A hand gripped onto her murderous fingers and she glanced up at Cullen. "You cared for him."
"I cared for all of them. They were my people, my wardens. Forty three people given the joining, pulled into the fold, cursed with this taint. I trained them, I watched them, I encouraged them, I broke them, I built them up. And I...I failed them all," she tried to turn away to face the desk, but Cullen held her tight.
"Lana, that was Corypheus' work, not yours."
She mashed her lips together, staring at their intertwined hands. Blinking back a tear she looked up at the man who hadn't ordered her to come to grips with reality, only held her against the tidal wave of anger and regret. "Kirkwall was Meredith's work, not yours." She didn't mean for it to sting, only to explain what was in her mind, but he reared back as if she hit him. His hand slipped away from her and she reached out clutching it even tighter in her fingers. "I wasn't there for them when he came, when he took them away. They were mine, my duty, my world and I abandoned them." He stared above her as she spoke but didn't struggle to pull his hand away. The glove was softer than she expected, already showing wear on the pads of his palm where the grip of the sword would fit inside.
"I'd leave Vigil's Keep from time to time, to deal with missions, answer summons..."
"Travel through the deep roads with a hired templar," Cullen said. His eyes still gazed through the wall, but his face softened from the memory. Maker, how was that simpler times for them?
Lana smiled as well, her voice reflecting it, "All of it was for the wardens. To protect the world from the threat of blight. But I traveled to Seheron for...personal reasons."
"Seheron?" Cullen interrupted, his eyes finally snapping to her, but Lana looked away. There were many things in her life she felt she could tell him about, but not this. Not yet. Thinking about what happened between her and...it still turned her stomach.
"It began in Antiva but led to Tevinter, then Seheron. Assassins, evil magisters, qunari, blood magic. The usual suspects," she joked shrugging her shoulder. It popped out of the neck of her shirt, dragging the collar to the side. Cullen glanced at the spare flesh on display from her movements, but turned to look at her hands instead. Lana continued, "And when I returned, they were gone. Every warden, every one of them was gone. I had no idea where, no starting point to try and find them. It was as if they simply vanished. I..." She paused, swallowing down the full truth and began again, "I'd hoped to find them in the middle of this crisis. To discover they were hiding, planning to hit back against Corypheus, or...Maker, anything but that." She gasped as the image of Nathaniel rose up into her mind. Of his fingers digging into her arm deep enough to leave welts, his other hand driving the knife through her flesh and the look in his eyes. They weren't the blank stare of the puppet of a blood mage; his eyes glittered with some mad purpose.
Cullen dropped to a knee, his scabbard banging against the floor. He tried to get Lana's attention, but she couldn't raise her head, couldn't look at him. Gently, he caressed her cheek, his thumb hooking under her jawline. Together they lifted her face. His thumbs wiped at the tears she didn't notice she was crying. "I am so sorry," he said, punctuating each word with a breath.
"It's my fault," she shook her head, trying to break away.
"No, it isn't."
"Yes, it is," she argued back, needing to feel the lash against her skin. There was no one left in the order to punish her for this, so she had to do it herself.
"Lana, I know you don't want to hear this now, and it'll probably only make things worse, but I need to say it. You can't predict every outcome of your decisions. Whatever drove you to Seheron, there was a reason for it. And if you'd stayed behind, if you'd been in Amaranthine, he..." Cullen struggled as he leaned back to stare down at his other hand still wrapped around hers, "he could have taken you too."
"Cullen, I..." she almost cracked from the heartache pouring out of him.
"You're not alone in wishing to wallow in blame," his voice fluttered away as his fingers rubbed hers. Then he snapped up, "But you deserve better than what Corypheus did to you, to your people." His nose flared and he dared her to challenge his assessment. She could see in his eyes that he had a thousand counterarguments, a million different ways to prove she was worthy.
Smiling crookedly, Lana bumped her bare shoulder into him, "No 'For the good of the team' speech? What about the old 'We're gonna get this bastard' one?"
Cullen snorted, "We will get that bastard, I promise. But...I didn't think you'd want a speech."
"Probably wouldn't have worked anyway. I've given so many I think I'm immune," she chuckled. Cullen rose from his knees, his fingers falling away from her face, but he still held her hands.
"What about 'I want you to go out there and give me 110%?'" he asked.
Lana laughed at that, "Maker, I hate that one."
"Me too," he smiled back. His fingers drifted off her hands to the rolled cuffs of her tunic. "You're still wearing this?" he asked.
"Oh," Lana shook her head, feeling a fool, "you probably wanted it back. Of course. I didn't have any other sleeping attire and..."
"It's all right," he said while rolling back the cuff. His fingers drifted across her thin wrist caressing her skin as if writing a secret message upon her body before he pulled them back. "Technically, it is yours."
"Mine?"
"This was the, uh, the tunic you left me so I wouldn't have to approach the gallows 'bare assed.'"
Lana picked up the hem of the shirt and perused it. The color was so faded it was impossible to make out, but then she spotted the sign. The grey wardens had a particular stitch they used for their clothing, a sort of under/over that ensured anything stolen would be easily recovered for proper inventory. How'd she miss that? "It's so worn, I...I couldn't tell from the color," she said.
Cullen grimaced, "I wore it often, perhaps too much and it faded in the sun. I needed something other than the uniform. After Kirkwall, I...turned my back on the order." His fingers picked at the hem of his shirt, "It helped to know there was something out there besides the templars." Lana glanced up into his golden eyes soft with memories. She ached to wrap her fingers in his hair and pull his lips to hers. Instead, she rubbed at her own eye, catching Cullen's attention.
"What do we know about the Western Approach?" she asked, then grimaced at using the commanding we. Some things are never forgotten. "Leliana wouldn't talk about any of it. She's wrapped me under her big sister wing until I heal."
"I...uh," Cullen glanced back at the door, "am uncertain if I should go against her wishes."
Lana chuckled and rose from her chair. The blood rushed to her ill used legs, but the ache in her side only throbbed once before falling back asleep. Improvement. "I can assure you, Leliana is not all knowing. And I promise, I will keep it to myself." Lana twisted her lips with her fingers and threw away the invisible key.
Nodding, Cullen smiled, "As you wish, but I will still sleep with one eye open for a few nights." He winked at her in conspiracy, and Lana felt all blood drain from her legs again. "Agents are tracking some movement in the western approach, but most of it appears to be bandits. There is talk though of noises out of some of the ruins in the sands."
"Noises?" Lana squared up her shoulders before him.
"Could be nothing, it's hard to say. Do you have any theories on what the wardens would be doing out west?" His eyes darted over her face watching to see if she was about to break, but Lana was made of sterner stuff. Now that she had a problem to tackle, that infectious curiosity rose.
"No, well...maybe. There's an old warden fortress out there, leftover from the...ah, I can't remember which blight. Abandoned. Last I knew, the circle mages were using it before the rebellion for some research. Regardless, whatever they're doing they need wardens alive, possibly with an emphasis on mage wardens. It must be why Nathaniel originally intended to capture me."
"Capture?" Cullen reeled back.
"I believe that was his intention until you th
rew off the balance. After we showed our teeth he gave the orders to his men on how to take me down. He had to rethink his plans and try to end us both."
"He stabbed you, and was about to shoot an arrow through your shoulder before I stopped it. How does that condone capture?"
Lana shrugged, "I've survived worse."
"Stop that!" Cullen cursed, his eyes flaring in the weak firelight.
She stumbled, lost at the unexpected burst of anger, "Stop what?"
"What you keep doing when anyone shows concern, acting as if any injury to you is inconsequential. As if it doesn't matter that you are in pain."
His deadly tone caught her off guard. She told the truth to those who asked, and most took it as an "awe, the Warden Commander's being funny again, telling all those great war stories." No one ever objected to it.
"As long as I get the job done, it doesn't matter if..."
"I cannot stand it," Cullen shouted, rounding upon her. Exasperation caused his chest to rise, a fire burning deep in those amber eyes. His nose almost bumped into hers he stood so close. An endless hurt twisted up his face as he stared down at her, "The way you treat yourself as if you're expendable. It pains me to think you believe it."
"I..." Lana stared into his eyes hunting through her mind, trying to find the right words to convince her she was worthy. Arms length, it was the only way to maintain a shred of sanity in the ever testing world. That was her lot in life from the beginning. She thought it would change when she left the tower, that maybe she could let down her guard but that proved even more disastrous. Everyone needed her to act as a symbol, a protector, a pawn in their game. Here was the only damn man in all of thedas who wanted her as only herself instead of some living statue and she kept him just as distant as the rest.
"Maker's breath, I can't do this anymore," she cried in one quick sentence. Grabbing onto Cullen's now wavy hair, she pulled his lips to hers for the kiss she'd been craving since spotting him in the war room. He tasted even sweeter than she remembered, his lips softening as they pressed against hers. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, quietly inviting him to try the same. Cullen matched her craving, bending his back more to meet her hunger. With her barefoot the height difference was almost impossible, but neither was about to give up because of a few inches. His hands smoothed across her lower back, digging his tunic into her skin. As Lana sucked upon his bottom lip, his fingers dipped down below the tunic to cup her ass. Kneading each cheek, he yanked her higher until she stood on the tips of her toes, pulling her deeper into the kiss. But it wasn't quite enough.
Lana's fingers slipped out of his hair to grab behind his neck. With a leap, she jumped off the ground and knotted her legs around his waist. Cullen broke the kiss to steady himself from the unexpected weight of a mage wrapping around his body. She smiled mischief at him and he chuckled back. He pressed his lips back into hers, both of them giving in to every restrained urge they'd fought for years. His left arm slipped under her buttocks to keep her up while the right hand yanked up the tunic. Maker!She squirmed in his grasp savoring the strength in his arm holding her upright. How had she gone four years without his touch? Gentle but determined, certain but careful. Lana dug her legs into his hips, rising up higher. Crushing her breasts against his armor, she ignored the pain as every inch of her body flooded with the aching need for him. Cullen responded in kind, a moan rattling in this throat from her grinding deeper into him. She matched it as his fingers crawled up her bare skin, the leather of his gloves warm.
Suddenly, Cullen paused and he pulled away from the kiss. "Lana?" he whispered. She steadied herself for another one of those 'we can't do this' debates even with her legs wrapped around him.
"Yes?"
He brought his free hand to their eyes and swallowed at the crimson streaking down his glove, "You're bleeding."
Carefully, she dropped her legs to the ground with Cullen guiding her down. She yanked up her tunic to inspect the wound, exposing more of her skin than he'd managed, "I must have broken a stitch when I...uh, you know."
"Yes, I was there," Cullen deadpanned and she smiled.
"This will take a bit of time," Lana sighed and grabbed up a small towel off the desk. She pressed it into the wound causing pain to radiated up her side. "I'm sorry," she said, glancing up at Cullen.
He yanked off his bloody glove and tossed it to the desk as well as the other. Turning back to her, he smiled, "There's nothing to apologize for. I should not have pushed, given your injuries..." Running his fingers through his hair, he sighed, "I should leave you to rest."
"Don't go," Lana pleaded, her free hand grabbing onto his.
"Lana, you're not in a good shape to do...what I would really wish to," Cullen steadied his breath and placed his forehead against hers. "You're injured."
"I'm well aware of that, but I..." she glanced at the bed. One half was pristine with the sheets still crisp and folded, the other looked as if someone tried to hide five nugs under the covers. Only gone for a day and her cousin still managed to leave behind the messiest of beds without trying. "I don't want to be alone. Hawke's off doing something with Varric in Val Royeaux, and it's so quiet with just the calling in my head and..."
His lips pressed against her forehead, trailing off her thoughts, "Of course I'll stay. But you should lay down, it will help stop the bleeding."
Lana tried to not roll her eyes from the obvious advice. With one hand suckered to her side, she limped to the bed. Cullen guided her elbow as best he could, but she started to feel foolish as she laid upon the top of the covers. "I don't want to be any trouble," she began.
He unhooked the scabbard knotted across his hip and laid the sword upon the table. "You're not being trouble."
"If you have an army to run..."
Cullen paused in slipping off his boots and smiled at her, "They can run themselves for a few hours. Hopefully not into a wall, but anything's possible."
Lana laughed and then groaned as her broken wound wagged its finger at her. That was what she got for daring to enjoy herself. Cullen slipped into Hawke's side of the bed, then paused as his leg clanged against something under the covers. Yanking them back he unearthed a poker. Far too small to be used for a proper fireplace, it bore the relief of a roaring mouse on the handle.
"I am not going to ask."
"Probably for the best," Lana said. He placed the poker on the floor and stretched out on the bed beside her. Maker, she felt even more foolish having the commander of the Inquisition sitting with her as if she were a child, but...but she was so glad he was here. Cullen placed his hands behind his head, trying to maneuver beneath Lana's extended elbow without bumping it. She stared up at the ceiling which was lacking any foliage bursting through it, and tried to steady her breathing to calm the pain.
"I'm afraid I am uncertain what to say," Cullen said, breaking the silence.
"Isn't that always the way?" Lana chuckled then regretted it. She shifted on the bed to try and drain the pain away.
"If you could travel anywhere in thedas where would it be?"
"Is this one of those ice breaker questions which someone poses when surrounded by strangers while wishing they could be anywhere else?"
Cullen sighed, "If you have a better one, I am open to hearing it."
"No, no," Lana paused, struggling to find an answer, "I suppose I'd like to see Rivain."
"To find your ancestors?" Cullen asked.
Lana smiled, "My family's Marcher, I think. I never remembered much before the tower. No, there is a fascinating theory on thaumic energy and its transmogrification into potable kinetic that the Rivain mages use to power their devices. In theory, it should be under performing compared to the typical re-tread of potential, but they seem to have cracked the problem of excess discharge and maintained a full balance. I've wanted to study it, to see if its applications can be altered to..." Lana turned her head to see a smile splitting across Cullen's cheeks. "And I've already bored you."
"What?" he leaned his
head up to stare into her eyes, "No. I...admit I don't know as much about magical theory as someone with your skills, but I enjoy hearing it from you. Missed hearing it from you." Cullen stretched his arm out and slipped it under Lana's head. She pressed into the muscles propping her up as he played with her hair. Fingers massaged her scalp and knotted her hair up more than usual. It was bliss.
"What of you, then? It's your game, you must have some place you've always wanted to see in thedas."
"I..." he blinked to bring up a thought, "I have a fascination with the steppes of the Anderfells."
Lana nodded, "Understandable. They're beautiful, but a pain in the ass to climb up."
"You've been?" Cullen twisted up on his side to look at her despite his hand still pinned under her head.
"Grey warden stuff," Lana swallowed back the burn the word dug up from her gut. This was supposed to be distracting her from all of that. "But the food is excellent. They have this dumpling where the dough is so much thinner than what's used here and there's a spiced meat mixture. I...I can't really explain it, but it's...Ah!" her elbow bumped into his waist causing her to put more pressure upon the wound.
"Here," Cullen reached over and pressed his own hand against the cloth. His palm cupped around her hip, the fingers dancing across her skin while his thumb plucked against the bone below. Maker, how she wanted to move those hands lower and more center of mass. To feel him massaging her inner thigh...
"You know," Lana said, trying to talk through the lust burning through her from his touch, "I've never seen the White Spire. Been to Val Royeaux a couple times, but never made it up there."
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