Chapter Text
Krista sat down at her desk and looked at the reports in front of her. Reports providing her information for the Exalted Council, reports she should at least make a start on before they set out to Halamshiral. She groaned and dropped her head onto the one small empty space in front of her, with a slight thud. This was just way too much.
They were to be hauled up In front of the Exalted Council to explain their purpose now the Breach was closed and their continued existence. Ferelden wanted them torn down, Orlais wanted to control them. The Inquisition was a behemoth of an organisation now, so many people relying on it, either working for it or supplying it. That single original goal, closing the Breach and finding those responsible was long done. Back then, that purity of purpose had driven them through all the setbacks and victories. Now it was drawn in all directions, and its helmsman was in danger of becoming rudderless herself.
The Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste; the titles allowed people to fill in what they thought she was, or what she should be. What was it Lace Harding had said to her, ‘every time you’re more than just a person to someone, you’re also less than a person to them’. Sometimes, she thought people didn’t even think she was a person, just an icon or target.
Krista looked again at the reports, and gave up. She got up, dragged her chairs onto the balcony, and sat down with her feet up. This is what she didn’t do anymore, sit and stare at the mountains. Just take time and stop. Cullen wouldn’t be back for a while; he’d have gone to his office after reading Cara and Ewan their bedtime story, then work for a while until he came to bed later. She’d offered, but they wanted Da to read to them. Not surprising, as they were used to him, Cullen was always there. He was with them every day, in around the work he had to do. If they weren’t with him, they were with Nana. Ama, as they called Krista, was often away.
Cullen. They both knew it wasn’t the same between them. Her absences, and their disagreements over decisions she had made, initially caused friction. Then even that went as both were focused elsewhere.
Krista had supported the mages setting up the College of Enchanters after Leliana had abolished the Circles. It was a risk, but she wanted to give them the chance to prove themselves, after all their aid in fighting Corypheus. Cullen was no longer a Templar, but sometimes he couldn’t stop thinking like one. There was no oversight he’d complained, who would be there to ensure their safety, as well as the safety of others. He said she should have kept them in the Inquisition, were they could be at least monitored. His dreams had stopped, but the memories of Kinloch Hold never really went away.
The Templar Order was effectively gone, and those remaining, who were uncorrupted, joined the Inquisition. There was really nowhere else for them to go anyway. And Cullen had set up a programme to help those who wanted to give up taking lyrium. He’d become a symbol of hope in beating the addiction. And he was determined to help all those he could. Krista made sure he had all the resources he needed; she knew how important it was to him.
Apart from the children, or Inquisition matters, they really spoke about anything else, or were even intimate now. It grew gradually, a step at a time, an absence here, another distraction there. Both of them managed to remain friendly, it was just the rest of their relationship that seemed to have slipped away.
There were times, when she stood in his office, she remembered how they had been. There so many good memories attached to his office and loft. Reports stuck to her after sex on his desk, how she’d asked him to marry her, the first time he’d smacked her bottom, and how they’d always bantered. Not to mention the night of their wedding, when all she wanted in the world was him, and how she loved him with every fibre of her being. It made her sad, because she still loved him.
Tonight had also crystallised something else for Krista. She realised she was in danger of becoming her parents. Those distant people that she and her siblings would be presented to, not the parent Cullen was, who cuddled, played with, fed and read stories to his children. The last couple of months just when they were becoming more aware, was the time she been away a lot, dealing with negotiations, petitioners, and Maker know what other problems the Inquisition was now dragged into. Occasionally they had to deploy the army to keep the peace, but in the main it was diplomatic problems.
The Inquisition was taking her away from everything she loved, and she didn’t know what to do to fix it. It couldn’t go on like this; she wanted her husband, her children and her life back.
Krista also missed her friends, not realising when they were there how much it helped. Most of all she missed Dorian. Bull and Cole were still around, but Bull was out in the field at lot, mopping up pockets of Venatori, and Cole was learning, spending more time with people. He wanted to help, but she knew this was something he couldn’t, unless he could unmake her Inquisitor.
She sat for a while, just staring, and then her hand started to itch more again. The Anchor had always itched a little, but she learnt to live with that. Over the last few weeks, it had begun to stir again, and she’d not seen a rift in months. It made her hand tremble slightly when it did. It was never for long though. She guessed another spasm was on its way.
Maker, she was so tired, physically and mentally. She closed her eyes and soon sleep overtook her.
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It was late when Cullen finally went up to their room. Krista would still be at her desk with all the reports, so he decided to just go to bed. When he got there, her desk was still piled up, but no Krista and no chairs. He took a chance and looked out onto the balcony. She was asleep, sitting out there in the cold. As he opened the door, he could hear her moaning gently in her sleep. He knew she used to often just stare at the mountains before, but it had been a while since she’d done that.
As he picked her up, he felt how cold she was. Maker, how long had she been here? He had to get her in, and by the fire. He sat on the sofa, holding her on his lap. It was then he noticed how she was holding her hand, the one with Anchor, bunched into a fist. Still half asleep, she stirred.
“Cullen?” her voice was sleepy.
“Ssh, I’m here Kitty,” he replied quietly not wanting to rouse her anymore. She got precious little rest as it was.
This half awake state was the only time her mask slipped a little, showing her vulnerability. He’d long guessed that she didn’t know what she was doing. She was expected to be strong and somehow she’d convinced herself this was who she meant to be. And the more she tried to be strong and carry on, the more she drifted away. He’d let it go, because when he’d tried to push her, she’d retreated further from him.
The woman who joked, cursed and laughed, had retreated somewhere inside, and Maker, he didn’t know anymore how to get her back. But he loved her, he’d always love her, and if that meant waiting, he would.
It hadn’t been the same between them for a while. There was so much else to contend with and gradually, slowly it had taken them over. And watching her earlier with the twins, he saw how hurt she was when they wanted him to read to them. He could see it in her face, she felt like stranger there, like she didn’t fit. Now she’d be trying to carry that too.
What he did know was that being the Inquisitor was subsuming Krista, and he hated it. Because she was the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, everyone felt they could call on her. They didn’t see the human being stuck in the centre of that. What was originally meant to be a force for good was becoming just another huge power base, with all the problems and difficulties that came with it. Ultimately she was responsible for every decision, and eventually it would destroy her. It had already started to destroy them.
Cullen hugged her, almost as a reflex action to protect her, and he heard a gentle moan, as she pushed herself against him. She opened her eyes, and looked up at him, blinking for a few moments.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore...” she said, looking drained and her voice weary.
For a moment he wasn’t sure what she meant, and a cold hand gripped his heart. He needed to ask.
“What can’t you do?” he asked, unsure what her answer was going to be.
“Be the Inquisitor. I’m losing everything I love.” Krista was gently stroking his arm. She was looking down now, but he could hear the tremor in her voice.
His heart settled. He could sense she was awake now, and the mask gone. This was the first time she’d opened up, and he realised she needed him again. He wasn’t going to lose this chance.
“I love you, and you will never lose me, ever. I just...I just didn’t know how I could help you. Every time I tried, it made it worse. Maker knows I’m not always good saying what I mean,” he said. “You did say I’m the man with a hammer, to whom everything appears a nail.”
“I shouldn’t have said that,” she replied, now looking up. Cullen thought he saw a flicker of a smile arise. “I’m sorry, sometimes I... well... I open my mouth without engaging my brain.” She sighed.
“Well, now you mention it...” he said, smiling and stroking her face.
“I know, I know,” she replied, leaning into his hand now.
“So, what do you want to do about being Inquisitor?” he asked gently. “You know whatever you decide, I’m here for you.”
She rubbed her eyes. “I know. Let’s see what happens at this Exalted Council. It may even be the decision is taken out of my hands. If they want to disband, I’m not going to fight them.”
Cullen saw her left hand tremble. She quickly fisted it, and held on to it with her other hand. She was trying to hide it from him, albeit badly.
“Talk to me, what’s wrong?” he asked, a tad forcefully.
Krista looked at him for a moment, then let go of her left hand and unfolded it. He could see the Anchor glowing brighter than usual. “It’s been a little more active recently and spasms occasionally. It’s never for long and doesn’t hurt. I just don’t know why it’s doing it. I wondered if it could be reacting to me, but the one person we could ask left us two years ago.”
They still hadn’t found out why Solas left, or what his parting message meant, and it continued to bother Krista.
She shook her head, and let out a sharp laugh. “Years back, when we were angry with each other, I remember thinking you’d be happier just to have the Anchor on my hand, and not me. But now, I wish I didn’t have it.”
“I don’t ever remember thinking that, just that you shouldn’t be so reckless.” Cullen smiled and kissed her forehead. She smiled back. A glint came into her eye.
“Really? That’s not the impression I got. You were an arse,” her voice now a little louder, but she was still smiling.
“So were you. As I remember you even admitted you were a pain in the arse,” he said matching her tone and smiling back.
“Well, you used to annoy me, lecturing me all the time,” she replied defiantly.
“You used to deliberately wind me up, and admitted it, by the way,” he countered.
“I did, didn’t I? Your jaw used to clench so much,” she let out a little laugh, and put a finger to his chin.
“What did you expect, you used to mock smile at me, and never listened. I might as well have been talking to myself,” he was grinning back at her.
“You were most of the time, if I recall. All I had to do was say ‘I understand’ enough times, and hope I got away with it,” she teased.
When was the last time they’d bantered like this? Maker, he’d missed it. They hardly ever spoke about anything but their children and the Inquisition.
“I did apologise first, if you recall,” he said smugly.
“That you did. Because you were in the wrong,” she mocked.
“Uh-huh. That didn’t stop you from trying to kiss me. Or did I mistake the lipstick you left behind?” he raised an eyebrow.
“Well, you...you disarmed me. You smelt too good. I think you were deliberately trying to tempt me,” she huffed. But now she had that smile, the one the one he loved. He recalled, when he first saw it, how it made him feel good about himself.
“Me tempt you? Who was the one with no underclothes when I came to your cabin?” he said, goading her.
“Who wanted me to take my shirt off so he could touch my tattoo?” she replied, biting her lip and watching him with those dark eyes.
Cullen knew those signs, and Maker, he wanted her, more that he wanted them to be together again. He knew it could be a risk, she could withdraw again. But he also knew he would regret it if he didn’t try. There were too many moments where they’d tiptoed around each other.
“Who begged me to fuck her?” he asked, giving her the smile. He remembered how she’d react, how her eyes would close briefly. She used to tell him she was a sucker for that smile.
He heard her breath catch. “Cullen...” she said quietly, her eyes closed.
“You know I want you right now.” He was pressing her, he knew, but hoped she would let go. He waited.
“What’s stopping you?” she finally whispered, opening her eyes.
Absolutely nothing, he thought. Cullen kissed her. He’d missed her so much. He needed her, he was hungry for her. Her hands snaked into his hair, and grasped his head, pulling him down harder on her mouth. Still holding her, he got up and he managed to walk them over to their bed. He broke away and laid her down. As he climbed onto the bed next to her, he heard,
“I love you, Rutherford,” her voice breathless, with a mixture of desire and love.
That was the first time she’d called him Rutherford for a long time. He hoped this might at least be the start of them coming back together.
“I love you too Kitty,” he replied kissing her again, and settling his hand on her hip. Her gasp flew into his mouth. Maker, he so loved his wife.