literature

Break To Heal

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Literature Text

Everkings Lines To Words by maebyrutherford


Rating: Teen (minor violence)
Game: Dragon Age Inquisition
Characters: Cullen Rutherford, Cassandra Pentaghast, Lavellan Fem!quisitor
Relationship Pairing: Cullen/Lavellan (budding romance)
I wrote this in response to a Tumblr prompt from the wonderful artist everkings, Lines To Words

Cullen won't rest as he and Cassandra search for the Herald after the attack on Haven. CONTAINS DRAGON AGE: INQUISITION STORY SPOILERS

*CRACK*

He heard the noise split seconds before the searing pain registered in his brain, then the realization of what had just occurred set in. The feeling was excruciating, shooting up from his forearm to the top of his head and to the bottom of his feet, but he could not pay any attention to it, not yet. A small part of him wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his situation. After everything they had just endured, after they had gotten most (most - that word caused a pang in his heart) of the people of Haven to safety, now that recovery of the Herald was at hand, he slips down a snowbank into a ravine and breaks his blasted arm? He had to hold it together.

“Cullen! Commander, are you alright? Where are you?” Cassandra shouting from above, her voice carried on the wind. The blizzard had died down, but it was nightfall and still difficult to see.

“I’m alright, I just had a bit of a fall! Stay where you are - DON’T MOVE! There is a very steep bank there that is quite slippery!” The last thing they needed were two incapacitated leaders of the Inquisition at a time like this. How could he have been so foolish? He looked pitifully at the broken lantern lying next to him. He had been so focused on searching for any sign of life (please Maker, let there be life) in the snowy darkness that he had neglected to look down every few steps to track the terrain, something he had learned at an early age. Cullen should have also known to not put his arm out to break his fall, but sometimes instinct was a hard thing to overcome, especially at a time like this.

“Are you sure you can manage it, Commander? Shall I seek help?”

“No, I’ll be fine! Just remain there, I will find a way back!” He had to shout much louder than she against the wind.

He stood up and looked around, wincing at the pain in his legs. They would be badly bruised, he could be sure of it. His eyes adjusting to the faint moon light through the trees, and saw a path upward that looked fairly safe to walk - it would have to do. He turned around and found the glow of Cassandra’s lantern, he just had to keep looking for it so he would not become disoriented. He gingerly cradled his broken left forearm with his right arm - thank the Maker I did not break my sword arm, he thought, then immediately felt guilty for such selfishness in light of what was at stake - and trying as best he could to ignore the pain, began the climb upward. The cold air actually helped a little.

After what seemed like an eternity stomping through deep snow up to his knees and thighs in some places walking upward and around, he finally saw Cassandra’s lantern more clearly and called out to her. She rushed over to him after acknowledging his words of caution to watch her step.

“Commander, are you alright? Your arm is broken, is it not? We should return to the camp. You cannot -”

“NO! We must keep moving. Every minute we waste could --she could--”

“With an injury you are no good to her. We have others at the camp who can help with the search. Perhaps Solas can heal you.”

“Cassandra,” he growled at her now. Cullen knew she meant well, but he was growing impatient and angry. And there was something else there that was overtaking all of his emotions - sheer panic. Panic that they would be moments too late, that the Herald escaped Haven and had tried to get to them, but she could not survive in that brutal blizzard, that her tiny elvhen frame held on as long as possible but just could not withstand it any longer, that they had failed her because of his stupidity. “We cannot afford to waste any more time, if we return to camp now--” He let out a frustrated grunt. “I am fine, I have endured much worse than a broken bone. We must find the Herald!” To prove that the issue was not up for debate, he stomped forward through the snow with purpose. He knew she would have no choice but to follow.

He could barely make it out in the blowing wind but he swore he heard her make a noise of exasperation. She quickly trudged on to catch up with him.

“Commander, the Herald is stronger than you realize,” she said drily. “We will find her. If you lose your arm in the process, then do not blame me.”

He smirked at that - it wasn’t a serious break, painful as it was, just more of a nuisance. He had not lied when he said he’d had injuries that were much worse. Even if it was something serious now, he would not care. Their top priority was recovering the Herald of Andraste, Ellana Lavellan - it made him very sad to think that he had never called her by her real name - and in an environment like this every moment counts. He had heard stories of soldiers freezing to death en route to battles and these were trained men with supplies, not a slight woman with nothing on but her battle leathers. Being Dalish and living in the outdoors, perhaps she was hardier than she looked? Cullen desperately hoped that was the case. By all intents and purposes what she had done by starting that avalanche with the trebuchet to bury their enemy back in Haven while the rest escaped was indeed a suicide mission. Even still, they all held out hope that she had found some way to survive. After all, this was no ordinary woman, she had fallen out of the breach in the sky and lived to tell about it, perhaps saved by Andraste herself, with some otherworldly mark on her hand that not even Solas could explain. She was not ordinary by any stretch of the imagination, and certainly not by Cullen’s standards.

They trudged on in the moonlight, it was getting much easier to see now. The blizzard had subsided and the winds were finally dying down. Soon it was just the sound of their boots sinking into the deep fluffy snow and their belabored breathing, visible in the cold air. Any feelings of fatigue he had were quickly overshadowed by concern for Ellana. Cullen wondered exactly how long they had been walking, in his haste to start the search he had neglected to take note of the position of the moon in the sky when they left camp. He could no longer feel his toes, and his fingertips were starting to go numb as well.

Cassandra grimaced, turning and looking in all directions. “We are getting close to our last campfire, she would know to look for it. I thought we would have found her by now.” Her frustration was clear.

Cullen remained silent; the thought she was conjuring was almost too much to bear. Andraste preserve him, what had he done? He had suggested the damned distraction tactic to her. He held his injured arm tighter to his body.

“I know you care for her, Commander,” Her words were loud, measured and blunt. He did not protest. “That much is clear. We all do. I still believe all is not lost. I cannot explain it, perhaps it is the Maker’s will speaking to me, but I do have faith that we will find her.”

He simply nodded, still cradling his arm, his feet now feeling like blocks of nothing. They moved on. Neither of them were ready to discuss when they should head back.

Suddenly there was movement in the corner of his eye. He turned to look, his eyes going wide and darting every which way, seeing nothing. It could have been some animal, or branch falling from a tree, but something powerful told him that it wasn’t. A rush of adrenaline gave him the energy he needed to stride in that direction. Cassandra followed.

A familiar shape was forming directly in front of him, was it a tree? The shape dropped to the ground, and all at once it became clear - it was the Herald, it was Ellana, on the verge of collapse.

“Thank the Maker!” Cassandra exclaimed with utter relief.

Cullen reached out as he leaped toward her, forgetting about his broken arm and not even registering the immense pain. It seemed like an eternity but he finally reached her. She was kneeling in the snow, eyes half shut and glazed, her normally bronze skin pale, her lips blue, her dark hair and eyelashes crusted with ice and snow. Without thinking he gathered her into in his arms - Maker, she was so very cold, but she was breathing. She was alive.

“Cullen, what are you doing? Your arm! Allow me to carry her.”

He didn’t respond and turned to walk as quickly as he could back toward camp. His broken arm, his pain, his fatigue, his frozen feet - all were forgotten as he practically trotted through the snow, somehow it was easier this time. His right arm cradled most of her weight trying to hold her body as close to his as possible, her disturbingly icy head tucked under his chin, his left arm under the crook of her delicate legs, the forearm dangling uselessly and painfully. It didn’t matter. Cullen felt it was his duty to return her, to make her safe again, to keep her safe. It was he who had put her into harm’s way and he would not let that happen again. Every breath she took was measured, paid attention to, for fear that it may be her last. Cassandra continued to protest as she led the way back to camp with her lantern in the moonlit snow.
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