South Reach was beautiful at night. The Drakon glittered in the light of the two moons, and the early spring breeze fluttered the curtains as it swept through the open window. Feathery strands of white blonde hair turned silver by the moonlight that had escaped Obara’s braid danced in the gentle puffs of air. She sat on the cushions Cullen had put on the window seat, listening to the rustling trees and using their whisper to chase away the last tendrils of the nightmares. Cullen was quiet, his own nightmares leaving him be.

Obara allowed herself a soft smile, looking at Cullen in their bed. The new tea blend that she had made seemed to be working. His headaches were less severe when he got them, and he had not woken with nightmares for the past three nights. It might be time to make a larger batch and send it to the hospital building. She pulled her Dales Loden Wool robe closer as a chilly, damp puff of air swept in off the Drakon. It was redolent with Andraste’s Grace and Elfroot, almost like their hospital, but fresher.

A lamplight flickered below, and Obara leaned out of the window to get a better view. One of the women from their hospital was hurrying around the side of the house. She wasn’t running, that was a good sign. It was still worrying to see one of the nurses coming to the house at this time of night.

Delicately hopping from the window seat, Obara ran her fingers through Cullen’s curls. He murmured, rolling towards her and blinking against the moonlight. “Obara?”

“One of the nurses is coming. I’m going to put on a gown and see what’s going on at the hospital, love.”

“I’ll be right behind, Bara. Just give me a minute.” He stretched, far too handsome than he had a right to be for just waking up.

Obara pulled one of the serviceable gowns out of her chest, and quickly stripped off her nightrail and laced herself into the gown. Cullen was just groaning and rolling out of bed as she left their bedroom and pattered down the stairs, heading through the sitting room and kitchen to the door where the nurse was waiting.

“Arlessa, it’s the newly arrived Templar from Kirkwall. He’s... well. You should come see, my lady.”

“I’ll be right along, just a moment.”

She grabbed her cloak and bag of herbs and potions, the ones far too strong to keep within reach of the Templars going through lyrium withdrawals. As Obara slipped out the door, she could hear Cullen muttering and yawning his way down the stairs.

The nurse held her lamp high and bustled along the path to the hospital building Branson and Cullen had proudly built with their own hands. The retired Templars and ones who were successfully off lyrium had their own building, which the Chantry had generously paid for and sent workers to build. The hospital would have taken years for Cullen to have built thanks to the hemming and hawing of the local Revered Mother if he and Branson hadn’t just taken the initiative. A gentle smile touched Obara’s lips as they broke through the hedges that provided the house some privacy. The whitewashed walls shone in the moonlight, Cullen had insisted on following her suggestions and specifications to the letter while building it. The Templars within were warm and safe, better taken care of than the previous generations had been when the lyrium madness descended.

The nurse opened the door and ushered Obara in, hanging the lamp from a hook and nodding towards the section where Templars who were too far gone to come off lyrium slept. “He’s there. I’d wait til Ser Cullen is with you, my lady. He’s… reliving the fall of Kirkwall.”

Obara nodded. The last Templar she’d tried to attend while they were caught in one of the lyrium dreams had kicked her and nearly broken her ribs. A thud came from the door the nurse had indicated. The hinges rattled as a louder thunk came from within. Cullen swung open the entryway door, and the Templar’s door crashed and rattled.

“Oh, Maker. Ser Gylan.” Cullen rubbed his hand over his face.

“I take it that’s a bad thing?”

“He’s… like I was when I first arrived at Kirkwall, but with the extra burden of the lyrium addiction. Let me go in first. If he sees you’re a mage, he may try to hurt you, Obara.”

“I’m not a delicate flower, you know.”

Cullen sighed. “Just, wait for me to call you in? For my peace of mind?”

Obara opened her mouth to respond, and the door broke off its hinges as Ser Gylan battered the door down. Bloodshot eyes flicked from Cullen, to the nurse, then settled on her. Obara barriered, and the Templar sneered, “Mage. Demon spawn.”

He lifted a hand, and Cullen dove for it, shouting, “Obara, move!”

It was too late, and the Smite hit her full on. She’d been Smited before, and Maker, she had never wanted to experience it again. It was like being punched in the chest, while trying to breathe underwater as she was being strangled. She tried to tug on the Fade, relieve some of the pain, but it wasn’t there. From the spot where she’d fallen to the floor, Obara watched Cullen wrestle the other Templar to the ground.

“Demon’s whore! Your fault! Maker-cursed mages, They can’t be trusted! Get off me, I have to stop her! You’re not real people, should all be put to the sword!” Gylan was thrashing under Cullen’s weight, and yet still attempting to crawl across the floor to her. Obara sat up, groaning. The Fade brushed against her, and she cast a quick Sleep on the struggling Templar. Gylan went limp.

“I don’t think I can attend him at all.” Her voice didn’t shake, thank the Maker. Obara picked up her bag, checking the bottles and bundles within. She nodded to the nurse, “Cullen will get him back into his room. Get some of the retired gentlemen to come and stand guard. When he wakes, give him this tea and these potions.”

The nurse nodded, and took the packet of herbs and the bottles. She bustled out to fetch some retired Templars to guard Gylan. Cullen exited the broken door, rolling his shoulders in discomfort from the unconscious man’s weight.

“I won’t be able to attend him, ever.” Obara shivered as the shock of the Smite started to wear off. Cullen took a step toward her, arms coming out to offer comfort. For one moment, she heard the angry accusations spit at her by a much younger Cullen when the Circle was spared. She stepped back on instinct. A shattered expression crossed his face.

“Obara, you know I’m not like that anymore. Like him. I wouldn’t- I can’t- Oh Maker’s breath.” He ran a hand through his hair, setting it into a curly riot. He took a deep breath, then licked at the scar on his lip as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not the man in Varric’s book. I never want to be him again. Without the Inquisitor or you, I still might be. But I’m not him anymore. ”

“I’m sorry, Cullen. It just brought up bad memories.” Obara took a tentative step forward, then another, her arms coming up to wrap around his waist. Pressing her forehead to his chest, she murmured, “I hope you got off the lyrium in time to spare you from… that.”

“Me too, Bara. Me too.” She felt a kiss press to the top of her head.

“Wait with me until the nurse returns with the gentlemen to guard Gylan?”

“Always, Obara.”











