A Candle in the Darkness (A Dragon Age: Inquisition fanfiction)

As Am I

21 August, 9:41

Antonia came down the steps of Skyhold, looking around her at the hustle and bustle. She wasn't sure which she found more astonishing—that a structure this large and this perfect for the Inquisition had just been sitting here in the mountains conveniently near Haven; that Solas had somehow known it was there; or that so much work had already been done in making it livable.

Most of them were still living in tents, but jumbles of furnishings had been found lying around in the turrets and in various corners, so Antonia was certain that they would all be sorted out in time and places found for everyone.

And she knew exactly who to credit with much of the organization. While Leliana had focused on putting her spy network back in place, and Josephine was occupied in making sure their contacts from other countries knew how to find them, and were physically able to get up the roads, Cullen had been the one to take on the burden of putting Skyhold togethr. He had, admittedly, thrown himself into its fortifications with a feverish intensity that caused some concern in the rest of the leadership, but it needed to be done, and Antonia could hardly have ordered him to stand down because she was vaguely disquieted by his manner. She did have the power to give orders now, having stopped fighting against what appeared to be her destiny and accepted the title and responsibilities of Inquisitor. If the rest of them felt she was strong enough to handle the role and powerful enough to act as the public face of the Inquisition, she would trust their judgment.

She hadn't spoken to Cullen much since the attack on Haven, too afraid that she would say more than she should. They were still colleagues, but the friendly chats they had shared in Haven had gone by the wayside. Antonia just didn't trust herself near him.

After the night of drinking with her companions, and Varric's advice, she had tried to put her feelings for Cullen aside, telling herself that if they were real, she would know it, and until that point there was little value, and much distraction, in dwelling on them.

Well, she knew it now. The moment when the Chantry was their last safe harbor in Haven, when Cullen had readied himself to lead their people out to safety and she had prepared to go and meet Corypheus and his dragon, when she had known she was most probably going to die without seeing him again—that was it. Watching him turn and leave, as she knew he must, knowing she was not going to get to say good-bye—knowing, further, that since there was a good chance neither of them would survive there was little point in bringing up hopes that could never come to fruition— There was no longer any doubt in her heart. Cullen had become dearer to her than any man she had ever known.

But the Inquisition wasn't ready for her to take her focus off it, not yet. So she had kept her conversations with Cullen as superficial as she could, just to avoid saying all the things that she wished she could have said to him in the Chantry. For that matter, Antonia wasn't entirely convinced that Cullen shared her feelings. She thought so, but it was hard to be certain. He was so driven, so ... obsessed with rebuilding Skyhold, that there was little energy left in him for anything else.

He was down in the lower courtyard right now, bent over plans for building fortifications. Watching him, screened by a giant bush, Antonia was struck by how much she had missed him. Avoiding him had been the wisest course, but it had cost her, as well. She missed his warm support and their conversations on training tactics and fortifications, which often branched out into history and mathematics and various sciences. Cullen wasn't quite as well-read as she was—which wasn't surprising, since he hadn't spent his childhood alone in a library—but he picked things up quickly and read very fast. Often they'd discuss a book he hadn't read and a couple of days later he'd have finished it.

Without entirely meaning to, Antonia found herself moving carefully down the mossy stairs toward him. She decided to go with it, as Cullen was surrounded by several of his men, giving orders at a rapid clip. With so many people around, the chances of her saying more than she meant to were limited.

But as Antonia approached somehow they all dispersed, leaving her functionally alone with Cullen. He was bent over the blueprints in front of him, looking up only as she came to stand next to him. Gesturing to the blueprints, he said, "We set up as best we could in Haven, but we could never prepare for an Archdemon—or whatever that was." He rubbed the back of his neck, closing his eyes. Exhaustion was written in every line of his face. "Here, perhaps we could do better. Even in Haven, given some warning, we might have—"

Concerned by the feverish light in his eyes, Antonia interrupted him to ask, "Do you ever sleep? Or eat?" She couldn't remember the last time she had seen him at one of the communal meals.

Cullen straightened, frowning down at her. "If Corypheus strikes again, we may not be able to withdraw—and I wouldn't want to. Which means strengthening Skyhold's defenses to the fullest extent possible." His jaw tightened. "We will not run from here, Inquisitor."

"Do we have a full count of how many were lost yet?" Antonia asked.

"Most of our people made it to Skyhold. It could have been worse. Morale was low, but has improved greatly since you accepted the title of Inquisitor."

For the life of her, Antonia couldn't understand what the people saw in her. She'd heard the rumors that she had died at Haven and come to life again, or that Andraste herself had protected her; but she knew the truth, that sheer luck had blown her into a cavity that was largely protected from the avalanche, and even better luck had seen to it that the last of the avalanche uncovered the cavity so she could get out. It was better luck still that anyone had been looking for her.

No, she thought, looking up at him, that wasn't luck—that was Cullen. He had led the rescue party himself, and it had been his dear face that had been the last thing she saw before losing consciousness from the cold and shock.

"Inquisitor?" he asked, prodding her to speak.

She gave a self-deprecating smile. "Inquisitor Trevelyan. I wasn't really looking for another title. It sounds odd, doesn't it?"

Cullen shook his head. "Not at all."

Raising her eyebrows, Antonia asked, "Is that the official response?"

She was relieved to hear him laugh. It had been a long time. "I suppose it is," he said. "But it is the truth. We needed a leader, and you have proven yourself."

"Thank you, Cullen." He smiled; the support she had come to rely on was in his face, and the rush of relief she felt seeing the haunted, driven look he'd been wearing recede was so strong she found herself speaking before she thought. "Our escape from Haven was close. I am relieved that you—" She caught herself. "That so many made it out."

"As am I," Cullen said softly. Their eyes caught and held. Antonia could hardly breathe.

Then Cullen looked down, and the moment was gone. Disappointed, but whether in him or herself or the whole sorry situation she didn't know, Antonia turned to go, but was stopped by his voice behind her.

He spoke softly, but there was emotion behind each word—determination, guilt, and something more. "You stayed behind. You could have—" He swallowed hard, and his face set again into those hard, determined lines she had come to know since they had arrived in Skyhold. "I will not allow the events of Haven to happen again. You have my word."

Cullen turned back to his blueprints, and Antonia walked off in a daze. Was that why he was pushing himself, and his men, at such a punishing pace? Did he blame himself because she had gone out to meet Corypheus on her own?

Her heart went out to him—after all, she'd spent more than a few sleepless nights blaming herself for the way the attack on Haven had gone. The best thing, she decided, was to let things get settled here, let him work out his demons on the walls of Skyhold.

And then? Then she would see.