Another chapter of my new Cullen/Helaine fic for you. Full series here.
Cullen
Heâd forgotten what it was like to have⌠family.
Properly.
Not the idealised people in his head â the ink on paper â that heâs had these past thirteen years. (Closer to nineteen, taking his templar training into account.)
Not the camaraderie of his fellow templars.
Not even the friendship â the love â that he has found in the Inquisition.
But family.
People who knew him before the nightmares, and treat him just the same now.
His shoulder still aches a little from Garethâs â fully deserved â punch, but his stomach is full of proper Fereldan food just like his Ma used to make. Heâs having as spirited a⌠discussion with Mia as they ever had when they were children together. Thereâs a roaring fire in the hearth, and his youngest niece on his knee.
Well⌠youngest, for now. A position that will change if it turns out that Rosalie is carrying a girl. But heâs going to try not to think about that. Not tonight.
It feels like the evening disappears in the blink of an eye. One moment heâs arguing with Mia, and the next Gareth is picking up a barely half-awake May, telling them heâll put her to bed. The next, the other children have gone too. The next, there are small cups for each of them, a sweet but evidently potent berry-flavoured liquor, brewed by Mia herselfâŚ
And then, before he knows it, heâs waking up in Rosalieâs bed to the sound of half-hushed voices from the floor below.
The nostalgia hits him like a battering ram.
Especially when he hears Mia shush someone, sounding exactly the same as she did when they were children.
He turns his head, finding Helaine awake beside him.
âMorning, sweetheart,â he says, still a little drowsy, as he leans down, brushing a kiss against the crown of her head. âSleep well?â
A soft, affirmative hum. âYou?â
âVery. Though I donât actually remember coming to bedâŚâ he admits.
She pushes herself up onto her elbow, able to look him in the eye. âAre you well?â
Now that she says it, there is a slight headache behind his eyes. Presumably due to the potency of the liquor. He tells her as much, unsurprised but quietly pleased as she lifts her hand from his chest and traces the contour of his brow, trailing healing magic in her wake.
âDo not imagine that this will become a regular occurrence,â she warns him, though the fact that she also follows the healing with a lingering kiss does belie her words. âMia did tell you not to have a second cup, but Gareth had one, and you would not be outdone.â
He has a hazy memory of such at the mention of it, but further details are not forthcoming, either from his own mind, or from Helaine. However, just as he is about to prompt her, there is another noise from below. A door slamming shut, followed by Miaâs voice, half-whispering, half-yelling in that same very particular way that their Ma had so often, many years ago.
âOwen Alexander Moorcroft, be quiet! For the love of Andraste, I know I didnât raise you in a barn, so stop behaving like I did!â
âOh,â he says, his own voice properly hushed. âFull name? Heâs in trouble.â
âI presume you heard your own full name quite often?â Helaine notes, with a warm smile.
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This was nice. Peaceful, actually. The Antivan penchant for escaping the heat of their city by taking to the water was a custom it seemed he could absolutely endorse.
Of course, it would be nice if the boat were rather more private and he hadnât had to sneak away from two princes, three crows and Eamon to achieve this moment of peace, but heâd take what he could get.
Heâd learned to do that in the early years of his reign.
Take the moments where he could; find the enjoyment in his duty.
The water lapped quietly at the bow of the boat as it leisurely drifted through the water and he lost himself for a moment in the pattern of the waves.
So far, his first foray as king outside of Ferelden had been a roaring success. Some of that was due to Eamonâs management of the whole thing, of course, but he liked to think his ability to not entirely cock it up had also played a part.
Theyâd taken steps towards an alliance, made some deals, almost negotiated a fair price for the ships they needed, and soon it would be time to go home.
He just had to get through all the social engagements first.
That was what he should have been doing now. Socialising. But the foredeck had been too crowded, too loud, and after being stuck inside all day, heâd just wanted to feel the wind on his face and be alone with his thoughts for a moment.
Sadly, a moment was all he would get.
âAlistair!â Eamon hissed, dragging him away from the peaceful solitude. âIâve been looking for you everywhere.â
âWell, youâve found me!â he said with false cheeriness, internally lamenting the loss of the peace. âWhat do you need?â
It was a sentence he uttered often. Everyone always wanted something when you were ostensibly in charge. He sometimes wondered if this was how Elissa had felt during the blight.
âI need you to apply a little of your charm on one of the merchant princes,â Eamon said without hesitation. âWe may be able to-â
But he didnât get the chance to find out what they would be able to do. He didnât even get the chance to agree, because, at that moment, an indistinct shape hurtled past them from the deck above.
Another chapter of my new Cullen/Helaine fic for you. Full series here.
Helaine
âWhat in the Void are you doing here?â
The woman behind the door is undoubtedly Mia. Rosalieâs painting had been very accurate. But her eyes are filled with confusion, with surprise.
They had sent back their reply to her last letter. Advising his family of their plans. The leave that they had been given from the Inquisitor. She is certain of it. But perhaps it had not been received? Perhaps Mia had assumed their silence meant that they were not coming. Or perhaps there had been a letter that they had missed. Changing the plans. Has something happened? Has the wedding been cancelled? Or has their invitation been revoked?
Cullen tears his eyes away from his sister, glancing anxiously at Helaine, but the options are spiralling in her head, her feet frozen (figuratively) to the ground.
And thenâŚ
Laughter.
Bright and happy and incredulous.
Cullen is half-knocked off his feet by Miaâs arms wrapping around him, and, with a choked sound, he wraps his arms around her too. Seconds, minutes, hours pass â she could not be relied upon to say â and then Mia pulls back, reaching up to ruffle his hair.
âSorry, little brother. I just couldnât resist. All those pranks you and Bran pulled on me when we were small, eh? I still havenât forgiven you for that time you messed with the laundry and dyed my favourite dress splotchy green!â
He is half-choking again, the sound now turned to a splutter of friendly disagreement as he lifts his hand to try and smooth his hair down, but Helaine still cannot move. Not yet.
Not until Miaâs eyes land on her.
âWell, well. Here she is. The girl who finally captured my brotherâs heart.â
Memories of times that she has been accused of bewitching men rise to the front of her mind, mixed with the many nightmares that she has had about this moment. Of Cullenâs family not approving of herâŚ
And then Mia takes a step forward, a hand slowly reaching out and then landing on Helaineâs upper arm.
âA delight to meet you at last, Helaine. If I can call you Helaine? You donât prefer your title?â
âYou may call me Helaine,â she says, her voice smaller and weaker than she would like it to be.
âHelaine. A delight to meet you,â she repeats, no trace of guile or deception in her tone. âThank you for bringing him back to us,â she adds. âI hear that itâs entirely down to you that he started writing me back.â
âNot⌠entirely.â
Mia beams at her. âIâm sure youâve had all manner of good influences on him. Though⌠that hair! Please tell me that wasnât your idea.â
Cullen reaches up again. âThereâs nothing wrong with my hair!â
âToo much pomade, I agree,â Helaine manages to say. âI prefer the curls.â
Mia nods approvingly, even as Cullen groans. âHeâs going to regret introducing us,â she says, slipping her hand down and taking Helaineâs elbow.
She threw herself around the column and huddled in the darkness. She listened, senses alert, tracking the movement of the horde. There were more of them than sheâd anticipated. So many that theyâd nearly overwhelmed her.
She could hear them now, their fetid, rattling breath, the shuffling of their feet. Her heart pounded against her chest as she prayed frantically that theyâd fall for her distraction. If they turned towards her⌠she didnât know if she had enough reserves left to run.
Certainly not to fight.
Not with the open wound she was currently trying to staunch with nothing but a hand that was so far from clean it was laughable.
There were healing potions back at camp. She just had to get there.
She shouldnât have come alone.
A few more seconds passed while she contemplated the very real possibility that she would die here, huddled in some long-forgotten corner of the Deep Roads, left to rot while Alistair wondered what had become of her.
It was not the first time she had contemplated such.
Not that she had ever told him that.
She held her breath as they drew closer. It wouldnât help. They could sense her after all. Sense her blood. Blood she could currently feel leaking slowly over her fingers.
She held her breath anyway. Lungs burning as she tried to stay as still as possible.
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Another chapter of my new Cullen/Helaine fic for you. Full series here.
Cullen
Itâs not⌠quite the morning that he had expected.
Well, not entirely.
Making love to Helaine had certainly been part of his plan when he had written to the landlady of the Gull and Lantern, making sure that they had the same room that theyâd had before. A sweet echo of their first night together.
But⌠just like that first night, heâd gone and said something wrong.
At least this time she hadnât leapt from the bed. Sheâd told him immediately. That sheâs terrified of meeting his family, that sheâs still convinced that they arenât going to approve of her.
He thinks back to the gifts that his family had sent before Satinalia, the letters too.
They know sheâs a mage, an elf, that she fought for the Chantry Army. Her origins are perhaps more of a mystery, but he canât imagine that his siblings will hold them against her. Not when he loves her so much.
Still, after the delightful time theyâd had the previous day â the journey to Redcliffe, the snowball fight, the games of chess â this morning has taken a rather⌠frosty turn. And heâs not just talking about the ice creeping across the windowpanes.
Though she seems eager again to go to Lothering â to South Reach â he still canât help keeping watch over her, if only out of the corner of his eye. Studying her for signs of distress or pain.
It reminds him, brutally, of those first few days after she had nearly died in the Arbor Wilds. Not just the days she had spent lying unconscious, or the days spent journeying back to Skyhold, but the days after that too. Keeping an eye on the colour of her cheeks, looking out for a sheen of sweat on her brow. Now, he looks for frowns and winces. Less traumatic, perhaps, but just as important.
The landlady bustles about them as she had that first morning, though heâs certain that thereâs a little more spring in her step this time. Bundles them out the door with a hearty sackful of food for the day ahead, refilled water and wineskins, and a cheerful request to send word ahead of their return journey, so that she can be sure to have their room ready for them again.
Heâs not entirely sure how much of this is for their direct benefit, and how much is for the way that several of her morning patrons turn their heads, marking his and Helaineâs presence and seeming preference for the inn.
In any case, they are soon back on their way, on the road toward Lothering.
Sheâs quiet.
She had been the previous day too, until they got to Redcliffe, at least. He hadnât really noticed at the time. Too busy enjoying being in his own country, on riding past familiar sights and telling old stories. Like he had been on the way to Honnleath. But todayâŚ
Ok fine you guys twisted my arm (I say to a completely empty room) here's why I think Mass Effect 2 worked and Veilguard tried to copy it and failed.
First up is the complexity of the goal/plot. In ME2, the end goal was simple: Stop the Collectors from harvesting humans. Blast off through the Omega 4 Relay and probably die. Take down as many Collectors as possible before you die. Basically, shoot stuff until it explodes. It made sense that half of the squadmates were just "legendary badass", "legendary badass (green skin version)" and "legendary badass (huge tits version)." You need to kill dudes, so you pick people who are good at killing. There are a few who are better at tech or science, but they use tech and science to, you guessed it, kill dudes. Then you have a few who join due to aligning goals (Legion) or loyalty to Shepard (Tali, Garrus) or humanity/Cerberus (Jacob, Miranda), or they're literally getting paid to be there (Kasumi and Zaeed). But all of them have reasons to stick around, of various importance.
The specificity of the main plot is also relevant here, because everybody in the galaxy is like "oh humans are getting kidnapped? sucks to suck dude rip in piss ://" so it makes sense to recruit whoever you can get. You need help for an issue that (according to everyone who would otherwise help) only concerns you. So you're like "hey are you good at killing? and do you mind dying?" and most of those freaks go "yeah lmao whatever." They're self-selecting, because the cause is so specific and explicitly suicidal.
The suicidal thing also helps explain the loyalty missions, btw. They're not presented as "hey can you umm help? or I'm gonna be distwacted đđ" but as "hey man, these people are willing to die on your command, you should probably help them with their unfinished business at the very least." And yeah, the mechanic of "if you don't help they'll fucking perish" remains the same, but the framing is different. In ME2, you're basically helping a bunch of professionals to do this final thing before they die for your cause. It's both a sign of respect and of consideration for them as people, and strengthens your bond with them and their loyalty to you. The way it's framed means that you don't have to do this in order for them to do their job, but doing it helps strengthen their belief in you.
And because the stakes are relatively low (as far as everyone knows), of course the squadmates will respect and appreciate a Shepard who takes care of them more. Of course it builds loyalty. This person isn't just using you as a meat shield for their pet crusade, they're genuinely trying to do what's right and don't want you to die for nothing.
In Veilguard, you're literally told multiple times that you have to do their dumbfuck busywork or else they're gonna throw in the towel. Hey man can you do this thing? Or else I'm not saving the world :3c The stakes being SO HIGH while their issues are SO NOTHING makes most of them look really immature and incompetent, which clashes against the whole "gang of experts" thing. You're telling me this couldn't wait? I have to go into Lucanis' mind and figure out his traumas or else he won't ... hold a knife good? And that will doom the world because he's the only guy who can hold a knife? Okay???
ME2 presents everybody as professionals and experts in their field, but at the end of the day, they're just there to kill stuff. Remove one, and another will be found. The mission is (as far as everyone in power knows) not galaxy-threatening yet, so finding new guys to help would be easy. That's why Shep taking the time to solve their final issues means something and why it earns their loyalty. It shows that Shep cares about them as people.
Veilguard presents these people as experts in their fields, too. They're considered irreplacable in this conflict. And the conflict is saving the whole entire fucking world. And YET, that has to take a backseat to them figuring out what happened to a work colleague or Lucanis' grandma, because none of these experts can take a fucking chill pill to SAVE THE WORLD.
ME2 offers "low" stakes for the conflict and high stakes for the characters, so when it focuses on the characters' stories, it makes sense. You get the impression that it's character drama with a common goal that brings them all together. Veilguard offers high stakes for the plot and low stakes for the characters, but still focuses on the characters, so you get the sense that we're fucking around playing therapist while the world is on fire in the background, and it's presented as totally logical, because these guys can't save the world without a clear mind!! Despite being ... experts in their fields.
That's why, to me, Rook feels like a therapist while Shep feels like a leader.
Anyway, this is the formal end of the post but I wrote more on the specific character motivations of the Veilguard and why they don't work/feel trite to me and how that adds to Rook feeling like they're a therapist but it didn't fit with the rest of the post so under cut.
Another thing is that, while sometimes the problems of the Veilguard are technically higher stakes than the problems of the ME2 squad, there is a sense of "Hey do you actually need me for this?" And that I think is in part to the lacking motivations of the Veilguard. It's so unclear why some of them stick around that it becomes difficult to justify why they wouldn't just leave to fix their own issues.
(For example, Garrus asks us to help kill a guy. The guy isn't dangerous, he's not out there killing people or in possession of a superweapon ready to destroy a city. He's just an asshole and Garrus wants revenge. He could, technically, leave and just kill the guy himself. He knows where the guy is, so what's holding him back? Well, the job is. And Shepard is. Garrus wants Shep's help, because he doesn't trust himself to finish it on his own. He needs somebody to rely on, but he also knows that he can't just leave without Shep's permission, and that Shep needs him, too. Everything is on Shep's schedule, and there's no real time limit. His revenge can wait until Shep is ready to offer their help.
Neve is hunting an old rival who is a blood mage threatening to enslave her favorite city in all da world. It's pretty damn high stakes. But in my playthrough, Neve wasn't counting on Rook's help at all. In fact, she explicitly mentioned several times that she didn't. Yet, she still sat around and waited for their help. She didn't leave to deal with this on her own, didn't even consider it. But why not? What about Rook or this cause is keeping her there, especially since there's canonically time before the next big move and the issue is so high-stakes and pressing? People will die if she doesn't do something, yet she's sitting on her ass waiting for Rook, whose help she isn't counting on, to step up? What???)
Neve is introduced as being hired by Varric to find Solas, which she does. In the tutorial mission. She sticks around after Varric dies because ... she's in too deep now, I guess. She has to help save the world, you see. Even though all she wants is to go back to Minrathous and protect the people there. She wants your help to. Figure out some stuff. The famous big city detective needs the help of a person who's introduced as somebody who "thinks in straight lines" and whose nickname is probably a play on "rookie." She is not getting paid for this. She's doing this out of the kindness of her heart, even though most of her time on screen is spent dreaming of her favorite city in da world. She's not an expert in anything that has to do with the current plot, so she's in-fiction not really vital to keep around. Her role as a mage is made entirely pointless by the existence of Bellara and Emmrich. Supposedly her area of expertise is in blood magic ... despite hating it and not actually practicing it, on account of it being bad and evil. So she's an expert in killing blood mages, then?
Well, no. That's Lucanis. He's the resident mage killer ... who we find in an underwater prison, guarded by blood mages. I get there is a reason for why he was defeated, but the optics aren't great, ya know? We don't really free him as much as we lightly distract his guards, so he can bust out of the prison fully clothed and armored. He's suuper eager for revenge, but he's also been forcefully possessed. But that's okay, because we need his expertise for um. Killing mages. Which is what the Evanuris are. So this random possessed human guy will know better than anybody else how to kill the Evanuris. Sure. He decides to stick around on account of ... the Crows always finishing a contract. Who is paying him? Who is paying the Crows? His gam-gam ordered him to stay, she's basically offering us his services for freeing him. Guy is an indentured servant but acts like it's his choice, like it's an honor thing and not his grandma putting him in the toilet. And when it's time for him to show/offer his expertise in the field, he says "How am I supposed to fight a cloud?" which is fair enough, sure. But have you not fought mages before? Do you not have any reference for them doing weird shit at all? Do you not know how to disrupt rituals, break barriers? In the end, all he can practically do is hold the special knife and attempt to stick the pointy end into his target. Which my rogue Rook or Davrin or Taash chould've done. But gam-gam says to sit so he sits! It's not a very compelling motivation for this epic expert mage killer to just kinda. Stick around out of obligation. It could've been interesting, if he chafed against it or had to be won over, but he's just fine with it. It's treated as natural that this dude, who isn't even slightly an actual expert and is just a glorified knife holder and who isn't practically useful in any sense of the word, is still in the group. It's treated as natural that Rook has to go out of their way to help him clear his mind so he can hold the knife better next time, instead of just finding another guy to hold the knife. Maybe the spirit in him makes him stronger and more capable of fighting mages? No, the spirit is what made him miss in the first place, actually! So you have to help him figure it out or he'll miss again. DON'T ask somebody else to hold the knife though. It HAS TO BE Lucanis. Because he's the mage killer expert. Who missed. And can't handle mages.
Then we have Taash, who we need to kill the blighted dragons. They're the only dragon hunter around and have an encyclopedic knowledge of said dragons. Unfortunately the blighted state of the dragons that are actually necessary to kill are behaving in unexpected and different ways from normal dragons. They're literally manipulated by the Evanuris to be harder to kill. Making Taash's expertise moot. I didn't even have them in my party when I took on two dragons at once, and in fact the only dragons that Taash is presented as capable of killing are ones that they want us to kill. So this expert we recruit mostly introduces more dragons for us to kill that aren't actually threatening us in any way. The main time Taash has to show off their knowledge is when we use the dragon trap ... which was fashioned by Wardens. Who are all trained specifically to fight Archdemons. Who are dragons. That are blighted. Do you uh. Do you see my problem here. Taash also sticks around the Veilguard for inexplicable reasons. Mostly it seems they don't want to go home to their mother, which is fine, but this is a whole-ass adult, supposedly. They could go back to hunting dragons for the Lords, because they're written as too self-absorbed to really care about stepping up to the fight just for the sake of it. So despite them not really being useful in any way to the overall plot, we still have to help them figure out their gender identity, or else they won't be able to ... fight the blighted dragons. Which they couldn't fight. On account of the blight. Cool cool cool.
Then we have Emmrich, who is a professor and has shit to do. He is also presented as a Fade expert, while Bellara is somehow not, despite doing most of the Fade-related and artifact-related magic on-screen. Emmrich joins the Veilguard on account of um. Well we asked nicely, and he's a good guy, so he has to help save the world. Despite the fact that he's terrified of dying. Which he's far more likely to do after leaving his job. And the thing is, yeah, "the world might end so we need to stop that!" is a valid motivation, but if we accept it as the motivation of a central character whose plot we must find compelling, then why is it that it's only a few guys trying to save the world? This conflict is prestented as bigger than all the previous games combined, bigger than (the) Inquisition, which had literally entire armies and different branches and infrastructure for it's "smaller" conflict, and people were still volunteering and joining in droves, but here we're 8 guys? Are we meant to believe Emmrich's willingness to join the Veilguard is somehow unique to him, and that nobody else in the world would volunteer to join? When Harding exists, on the same team?
Speaking of, Harding is a character who can really get away with "I wanna save the world", because her joining the Inquisition is literally how she got into the plot in the first place. She's a joiner. She joins heroic causes. So her having this sort of bare-bones but noble motivation works. Same with Davrin. Bellara seems to join out of both curiosity and guilt, which are interesting enough reasons and come through visibly in her subplot and characterization, but more importantly, she doesn't have anything holding her back that might take priority until she finds out her brother is alive. Her sticking around also makes some sense because she's ya know. An elf mage Fade expert. Or sorry an elf artifacts expert.
I'm not saying "somebody's gotta do it!" or "it's the right thing to do!" aren't valid motivations, they clearly are, but there's gotta be more to it, especially when it comes to characters who have something to lose like Emmrich. My guy is terrified of death but he's such a good dude that he jumps into this life-threatening conflict without a second thought? But then gets so "distracted" by his wacky scientist former colleague that he needs our help figuring it out? Huh???
Um. I didn't have a conclussy for this part of the post so. bye
Honestly this is such a good breakdown of why it feels so different! Great job OP.
I also think that what's happening in the south plays into it (at least it does for me). Like, we're told the SOUTH IS BURNING. All the people from DAO, DA2 and DAI are dying. Everything we ever did in ALL of the previous games is at risk/under threat and yet we're going to bring the plot to a screaming halt to play therapist to a bunch of, admittedly, interesting characters, but ones who don't really have a reason to be here?
Like I get that you needed something very high stakes to keep the Inquisitor out of Rook's business but I don't think destroying the south entirely was necessary. If you've played the previous games you have an emotional attachment to the south and the fact that you're busy sorting out Hardings magic or Taashs' gender identity or Davrins relationship with his feathered son while everything you love is being destroyed in South well, it just makes Rook and the entire crew look and feel SO incompetent.
And this is not the case for ME2! Like firstly, as OP pointed out, the threat of the Collectors is not that dire (everyone and everything you did in ME1 is fine actually). BUT ALSO the bigger, wider, world ending threat of the Reapers can and is dismissed as a myth! Shepard sounds to everyone else like a crazy person. You have to convince people that the problem exists (at least until they show up in ME3). This makes the people willing help you and believe you about the wider threat rarer and therefore more important and therefore it makes sense to get THEIR heads on straight.
You COULD have made a similar play with the Evanuris. Like have them work in the shadows and everyone be like 'pfft elven gods? Sounds fake the world isn't ENDING. You sound insane' and I think there are PARTS where they tried to do this (specifically with the First Warden). But like also the Evanuris are here almost immediately showing up as a giant cloud and throwing their pet dragons at everything. Their henchmen are here screaming about how they work for Elgar'nan and he's going to grant them power or whatever. If their return had been unbelievable and each companion had a reason to believe and joined the fight because of that then the whole thing would have made a lot more sense.
It wasnât often that he got to feel like the wisest, most experienced person in the room.
Occasionally â when heâd really done his research â he managed to feel like one of the more informed people in the Landsmeet, which was probably good since he was King.
Of course, he was far more comfortable when it came to arranging the kingdomâs defences. He might have only ever commanded an army once (and even then, Elissa had been the one whoâd actually actedas general) but he knew how fighting men behaved. He knew what it was like to fight in both a skirmish and a battle, and heâd studied tactics.
But there was one other area in which he considered himself an expert. Even if, prior to his marriage, no one would have believed him to be an expert in such things.
(Well⌠depending on what rumours theyâd heard, they might have considered him experienced in one part of it all.)
(Just not the love part of it.)
But apparently, a wedding â possibly coupled with the fact that just by being themselves as a couple he had demonstrated both to the Landsmeet and to his people that he would be utterly devoted to his wife â was all that it took for the Landsmeet to decide that now, the king should be the one giving permission for court marriages.
Maker only knew whoâd been resolving such disputes before. Teagan, maybe? But now it seemed it was his turn.
Hence why he was here in the throne room now. With the mandate to convince Bann Kailâs nineteen-year-old daughter that her knight lover was unsuitable, and that instead she should agree to the proposed wedding to Arl Brytonâs son.
Why this was his job, he had no idea. Presumably he was supposed to remind the girl of her duty and then threaten her with exile or something worse.
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Apologies for the delay!! A new Cullen/Helaine fic for you. Full series here.
Helaine
Though they have full permission (and hearty encouragement) from the Inquisitor to leave Skyhold almost a full week before First Day, in order to be present in South Reach well in time for Rosalieâs wedding, it still feels rather⌠illicit.
Perhaps it is because the last time they had left Skyhold together, it had been under somewhat false pretences. The trip to Honnleath that had certainly not been for the purposes of finding a way to help Cullen with his red lyrium sensitivity, but to figure out their own romantic compatibility.
(Though thank the Maker that they hadâŚ)
Still, as the sun rises between the mountains, as they head for the West Road and their first nightâs stop in Redcliffe, she cannot help but feel rather⌠unnerved.
She wishes that she could make up her mind as to whether she is excited to meet Cullenâs family, or dreading it beyond measure.
Before, she would have said that she was excited. She was intrigued to meet his kin; people that she half-feels she knows already through the letters they have sent, and Cullenâs own wealth of stories about them. She was eager to see more of the country that he loves. After the stress and pageantry of the Pentaghast-Trevelyan wedding, she also looked forward to attending a more⌠relaxed celebration. To dancing with Cullen again.
But now that they are on their way â now that this is real â the doubts have begun to creep into her mind again. The concern. The fear.
Though they had received another short letter not long after Satinalia â thanking them for the gifts that they had sent, confirming that Rosalieâs wedding was set for First Day itself, and insisting that there is room at Mia and her husbandâs farm for them to stay there for the occasion â she still cannot help the voice in the back of her head that tells her that they will change their minds. That once she stands in front of them â an elven mage almost a decade and a half older than their brother â they will wonder why they ever thought this was a good match. That they will try to ârescueâ him from her. That they will accuse her of bewitching himâŚ
Her stomach twists.
She reaches subconsciously for the dagger on her belt. The one that his brother Branson had made. Especially for her. Runs her fingers over the leaves burned into the leather sheath. Tries to remind herself to breathe.
Cullen, on the other hand, shows nothing but joy.
Like he had on the way to Honnleath, he keeps up a steady stream of near completely one-sided conversation, telling her stories about the places they ride through. The plants they see. The animals that run past. Some of them are ones that she has already heard before, but she does not interrupt him. His voice⌠helps. Distracts. She can almost pretend that they are on some official Inquisition business. Going to meet one of the Inquisitorâs important contacts, or to attend one of Josephineâs fancy events.
He wasnât doing this just because Elissa was here. He was doing this becauseâŚ
BecauseâŚ
Because he was king now, right?
And proving prowess in battle was something kings did occasionally. He thought. He was fairly sure. Maybe.
Besides, if Eamon expected him to sit by and watch a tourney melee take place, and not take up his own sword when he knew he was better than half of those competing, well then, he was insane.
It was not just because Elissa was here. Or rather, because Lady Cousland was here, in full regalia as the Arlessa of Amaranthine. She didnât often come to court, mostly because it made hiding their relationship both more difficult and more painful, so when she did everyone took notice.
Including him.
And apparently Bann Seymour, who seemed to be sliding into the seat next to her, a charming smile plastered on his face that Alistair could see even from the lists.
Well, he did not like that.
Not that he doubted her, per se. He was fairly sure that after all they had been through, all they were risking to hold onto their love, after everything they had said and been to each other, she was not about to call off their arrangement for some random lord who smiled at her once.
But she could.
And it irked him.
Because yes, all right, he was mostly entering the tourney melee because Elissa was here to watch him.
This was wholly unprofessional. Inconvenient. Bordering on obsessive, honestly. Â
She hadnât meant to silence him with a kiss that night before Ilos. But her body had been thrumming ever since that moment before theyâd stolen the Normandy, when, after months of them both oh-so-carefully dancing close to the line but never once daring to step over it, he had almost kissed her.Â
Not to mention the adrenaline that had been coursing through her as a result of the fact that theyâd stolen the Normandy to race through the relay system in a desperate attempt to save the entire galaxy. Â
There had been too many thoughts in her head. Too many âwhat ifâsâ, and worries, and thrills, and beneath all of that there had been the fact that she knew exactly why heâd stepped into her cabin that night. Partially because she wanted exactly the same thing and partially because after a year of fighting and flirting and three am talks, she simply knew him well enough to know what he intended even if he would never be so crass as to actually come out and say it.Â
So she had kissed him, and then his arms had been around her, and then, despite everything, he had successfully prevented her from being able to think about anything but the fiery, burning need as they had both poured every ounce of frustration into each other. Â
That night had been⌠incredible. Better than she had imagined.
(And despite her best effort she had been imagining it a lot.) Â
As he was wont to do, he exceeded all her expectations. Any thoughts she might have had about the two of them being mostly friends who occasionally shared the benefits of being more than friends â an arrangement she was far more familiar with than the concept of an actual full blown relationship â had been blown out of her head by the overwhelming need to do that again as soon as humanly possible. Â
They hadnât even really had the chance to talk about it. Sheâd woken, dressed, tried to get her headspace back into the mission, and failed spectacularly. Then when heâd woken Joker had interrupted them (again) and then theyâd been a little busy saving the entire goddamn galaxy. Â
And after theyâd done that, theyâd been heroes. Â
A Shenko fic for Shepard's birthday. Part of my soulmate AU series here.
After it happens, Tali canât apologise enough.
âIt wasnât your fault,â Shepard insists, for what sheâs sure must be the hundredth time.
âI should have been fixing that console, Shepard,â she replies, no less insistent, wringing her hands. âMy enviro-suit would have protected me from the malfunction. Iâm sorry. Iâm so sorry.â
She canât tell Tali to go away. She just canât. It would be cruel.
âI will go and run a diagnostic. I will find out what happened. I promise, Shepard.â
Shepard nods, just once. She canât deny the feeling of relief that washes over her when Tali dashes away, and recedes again when she looks back at the bed.
The bed where Kaidan is lying, unconscious.
With electrical burns from the malfunctioning console on his hands and chest.
And a head injury from flying backwards into a bulkhead.
Chakwas has had him in the med bay for almost two hours. She and her team have dressed his burns and sealed the wound on his head. Thereâs nothing left to do but wait. Wait to see what happens when he wakes up.
Shepard is ignoring the silent âifâ that Chakwas refuses to say.
The scans are clear â Chakwas said so â but⌠brains are difficult. Especially his. The amp port in the back of his neck had been undamaged, but thereâs no telling what had been⌠rattled.
They wonât know if heâs still⌠him until he wakes up.
He has to wake up.
He has to.
Her eyes canât help drifting to his hip. The blanket on the bed almost covers the words there, his torso bare to facilitate the healing of his burns. But they are still visible. Her hand is almost shaking with the need to touch him, to rest it over her own handwriting or to take his and hold it tight. She curls her left hand into a fist and presses it against her heart, over his words instead of hers. Her right arm wraps almost unconsciously across her stomach, coming to rest over her own left hip.
âIâm not blind, Commander,â Chakwas says, gently.
Shepard doesnât insult the doctorâs intelligence by asking her what she means.
âWhen?â
The doctor leans back in her chair, and gives her a careful, measured look.
âUnclaimed soul-marks are flagged in both your records. Not entirely uncommon in the military, there are three other unclaimed and two claimed on the Normandy crew. I pay attention to these things.â
Of course she does. (Shepard resists the urge to ask who else has soul-marks. Itâs something she probably ought to know, given that sheâs the acting captain of this vessel, but until sheâd met Kaidan, it was the sort of thing that she had actively tried not to note in her crewâs personnel records. Tempting fate. Perhaps, if sheâd noticed an âunclaimedâ flag in his when sheâd glanced at it the night before she first boarded the Normandy, she⌠Well, no. She wouldnât have done a damn thing differently if she had.)
She arrived under the cover of night, neatly eschewing a grand arrival and the customary place of honour at the dinner table. Of course she did. Despite her former position in the Orlesian court, she was still, in his mind at least, more swamp witch than courtier. She probably always would be, even in her own mind.
Besides, a sneaky and underhanded arrival by night was entirely in-keeping with her character.
He didnât know, exactly, what had happened to her after sheâd left the Orlesian court to join the Inquisition. In fact, heâd specifically made an effort not to keep track of her. Partly for his own sanity, of course, but also because both he and Elissa had promised her her freedom in exchange for what sheâd done to save their lives.
Of course, she had broken that promise. Elissa had told him long ago of the time she had tracked Morrigan to the dragon wastes, hopeful that the witch would know how â or even if â they might be cured of the taint.
But he hadnât broken it. And, in many ways, it was more important that he hadnât. Heâd promised to have no involvement with her after that night, and he tried to keep what promises he could. It hadnât been easy â still wasnât â but it began with specifically not tracking her whereabouts.Â
But now she was here. For their wedding.
To be honest, he hadnât thought to invite her, but Elissa had wanted all the blight companions present, and they had once been friends. In a way, their upcoming wedding â his future happiness â wouldnât have been possible without that awful, horrible night.
And its consequences.
Consequences heâd found himself thinking about more and more as the wedding drew closer. Crossing his mind from time to time. Much as he might have tried to never think about it again, he couldnât help wondering what the child would look like, what they would be like. Whether they would be some demonic creature, all tentacles and fiery breath, or whether they would be⌠normal.
Which of those would be preferable, he couldnât say.
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