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Cullen walked through the gates of South Reach and looked about. He looked around, taking a moment to absorb the town around him. He felt naked, standing there without any armor on. He’d worn something heavy and protective for so long now that it felt like he was missing something. He knew, though, that he was not naked and he wore no less or more than anyone else that he had passed or saw now. It was over; the Inquisition, the Mage-Templar War (for the most part), even the Templar order was not what it once was. He had been offered the chance to help rebuild it. He had declined. Now, here he was at the gates of South Reach, uncertain where he would go and what he would do. His first order of business though, was to find his family. He straightened and stopped an old man hobbling by.
“Excuse me, See, can you direct me to South District please?”
“South District, you say? “ the man stopped and gave Cullen the once over and stroked his beard thoughtfully a few moments then pointed at a road to the the left of them. “Do you see that road there? Don't take it, it won't do you any good. You want that one there.” He shifted his stance slightly and pointed to one a little further down the road and more directly in front of them. “Follow that until the hill and under the old elm tree. Then take a right at the snowman stone and you’ll be in South District.”
Cullen thanked the old man and watched a few moments as he tottered off. He shook his head slightly at the nearly incomprehensible instructions and headed down the road that as indicated. Soon enough, it slanted upwards and there was an old elm tree beside the road, it's branches hanging over and providing a little bit of shade against the warmth of the sun. He glanced around, the road continued on and had a steady stream of people going about their daily business. He shouldered his pack, took a deep breath and headed down the road again.
He had left Skyhold, left the Inquisition, with little discussion or notice and with little more than he needed to travel. He had let Lelianna know. He had to talk to someone and she would find out anyway. This way, if anyone should ask about him, she could better deflect. Once he was settled, he’d write back for his things. It was easier this way, for everyone. If he’d waited, made a big to-do about it, it would have been uncomfortable and She would want to talk to him before he left. He was not sure he could have managed that.
He passed roads leading off the main road, but no weird rock formations, so he kept going straight. After a few minutes of walking, he did indeed see a stack of rocks, vaguely round in shaped, largest on the bottom and the smallest on top, much like the men of snow kids would make in the winter time. He shook his head in disbelief, but following the man's directions, turned right.
South District lay before him, just as bustling as the central one he had walked in through earlier, but quieter, less urgent. He looked about him a few moments, taking in the general layout and trying to get his beatings. That was when he saw Rosalie sweeping the front porch. He glanced about, looking for the inn’s clapboard. There it was, two figures in silhouette, one seemed to be chasing the other. He squinted, trying to make out the little detailing there was, but the size of the figures almost seemed child-like. Beneath the two was written in fine writing “Templar and Apostate Inn.” A corner of his mouth twitched and he made his way towards his younger sister on the porch.
“Excuse me, I was told I could find a room here for a reasonable price.”
Rosalie looked up, he could see the pleasant smile slide over her face as she started to answer. He watched as she finally looked at him, her eyebrows scrunching a little, as she focused more on him. He saw when recognition dawned on her, her eyes widened and her voice trailed off in disbelief. Then four things happened near instantly. The broom she had been using, having only straw and no legs or feet with which to stand or balance, clattered helplessly against the wood it had just been sweeping as Rosalie launched herself at him. Cullen’s pack, also, found itself on the ground, without so much as a by-your-leave as he caught her, his arms wrapping the squealing girl.
Before he could catch his breath, or even make sense of what she was saying, he found himself being hugged from all sides. He looked around to see Mia, and his brother. There, caught between the three of them, seeing the tears in Mia and Rosalie’s eyes, hearing the cacophony of voices welcoming him home, he could feel their unconditional love surrounding him, flowing through and bolstering him. He felt something snap around his heart and he squeezed Rosalie tight and buried his face in her shoulder. It took a few minutes for him to realize that she was intelligible and what she was saying now was that he was squishing her. He let her down and smiled sheepishly, reaching up to rub his neck, suddenly overwhelmed by all the close attention.
“Sorry.”
“You are here! What happened? Is it over?” Questions came at him from all directions and he put his hands on Mia and Rosalie's shoulders, laughing, feeling the warmth of joy for the first time in a long time.
“Can I at least go inside? I know little about this place you are running. I want to hear all about it.” One of his brothers picked up his pack and the group headed inside.
“Come! Come! I was just starting dinner!” Mia began herding the younglings, who had come to see what the adults were all excited about, letting Rosalie take him inside.
“Mia and Tae started this when we moved here. Well, we all did, but it was their idea.” Rosalie told him as she walked him through the inn, obviously proud of what they had all built. “We needed to do something after the Blight, and well, there will always be people traveling. We named it after the game we played when we were little,” she glanced up at him then, suddenly shy, “so that you would be involved too.”
He gave her the warmest smile he could. “I think it is perfect.” She dimpled, bounced a little bit and pulled him further along, to show him every nook and cranny. Just listening to her was enough to keep him distracted from his pain for a little while.
Over dinner, Mia introduced him to his extended family. Husbands, wives and children. All together, in no particular order, sometimes on top of someone else’s tale, they brought him up to date on their lives. Of the siblings, Mia and his brother were married and growing younglings. Rosalie and himself were still single. His brother teased her good naturedly about all of the mens’ hearts she had on a string. She sniffed dismissively, replying that when she found the right one, she wouldn’t string him along, much. The exchange had a well worn feel about it and Cullen chuckled along with the rest of them. They had accepted him without question, drew him back into their lives, made him one of them. As if he had never left.
He observed them, smiling when they would turn to include him in a story or joke, but he cold not help it when, from time to time, a thought would bubble to the surface. Would this be the Inquisitor’s home life now? Would they be surrounded by kids, a loving cacophony that would keep her satisfied? Or would their love be quieter, more subdued after having been hid for so long? He banished these thoughts, focusing on the family around him.
Later that night, kids had been put to bed and most everyone had retired, Cullen was sitting by the main hearth, his feet resting on a chair that had been pulled up in front of him. He was staring into the fire, thinking only of his homecoming, wrapping himself in the happiness his family had showered on him tonight. He was glad he had decided to find them, he decided. A mug showed up next to him and he took it with a smile. Mia pulled up another chair, sighing as she settled in front of the fire as well. She took a sip of her ale and put her feet up on the same chair as her brothers.
“What happen?”
“Hmmm?”
“Something made you leave the Inquisition behind. When you _did_ write, you were dedicated, to the Inquisition, to the Inquisitor.” Mia stopped to take a drink. “Then your letters became nothing more than what you needed to say to get me off your back.” She teased him gently.
Cullen’s gaze stayed fixed on the dancing flames at his feet, not feeling the warmth from the fire anymore.
“I told the Inquisitor that I loved her.” His lips twisted wryly. “She loved someone else.”
He had found the Inquisitor on the ramparts just outside his office, hiding, he suspected, from the many decisions she had to make whenever she was at Skyhold. He had watched her for a few moments, taking in the striking profile of the vivacious woman that had stumbled into his life. He admired her, without a doubt. She had come from being the most hated person, blamed for the death of the Divine, to being the one person that most powerful of Thedas turned to.
She turned her head, caught him staring and smiled at him, invited him to stand beside her. He did so and together they said nothing, just stared off into the snow-covered peaks that surrounded them. He used the companionable silence between them to work up the courage to tell her of his feelings.
She had been nice to him since they met. She’d been nice to everyone really, that was her nature, but he was not used to the kind of attentions she had given him. They had flirted a bit, he more awkwardly than she. Looking back, he could see that she’d done the same with her other advisors and companions as well, but at the time, he thought that she must care for him. She had given him the strength of her will when he needed help fighting his lyrium addiction. Who would do that unless they cared? So, without preamble, surrounded by snow, stone and sky, he blurted his feelings.
She said had nothing, didn’t even move. He had waited for what felt to be hours. Then he knew. Knew what she would say. He stammered something and made for his office. He’d no sooner made the safety of his desk and it’s mountain of paperwork when she’d followed him, quietly closed the door behind her, leaned against it as if she were still thinking of what to say.
She did care for him, she finally said, but as a friend, as one of her most trusted advisors, but her heart’s affections were for another. She’d refused to tell him, but he had kept pressing her, driven by an uncontrollable urge to know. Eventually, she told him. He thanked her and and turned his attentions inward, pretending to be absorbed in the papers in front of him until he truly was. He hadn’t even noticed when she had left him.
“And you couldn't desert your post.”
“I couldn't leave.” He continued as if Mia hadn’t spoken, still keeping his eyes on the fire, not seeing it. Instead he saw her … her eyes when she laughed, her hair loose and floating in the breeze, the look of love as she bent to kiss someone else's lips, her fingers tracing lovingly along someone else's arm. They had been discreet, but from time to time he would catch them together in a hidden alcove or shadowed stairwell. Always he moved along before they saw him. Each time, a sharp pain stabbed at him. He did his best not to act any differently, and for the most part, no one seemed to notice, or if they did, no one said anything to him. She did though and he could see something in her eyes sometimes when he’d catch her watching him.
“You had to watch her find love and beat the big bad while you were right there beside her, hurting. Maker’s Breath, Cullen, that sounds so cruel of her! How could she? Knowing how you felt!”
“I told her I was fine. She offered to let me go, but how would that look? And who would have lead her armies? There was no one else to take my place. No one she trusted anyway. No, I had to stay.”
Mia leaned forward, rested her hand on his ankle, looking at him until he met her eyes.
“You are home now, Cullen, with people who love you and would do anything for you.”
He smiled, a half smile but he did not look away from her.
“I know, Mia. And I thank you.”
She stood up, stretching.
“Tae will be reroofing tomorrow. The last storm damaged the east side and it’s leaking. I will expect you up on the roof with him” She walked past him, heading to the room she shared with her husband. As she passed him, she leaned down and kissed the top of his head. He reached out to grab her wrist.
“You a Rutherford, Cullen. We take care of our own.” He squeezed her wrist gently in acknowledgement, unable to speak passed the lump in his throat.
Cullen threw himself into the life his siblings had built with the same single minded determination that had gotten him into the Templars when he was so much younger. His nieces and nephews loved him and he them. He never seemed to be too busy that he couldn't take time to answer their questions or give them attention even while working.
He developed a daily routine that first week that never altered. Each day, he would go to the Chantry and pray to Andraste. Few pried into his reasonings, but from time to time, someone who had heard of his history would ask him why he went. He wasn’t a Templar anymore. He was always courteous in his response, letting the inquirer know that simply because he had left the Templar Order did not mean that he had left his faith behind. After his morning prayer, he’d come back home, but head out to the stable yard to exercise. His work out was modified from his Templar and soldiering trainings, involving less sword and shield work and more movement and strength based techniques. More often than not, by the end of his workout, there would be a handful of admiring women hanging about to watch him. Then he was inside to wash up and eat breakfast with the family and begin his day’s work.
They built a few more rooms onto the inn, expanding their capacity. There was discussions about adding a room for him, but he declined, opting for a room over the stables where he could keep a window open all day and night, in all weather, without bothering anyone else. It was reminiscent of his tower at Skyhold, he told them, that had been missing a roof, but he had come to love the fresh air and view so much that he never did ask the dwarven builders to fix it. It had been a running joke throughout the Inquisition, the Commander and his broken room. When he was not helping out about the inn, he took up other repair jobs around town.
His older sister watched him. She could see the pain that he still lived with, perhaps eased a bit since he was not surrounded by reminders of what he could not have. He had said nothing about the Inquisitor or his failed attempt to woo her since that first night, but the Inquisitor was still there, in the back of his mind, haunting him.
She did notice that he never took an interest in any of the women about town. While it seemed no one evoked more than polite interest from him, there were more than enough women intrigued by the quiet ex-Templar that now moved about town. She watched them as well, observing how they postured and maneuvered to catch his attention, chuckled to herself as each one failed. It wasn't just the single women either. A few of the married women were just as bad, if not worse. Cullen ignored all the machinations to claim him, adroitly foiling each new attempt. He was never cruel about it, interacting with each woman with the utmost politeness and charming obliviousness. Probably because of this, and no doubt as part of an effort to be worthy of his attention, none of the games about him had gotten vicious.
Some even came to her or Rosalie for help, thinking that his sisters would be chomping at the bit to see their brother wed and working on a brood of his own. Their parents, however, had married for love and raised their children to do the same. So Mia and Rosalie would invite the women to a meal, usually a luncheon, when Cullen would be there. They would all be polite, than the two sisters would send the poor woman on her way, without having gained any ground with Cullen. Mia was the only one who knew Cullen had confessed his love to the Inquisitor, and watching him, she wasn’t sure he would let himself fall again. His siblings enjoyed the entertainment too much to tease him and draw his attention to what was going on.
Months turned into a year, then two. The attempts on Cullen’s heart continued, but less in earnest than when he had first come home. A fun flirtation, rarely serious, though it did not surprise anyone that one or two women still harbored the secret desire to win the handsome bachelor. Cullen continued his daily ritual, continued to be oblivious to the soft sighs and dream-filled eyes that would follow him. He built a shop next to the inn. He even built a room on the second floor with large windows on all sides. He ate with his family every night. He made friends, even hired people to help him at his shop and around town. Still he showed no signs of needing, wanting or even preferring anyone’s company outside of his family’s.
Mia was amused by his hiring method. She suspected he had recruited much the same way. He would watch someone. Sometimes for weeks at a time, sometime never needing more than a few hours. He seemed to gauge their personality and ethics in that time. If he felt they would work out, he simply asked them to show up at his shop the next day. He would guide his new employees, letting them learn through trial and error, but never treating them harshly if they made a mistake. He would patiently show them the mistake and work with them to not make it again. His employees quickly became fiercely loyal to him and like an extension of the family to his siblings and their broods. One was working up to ask to court Rosalie and Mia and her brothers did not run him through their normal checks. They knew him well enough already and Cullen’s hiring standards made their vetting process feel lacking.
He did take off for a month or so after being home for two years. An official looking letter had come for him one day. Rosalie, had received it for him while he was out on a job. The next day, he was gone, leaving his most trusted employee in charge of the shop. He left no word of when he would be back. When he did return, he said nothing, just picked up where he had left off. His family tried to get him to open up about where he had been and what had happened, but he said nothing.
Cullen had been home for a couple months and it had been raining for a few days with no signs of letting up, when he happened upon a woman swearing vehemently at a cart that had managed to sink all of its wheels into a muddy rut. Amused by her colorful descriptions of the wheels and the wagon and a bit concerned that she might be in some sort of danger, he ventured closer to see if he could help her out. She gave him a grateful smile, kicked the wheel, again, and together they tried to pry the wagon loose. It didn't budge. After a few attempts, he took her to the inn. He left her in the care of his sisters while he and his brothers hand carried the meager contents of her cart to the inn as well, putting all her things safely in Cullen’s old room in the loft.
The bedraggled woman introduced herself as Iselora and by the end of dinner that night, had given the Rutherfords her life history. She had lived on a farm with her ailing parents. An only child, she could not work the small family farm when her parents passed. She had sold it, purchased the cart, put what she needed in it and had headed to see what she could find in town. Rosalie took an immediate liking to Iselora and suggested that she work for Cullen in his shop. Mia watched Cullen as he agreed to this arrangement without argument. By the next day, Iselora was settled in Cullen’s room above the shop and he’d moved back to his room in the loft.
Mia did not know about the young mage that Cullen had a crush on in the Circle Tower and she’d never seen him around the Inquistor, so she was not certain how her brother acted as he fell in love, but over time, she became fairly certain she was witnessing just such a miracle.