Chapter Text
Alinora Rutherford picked at her sleeve. It didn’t look right, all bent up and pinned to the shoulder. The glossy red velvet highlighted her loss, and no matter how she fussed at it, the uniform looked wrinkled and sloppy. Frustrated, she ran her right hand over the fabric, trying not to grimace when she touched the … stump.
Oh Maker, she had a stump now.
She kept replaying it in her head - was there any other choice Solas could have made? At least he’d left her the elbow – the healers assured her that was a very good thing. And Ali had always known that she wasn’t finished paying the price of the Conclave explosion, but having it happen right now, on top of everything…
The room she stood in, which had seemed quite pleasant when they’d arrived at the Winter Palace, started to feel too small. The gilded furniture was overly bright, and the blue curtains were offensively cheerful. It was a trick and a trap – it had to be!
As she stared, the walls seemed to warp and start to close in on her. And there wasn’t enough air in here – how was she supposed to breathe with one arm and no future?
Ali stumbled back, knocking into a side table and rattling the candlesticks there. Pressing her forehead to the silk covered wall, she clutched at her arm and tried to focus, flailing internally as all her defenses started to crumble.
“Hey now, my love.” Warm hands circled her and she could feel him step up behind her, blocking her from the rest of the world.
Ali blinked, staring at the corner where a piece of wallpaper didn’t quite line up. She didn’t want to have this thought, but she had no others ... “I’m so sorry Cullen.”
“Sorry? What for?” His arms came up to wrap around her, and she settled into them carefully, pressing her face into his strong bicep.
“I’m sorry you have a broken wife.” She barely muttered the words, but he heard them anyway. A fission of tension went through him, and he pulled away slowly.
“A broken wife?” His voice was very, very even, and she didn’t know what he was thinking. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the face, not if she would see even a fraction of the pain she felt.
“My arm is gone Cullen. And the Anchor. What good am I do without it?”
“Ah.” There was a beat, then his hands started to move. One skimmed across her belly and up, carefully resting on her breast, while the other floated down her left arm to hold her… stump.
Cullen’s breath was warm along her neck, and when he spoke, his words were low and husky, right in her ear. “While I will miss the way that hand used to light up the room when we wake before dawn, I am more than willing to light a candle first.”
Ali gave a teary laugh and tipped her head backwards onto his collar. “Why would you want to sleep with me now?”
Before she knew what was happening, she was whirled around and pressed back into the wall, Cullen’s face just an inch from hers. His eyes were a little wild, and they flicked across her face like he was searching for something. Without warning, he lowered his head and pressed his mouth to hers. It was possessive, and raw, and utterly bowled her backwards with the sheer intensity of feeling.
“None of that nonsense, please.” Cullen said when he pulled back, replacing his lips with a hand pressed to her mouth. “I don’t want there to be a shred of misunderstanding, so please listen to me when I tell you this. I am your husband, Ali. You are my wife. I’m shattered that you lost an arm, that more pain has been brought into your life. But I am your husband, and I love you, and I will be by your side for every second of this.”
He paused, eyes a little more gentle, and he moved his hand to lean in for another kiss, also gentler than before. “I don’t care about your left hand, not really. I care about your big heart, and your smart mouth, and your great tits. You still have a hand that I can hold, and you’re still here to be next to me at night and kissable every morning, and that’s all that matters to me. Do you believe me, love? It’s really quite important that you do.”
By now, Ali could barely see through the tears that were welling up in her eyes, but she did manage a nod in his general direction. Without waiting for a response, she threw her arm and a half around his neck and leaned in close.
He responded immediately, stepping back a few paces before sitting on the fainting couch and settling Ali across his lap. She loved sitting like this, ever since their first time in the Winter Palace. She snuggled in more closely, breathing in the fresh scent of his skin above the velvet collar. He lifted his legs up on the couch and wrapped his arms around her back, enveloping her as completely as he could.
They sat like that for a few minutes, idly soothing each other with gentle caresses. As Ali settled back into her skin, she reflected on his words and considered that he might be right, that this crippling didn’t have to leave her broken forever. Of course, that did nothing to address what would happen when she was called before the Counsel later.
She had to make a choice soon – dissolve the Inquisition, or go to work for the Divine Victoria. Neither one was appealing, and neither one would address the fact that she’d lost her only weapon in the fight against the Dread Wolf, of all things.
Wallowing isn’t going to help anything. Ali shifted her weight, leaning back against her husband’s bent knees and meeting his eyes. “What are we going to do?”
“Actually, that’s why I came to see you.” Cullen reached for her remaining hand, twining his fingers with hers. “Have you ever been to Highever?”
“Huh?” Ali made a confused face. “You mean where the Queen is from? I think I’ve ridden through it, but I’ve never stopped. Why?”
Cullen pursed his lips, and to Ali’s shock, she realized he was blushing faintly. He hadn’t done that around her in years. “Highever is by the sea – lots of traders coming through. But when the Couslands were killed, a lot of commerce left the area, and King Alistair said it’s only now recovering.”
Ali shook her head, still confused. “So we should do our trading there?”
“No.” He used his free hand to rake through his curls – luckily they were cropped short and he didn’t make them too disheveled. “If you wanted – if we wanted… Dammit Inquisitor, I think we should retire.”
“Retire?” Ali couldn’t figure where he was going with this. Did he suddenly want to be a noble, now? “Retire and move to Highever?”
“Yes.” He gave her a grateful smile. “Look, if we disband the Inquisition right now, we get a million favors from all the nobles out there. And Solas is a threat, we know that, so we’ll have people all across Thedas working the problem. Dorian is going to Tevinter, Thom and Josie are going to Antiva, Hawke and Isabela are in Ferelden and you have your whole family across the ‘Marches. But we need somewhere besides Skyhold to use as a base, and what would be a better cover then a trader’s inn in Highever?”
Ali’s mouth dropped open in shock. The blizzard had been years ago, in another lifetime. She’d told him about her idle fantasy of a bucolic life, and he’d remembered. Maker, how she loved this man. “An inn in Highever. Run by the Inquisitor and Commander.”
“Ex-Inquisitor, and ex-Commander.” He corrected lightly, smoothing a hand over her shoulder. “We’ll just be us there, as far as anyone knows. You can bake cookies and make cider, and I’ll pour beer and tell jokes. And at night, we can play chess with our friends and talk about the glory days of the Inquisition, and how to stop an ancient elven god from destroying the world. Are you in?”
There wasn’t any way to answer that except with a kiss, so Ali tipped forward and did just that. She kissed him with everything she had and he responded in kind. When he bit down on her lower lip, she gave a little moan and wiggled on his lap – kissing typically led to other things, and she was grateful to feel the hard evidence that he was up for it.
But they didn’t have time. The door swung open and Varric’s shining head popped in. “Hello you two. Get a room will you?”
Cullen gave a mock growl in his direction. “This is our room, Viscount.”
The dwarf laughed and pushed the door all the way open. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re needed at the council. I believe the word is showtime?”
With one final kiss, Ali climbed off Cullen’s lap, awkwardly trying to straighten her clothes with one hand. Varric stepped in to help, and Ali was relieved to see no trace of pity on his face when he adjusted her pinned up sleeve.
She patted his cheek in thanks. “Go on ahead. We’ll be right behind you, aye?”
Varric waggled his eyebrows at her, but stepped out into the hallway to give them a bit of privacy. Ali turned to Cullen, who had put himself to rights already. She looked him over, taking strength from the sight of him – shoulders broad enough to share her burdens, eyes bright with love, scarred mouth made for kissing. Ali straightened her own shoulders and crooked her right arm.
“Ready for retirement Commander?”
Cullen clicked his heels and bowed very correctly before taking her arm. “To work, my lady.”