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

Afraid

13 Bloomingtide, 9:42

Cullen blinked in the light of day, trying to determine exactly what had happened. He had come back here after Antonia was injured, and ... it was all a blur since then, except for the familiar memories of the demons and a confused memory of Antonia sitting by his bed, sponging off his forehead and whispering all the things he wanted to hear her say—but she wouldn't have, because they weren't ...

He wished he hadn't awakened. At least the memories of torment were just that, memories, and not this reality where they were better off without each other.

"There you are!" An unexpected, hearty voice spoke near his ear, and Cullen turned his head.

"Jared?" His voice was a hoarse croak.

"The very same, and right on time, too, eh, little brother?"

"Right." Cullen tried to sit up. "How long have I been—" He remembered at the last minute that Jared didn't know about the lyrium.

"Delirious with fever? They tell me a few days now. That fellow Blackwall broke your door down and they found you half out of your head."

"Yes. That ... happens sometimes."

"So I'm told, it happens when you don't stop to take care of yourself and take the doctor's powders."

"You know, then." It wasn't a question.

"The Inquisitor told me."

"Sh-she was here?" His heart leaped wildly in his chest. If she was here, then maybe his memory of the things she had said to him was true.

"A little while, at least. Not sure how long." Jared looked guilty, and Cullen could tell that among the other things she had apparently told Jared, she had explained that they weren't ... anything, any longer.

"Can I get up?" he asked.

"Surgeon says if you want to, more power to you, but no work today. Maybe a little tomorrow. Cassandra says if you do that again, you won't need to step down because she'll kill you. Nice girl, that."

Cullen could imagine Cassandra's reaction to being called a nice girl, and it brought the first smile to his face that had been there in days. Weeks, it felt like.

"That's better. You want me to bring you some food up, or you want to go down to the main hall?"

Leaving the office meant the chance of running into Antonia, and no matter how much he wanted to see her—just to look at her, to make sure she was all right, to feed his hunger for her in whatever way he could—he wasn't ready for that right now. "Why don't you bring some up, if you wouldn't mind."

While Jared was gone, he got out of bed, feeling his legs a bit shaky underneath him, and managed to get at least partially dressed. He was sitting behind his desk when Jared came back in carrying a tray piled high with food.

"I can't eat that much," Cullen protested.

"Then I'll eat some. The cooks were insistent when they heard it was for you. You command some fanatical loyalty from your people, brother. Never would've thought it of you when you were four years old and running around without any pants." He grinned.

"Yes, please let's bring that up as often as possible," Cullen said, but he returned his brother's smile. It was good to have Jared here.

Or at least, he thought so until he had a mouthful of food and Jared casually remarked, "So, if you're done with Antonia, do you mind if I—?"

Cullen nearly choked. "What?" he asked when he could speak again, certain he must have misheard his brother.

"Just asking. She wasn't very forthcoming, and I wanted to see if you had broken up because of a real problem or because you're a horse's arse."

"And your conclusion?"

Jared reached out and smacked him on the back of the head, leaving no doubt as to his opinion.

"Ow. I didn't miss that."

"I did." Jared grinned widely, then sobered, his eyes steady on Cullen's face. "You love her."

"Of course."

"Then what in the Void, man? A woman like that looked at me the way she looked at you and I wouldn't let her go unless a dragon pried her out of my arms."

"A not inaccurate statement of affairs." Cullen looked down at his plate, his appetite gone. He very much didn't want to talk about this ... but he did, too, and who better than his big brother to talk to?

"Come again?"

"The mark on her hand means that eventually she'll have to face a thousand-year-old darkspawn and his pet ... well, we think it's an Archdemon."

Jared blinked, sitting back. "Do you know any normal people?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"So—she's going to have to fight this old guy and his dragon. And that means, what?"

"She's very likely to die in the process." Cullen looked up to find his brother's eyes on him, thoughtfully.

"I've never thought of you as someone who was afraid to face reality. Thought of you, in fact, as someone who'd seen too much of it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means—that fever nearly took you out, little brother. And me, too, if Mia had found out I got here too late to save you." He gave an exaggerated shudder. "Seriously—I've seen a lot of people die. Ostagar, and the Blight, and since. Every one of them left behind people who loved them, things they hadn't finished. There's nothing tidy about life, or love, Cullen, nothing you can count on, except what you have right in front of you, right now."

"You don't understand."

"Maybe I understand better than you think." Jared looked down at his hands, then away. "And I envy you with everything in me. Don't you see how rare it is to care about someone the way you do her? And you're letting it go because there's a chance you won't get to keep it? I have half a mind to hit you again."

Cullen studied the plate in front of him. Jared made him feel about ten again, listening to one of his big brother's lectures, hanging on every word. But ... he couldn't forget how quickly one comment had escalated into this—this horrible coldness between them. "And the next time we have an argument and she walks out?" he asked softly.

"You get past it, man." At Cullen's pained shake of the head in negation, he continued, "You know, I'm an old bachelor, so I spend my mealtimes at Mia and John's, or Mother and Father's, or Ariel and Petrus's. You have any idea how many arguments I've witnessed? People throw things, they walk out of the room or the house, they call each other names ... and the next day, or later in the day, they make up, or talk it through, or get over it. It's not how you argue that makes the difference, Cullen, it's how you apologize."

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. It sounded good, but ...

"What is it?" Jared asked.

Could he admit this, even to his brother? To himself? But it was the truth, and it was time he told someone."I'm afraid, Jared. Of what happens if she—dies, or if she wakes up one day and just doesn't—doesn't care any longer. Of what I would do without her. In some ways, it's easier knowing I've already lost her, because then nothing can take her away again." He hated hearing himself say it; he'd never been a coward before, never knuckled under to his fears, but this was ...

"Little brother," Jared said softly, "you borrow a lot of trouble."