Dragon Age Inquisition: Faith

Trust

“The Inquisitor would like to speak with this man. I am to secure the area for her. You may leave us,” the Commander said. He wondered if the prison guards would argue with him—technically, he did not have much authority to order Val Royeaux soldiers to leave their post—but the guards responded to his tone, bowed, and departed.

Cullen was left alone with Captain Thom Rainier.

“Is the Inquisitor truly coming? Or did you want a word with me yourself?” Rainier asked as Cullen examined the cells, kicking apparently empty piles of hay to check for assassins.

“She is coming,” Cullen said stiffly. “For some reason, she feels you owe her an explanation. Or, perhaps, that she owes you a chance to explain yourself.” He kept his eyes away from Rainier’s cell; he didn’t think he could look at the man right now.

“She’s going to ask for your advice about me,” Rainier said, his voice low.

“I imagine we will discuss your fate at the war council, yes,” Cullen replied as he stepped out of the last empty cell.

“I mean, she’s going to ask you. You know what it means to have the loyalty of the people you lead into battle, just as she does. You both know exactly why what I did was so monstrous.” The false Warden turned towards the wall of his cell, his movements slow, shaky. “When she asks, tell her to leave me here. Tell her I’ve earned this fate, that the Inquisition is better off without me. You know it’s the truth.”

“If that’s what you’d prefer, you can tell her that yourself,” Cullen said. “I haven’t decided what I’d prefer.”

Rainier turned to him, his lip curled. “Don’t try to pretend I don’t disgust you, Commander. You’d be glad to see my head in that hangman’s noose.”

Cullen shook his head. “What you did to the Calliers, to your men, does disgust me. If that was all I knew of you I suppose I would not be sorry to see you hang. But I’ve also seen you fight for us, and own up to your past when you could have escaped it. I am not being dishonest, Rainier. I truly do not know what I will tell the Inquisitor when she asks what I think should be done with you.”

Rainier snorted. “Then you’re a damned fool.”

“You can imagine how much I value your opinion at the moment, I’m sure,” Cullen said.

Soft footsteps descended the stairs to the cells. “Commander?”

“It is secure, Inquisitor,” Cullen replied. He spared one last glare for Rainier—and allowed himself one quick press of his hand against Cecily’s shoulder before he moved to the stairs. The Inquisitor seemed calm, composed, but Cullen could see the lines of tension around her mouth, the way her shoulders were set just a bit too high.

He was not sure what to think of Rainier’s crimes, or his attempted atonement as Blackwall. But Cecily had trusted their false Warden, and right now, he could have killed the man himself for shattering that.

 *******************************************

The conversation with Thom Rainier was baffling, and horrifying, and deeply sad. He called himself a murderer, a monster; he seemed truly sickened by his actions. But he also said that it had been just one mistake—a mistake, as if taking gold in recompense for murder were the same as taking a wrong turn on the road to Denerim—and claimed that the same crime during a war would have won a medal. By the time Cecily left the jail, she felt utterly wrung out, like a rag that had been twisted and twisted until it was threadbare and torn.

Cullen was waiting for her. For a moment Cecily wanted to wrap her arms around him, to take comfort in being held, but what they had still felt too new. She could not break down on him every time she faced a hard choice just because they had shared a few kisses. Here, she had to be the Inquisitor, and he had to be the Commander.