of the knights from its placement and turned it around in his fingers. The craftsmanship was exquisite. What drew Cullen to the chess set in the first place the painstaking detail on each piece. The horse's head of the knight was perfect down to the last detail. The wide, flaring nostrils of the horse, the delicate intricacies of the mane. It was a piece of art in and of itself.

"This is..." His throat felt a little tight when he spoke and he quickly cleared it. "Nevena, I... thank you." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "This really is..."

"You like it?"

"I do. It's beautiful," Cullen grinned. "Thank you."

Nevena bit her lip, beaming at his reaction. "Maybe we can play a game later? I'll try not to lose as spectacularly as I did before."

Chuckling, Cullen returned the knight piece to its place, closed the lid to the board and carefully placed it on the desk beside his phone and the television. He handed Nevena the book, lacing his fingers together as he watched her unwrap it.

"A book!" she announced, pulling the paper away. "Who is it writ... VarricTethras?" Lifting her gaze for a moment to him, she began to yank away at the paper more frantically. Cullen watched as her eyes widened. She stared down at the deep mauve hardcover of 'The Viper's Nest', her mouth agape and tears springing to her eyes. She clasped her hand to her mouth not before a strangled noise escaped her. She hugged the book to her chest, her shoulders shaking and ran her hand over her face. "How did you find this?" she asked, her voice high and strangled. She flipped open the cover. "It's a first edition! And out of print! Cullen-!"

"I was owed a favour by the author." Cullen laughed, reaching across and wiping one of her tears from her cheeks.

"You know Varric Tethras?!" Nevena wailed, still holding the book to her body like it was precious.

"I know Varric Tethras," Cullen nodded. He wished he'd recorded the giving of the book for Varric. It was undoubtedly the best reaction to any gift he had ever given. "He said he signed the inside of it."

"What?!" She started to flick rapidly through the pages until she reached the title page. Cullen recognised Varric's flashy signature scrawled across the paper. There was a small paragraph underneath written in the same hand that was too small for him to make out. He could see Nevena mouthing the words as she read them. "Cullen, this is amazing! I don't think anyone has ever given me something so thoughtful." She gave him a painfully genuine and honest smile. "Thank you so much."

She reached across the small space after putting the book to one side and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugging him tightly. Cullen returned the embrace, smiling. He knew he would likely owe Varric for the rest of his life for this, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when he got a reaction like this.

"I don't know how I'm going to repay you for this," Nevena mumbled, her grip loosening a little. She began to draw back and Cullen relaxed his arms around her, too.

"It's a gift, Nevena. You're not expected to repay me." He smiled when she was far enough away that he could see her face. She remained close enough that their foreheads were just touching. Her cheeks were flushed with the excitement and crying, her lips wet from where she licked away fallen tears. Her eyes found his, bright, alert, pupils dilated and he heard her breathing growing shallow. Slowly she brought her left hand from where it was still perched on his shoulder, following the line of his jaw and chin. For what felt like an hour they sat, gazing at each other, neither one speaking and hardly daring to breathe. Cullen's stomach clenched, his heart rate began to quicken and he could feel blood starting to rush through his veins.

Nevena moved, inching towards him gingerly, her eyes fluttering closed the nearer she grew. She kissed him softly, her lips just brushing his before pulling back to look at him as if gauging his reaction. She bit the corner of her bottom lip, lowering her gazing almost demurely.

Cullen didn't move, holding his breath as seconds dragged by and he waited. Waited for her to move. For her to speak. For her to do something. He wouldn't presume anything from that momentary touch of her lips to his, even as his instincts were screaming at him to grab her and kiss her for all she was worth.

A few more seconds. Cullen heard Nevena's breath shudder as she exhaled. He flexed his fingers into the fabric of her clothes causing her to shift closer to him. In one fluid movement, she swept her fingers back through his hair, her lips found his once more, with a deeper, headier kiss than the one before it. Her fingers curled into his hair as her mouth parted a fraction. Cullen gave into instinct without hesitating. Eyes closed, he pressed back, tongue seeking hers - desperate to touch, to taste. To see where this would lead.

He slid one hand under her jumper, seeking soft warm skin to caress under his palm. Fingers of his other hand trailed up her arm, over her shoulder and up the bare skin of her neck making her shiver. He curled it around beneath her hair, cradling the back of her skull and pulling her closer. She followed his guidance, leaning into him with a sigh of his name breaking passed her lips.

Cullen fell into her, willingly.

So there’s the whole comic, please go and show some love to vermouthworks on devianart. I don’t know if they have a tumblr - I’ll find out and link it here if they do.

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I thought it’d be nice to have another insight in Cullen and what he went through in Kinloch (in this universe anyway). As always, let me know you thoughts on the chapter and what happened. What you think might be coming. I love reading comments, whether they’re on reblogs, in the tags, or messages sent directly to me. You can also comment on the chapter on AO3, by using the link in the source.

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I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I’ll see you in the next one. <3