{2} A Chest Full of Memories

They arrived in the second floor and he held her close to him, navigating through the penumbra with relative ease. It had been ten years since the last time he had been home, but he remembered the path to his bedroom as if he had been there yesterday.

He caught the smallest key from the necklace, breathing with immense relief as he heard the door unlock.

‘Thank the Maker. No one attempted to break in. After all those years, I thought...’

‘Seems almost like a miracle.’ she replied, while he led her inside.

She entered the secret lair of what was possibly the most private man in Thedas. Her first impression – or what at least could be gathered lurking beneath the thick layer of dust – was that of an unnaturally tidy room. At least for a child, anyway. For a moment, she was dumbfounded. Had he always been so...disciplined?  

‘Sorry for the mess.’ he hurriedly apologised, cleaning the dust from the desk as best he could. The dust permeated the air and he coughed a few times, proceeding to draw the curtains and open the large window.

“The mess.” He had to be kidding. If this weren’t the room of a ten-year old boy, she would’ve thought a priest or a military officer lived here, such was the organized state of things. Nothing could be seen out of place.

‘Your parents certainly made sure you kept your room clean, huh?’

‘What? Ah, you mean...no. Not really. Me and my family were used to order. We had to be. Honnleath was far from everything. Each villager was responsible for himself. We learned to take care of our belongings since a tender age. Well, me more than my siblings, anyway, since I was the eldest brother.’ he arched an eyebrow.

She giggled.

‘They were very loud.’ she echoed his words.

‘More than I liked to admit. Strange. Now that I miss them, I’d give anything to...’

He dozed off for a few moments, lost in memory, allowing her to gaze around the room once again.

 She stared at the toys, all tidily arranged side by side in a top shelf. She felt a rush of affection for the Commander; he must’ve been a very sweet, quiet, obedient child from the way he treasured his most beloved possessions. She would’ve loved to have been friends with him at that age.

Most of her childish friendships were forged with the sons and daughters of proud nobles, such as her parents. Like her, they faked having any real bond in front of their families. Once out of sight, the kids would disband, some hurrying back to their nannies, to whom they complained and complained about not liking having to be away from home. Others would just downright ignore her. And some would engage in polite conversation, only to end up criticising everything about her: from her Ferelden accent to her rustic garments.

Truth be told, she only had two friends until she was way more grown up, none of them of noble birth: the son of the cook and his sister. It’s no wonder she never felt bothered by Cullen not being nobility. If he were, she might not even have liked him. No matter how much her family tried, she could never feel comfortable with the exceeding futility she was expected to demonstrate once they introduced her to the Orlesian court.

Now, she could only imagine their disappointment when she volunteered to join a group of soldiers on their way to a mission in Haven. Or perhaps not. Inquisitor Trevelyan, that’s how she was known across Thedas nowadays. A name to be both admired and feared. Power and nobility, all in one person. Truly a figure fit for admiration in any court. Who could’ve predicted the events on Haven would end in such manner? Life did seem hell-bent on forcing her to play the main role in a sordid ironic play.

The click of a key brought her back to the present. Turning around, she saw Cullen was crouched beside a hole in the otherwise smooth, even ground, unlocking what looked like a rather large storage chest. He stopped for a moment before opening it, lowering his head while resting his arm on the lid. His voice resumed his usual serious tone.

‘After my time in the Ferelden Circle, I came back here twice and placed some items of importance in this chest. Things that I wanted to keep safe...from the world.’ he paused briefly. ‘I have never let anyone look inside it. Not even my mother knew I kept this hidden here. And my brothers, argh...Maker’s breath, was there anything they didn’t want to peek in my room? Humph. Nosy bastards...’ he cursed fondly.

He threw a pleading glance at her, staring with those honey-coloured eyes as he patted a spot on the ground, asking her to join him. Her heart skipped a beat. Was he asking what she thought he was? Her mouth went dry and her eyes watered as she walked toward him, trying not to accidentally fall. Her legs were shaking rather heavily.

He extended his gloved hand to her as she sat down, keeping her close. He stared at her with a loving expression before it suddenly changed to inexplicable sadness. He squeezed her hand fondly and let go a deep breath, revealing the content of the chest.

Whatever she was about to see would tell her all she needed to know about this man’s past. She had to work very hard not to let her emotions overwhelm her. She knew Cullen would never show this to just anyone. He had lead a difficult life, with many dark areas he had scarcely revealed in one of those rare conversations, when she managed to make him open up before the man succumbed to yet another inexplicable wave of depression.

In spite of his tortured profile, she knew the Commander was a strong man. Even cold and calculating when reality demanded it. Had he not distanced himself from the templars willingly? Forsaken friendships and acquaintances when they threatened to drag him to the abyss? Moreover, he was free from lyrium; free from a lifetime of enslavement, from a miserable addiction. From a lifestyle that would’ve ultimately destroyed him, just as it had done to countless others. But in the name of all he held dear, he resisted and endured. Maker, how he had endured all these years. Sometimes, it seemed like all he ever did...

He was no longer the broken man who barely survived Uldred and his torturers. He had fought his inner demons over and over and emerged victorious. Many fell in his wake, and even beside him, but he kept going.

 Until one day, his faith was tested in the shape of a demon from his past. Someone he had tried so hard to forget, but could never...have. One name. One mention of her name. It was all it took. To make him crumble again from within. To erase all those years of hard won battles that separated him from the pathetic, naive, weak templar novice he was from the prestigious Knight-Captain, the right hand of Meredith, the infamous mage-hunter who was known to be utterly incorruptible.

One name. So he hadn’t won, like he thought. But as he learned the truth, neither had she. All this time and he never actually stopped to think she might also have been fighting some inner demons of her own.

And now, he felt he had finally prevailed.

His hand stretched to an open envelope made of a thick, yellow paper that had once been carefully sealed and brought it before the Inquisitor’s intense gaze. The name of the one who sent the letter was already worn out by time, but at least she could read the surname:

Amell.

...

He seemed hesitant.

‘You once asked if I knew the Hero of Ferelden. As I think back, I didn’t know her as well as I thought. Maybe I never knew her at all.’

He removed the letter from the envelope and she was amazed it had so many pages. For some reason, a few drops of blood smirched the first one, but not enough to render the message intelligible.

‘She wrote this to me long ago. It’s been two years ever since I read it.’

Blood rushed to her cheeks and she felt her head spin. This was extremely private. Maker knew what he and that woman had shared in the past. The way he had talked about her countless times – so many times that her jealousy had become so burning, so intense, she thought she would have a stroke if he mentioned her again – made it crystal clear. Was he actually going to let her read it? Why?

He handed the lengthy letter to her and she caught it. To her befuddlement, her hands were shaking.

‘Are you sure about this?’

He replied with a curt nod and proceeded to narrate the events prior to his arrival in Haven, beginning after he left the Ferelden Circle.