gorysortofstory | Today Could've Been The Next Day of The Rest Of Your Life [for vowedtostay]

Today Could've Been The Next Day of The Rest Of Your Life [for vowedtostay]

He's in a meeting with a visiting Orlesian general when Josephine comes into his office. He can tell by her expression the news is anything but good, she excuses him and takes over the negotiations so he can head to the chambers he shares with his wife and their little boy, Cai. He was only a few days old, and very small and precious. They had hired the best healers they could find to take care of him, he visited the Chantry every day to pray for his survival.

He had never wanted a family, never dared to hope for one but now that had one? He wants to keep them no matter what.

When he gets into the chamber his stomach drops and he can tell by the expression on Betrys' face what happened -- that he's too late to say goodbye to his first child. He swallows thickly, trying to steady himself before he finally speaks. He doesn't want to make this harder for her.

"What happened?"

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Since the moment she picked their son up from his cradle and realized his tiny chest was no longer rising and falling, Betrys has been stomping down the desire to fall to pieces. There were healers to be shouted for, Josephine had to go for Cullen, and she had to watch Cai and beg him to breathe, please breathe, Maker, why isn't he breathing? And then, when it was clear that the healers couldn't do anything to change the Maker's mind, she couldn't seem to do anything but nod mutely and sit down at the edge of the bed.

But seeing Cullen--more than anything, hearing his voice--changes that. She rushes to him, throwing herself into his arms, muffling her sob into his armored chest as best she can. It rips out of her, a jagged, hateful sound, more animal than human.

She'll answer his question as soon as she can get hold of herself, but all she can do at this moment is weep, fingers clinging to the fur at his shoulders.

He wraps his arms around her in return as if on reflex. He doesn't know what else he can do. Cullen is a doer -- he hates feeling powerless, like there's nothing he can do to fix it. He had tried to make sure they both had the best healers, that they got the best healer, he prayed and prayed to the Maker and it still didn't work out.

And the realization of that loss is devastating. He closes his eyes and tries runs his fingers through her hair, trying to soothe her the best she can. Anything he could say in this moment would fail to be appropriate to be enough.

He regrets now going to work today. He should have been there with them. He should have been there for his son's last moments.

It's several minutes of weeping against him before she can even begin to think of taming herself back into speech. The long, hideous stretch of time during which she'd been surrounded by acquaintances and near-strangers, a time in which she was inevitably the Herald of Andraste as well as a mother, cost her most of her poise. Through those minutes, she's leaning against him, relying on him for any comfort he can give her.

Eventually, she quiets, though she can't stop crying entirely. She can only manage to do it a little less noisily.

"I left my book on my desk," she tells him, the words rushed and low in her mouth. "I walked away from him for a minute, Cullen, and when I came back--"

It would have happened anyway, she knows. But she can't stop thinking if I hadn't gotten up. "He couldn't breathe. The healers said he--he came too early--"

He doesn't care about how long it might take her to tame her speech. She is not the Herald to him -- simply Betrys, his wife. Someone who has lost a child just like he has. Someone who's been afraid of this very thing happening since she first got pregnant. She's allowed to mourn it.

His own eyes are rather misty though he is trying to be strong for her sake. He'd be lying if he didn't say the news didn't hurt down to the core of his being though.

"I should have been here, I should of held back longer before going back to work."

Maybe if he had --

Maybe things would have been different.

Betrys is shaking her head before he finishes speaking. He had important work to do; they both did, but he was the one best suited to returning to the demands of the Inquisition. She's still sore, and she couldn't have given any visiting nobles the attention they were due--not with thoughts of Cai rattling around in her mind.

The pain of giving birth outlived the child she delivered, she realizes suddenly, and her chest goes cold.

"You came as quickly as you could," she tells him in a watery voice, wanting to reassure him. Cullen can't blame himself, but Betrys knows how likely it is he will; the standards he holds himself to are painfully high. (Of course, she can't throw stones there.) "I know you did."

"As soon as Jospehine told me -- I thought maybe if I ran fast enough I could get here before --"

Before our son died

The words die on his tongue and knot in his stomach. For not the first time he wonders if he has let people down in his choices. If he had been on the lyrium still, been at his full potential would have it made any difference?

He can't help but wonder.

"I know." Cullen is a devoted man; he would do anything to be here with when he--when Cai--just thinking the words makes her want to weep again.

Betrys starts reaching under the fur and fabric of his surcoat to find the fastenings keeping his armor on his chest. More than anything, she needs to feel the warmth of his chest against her, the expansion of his ribs as he breathes. She needs to be able to feel his life inside him, not just his chest plate.

"They said...they said we did everything we could have. That it couldn't be helped." I'm trembling, she realizes after she speaks, but there's nothing she can do to stop herself.

It couldn't be helped

The words feel like poison in his blood, spreading and paralyzing him. No matter what they tried to do, this would always be the outcome. He's not sure that is worse or better, but it does make him hold Betrys as close as possible. As tightly as possible.

As if he is suddenly afraid of losing her too.

"We were so careful," He whispers quietly after moments of silence.

Edited 2015-04-02 22:37 (UTC)

"I know." She buries her face in his chest, wrapping her arms around him as if he might disappear otherwise. They did everything right, and they lost their son anyway. After everything the Maker's given them, He had to take away the one thing she'd give anything to keep.

It comes back to her. It always comes back to her in her mind. Her small stature, whatever it is about her womb that made it impossible for the baby to grow properly, the day she climbed a ladder to look at something in the stables even though she thought she probably oughtn't. There are a dozen ways she can blame herself, and she's willing to accept every one.

Betrys is trying her best not to start crying again, but a few tears leak out onto his shirt. "I'm sorry, Cullen. I'm so sorry."

Cullen likewise blames himself. He wonders a million little things, like if all the years of lyrium use could have effected his sperm somehow, effected their son somehow. That his previous life choices have affected the life expectancy of their child.

He closes his eyes, blinking back his own tears. As much as he's trying to be the strong one here, his resolve is breaking slowly but surely.

"It's not your fault," He whispers quietly, running his fingers through her hair.

"I carried him," she whispers into his tunic, wishing she could agree with him. "I gave him birth. And he--" She gulps in a breath of air.

And Maker only knows what the rest of Thedas will think. She's still a holy figure, for better or worse, one whose ill fortune could be seen as an omen. What should be a private loss for them both could affect the Inquisition's influence.

But it isn't fair for Cullen to have to stand here and comfort her when he's lost as much as she. She takes another deep breath, raising her head enough to look at him. "I...I can take you to him. If you'd like to see him."

"And he died." He says it out loud and it feels like death on his tongue. More final. More real. "It could have happened to anyone."

But it happened to them. And what should be a private tragedy will become public knowledge because of who they are. It isn't fair, it isn't right.

He swallows for a moment before nodding. He needs to see his son one last time, before they have to start making the proper arrangements.

"I can go see him alone if that would be eaiser on you."

She can't find anything to say in answer to that, but on some level, she knows he's right. Anyone could have lost a child; so many others in the world have lost children.

It just feels like there should have been more she could have done, knowing as she did what was likely to happen. But she couldn't, or she didn't, and she can already feel herself trying to close this pain off, hide it away under the layers of dignity and aloofness she normally wears among strangers.

"No." She'd like to see Cai again, too--and she wants to be there for Cullen. They'll need each other more than ever now; Betrys can't make him face this alone. Pulling back just enough to dab a handkerchief at her eyes, she tells him, "I'll go with you."

"As long as you're sure," He says softly, a concerned look in his eyes. He can see the way this effects her every being -- he does not wish to cause her further pain that which she has already suffered. If he could spare her that, he would.

But he has a feeling there will be a long time before either one of them will be spared any pain.

"I am." He's being so strong for her, holding her while she cries all over him. She wants to be able to do the same for him. And she'd like to see the baby once more as well, to kiss his tiny hands and cheeks, before they...Maker, are they going to cremate him? The idea sends a shiver through her. It's proper, but... "Would you like to go now, or...?"

Whatever he wants, though it doesn't feel like wanting anything matters very much anymore.

He reluctantly begins to pull away, as if trying to gather himself, steel himself for what comes next. Cullen has been through his share of terrible things but he can honestly say nothing has ever felt as terrible as this.

"Now is good -- before other people start coming to try to console us."

He knows Josephine and Leliana will try to keep people from them but that'll only last so long.

"Yes." Wait too long, and it will be...different. She's seen what bodies look like when they've been left alone; the Exalted Plains were once filthy with piled corpses and buzzing flies. She can't bear to think of Cai's body deteriorating, and seeing it...

Betrys takes a deep breath, doing her best to steady herself on her feet without relying on Cullen, before looking up at him. "They took him...downstairs. I'll show you."

And before she can change her mind, she takes one of his hands and leads him towards the stairs down from their bedchamber.

He takes her hand and follows her downstairs and when they get there nothing could have prepared him for what he sees. He covers his mouth, his eyes watering with tears.

"Maker..." He trails off, unable to find any other words to say.

Betrys is half-afraid that his body will already have begun to discolour, like the bodies of soldiers on the battlefield, but he looks nearly the same as when they took him away from her. Small, too small, with delicate features and the promise of a mouth shaped like his father's, eyes closed. She almost expects him to open his eyes to them again.

Her legs are trembling beneath her, but she's determined to be strong for her husband. "Cullen..."

He swallows thickly, trying to find his words, his composure somehow. He is, after all, supposed to be the strong one here, isn't he? It seems easier said then done.

"I didn't expect..."

Him to still look so like him? He's not sure.

Cullen doesn't have to be the strong one right now. He has every right to mourn, even if it's hard, and Betrys wants to help. She wraps her arms around his waist, hugging him close, her cheek on his shoulder. "I know."

He hugs her back, as if doing it from muscle memory alone. He feels frozen, trapped in this moment.

He doesn't say anything else. What can he say?

Betrys is trying not to disappear into the Herald of Andraste, but it's hard. In the face of their shared pain, the temptation is to call up a capable facade and hide behind it, but Cullen needs his wife, not Thedas' religious figure.

She stands there with him, holding him close, and lets the silence of the room envelop all three of them. And then, finally, she speaks in a low voice.

"We could hold him, if you'd like." She's not sure if he would like that, but it's something to say.

"If I hold him I will never let him go."

If he takes him now -- he's not sure he could put him down, to admit it's the last time he'll ever hold his son. Perhaps it's cowardly but it seems easier not to hold him at all.

She hugs him tighter to herself, feeling tears rising in her again. There's no time for them, though, not when Cullen's voice sounds so broken.

"I just don't want you to..." Her words, already a whisper, die away--and what a horrid phrase now, die away. Betrys presses a hard little kiss to his shoulder, buying herself a moment to pull herself together. "I don't want you to regret it if you don't."

"I know."

But he has no idea if he will or not, or if he'll regret holding him. Nothing feels like the right choice. There are no right choices in a situation like this.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," she murmurs, her eyes on their son's body. He seems even smaller than he did before they took him away. Perhaps when his soul returned to the Maker, it took away some part of him. "We can just...we can look at him. Or I can hold him for you."

"Let's just look at him for now." And perhaps then he can figure out what the hell he wants to do next. How do you decide something like that?

"All right." The longer she looks at him, though, the more she remembers that they'll have to turn his beautiful little face to ashes. It hurts more than anything, realizing that soon, there won't even be a body--only the memory of his struggling little breaths and the way holding him to her breast felt so warm and right.

She has to turn her face away, burying it in Cullen's shoulder, at those thoughts.

He closes his own eyes, tightly holding her. He wishes he could reassure her, tell her everything is going to be alright but right now? It feels as if nothing could ever be right again.

And that hurts deeply in his chest.

It doesn't feel like his embrace helps, exactly, but she knows she'd feel worse if she were here alone, without him at her side. And so it must, even if she still feels like she could break down and weep.

"He looked like you." More than anything, she's afraid she'll forget all the tiny details of Cai's face. "A nose just like yours."

"And hair just like yours, but curlier."

He's not sure he'll ever forget. Instead he's pretty sure the image will be burned into his memories, to be included in the nightmares that already plague him most nights.

"He was such a handsome little boy." And so much potential. Her throat feels like it's closing up, growing hard and cutting inside her body. Her voice shrinks to a strained whisper. "It's not fair, Cullen."

"It's not. I don't know why the Maker would do this." Hadn't they both endured enough? Why put them through this?

"He works in ways we can't understand now." That's what she's always been told, and she's believed it, too. It's incredibly hard not to respond with it isn't His fault but mine, though; her instinctive reaction is still to blame herself and her failure to carry the baby long enough for his lungs to grow. Her voice drops low, admitting something that hurts to say. "But that was easier to believe a few days ago."

"It will become easier to believe again, though I know it doesn't seem like that now."

Cullen has suffered many horrors and while this beats all of them he's not sure he can afford to lose his faith now. Not when he needs it most.

"I hope so." For all she's studied and prayed, she can't seem to remember anything to comfort her right now. All she has is Cullen's promise here and now. "We'll get through this. We have to."

They've lost enough already. She doesn't want to lose him as well.

"We will. Together."

They've lost too much already, they have to get through this together if they're going to get through it at all.

"I love you." She's not sure if she's talking to her husband. Perhaps both of them--if one can be said to speak to a body whose soul has already begun its journey back to the Maker. She hopes Cai doesn't have to travel through the Fade for more than a moment or two. The thought of him lost there, wandering for want of his mother and father...her heart clenches. She can't think about that right now.

Betrys reaches for one of Cullen's hands, wanting to feel his fingers entwined with hers. "What now?"

"For now, we keep to ourselves. Eventually we'll have to talk to the public but for today Josephine can handle that."

They deserve some privacy after everything else they've gone through.

"And tomorrow..." Maker, she'll have to say something. The people at Skyhold will be clamouring for some kind of comment; she remembers just how excited everyone was for the baby in the first place. Betrys sighs, squeezing his hand. "I suppose we'll see tomorrow when it comes."

"Exactly. We'll take it one day at a time." He thinks that's the best anyone can do in such a situation.

Betrys nods. One day at a time...and today, they'll rely on each other. "Would you like to stay here, or..."

"Just a little while longer." He finally says when he can find words.

"Of course." Part of her wants to say no, we need to go, take me away from this--but there's nowhere they can go that their son's death won't follow. She presses her cheek against his shoulder, burying her face against him. "As long as you want, darling."

And with that they'll stay like that until one of them can manage to tear themselves away, however long that takes

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Today Could've Been The Next Day of The Rest Of Your Life [for vowedtostay]

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