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Cullen and His Lingering Regrets	By : Royality Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 1963 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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“Fucking. Darkspawn. Bastards!” Fireball after fireball was shot into the air as Hawke took his frustrations out at the hole in the sky. “This is your fault! If not for you, I could be on a beach somewhere with zombie pirates or something as equally normal with my luck!”
“Your luck is pretty awful,” chuckled Cullen as he stood behind just out of range of accidently being singed by a stray spark from the angry Mage. “If you really wanted to sneak off into the woods and remain hidden, I would have suggested not shooting up what amounts to flares for someone to easily locate your position. Food for thought.” Frowning, Hawke turned to the ex-Templar with both fists clenched in anger. Fierce, green eyes stared daggers at the poised Commander before deviating to the clouds above.
“I take it you’re here to talk me out of leaving for Weisshaupt? The Wardens need to know what happened at Adamant…and with Stroud gone…” Holding up a gloved palm, Cullen stopped Hawke before he could say anymore.
“You do not need to explain yourself to me, Seren. I was there, remember? I only came to thank you for returning as you did. You saved me and many of my men as your…the Inquisitor cleared the ramparts.” The Spellcaster crinkled his nose up at what was meant to be said as he began to fire off another round of flames towards the celestial scar.
“You hesitated there, Rutherford, but I’m sure you know it to be true now just as much as the next person. Hard to argue with the facts.” As Cullen moved to stand next to Hawke’s side, he looked up at the exploding fireworks before giving a single nod.
“He does take after you in the worst way, doesn’t he?” the Commander teased as he took the Champion’s left hand to slow the pyrotechnics down. “In which case, may I ask you to stay? If not for me or Varric or the Inquisition for that matter…but for your son?” Letting his right arm fall to his side, Seren sighed as he plopped down onto the snowy hill with his head hung low, pulling Cullen down with him.
“He doesn’t need me to stay. We didn’t even know of one another until a few days ago after nearly twenty years. He’s perfectly fine without me. You both are.”
“A boy needs his father, no matter how old he is.” As he sat next to Hawke, Cullen leaned over to nudge his forehead against other’s cold, rosy cheek. “You know this.”
“But I’m not a father,” the flustered man insisted stubbornly, though didn’t squirm away at first from the closing gap between them. “I had no idea I even had a child until that letter came! Even then, I thought it was a joke! At most, perhaps the one time I was with Isabella produced something more terrible than the rash I had on my thigh for a week, but he’s not child, is he? He’s a grown man! I could handle a baby or toddler and maybeexplain that away to Anders without having to dodge lightning bolts, but to say that my offspring is from some married noblewoman in Ostwick I can’t even remember sleeping with because I was only around fifteen years old at the time and likely heavily intoxicated is now leader of the bloodyInquisition?! If I didn’t meet him in person, I wouldn’t even believe it myself and I’ve seen the craziest shit...”
“…So, how exactly did you impregnate an off-the-market Trevelyan in the first place?” Cullen asked while trying poorly to hide his amusement. “Just how much debauchery did you participate in with wealthy nobles?”
“Much and quite often really, you’d be surprised.”
“Not likely, but go on.”
“You have to understand that my father died three years before the last Blight, so before that, it was all of us living together and hiding from Templars. My father and I were already enough of a threat as is, but when Bethany was born, there was suddenly three apostates hiding under a small, thatched roof in Lothering. As the eldest, I left when I was capable to find work and stayed on the move so Father could be with Mother and the twins. I was barely old enough to be alone and there were only certain types of work a mage could do at the time.”
“So, you were a mercenary then?”
“What in Andraste’s name was I supposed to be, Cullen? A bloody tailor?” Hawke laughed as he leaned into the Commander’s side for warmth. “I was young and didn’t do much fighting, really. I was…bait. You know, charming the lustful, young nobles bored at their parents’ parties to gain entry to their houses and estates. Convinced them to sneak me into their rooms and make sure no one would be around to see us.”
“Meanwhile other mercenaries would creep into an otherwise empty manor and make off with whatever they could carry?”
Hawke nodded. “Indeed, we were paid to steal papers, bills of sale, discrediting evidence, and anything else looted was part of our bonus. They would slip in the back door…while I would sometimes be doing the same.” Cullen choked on his own laughter to the point where he had to cover his mouth as he coughed it up. “But when Father died, I returned home. Carver was too young to deal with family matters and Mother was beside herself in grief. We all were. It was a difficult time and of course, then the Blight started and we also lost Bethany…” As his voice trailed off, a comforting arm was placed around his shoulders.
“Carver often spoke of her in the barracks. She seemed to be a very special woman, loving and kind.”
“She also sang terribly off-key and teased me for losing my hair color at an early age,” the Champion smiled thoughtfully.
“You mean you weren’t born like this?” Taking a few of the pale strands between his fingers, Cullen looked at it before kissing at Hawke’s ear. “How odd.” Laughing, the Mage nodded as he put a hand to the Commander’s face and moved him playfully away.
“It’s a curse, I think. The males in my family who are mages, once magic develops, our hair and eyes change. It happened to Father, myself, and my…son. Believe or not, I once had raven-black hair and brown eyes, the same as Carver and Bethany. Or was it blue…?” Smiling as well, the Commander continued to finger-comb the white locks.
“I enjoy your shade now. They are at least flattering on you. When my hair turns white, I’ll be a feeble, old thing yelling at young recruits to stop visiting the local brothel.”
“Waving your former Knight-Captain sword at frisky mages as you retell stories of the Rebellion and how you were the ruggedly handsome, unshaven, brave Commander of the Inquisition’s armies? A litter of your own grandchildren surrounding you, I bet.”
“Do you really believe that?” With a nod, Hawke grinned and stood to brush the snow off his pants.
“Of course. You’ll find a wife, have a dozen mini-Templars, and grow old and senile with the best of them.”
“And you?” Cullen gave Hawke a concerned look as he rose to his feet, but his gaze was avoided.
“Me? I won’t make it that far with my track record. If the Wardens don’t decide to simply hang me for what happened to Stroud, they’ll surely have some punishment in store for harboring Anders…”
“So you’re leaving here to your own death then? Hawke, that’s just…”
“Just what? I’ve done terrible things, Cullen…and there are plenty of other things I didn’t do, but should have. I fled with Anders after Kirkwall to keep him safe from the Chantry, other mages, and the Wardens because I love him. Do you know how selfish that was?”
“…Love itself is a very selfish act, Hawke, but even I understand…”
“No, you don’t! Stop saying that you do because you really, really don’t.” Taking a few steps away, he looked towards the vortex as the sun began to set. “Everything I’ve done, I knew it was wrong. Do not misunderstand, I still love Anders. It might not be very…romantic, but maybe it never was. Even before Justice took over entirely, we still fought each other over nearly everything and his mood swings are...Well, there are two people occupying a single space. Use your imagination.”
“Then…why?” Moving closer, Cullen reached out to touch Hawke’s face, but was pulled away from once again.
“Because we’re monsters who deserve each other.”
“You’re not a monster, Hawke. Why would you even think that?”
“Other than every Templar I ever met agreeing with me on that point, including you?” The snap response wounded the Solider on a personal level and he pressed his lips together as the pain resonated in his chest.
“I didn’t like the man I had become when I told you that. It isn’t true.”
“But you weren’t wrong. Mages are monsters, Cullen. At least, we have the power to easily become one. One slip, one good deed gone wrong, someone we care about pushing us to make terrible choices. You above all others should know what happens then. We tear massive holes in the Fade. We summon a fucking demon army. We destroy a Chantry with innocent people inside. That’s how it always ends.”
“That isn’t because of mages, Seren. It’s because of power-starved warmongers encouraging the use of blood magic and manipulating good people. You once told me how a crazed man with a sword is just as dangerous as a mage who cannot control themselves, but you can control yourself. You’ve dealt with more blood magic than any veteran Templar I know and you still resist the temptation even though I’m sure you feel as if it would be so much easier to give in. Look at where we are now. Sure it was called a Mage Rebellion, but the mages we have rescued are here and helping us. It’s the Red Templars we have to be more concerned with.”
“But my only concern is Anders and what the Wardens will do with him…which is why I can’t leave him alone…and how running off with him in the first place made me as ever the same guilty creature.”
“And what of your son? Would you call him a monster as well?”
“Only if I stick around long enough to ruin him as I do everyone else. Anyone I try to protect dies…which is why I can’t stay. What I want, what I’ve always wanted, it doesn’t matter anymore.” As Hawke stood there starting at the ground, Cullen’s nose crinkled as he stepped closer.
“You weren’t like this before you went into the Fade with the Inquisitor. What happened to you in there?” Still visibly angry if only at just himself, the Mage kicked at the snow with his boots.
“The Fear Demon was attempting to break our confidence, so it started to share what everyone’s greatest fears are. You know the fellow with the terrible mustache my son is with? Well, his fear was turning into his own father while mine was…about Anders dying. Even if he did manage to survive the false Calling, he won’t survive when the real one summons him…which will probably be soon.”
“Ah,” Cullen finally understood. It wasn’t like the great Champion of Kirkwall to show fear, even when faced with a powerful enemy, but to know certain death awaited for someone he cared despite all of his efforts could break the resolve of any hero.
“As I said before, I thought perhaps it was the rifts which forced Justice to the surface, but he had broken through and attacked me once before…when I originally fought Corypheus, but it wasn’t a demon mimicking the siren then. Anders kept trying to tell me that he was hearing voices, but no one else could hear anything.”
“Voices? Whose?”
“I don’t know,” Hawke shrugged. “Darkspawn? The Archdemon? Corypheus? It only grew worse the deeper we went and he began to scream for help. I tried to, but as I reached for him, Justice lashed out at me. What bothers me the most is that I didn’t put it together sooner. When Justice was attacking us, he effortlessly summoned two Shades out of nowhere as if he had reached into the Fade and grabbed them from thin air. There wasn’t any blood magic or casting involved. Not even an Elvan chant. Nothing. He simply called for them and they appeared. What if Justice was protecting Anders from answering his Calling then? Now with the Fear Demon silenced, he may be back to normal and waiting for me to return.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he grunted from his own thoughts in pain. “At least I hope he’s waiting for me and not already turned himself into the Wardens. I can’t just…I have to save him, Rutherford. I made a promise. This…All of this is my fault. Corypheus, Anders, everything.”
“You didn’t force Corypheus into creating the Breach just as you did not assist Anders in destroying the Chantry.” Cullen once again reached out to take the Mage’s shoulders before caressing the still frosty pink and brown cheeks.
“I unleashed Corypheus though! I was arrogant enough to believe I had killed him and left him there free from the Warden’s cell. Even if I didn’t help Anders, I still wanted him. The worst part is that I’m happy about the choices I’ve made. If I made Anders go back to the Wardens, he would be dead now by being enslaved to summon demons if not long since executed for treason. I need to go to them to beg for a pardon and offer myself to their service since I took not only one of their own away, but two!” Frowning, Cullen shook his head and removed his hands from Hawke’s skin.
“That doesn’t make any sense and you know it! Why sacrifice yourself for something you didn’t do? It wasn’t you who made Anders the way he is and it wasn’t you who killed Stroud!”
“But I wanted to stay!” Hawke shouted as he pushed Cullen away even further. “I left Stroud to die! The only reason why Vesper chose me was to escape is because of who I am to him!”
“So?” Cullen answered dismissively after stumbling backwards and slipping on the ice from being shoved. “We all have to make sacrifices here. He chose you because he wanted you to live and he needs you to live still. Stroud was a Grey Warden who died for his cause to make it better for the few Wardens left and to set an example of what their oath truly means. Stop seeing yourself as so helpless and alone, because you are not! You have your brother, your son, Varric, and Anders still!”
“…What about you?”
“Well, of course you have me,” Cullen tried to smile as he put a hand to his face to calm himself down. “That goes without saying. Do you truly believe that any one of us would be happy to see you throw your life away?”
“What will you have me do then?” Shifting his weight to his back leg, Hawke stood there genuinely too tired to continue this circular argument.
“All I ask is that you come back to Skyhold just for the night. Clear your head, get some rest, and set off tomorrow. No one will try to stop you, but to leave full of doubts and concerns now will likely be the end of you and I love you too much to really put that in the back of my mind.” The exhausted Mage couldn’t help but laugh at how Cullen confessed his feelings with such serious expression causing the Commander to flush red in his cheeks even more so than from the bitter cold.
“I…I give up, Cullen. You win this round. I’ll leave tomorrow and have Varric send letters to Carver and Anders in case he has returned to normal,” Hawke managed to say in-between his fits of snickering. “Just…Just stop saying embarrassing things like that. I heard you the first two times already.”
“…First two times?” choked the surprised Commander as he had an arm put around his red fur-lined neck.
“Sure, you told me both times we were in bed together, although this is the first time you’ve told me with pants on. One would call that progress, wouldn’t you agree? You should keep in mind that everyone is not as heavy of a sleeper as you are. Food for thought.”
“…Maker,” the defeated Blond groaned and ran a gloved hand over his face as he was led by the object of his affection back to Skyhold. As the sun rose overhead and shone down through the holes in Cullen’s loft, he rolled over to put his arm across a nearly empty side of his bed. Hawke had taken his leave as he said he would, only leaving a note tied around a small wooden box.
Cullen,
As you can probably tell by how frosty your neither regions are, I have gone to meet the Wardens. I have left instructions with Varric to send letters ahead to my brother and Anders explaining where I’ll be in case either one of them wants to scold me in person. Enclosed are a few vials of my blood to ease your Lyrium withdrawal, though if you ever wish to find me again, I suggest not using the one that’s a bit…glowy. Anders always made such a fuss about these things, so best not to tell him how I left one just in case a certain former Knight-Captain wishes to relive his glory days and track down an extremely good-looking known apostate for fun.
At any rate, good luck with your Inquisitioning and take care of my son. Tell him that I…well. Tell him something fatherly because I’m leaving all the parental duties up to you. I really do see you having a family in the future, Rutherford. Think of this as practice.
In case we never cross paths again, I wanted you to know how even though you beat yourself up about leaving me after the night we spent together in Kirkwall to avoid ‘Templar Shaming’, I left early the next morning thinking the very same thing. Isn’t that something? I said I loved you as well, but you’re such a heavy sleeper! It’s adorable how your ringlets get all out of place when you’re passed out like a mabari full on Orlesian ham (even though I’m told it taste like despair). I bet they’re like that now, aren’t they?
I honestly have no idea as to what is going to happen when I reach out to the First Warden. I don’t know what will happen to Anders either, but I can’t abandon him. I made a promise. If the world doesn’t end and if I’m not forced into drinking darkspawn blood from a chalice or worse, maybe we can then have a real conversation about our terrible sleeping habits.
Until then, I suppose you'll just have to hold on to that piece of my heart you stole back in Kirkwall for a little longer.
S. Hawke
P.S Tell Varric I love him just to see what kind of face he makes.
P.P.S Tell Vesper I love him as well in the fatherly way and to stop flirting with you. It’s weird.
Upon opening the box, a few tears splashed on the red-filled glass tubes held within. The odd-looking one, in the shape of a compass encased in a gold broach with a matching chain, emitted a faint glow indicating to the north.
Running his fingers through his messy yellow hair, Varric sat at his claimed table with a stack of parchment and plenty of ink. So far, his only progress on the letters he was talked into writing were, Dear Little Hawke on one and Dear Blondie on another. “Varric? Do you have a moment?” the Inquisitor asked as he tried to peek over the Dwarf’s shoulder.
“Can it wait? I’ve got some letters to write…”
“Ah, yes,” the young Mage said. “Of course, but…I…as I said before I’ve read your book, Tales of the Champion, and had some questions about Hawke...I mean, my father. My real father, at any rate I suppose...” Groaning, Varric put the quill down and turned around.
“Okay, so I may have exaggerated a bit, but I swear to you, most of it is still true,” he chuckled and motioned to an empty seat next to him. “I guess with him being your blood and all, you deserve to hear the real story.”
“More real than the one you told Cassandra at least?” Vesper laughed softly as he was surprisingly good natured about most things, a trait he had unknowingly inherited.
“The most realistic version yet!” the Rogue also chuckled. “Though I should probably leave out the mushy stuff…You are his kid, after all.”
“But I already know about Fenris, Anders, and Cullen…”
“And Isabella! Your father was a bit of a heartbreaker. Every time he fell in love, he got his heart broken.”
“Pretty sure that’s not what heartbreaker means…”
“Details! So where should we begin? Ah, how about, There were five of them before the Fifth Blight began…Malcolm, Leandra, Seren, Carver, and Bethany…”
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Cullen and His Lingering Regrets