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blustersquall · 7 years ago

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Only Make Believe // Chapter 12: The Weight of Words

Please be advised that tumblr no longer allows posts with links to outgoing sites to appear in tags. So, to try and get around this, you can read this fic on AO3 by clicking on the source link at the bottom of the post. Alternatively, you can find the master post on my blog, with links to all chapters on tumblr, AO3, and ffnet. [Though, ffnet is having some technical difficulties right now, and won’t let me upload the chapter, so it might be a day or so before it’s up on ffnet]

December 21st

Cullen reclined on to couch, mug of coffee in hand. His laptop was open in front of him on the coffee table, the light of the webcam shining a steady green. Though there was no one on the opposite camera visible, Cullen could hear two lowered voices off screen.

"It's your publisher," one said, female with a distinctive accent.

"Tell her I'm not here," the second voice, male and impatient. "Better yet, tell her I died."

"Varric!" the female voice growled. "You can't avoid her forever."

"Yes, I can," Varric retorted. Cullen smirked to himself hearing the exchange. "Just... tell her I'll call her back. Please, Cassandra?"

Cassandra sighed heavily off screen. "Fine," she snapped. "But next time, I'm just going to hand you the phone and not tell you who it is."

"Sounds great." Varric was sometimes frustratingly cheerful and glib. Given how short Cassandra's temper could be, Cullen wondered just how their relationship worked so well and how the two of them didn't drive each other crazy. As it was, they'd been together almost eighteen months and showed no signs of boring each other or of any cracks in their relationship. Cullen was glad of it. They worked well, and they cared about each other. Though they would both declare the contrary if confronted with it.

Varric's face appeared on screen and he sat back in his seat. "Sorry about that Curly."

"Avoiding your responsibilities again, Varric?" Cullen smirked.

"For as long as I can," Varric replied with a wry smile.

He was older than Cullen but by how much Cullen wasn't certain, he had never asked - but age had not dulled the sharpness of Varric's mind or tongue. A was a writer by trade, on the best sellers list, and one of the few friends Cullen was still in contact with from Kirkwall, while he was stationed there Varric was almost always around during the week. He had been on friendly terms with a large number of Cullen's squad and for the first few years, Cullen's reception to Varric was icy, cool at best. Somehow, through events that involved drinking and Cullen had tried to blank from his memory, Varric became Cullen's closest friend for a long time.

It was through Varric he met Cassandra. The two of them were instrumental in the relief effort for Kirkwall following the explosion, and they both helped Cullen get back on his feet after his discharge and the events that followed. He was indebted to them. He considered them as close as his own family, despite the distance.

"You really need to get an assistant," remarked Cullen. "Or at least pay Cassandra to avoid your publisher for you."

"I pay her with love and sneak previews," Varric said, his grin increasing. "What more does she want?"

Rolling his eyes, Cullen laughed into his mug. He took a swallow of coffee, placed the mug on the table and leaned forward. "You're terrible."

"I know, I know," sighed Varric. "A burden I must bear." He looked momentarily remorseful, before a wicked smile lit up his face. "Anyway, enough about me. Tell me about this girl."

"There's nothing to tell," Cullen shrugged. "She's a client. A friend."

"Oh, come on Curly." Varric shook his head. "You're calling in a favour to get her a copy of her favourite book. She's got to be more than a client or a friend."

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why does she need to be more than a client or a friend? Can't I just do something nice for someone who I think deserves it?" asked Cullen, his voice becoming a little sharper and his defences rising. He was only just beginning to figure out how to put some distance between himself and Nevena so his tumultuous feelings towards her could calm down. He did not need Varric riling him or those feelings up by baiting him.

"I'm not judging, Curly," Varric lifted his hands in defence. "Sorry if I touched a nerve."

Cullen breathed through his nose, trying to relax. "It's fine."

"Is she there?"

"If she was, do you think we'd be having the conversation?"

"I guess not." Varric nodded. "Well, the book is on its way to you as we speak. I sent it off today, airmail. Should be delivered right to the cabin door tomorrow afternoon, sometime."

"Thank you, Varric," Cullen half smiled. "She'll really love it. I owe you."

Varric waved a dismissive hand. "Nah, we're square." He paused for a moment. Cullen watched him purse his lips and fiddle with a gold earring hanging off his right ear. "Not going to tell me anything about her, huh? This girl whose favourite book is the first one I wrote?"

"Why so curious?"

"Not a lot of my readers even remember 'The Viper's Nest'. It's kind of nostalgic to know someone out there still likes it," explained Varric with a slow, lingering smile. "She like the other ones?"

"Actually... I don't think so." Cullen frowned, thinking back to that early morning conversation where he found her reading at the kitchen table. "She didn't say she disliked them, I just think she liked 'The Viper's Nest' more."

"Oh," Varric's brow furrowed. "Did she say why?"

Cullen shrugged, "No."

"Maybe I should ask her."

"I haven't told her I know you. I didn't want her to get over excited, or something like that. I know how much you value your privacy."

"Oh please," scoffed Varric. "I'm an open book - no pun intended. And it would be nice to hear the opinion of a genuine fan of my early work."

"You hate being critiqued."

"I hate being critiqued by critics," Varric said. "If an actual fan were to give me their feedback in a decent way, not in one-hundred-and-forty-characters of abuse on twitter, then I'd be more than happy to listen." He snorted. "I might even take on some of what she says."

Cullen laughed, "Maybe when the oceans freeze over."

Varric moved on screen, turning his attention to another monitor Cullen knew he used to keep up pages of notes and research when he was writing. There was the sound of fingers on the keyboard and few mouse clicks.

"What's her name again?"

Lifting a brow, Cullen leaned back. "Why?"

"I want to check I spelled it right inside the book." Varric shot him a look. "Why do you think?"

"Sure, Varric." Cullen gave an exasperated bark of laughter but spelled out Nevena's name for him regardless. Varric went quiet for a minute or two. In that time, Cullen checked his emails and started to type a reply to his sister, who was berating him about not being available to come to her house for Christmas. The past few years, he had spent the day with his siblings and their families. Since their parents died, the four of them were closer than they ever were as children. Cullen felt a pang of guilt for the fact he would not be there. He had already apologized, but another would not go amiss, and he promised Mia he would come stay for a weekend in January to make it up to her.

"She's cute," Varric remarked. His comment caused Cullen to look up from his email. "Pretty."

Cullen squinted at the webcam and therefore, Varric, "You've googled her, haven't you? Are you stalking her on Facebook or something?"

"No, nothing like that." Again, Varric waved a dismissive hand. "Just wanted to know what she looked like. I didn't realise she was one of those Trevelyan's."

"Neither did I," Cullen groaned. He ran a hand across his face, rolling his thumb and forefinger along his brow. "I'd never heard of them until she told me."

"They're not exactly celebrities," Varric explained. A few clicks of a mouse and his attention returned fully to Cullen. "I met Nevan and Katrin at a charity event about a year ago. Weird people. Very, uh..." Cullen waited; it was rare for Varric to be at a loss for words. "Very intense."

"That's one way to put it," Cullen laughed heartily and ran his hands back through his hair. "Honestly, Varric these people... Her family are..." He leaned his head back, shaking it while staring at the ceiling. "It's astounding that she's related to them. She's nothing like them. And given some of things she endured... I'm amazed she's as kind as she is."

"Oh?"

"Right now, she's out in Edgehall with her older sister," Cullen sat up. "An older sister who has tormented her for years and who, in no uncertain terms, despises her. And she's with her because she wants to do right by her niece who, according to Nevena, 'is feeling unloved'."

"Sounds like she's a nice person."

"She's is. She's more than nice." After rubbing his chin and stubble, Cullen grabbed his coffee and drained the last few mouthfuls. "These people, Varric. You should meet them. I would love for you and Cassandra to meet them and see how horrific they are."

"All of them?" asked Varric.

"No, not all of them... The kids seem great, and one or two of the husbands are nice. I'm still on the bench about one sister. But the parents - fuck, the parents." With a sigh, Cullen placed his mug on the table. He was on a roll, letting go of all the comments he was keeping tightly contained. "Her mother is something out of a horror story, I swear. She threatened Nevana with a pole to straighten her posture at dinner, like she's five-year-old! Who does that to their adult daughter?"

"Someone with expectations," Varric snorted. "My parents had the same of me." That had a poor relationship with his parents was common knowledge to most of his close friends. It was a topic Varric often used to make off-handed comments or to deflect. Through their long friendship, Cullen had never heard Varric discuss his parents seriously. Perhaps he did in private, with Cassandra, but for the most part Varric's past was something he kept very close to his chest.

"The two older sisters, as they were digging their claws in, no one told them to back off. In fact, it was like everyone else was pretending it wasn't happening."

"You didn't though, right?" asked Varric. "You jumped in Mister knight-in-shining armour?"

"Sadly not... I was just in shock. I didn’t know what to say, and when I thought of something I decided against it, in case it made matters worse." Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. "Honestly, she's a great girl. Given everything she's dealt with and things I suspect she's experienced... That she is a warm hearted and kind person is a testament to how strong and resilient she actually is." He sighed, flopping back onto the sofa. "She just doesn't believe it herself. She actually thinks she's a terrible person."

"Uh huh..." Varric's tone drawled out and there was a distinct smugness to his voice. Cullen arched a brow at the laptop screen. "Tell me again how she's just a friend and a client? Certainly sounds like that's the extent of your relationship and your feelings towards her."

"Shut it," retorted Cullen, rolling his eyes. "We're friends. Adding anything else to this... It would make things more complicated.”

"’More complicated’? Meaning... you've thought about acting on you--"

"Varric."

"Sorry, Curly," Varric smirked. "Just want to look out for you. You know if things get too shitty there you can take the tunnel under the Waking Sea, or a ferry, and come to Kirkwall for Christmas and New Year. You never did reply to the invite me and Cass sent out."

"I know," groaned Cullen sitting up. His back twinged, a small reminder of his tumble on the ice a few days previous. "I'm sorry. I was in a rush when I was arranging all of this." Cullen suddenly felt tired and weary. Everything was getting confused again.

Who was he kidding? Everything was always confused. His talk with Nevena the night before was just to protect himself, and her. He didn't want to get involved beyond their arrangement, he didn't know what doing that would mean, or what it might entail. He didn't want to get hurt. He didn't want to hurt her. He cared for her. He told himself putting a figurative wall up between them, setting barriers and boundaries was for the best. It would prevent things from going any further. It didn't matter. The night before all he could think about as he tried to fall asleep was the kiss in the kitchen and knowing that she slept in another room, with only a door between them. He wondered if Nevena had thought about the kiss as she tried to fall asleep, too. If she’d struggled to sleep as much as he had.

Cullen wasn't sure what was happening. He'd never experienced a sudden loss of sense when it came to love before. With women in the past, it was always gradual before his feelings began to stir. Dates upon dates, phone calls, and text conversations of getting to know one another. Cullen prided himself on rarely, if ever, giving into base instinct and desire. Falling hard and fast for someone was unknown and uncharted territory, and it didn't help that he wasn't sure if it was real or not.

"Varric," he groaned pushing his face into his hands. "Do you think I'm in over my head?"

"Possibly," Varric said. "But you should ride it out. You might be surprised with the outcome."

"Nice and vague," laughed Cullen. "Thanks."

"That's what I'm here for. Now," Varric clapped his hands together, "aside from my book, which is an amazing gift admittedly, what else have you bought your friend-client?"

"Nothing?" Cullen shrugged his shoulders, meeting Varric's eyes through the webcam. "I thought the book would be enough."

"No, Curly. No," Varric shook his head like a concerned uncle. "The book is a great gift, don't get me wrong. And I'm not just saying that as the author, but you can't give her something that personal in front of her family."

"Why not?"

"You just can't, okay. Don't fight me on this, trust me. I know what I’m taking about."

"Okay, okay." Cullen relented. "So, what, get her something else?"

"Not a thing. A few things." Varric hummed thoughtfully. "You don't want anything that's going to overshadow the book, but get her a few things that will go over well. Hollow gifts, y'know? Sweets she likes. Something for her apartment. If you're feeling daring and want to give the impression to her family everything is great between you, lingerie."

"I am not buying her underwear," Cullen growled, hoping the camera did not pick up the way his cheeks flared. "I don't even know what size she'd be."

Varric chuckled, rubbing his hands together in a gleeful way that put Cullen on edge. "Just, take my advice, get her some small things that are pretty basic. Nice smelling soap or something. Or just joke gifts."

"I'll do that." Cullen reached towards the lid of his laptop. "I'll go now."

"Great idea." Varric leaned back in his chair. "I should probably call my publisher back anyway..."

"Thanks for sending the book, Varric. I'll let you know how it goes over."

"You better." Varric shot him a look. "And, seriously Cullen." The tone of his voice gave Cullen pause as he was closing the laptop. "If you need to get out of there, my place is always open. The invite for New Year stands. And that extends to your friend-client-not-girlfriend."

Touched, Cullen smiled, "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

"Good." Varric waved briefly. "Let me know how the book goes down. Talk later, Curly."

"Bye, Varric."

Cullen shut his laptop and got to his feet. He quickly smoothed his hands through his hair and over his shirt, easing away wrinkles in the clothing. After a quick glance around, he found his set of keys to the cabin, his phone, wallet, and car keys. He piled them up on the table in the kitchen paused, staring hard at the door to the bedroom.

It wouldn't be considered snooping if he was looking for ideas for small gifts, would it? And really, as long as he didn't move anything, Nevena would never know he'd been in the bedroom. He chewed his lip and the inside of his cheek for several moments before breathing in deeply and striding towards the room. A brief look, to get a few ideas, he wouldn't touch anything.

As he turned the door handle he half expected Nevena to walk in the front door and catch him. Even though his intentions were innocent, his stomach was near his feet as he inched the door open and peered inside. He had only seen the bedroom once, when he and Nevena first arrived. It was the largest room in the cabin, aside from the main living area. The focus was the large double bed in the middle. Made of wood, it looked like some kind of sleigh from the way it was carved. The bedding was a soft duck-egg blue, complimented by walls of a similar colour. There were pictures of landscapes hung on the wall and a large double window that opened out onto the road and pathway leading up to the cabin itself.

Though Cullen did not know what to expect, he was surprised to find the room as tidy as it was. For some reason, he expected Nevena to keep things in an organised chaos - this was... neat. The bed was made, and the covers pulled back to let them air. Sitting in the middle of the bed were two cuddly toys, a dinosaur of some description and a bright cobalt blue manta ray. Cullen smirked looking at them, finding it endearing Nevena brought them all the way from home. Her pyjamas were folded on the mattress, glasses on a night stand, sitting beside her tablet.

Pyjamas would be too personal, and he was already getting a book shipped in, so another book was out of the question. He went to the dressing table where various items were laid out. A make-up bag, several different hair brushes. He wasn't getting many clues and went to the bathroom to get an idea what she liked to use on her skin.

The en suite bathroom was really a large shower room, all tiled walls with smart, warm stones, a silver shower head the size of a dinner plate was suspended from the ceiling. The floor sloped slightly in one corner so the water all ran down to the plug hole, there was a screen between the shower and the sink, but that was it. In the shower cubicle, Cullen examined the shower gel on the floor. Bright yellow, spicy smelling with an underlying sweetness. Not an offensive smell at all, and one Cullen had grown accustomed to, being around Nevena and was sure he would recognise if he needed to. He glanced at the label to see if it was named.

“Loveswept Sunset…” he read and laughed to himself. “Are you kidding me? Sounds like something Varric would name one of his books. Who comes up with this stuff…”

It wasn't much, but it was something to keep in mind. He left the bedroom, closing the door securely behind him. After picking up his bits from the table and taking his jacket off the coat hooks by the door, Cullen went quickly to his car and began the journey to Edgehall. He hoped he might luck out and some random items might jump out at him. He'd never been particularly imaginative when it came to gift giving, but whatever he bought now, he knew the book would make up for it.

[Quick note for those of a sensitive nature, there are some mentions of panic/anxiety attacks, some hints at physical sibling abuse, and minor mentions of injury, so please be warned. It’s not graphic, but be warned].

Nevena patted her satchel as she set it down on the ground beside her. Inside was Cullen's gift and while it was sturdy and heavy, she didn't want it to get scuffed or damaged in any way, so she was being particularly careful with it. Ineria sat opposite her, stirring sugars into her coffee while tutting at her phone, mumbling about one thing or another.

They'd been in Edgehall together for almost four hours, and despite the rift in their relationship and the confrontation only two nights before, things were cordial between them. Cordial but cool. It was about as good as their relationship ever got. Nevena had learned never to expect an apology from Ineria as children and now was no different. There was not even a whisper of an apology or admittance of guilt for her behaviour that evening. Nevena knew Ineria well enough to know she'd likely brush it under the carpet for now, and bring it up again when it suited her.

Edgehall was busy as the Christmas day approached and shopping days diminished. The market was still going strong but Ineria's needs took them into the small shopping centre situated in the middle of the town. Made up of two floors, most of the shops were a part of large chains. There were gaudy Christmas lights hanging over head, with tinsel, and sparkling glass snowflakes while over the Tannoy system Christmas songs were played on repeat. Nevena was sure she heard the same one play five times in an hour and would be glad when they left.

Despite her going into Edgehall the day before and buying more than enough food, Ineria was still grabbing things left and right. Every shop they walked past, Ineria peered in the window, hummed, went in, spoke to the frazzled sales assistants and if they could not accommodate her, she demanded to speak to a manager while Nevena cringed in the background, often mouthing ‘sorry’ to the employee durrently under duress. She wasn't sure how Ineria did it. It was like she was not in possession of shame. She lacked the empathy and patience required for the Christmas season and the stress those people working were under. If she was not able to obtain what she wanted, it was someone else's fault and she threatened to complain. Every shop they left, Ineria came out with a voucher or promise of good will.

Nevena was beginning to wonder how many of these people knew Ineria by reputation. A small community like Edgehall, and a problem customer like Ineria, news was bound to travel. Nevena kept her mouth shut, even if she wanted to step in on multiple occasions. She wanted to keep Ineria calm and receptive for when she approached the subject of Matilda, and getting in the way while she was laying into some poor temporary member of Christmas staff was not the way to do it.

When they stopped at one of the various chain coffee shops, Nevena was glad for the rest. She stretched her legs out and turned her glass of water around in her hands while waiting for Ineria to get whatever she was ordering. The night before Nevena had made a few bullet points, topics she wanted to mention to Ineria about Matilda and quickly went over them. Even as Ineria sat down, Nevena checked over her talking points on her phone, trying to memorize them so she could be more confident.

"Successful trip," Ineria remarked. She never looked directly at Nevena for too long, preferring to glance around and watch passersby. "We'll have these and go back to Haven. You can help me start prepping for Christmas Eve."

Nevena bit her tongue to stop from commenting. Never a request, always an order. "Sure," she said, clenching her jaw. She took a sip of water. "Ineria, I need to talk to you about something."

"If it's about the other night, don't worry about it," Ineria said, breezily, smiling. "I accept your apology without you having to make it. You always do like to make a scene."

"Uh..." Nevena squeezed her hands around her glass. "That wasn't..." A pause. It wasn't worth getting into. "It's about Matilda," she said slowly. "I want to talk about Matilda."

That got Ineria's attention. Her sharp gaze snapped to Nevena and she placed her coffee cup down in the saucer in such a deliberately slow way, Nevena was sure it was done in an attempt to frighten her somehow. Ineria dabbed her mouth with a paper napkin. "What about Matilda?" Her voice was tight and her tone sharp. Nevena's stomach grew heavy. She knew she was stepping on sensitive ground.

"Yesterday while we were baking, we were chatting about school." Nevena began, keeping her tone calm and as non-confrontational as possible. "She's said some things that are… well, they’re a bit troubling."

"What things?" Ineria asked primly. "If it's about the school play, I already know."

"You do?"

"Yes." Ineria sighed with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "I went to the principle about it and got her the bigger part she deserved. My daughter is too good for chorus, just like I was. The girl who had the part initially began to cause Matilda trouble, and I went and dealt with it. It's fine now."

Nevena laughed nervously, remarking, "I don't think it is." Ineria's eyes narrowed as she continued, "Did you take into consideration that Matilda was happy with her chorus part? Or that she actually wanted to be involved backstage and only auditioned for a part because you showed an iota of interest in her because it was something you wanted?"

"Nonsense. She's immensely talented an-"

"Of course she is talented," Nevena said, cutting Ineria off. She saw her sister's nostrils flare in anger. "But she's talented in a different way than you. Matilda is not an actress. She doesn't relish being on the stage, like you did."

"Don't be stupid. She was wonderful."

"I don't doubt that she was." Nevena held her jaw tight. "But Matilda doesn't like being on stage or the centre of attention. Do you realise how clever she is? She's practically a math genius. She can do complicated equations in her head. She's been invited to do an advanced math class next semester. And she's twelve."

"So?"

Nevena blinked hard, several times. "So... why don't you embrace and support what she's clearly likes and has a passion for? She feels like you don't appreciate or like the things she enjoys and is passionate about."

"That's silly." Folding her arms, Ineria straightened her back. It was a gesture Nevena knew well. It was how Ineria signalled she was setting down for a long haul. This would not end well, but Nevena was already in too deep to back out of the conversation now. "I appreciate the things she's good at."

"Really?" Nevena snorted and copied Ineria's stance. "Did you know she got an award for math excellence at school? Or that the Mathlete team she's a part of came first in their age range?"

"I knew."

"And did you say anything?"

Ineria fidgeted in her seat. "No, but--"

"No," Nevena snapped. She realised then, noticing a flare in Ineria’s eye, that she was allowing her concern for Matilda and her annoyance at Ineria get the better of her. She took a long breath and felt her shoulders relax. "Because it's not something that interests you." She watched as Ineria smoothed an imaginary wrinkle out of her shirt. "She actually asked me something really heartbreaking yesterday."

"Oh?" Ineria rolled her eyes again. "And what was that?"

"She asked if I ever felt like our parents never wanted me. Or didn't like me." Nevena leaned forward. "She was referring to you. She doesn't think you like her, or even wanted her. And she's twelve-years-old, Ineria. Twelve! She's a child, and children shouldn't be thinking or wondering those kinds of things about their parents."

There was a shift in Ineria's expression, a softness - almost like remorse - that appeared and then disappeared in moments. Nevena saw her sister's face harden again. She set her jaw, her arms tightened a little across her chest and she lowered her shoulders. Though she would not look outwardly angry to anyone else, Nevena could see the rage building behind Ineria's eyes. She was outraged, insulted.

"I know you love her, Ineria," Nevena said, trying to subdue her. "I know you love all of your children but--"

"No," Ineria hissed. "You've said your piece."

"Ineria. I'm trying t-"

"How dare you lecture me about my own child!" Ineria glowered, her eyes blazing with barely controlled anger. "You have no idea how hard I work. How much I do. I don't know everything about my daughter, but I love her immensely. You come here for a few days and think you can lecture me! You don't have children, Nevena. What makes you think you're qualified to tell me, a parent, how I am doing?"

"I work with kids on a daily basis, Ineria," Nevena replied in a steady voice. "I see kids every single day whose parents don't appreciate or even acknowledge their achievements, and instead brush them aside because their achievements do not mesh with their parents'. It's what you're doing with Matilda now, and if you're not careful, the damage to your relationship will be irreparable."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Ineria's fingers clenched on her clothes.

"You are living vicariously through your daughter. You were the star of every school production and you want Matilda to be just like you." The stillness in Nevena's voice was giving way to her frustration. Ineria wouldn't listen. She never listened. "But Matilda isn't like you. Matilda is her own person, and she is a brilliant, intelligent, generous, sensitive, bright person. But you refuse to see that in her, unless it's in doing what you expect of her."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Ineria said again, more fiercely. Her hands flew to Nevena's, knuckles white as she gripped and dug her nails into top of Nevena's hands. Nevena flinched at the quick movement and at the way the table jerked. As children a gesture like that often meant Ineria slapping her around the face. She wouldn’t do it in public, but Nevena still felt a familiar, phantom sting in her cheek. She saw Ineria's lips curl into an unpleasant smirk and tried to pull her hands away. "You think you can lecture me on children and family? Please, that's laughable. What do you know about family, Nevena?"

"I--"

"Nothing. At least nothing of real note," Ineria released her, leaving crescent moon shaped divots in Nevena’s skin, and began to gather up her things, collecting bags and checking that nothing was missing. Even as she did, her eyes did not leave Nevena's face for longer than a second. Nevena could feel a throb in her hands where Ineria had pushed her fingernails deep. "You don't have your own family. You weren't even wanted by this one," Ineria sneered. "You are a poor, unworthy replacement who has nothing to offer. You are worthless. You always have been worthless. You always will be worthless, and it’s high time you realised it." She didn't raise her voice - she didn't even change the cadence of her words. She simply spoke them, each syllable sharp and dripping with venom that seeped into Nevena's conscious. The space behind Nevena's eyes prickled sharply. She clenched her jaw to keep her chin from shaking but she could feel her eyes welling up. Ineria always knew where to attack, where she was most sensitive, and she could bring Nevena to nothing with so little. Ineria knew it too. But this...The look of triumph on her face made Nevena's skin crawl and go cold. Ineria got to her feet. "You should really look in the mirror before you go trying to fix other people. Especially when you’re the only one that needs fixing.

Nevena took a slow breath, "Matilda--"

"Is my daughter, and nothing to do with you," Ineria said coldly. She stood, and approached Nevena, bags in one hand. The other she placed on Nevena's shoulder and squeezed, hard. "Thank you for your insight," Ineria murmured to her. "However, just like you, it is unwanted."

A cold chill ran down Nevena's spine. She shivered as Ineria dug her fingers into her shoulder and released. She didn't move for at least thirty seconds. Her eyes were wide and painful when she finally blinked. Tears ran down her face and she quickly wiped them away. She would not make a spectacle of herself out in the open for everyone to see. If she was going to cry then she'd at least do it somewhere secluded.

She just needed to remember how to move.

Nevena's whole body felt like it was locked up. Her legs were almost solid and she struggled with remembering how get out of her chair. Breathing was hard too; her chest felt constricted and squeezed, every breath a hard gasp of sheer desperation. Her chest wouldn't expand enough to fill her lungs. She fought to stay calm, at least until she was away from everyone. If she could manage that, she could get through this and make her way back to Haven.

To Skyhold, and privacy.

To Cullen; the safety and comfort he provided would be the panacea to everything.

Her mind was spinning. Ineria was never nice to her, but what just passed between them was vicious. The malice and the anger was almost palpable. Ineria had never made her distain for Nevena secret, but it was like she was unleashing everything now. All the years of resentment and pain building up and being allowed to fester like an infected woundhad become a bubbling over cauldron of hate.

And that was it. Ineria hated her. Nevena realised that now. It wasn't simple sibling rivalry or differences. It was legitimate, unabashed hatred.

Aware that her tears were coming quicker, Nevena forced herself to her feet. She grabbed her satchel and swung it onto her shoulder, rubbing her eyes quickly on her sleeve. Someone behind her yelled and they whacked her bag.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Nevena choked out. Her throat was closing over, as if it wasn't hard enough to breathe already. She took a desperate gulp of air, tucked her head down and started walking.

Breathe. She told herself, trying to remember how to bring herself out of the panic and anxiety threatening to drown her. Drowning. She was drowning. How did that happen? Drowning in a sea of people and silently screaming. There were faces all around her, a cold floor underneath her. Glances of confusion, distain, disgust. Someone touching her. Hands. Too many hands. Too many voices. Too much was happening.

Her vision clouded at the corners, her clothes constricted around her, limiting her movement. They reduced the air she could get. They stuck to her like glue. She was uncomfortable, itchy. Every inch of her skin felt like it was crawling and there was something underneath, digging frantically to get out. Wherever she was, she forced herself to her feet and ran. Her lungs were burning with every forced breath as she weaved and ducked around people, and pillars, and decorations. She didn't know where she was going, what she doing - even where she was seemed like a distant memory, forgettable within the pain.

Every step was hard. The ground was hard, but it felt like she was trying to wade through mud. People were still staring. She heard them ask after her, saw their eyes see her face, tear stains and red cheeked. Several people reached out to grab her as she ran. Nevena recoiled and flinched from each hand, every finger. What if they caught her? What then? She could hardly breathe, let alone form words. She knew she needed to find somewhere isolated and safe. If she could do that she could bring herself down, bring herself out of the panic and everything would be fine. She would be fine. She could do this. She'd done it before.

Ducking down a hallway that seemed more deserted than the rest of the shopping centre, Nevena's vision darkened because of the lower light. There were no bright, white festive lights in the corridor and the merry tingling of music was quieter here. Everything was already dulled by the blood pumping in her ears, but the rest of her senses were in overdrive. Nevena ripped up the sleeves of her jumper and checked her skin. There was nothing moving, nothing trying to dig out, yet she scratched for good measure - just to make sure. The sensation of her fingernails raking over her skin was a pleasant, sharp sensation. It gave her clarity, just enough.

Finding a corner - a wall, somewhere that she felt safer and not quite so open - Nevena dug around in her bag for her phone. She fumbled with it, struggled with her security code several times and just managed not to throw it against the wall on her third failed attempt.

"Come on, Nevena," she gasped angrily at herself. "Think!" She slammed her head back against the wall. It hurt, pain ricocheting down her neck and over the top of her skull. The pain throbbed. Nevena entered her passcode successfully.

She wiped her eyes and nose on her sleeve as she scrolled through names with trembling fingers. Her eyes hurt when she rubbed them. Her eyes lashes were clumped together and she could taste salt on her lips when she licked them.

When she found the name she wanted she began to type. It was more difficult than she remembered, trying to spell a word correctly. She managed it after a several attempts. With the message sent, Nevena pulled her knees into her chest and buried her face into her legs.

"I'm alright," she told to herself in a low whisper. "I'm alright. I'm alright." She just needed to believe it.

I know this chapter takes quite a different turn to the one before, but still - I hope you enjoyed it.

Ineria has issues. If that wasn’t obvious. They’ll be addressed. Also, just to let you know, uploads may slow down a bit. I have a lot of chapters already written, so they won’t slow down too much, but I don’t want to hit my buffer, because I’m having A LOT of trouble on the later chapters, which has put me behind schedule. I’m hoping I’ll get some inspiration soon, but for now, for my own sanity, uploads may be every three weeks, rather than every two.

I hope you understand.

Thanks for reading. As always, your support means so much to me, and I love hearing your thoughts. So please don’t be shy. Reblog with your comments, tags, comment on the post or on AO3, or you can just send me a not on tumblr on anon if you prefer. Just let me know what you think.

See you guys in the next chapter. <3

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