"Do you," Cullen's voice cracked in the cold of the night, "is there ever a time you wonder what your life would be like without magic?"
Twisting her fist around, Lana brought forth a small portion of mana, just enough to light an orb upon her finger. She watched it dance across each finger spinning like the ladies in the ballroom she'd spent half of her life banished from ever seeing. "Sometimes. If I hadn't been taken to the tower, if I hadn't been recruited into the wardens..."
"No one would have ended the blight," Cullen breathed, his warm voice coating her cheek.
"Oh, I'm certain Duncan would have found another warden to light the beacon with Alistair. I was in the wrong place at the right time, a place another could have easily stumbled into. After that it was just fixing all the problems in thedas, recruiting an army, stopping a civil war, and ending the darkspawn scourge. Rather easy." She passed her exploits off as little more than excursions because it was easier than facing how close she nearly came to death and ruin in that year.
Cullen gripped tighter to her, his face burrowing into her neck. It wasn't until he squeezed his hands into her arms that she remembered her path as a warden wasn't as nonchalant for him as she played it. Raising that army took her back into his life at perhaps both their lowest points. She'd never cried harder than that night after exiting Kinnloch. Far from camp, curled up in a stand of ferns for the hope no one would see or hear her, she bawled for every friend she'd ever had then lost and the horror of finding them again. It was her home, her family, and they weren't just killed, they were mutilated beyond recognition. Alistair found her a few hours later, her fingers raw from the carving blade slipping across her staff. She'd gotten only a quarter of the names in, but she couldn't do anymore. He'd sat in the bush beside her, didn't care about the prickers in it, just plopped down and patted her leg until dawn. Neither said a word, but both shared in the survivor's guilt they'd bear for the rest of their lives.
Lana shook off the old memories and slapped on a smile, "Besides, if I hadn't been touched by magic I'd probably be bored out of my mind and married off with four or five kids in the way."
Cullen spoke into her neck, "Married, huh?"
"Most likely to maintain the family business. That's what marriage is, right? Monetary ties and contractual obligations to keep names in order? I'd probably work it to be tied off to a traveling merchant so I'd never have to see him." She spoke the flippant words as if they were a death sentence. In truth, she rarely played the what if game with her own life. If she regretted every decision she ever made, she'd never rise from bed. "What of you? What would your life be like if you'd never joined the templars?"
Cullen pulled back from her neck and rose, his lips turned in thought. "I...I suppose I'd be in Honnleath farming. Or..." He shook his head from a sour taste. "No, I was Maker awful at it even as a child." His head dipped low and he eyed up her shoulder to whisper, "Perhaps I'd be a traveling merchant with a wife grateful she'd never have to see me."
"Oh no," Lana placed her hand against his cheek and lifted those mournful eyes. "Any wife of yours would be certain to travel forever at your side." His lips lifted in a grateful smile, and Lana leaned forward to pluck a sweet kiss against them. As she broke away, she smirked, "And she'd probably come armed to keep the competition at bay."
Cullen chuckled from her fair assessment. "This has been a trying night in many respects."
Clinging tighter to him, Lana shook off another bout of pain throbbing from her stomach. She thought he missed it, but Cullen arched an eyebrow from her wan smile. "I need to..." Lana sucked in a breath from another round, "inspect my wound, but I'll have to find a servant or handmaiden to help me out of this dress. They sewed me into this thing before pushing me out the door."
Cullen's fingers drifted around her ribs just above the bruising from the wound, "I could cut you out. I might know my way around a sword."
"It's all right, I..." Lana tipped her head back from a new wave of pain and she shook it wildly, "Nope, I'm liking your idea more. My room is...somewhere on the other side of the palace. I think." She pointed towards a black spec surrounded by another dozen dark windows in the far distance. There hadn't been much time to settle in before everyone was dashing around readying for the ball. It seemed unlikely she'd even find the right one on the first go.
Cullen caught her hand and cupped his fingers around it. "Mine is much closer. Here," He slipped his arm under hers and lifted her up. Together, they limped through the lit but mostly empty halls of the second floor. A few servants flitted through and the occasional party guest raced to get back to the festivities now that most of the murdering was done. No one paid them any attention, they weren't important.
After opening up his door, Lana inched her way into the room. Someone took the time to stoke the fire, the hearth large enough to hang a cauldron upon. A woman with pinched cheeks and slits for eyebrows glowered down upon them from a painting over the fire. Cherubs in gold leaf circled the four poster bed, each one aiming to shoot the one in front of it in the ass. All in all, it was the kind of room to induce nightmares in anyone, though the wainscoting was very nice.
Lana gripped onto the bedpost while Cullen closed his door. "You're alone in here? This place is palatial," she sighed with jealousy. "I have to share mine with three other women from...I want to say Jader." She tried to stretch out her side, willing the knot of pain away but it wasn't going to bow to her whims again. It was probably the last clown that pushed it.
"Here," Cullen placed a hand on her hip to steady himself as he attempted to find a way into her dress. "Let me try and...uh," a dagger glinted in his hands. He frilled up her burnt skirts, his fingers caressing her exposed thigh. "I'm uncertain where to begin."
Lana chuckled, "There are two pins in the back along both sides, yank those out first. And for the Maker's sake, be careful!"
"Why?" he asked even while cautiously removing the left pin. The side of her corset expanded offering a bit of wiggle room, but not enough yet. "It's not as if you haven't already destroyed the skirts."
"Because," Lana sucked a full breath into her lungs as he undid the second pin. She'd missed that feeling most of all while fighting. "This dress is either Josephine's or Leliana's. I'm uncertain which." Her fingers pushed up the now gaping bodice as Cullen moved around to face her.
"Andraste! Well, um, perhaps the charred skirts give it character. A realistic turn to the fire."
"Battle scarring to a dress?" Lana chuckled, "It'll be the next great trend in Orlais, I'm certain."
Cullen smiled in response, then raised his dagger up for attention. "Now what?"
"There's a long thread running directly through the back half. Cutting it should let out the last of the slack," Lana explained.
With more finesse than before he knew whose dress it was, Cullen's fingers parted through every scale on the back. The warm leather caressed her skin from his exploring, stirring that hungry part of her she'd thought exhaustion tamed.
"I believe I've found it," he crowed.
"Good," Lana nodded her head. "But before you cut it..."
Her thought leapt off a cliff as the eager man nipped the thread apart. In one swoop, the dress opened up from the back exposing her skin. The corset slipped from her fingers, dragging the fire skirts with it to land in a leather and silk lump below her bare feet. She felt Cullen's fingers settled upon her naked back, shock catching him by surprise. Then he yanked his hand away as if her skin was blistering.
Lana spun around and folded her arms across her chest, "I was going to say to warn me because the dress would fall apart, but..."
Gulping, he bored into her eyes while his fingers fiddled with his dagger. He was too terrified to let his vision drift any lower than her chin. "I'm, I didn't mean to, or know that."
Leaning forward on her toes, Lana pressed a kiss to his apologizing lips. Cullen's stammer froze along with the rest of his limbs. She heard the dagger tumble to the floor and she opened an eye
to see it had missed the dress. Caressing his cheek once more, Lana smiled. He gulped back his embarrassment from her touch, the pair of them taking a moment. Then she pushed back her breast to inspect the wound on her stomach. The skin was pocked in yellow and green from internal bruising, and where the dagger bit a jagged strip of red remained, but there didn't seem to be any pus oozing free.
"Does it look infected to you?" she asked, her eyes darting from the wound up to Cullen's.
"I..."
"You can see better than I can," she said.
He bobbed his head like a ship adrift on the sea, "Right, of course." Slowly, he descended to a single knee. His eyes bored into her skin while, with a whisper touch, he pushed upon her wound. Pain chewed through her side, but it was duller than the sharp knot she'd felt earlier. Maybe it was the lack of mana in her system that did her in.
"I'm not seeing anything immediate, though a salve would assist in...in, uh," Cullen glanced up from her stomach right into her naked breast. From Lana's viewpoint his face was eclipsed by her nipple which made her chuckle as his face turned the same shade of red as his coat.
She placed her hand against her side, drawing forth what healing power she could manage while Cullen slid back to his feet. He kept his eyes drilled into the floor even as she sighed from relief flooding her veins. She forgot how nice not being in constant pain was, even if the feeling was fleeting. Floating from exhaustion and the balm, Lana wrapped her arms around Cullen and nuzzled close to his chest.
For a moment, his arms remained stationary at his side. "This isn't how I anticipated tonight going," he gulped. "I'm...you are so tempting but..."
"Cullen," Lana slid back from him and smiled, "after so many clowns all I want to do is crawl into bed and fall fast asleep."
Relief flooded his face and he bobbed his head. "Right, of course. I shouldn't have- Wait a moment." His fingers rose to unknot the multitude of buttons along his finery, trembling slightly from the nearly naked mage watching. After a time, he managed them all, the jacket dangling free. He slipped it off his arms and placed it upon the chair, then yanked his undershirt off over his head ruffling up his hair more than battle managed. "You could wear this to sleep in," he said extending the tan tunic to Lana, but she was the dumbstruck one now.
Four years and she still remembered the curve of those taut pecs atop his rib line. That firm stomach that trailed down to his narrow hips prodding above his trousers. The v was softer than she remembered, age catching up, but she wanted to grab the padding even more. Knead it through her fingers. To slip her hands around to his backside and pull him down on top of her. His skin was so pale it radiated in the firelight. Most of his scars were the same ones she remembered from the deep roads, but there was one along the left side of his chest that caught her. The cut was in a c shape, curving across where Lana wanted to lay her head. It wasn't as faded to white as the others, the scar still a stinging pink. Her fingers drifted across his skin, and Maker his warmth washed over her.
Still holding onto the tunic, Cullen wrapped his arm around the small of her back. He watched her stroke his own scar for a minute longer before explaining, "Haven. I was struck by debris when we were fleeing Corypheus."
Lana nodded her head. She tossed back her hair and touched a scar running the length of her shoulder, "Haven, from the dragon worshiping cult. The dragon herself broke my arm in two places." His strong fingers caressed her own scar, the shared intimacy curling her bare toes. He dipped down to kiss her lips, this one as slow as a summer's afternoon floating on the river. The warmth wrapped up through her toes as his lips kicked up more fluttering butterflies in her stomach. She sighed in the back of her throat from a rare moment of perfection. Then a cursed yawn broke through their festivities, dragging away the bliss and replacing it with exhaustion.
"I don't know if I can last another minute," she admitted.
"Here." With his help, Lana snuggled into his undershirt, the same one he'd been wearing all through the night. It smelled of every inch of him, his earthy musk more powerful than it ever was on the grey warden tunic, but there was also a spicy cologne layered over top. When she smelled it, she smiled slyly at him. Cologne, changing his hair, just when she thought she had Cullen figured out...
"Without a dress, it'd probably be best if you spend the night here," Cullen said pointing to the bed. "I can rest in this chair, you take the bed. You, put in far too much tonight already."
Lana caught his pointing hand, "Cullen, don't be silly." Without any resistance, she pulled him to the bed. Lana hopped up and slid over the top of the blanket. "There's plenty of room for both of us."
He fluffed up the back of his hair and sighed, his chest expanding in an instant distraction as he flexed his biceps. "Are you certain? I wouldn't want to impose upon your...decisions of honor."
Yanking back the cover, Lana was partway under it when she stopped and rolled her eyes. She patted the other side of the bed. "Sleep beside me."
Unable to offer up another excuse, Cullen collapsed to the bed. He wiggled off his boots, tossing them to the door as a cheap alarm, and curled up under the blanket. The bed was narrow for two people, so Lana flipped onto her side. Cullen followed suit, his hand sliding below her neck while the other cupped her stomach. It was much the same way he'd spent a few hours speaking to her in Skyhold before she fell asleep and he slipped away. And now, she could spend the whole night with him curled up around her.
Lana sighed, sleep mushing her brain to goo. With barely a whisper she said, "Later, we'll figure out sleeping with me."
Chapter Thirteen
Dreams
Chittering erupted in the back of her mind. No. The chittering crawled along the walls! Lana threw a fireball towards it, breaking apart the eternal darkness. In the flare, a multitude of teeth glittered in the deep, each fang snapping in rage. Baring down upon her, every darkspawn in the deep roads raced to finish the job. She tried to reach her arms back for another spell, but it was too late. Her tongue lolled to a standstill, her fingers locking in place as the darkspawn leapt off the ceiling towards her.
Lana bolted awake gasping for breath. Her body trembled from the memory, no, was that one just a dream? Was it both? With each year it grew harder to tell reality from the fade. She blinked in the soft grey shadows, gulping to bring sense to her tumultuous brain. Unable to make out anything in the room, Lana shifted uncomfortably on the narrow bed. The room felt wrong, the grey shapes and shadows unfamiliar. But she hadn't been anywhere familiar in a year. Her entire life was abandoned for...what life did she even have before she turned to the deep roads? What life could she have?
Placing her head in her hands, Lana sat up in the bed and waited. She could feel another presence in the bed beside her, but Hawke wasn't speaking up. No matter how deep into sleep her cousin got, any moment Lana was roused by nightmares Hawke would always mumble out, "Are you a blood mage?" And upon Lana insisting she wasn't, she'd roll back to sleep as if it was that simple an answer.
Lana waited another breath before casting a minor spell in the fireplace. It wasn't enough to catch the log, only lift a few embers to life and return a hint of color to the grey world. She gazed down at the form beside her and the past night walloped her memory. Cullen fell asleep exactly as he held her, his hand still curled under her pillow, the other pulled back to his own naked chest. Andraste's tears but he was so heartbreakingly perfect while asleep. The peace of slumber wiped away his worries leaving behind so much of that young man she knew in the tower before everything changed. His eyelashes fluttered from a dream and Lana slid back down onto the bed. This time she faced him, her hands curled up under her head.
One of his waves disobeyed the new order and curled in on itself, twisting until it scattered across his forehead. Those golden brown eyes stayed shut tight while his lips huffed a breath in deep sleep. Maybe you need to accept you have a type, Lana.After she left him in Kirkwall, she questioned what drove her to give in to her temptations in the deep r
oad. She knew it would never be a relationship beyond a few days, but she pushed it as much as he did. In the dark of night, when her mind refused to release her to sleep she thought back to what she'd considered only a minor infatuation with that awkward templar in the tower. At the time it had seemed childish fun, nothing more. But upon being freed from the circle, who was the first person she fell into a foolish love with? A blonde, brown eyed man with a sweet heart and lofty ideals. She worried that she was trying to replace one with the other, but she wasn't certain who was the replacement and who the original. It was a foolish concern either way. Alistair was...in the past now, forever. Nothing would change that. And Cullen, he had his duty, always filled his heart with...Maker, she knew better than to hope for more.
As if sensing her thoughts, Cullen's lips rose in a smile and his hand ran along her shoulder. He didn't open his eyes but whispered, "Are you awake?"
"Yes."
"Is it morning?"
Lana glanced out the window and saw no hint of a rising dawn on the horizon. "No, I...had a bad dream."
Now those honeyed eyes opened and his once blissful face filled with concern. "A darkspawn one, or the other kind?"
"The other kind, though there were darkspawn in it so it's not easy to tell," Lana forced a smile, not wanting to heap onto his worries. Nightmares were so much a part of her that even Hawke grew immune. Though the first time it happened, her cousin sat bolt upright and threw a carafe through the window.
Cullen didn't rush to fix her, didn't offer suggestions for how to keep the bad dreams at bay. He only opened his arms wide and encouraged her to slide into them. His tunic tugged against her skin, the thick fabric catching upon the mattress as she scooted into him. Snuggling deep into his enticing trap, her fingers traced along his back, the muscle's unbending below his skin. What she wouldn't give to run her nails down it, arching her spine in...Lana shook the thought, willing away that nugget of desire. Time and a place and facing the end of the world was not it, even if she was the one to begin it all again in spite of the facts. His fingers tried to untangle her rat's nest of hair clumped at the back of her neck, but she was going to need a bottle of oil to attack it head on.
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