Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Please Cullen!" She cried.

Cullen ignored her. No not ignored, he couldn't answer, like he was a passenger in his own body. He dragged her down the stone hall as she continued to scream, following the Knight-Commander and the orders he had been given.
"Stop! This isn't right!" She clawed at his bracer, magic prickling beneath her hands. She began to channel, lightning dancing beneath her fingertips and into the metal of his armour. He felt the sting dropping her as pain coursed through his body. She tried to run, his hand flew up and unleashed a far more powerful silence than he had intended. She dropped to the ground gasping for air, unable to move as he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, not caring if she was comfortable across his pauldron.

He should care. Why didn't he? This wasn't just any insubordinate mage… It was her.
He could hear her sobs, broken and laboured behind him as he carried her towards the Harrowing chamber. He wanted to turn, to run, to take her far away from here. His step faltered, his grip on her loosened as he hesitated.

"Rutherford!"
The order was barked and again he snapped to attention. Follow orders. That is what he was told to do, pray to the Maker, protect the people from the evil of magic. Be a loyal soldier.
"Cullen…" She gasped softly, he shivered as her hand reached up to touch his neck above his armour. "Don't do this…"

I don't want to.

Words he wanted to speak but couldn't.

They had reached the Harrowing chamber, Cullen dropped her to the ground but this time she did not run. She held onto the hem of his robe tightly, begging him over and over again to help her.
"Enchanter Lavellan." The Knight-Commander approached. "You will do your duty."
"No." She shook her head. "He isn't ready!"
"It must be done!" He grabbed her by the hair dragging her away from Cullen's hem.
Let her go!
Cullen took a step forward, but why what was he going to do?

Follow orders.

She tried to fight back, he watched as the sight of the Tranquil brand forced her into submission. She held the hand of a young boy. Too young. Cullen agreed with her arguments. He was but a boy of sixteen, he was not ready to be Harrowed, and yet the persistent memory of the blood mages who had threatened the Tower loomed over them all. She smoothed back the hair on his head, promising that everything would be okay as she sent him to the Fade. A swift motion she performed with a practised grace no other could achieve. She continued to tell him it would be okay, whispering words of encouragement as they waited.

But it wasn't going to be alright. He knew before it happened. He remembered it too well, the sickening crunch, her wail of despair as the mage began to succumb.

It was too soon, he was not ready. A life wasted. But he had done his duty, he had followed orders, he had struck the abomination down before it had finished its metamorphosis into a demon. When the creature's body dissipated he had not anticipated the view he would be met with.
“Cullen…”
His sword still sunk into flesh, splashed with red that blossomed from the wound. Her hands shook as she pushed herself from the blade, falling forwards into his chest.

"E-Efa…"

It had been like a fog lifting from him, his arms finally moving as he commanded, dropping the sword and surrounding her as her dead weight forced them to the floor. His hand came to cover the wound but it had cut deep. Blood pooled on the floor beneath him, staining both of their robes.
"C-Cullen…" She trembled violently.
"What have I done?"

He had killed her.
Efa Lavellan, his ward, the mage he had sworn to protect.

He had held her as life slipped from her, even as the First Enchanter tried to heal her, her beautiful green eyes growing dimmer with every breath. And then she was gone from his arms, strong hands had pulled him backwards and away. She was dead because of him. He had failed her, blamed the blood mages for corrupting his mind and he had taken that hatred to Kirkwall. Meredith had used it, helping it to fester until it was almost too late.

It had been ten years and still that day plagued his nightmares. Even awake, he could see her beautiful eyes and feel her soft fingers on her face as she told him it was okay. He had never told her how he had felt, if he regretted anything it would be that. He longed for her forgiveness, even if he never truly believed he deserved it. But was that not why he was here now? To atone? To do everything he could to make the world a better place.

Awake as he was, he may as well start the day. He was not surprised to see his second already awake in the dim morning light.
"Commander." Rylen nodded in a way of a greeting.
"Knight-Captain." The words felt bitter on his tongue, he could smell the crisp tang of lyrium on him.
"Any news?" Cullen took the stack of missives from him, despite the early hour, runners had been in and out of the makeshift camp they had all through the night.
"Nothing we didn't already know." Rylen frowned. "The conclave is due to start today, so it's all hands on."
"Carry on." Cullen dismissed him with a nod, Rylen saluted in return and disappeared. He sifted through the last of the missives before assembling the troops he was to take up to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It would take them a few hours to make the journey, trudging through the snow. He knew Leliana and Cassandra had gone on ahead to scout the surrounding area, planning to converge at the same time Cullen and his troops would arrive, if not sooner, ready to oversee the Conclave and the hopeful peace it would bring.

Shield secured to his back he inspected his troops one last time. He opened his mouth to give the order to march, but the sound was lost as both he and his men were sent tumbling to the ground. Ears ringing and confused he struggled to his feet looking around for whatever had caused the blast.

His eyes turned to the direction he should have been marching and gasped. The sky above was torn apart, glowing brighter than the hour should have been. But it was not the golden hues of sunrise, or the ugly red gatlok he had seen in Kirkwall. This was green, the same green he associated with the Fade, the exact shade he recalled of Efa's eyes.

But that was not the worst of it, as Cullen looked up and the others around him began to see what he saw, their voices crying out together in alarm.

Beneath the scarred sky, the Temple of Sacred Ashes was gone.

"Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now."

Efa blinked rapidly, her head was swimming and the pain in her hand was near enough unbearable. She ignored the question, mostly because she didn't know how to answer. Everything was… foggy… Her memories fragmented, the last time she had felt like this was when she had woken after—
"The Conclave is destroyed." The woman cut over her thoughts, cutting off what would have been a painful memory that still bit at her a decade later. "Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you."

She stopped in front of her and leant down right into Efa's face. Efa could make the hard lines of her cheeks, marred with a long scar beneath one eye. Her hair was cropped short with an oddly delicate braid around the crown. Efa did not recognise the exact symbol on her chest, but she could depict the faint sunburst, marking her of the Chantry. If Efa wasn't already wary of her situation she was now. Even with the Chantry being in turmoil she knew she had to be cautious, there was no telling what would become of her if they learnt her name.

"Explain this!" The woman grabbed her hand, still glowing faintly when Efa did not answer again. The palm of her hand glowed green, but it was not the same pale colour she associated with her old life. It was harsh and too bright, cutting across the palm of her hand and spread out through her veins. Whatever it was, she had not possessed it before–before what?
"I can’t." Efa bit her tongue, wincing through the pain as the mark flared once more to life.
"What do you mean you can’t?" She slammed her hand down, the metal bar holding her wrists slammed down on her thighs.
"I don’t know what that is," Efa growled. "Or how it got there."
"You’re lying!"
"Whatever you think I did, I’m innocent!"

If it wasn't for the interruption of scout the argument would have continued. Within the hour Efa was unshackled, bundled up against the cold and being led at knife point out of the settlement. She hardly recognised the place, Haven, after her last journey through here. That was why she had volunteered to attend the conclave, despite knowing how upset her sister would be to hear of her leaving the safety of the clan. Not that she had seen her twin in nearly two years, not since a random Grey Warden had stumbled wounded into their camp and reignited something in her. Briallen had left her with her child to raise for her alone. If, when, she found out; she would not hear the end of it. She hoped Isolde was okay, and that she might get word back to her Keeper before they began to worry.

The journey up the mountain was harsh. Almost as soon as they were in the open they were set upon by demons. Efa had tumbled after the Seeker, whose name she still did not know, onto the ice; grabbing the staff from a dead mage lying across the way. The Seeker had advanced, but she was outnumbered. Efa had unleashed a chain lightning, numbing the creatures long enough to be killed. When she was seen with the staff, she slowly lowered it to the ice, the woman scowling at her when she said she didn't need a staff to cast magic. But still she acquiesced for now, she would play nice until she knew what the Shems would do with her.

Their party had grown as they reached the forward camp. A dwarf who seemed to have a cockier mouth than her sister if possible and another elven mage who looked at Efa with a fierce intensity. She had begun to panic when they reached the camp, tugging her scarf higher on her face when she had laid eyes on one of the Seeker's companions. She was introduced as Sister Nightingale but Efa recognised her as her sister's former companion, Leliana. She would not be able to hide for long, she knew Leliana well enough, having travelled with her for several weeks. It was on that basis Efa had declared to march with the army when asked. She could hide between the soldiers, just a little longer, perhaps she could even use the cover to slip away?

"Lady Cassandra! You managed to close the rift. Well done." A strong voice called across the rubble as the distortion of the rift dispersed. Efa turned her head, the familiarity in the voice turning her blood cold. He was almost exactly like she remembered him, another ghost from her long hidden past. Panic flooded through her, of all the people why him? The Creators had a sick sense of humour, throwing her back in the path of the last person she had expected to see amidst the total chaos she had found herself in.

"Cullen…"