My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

"That'd burn the whole room down."

  "Right." He gestured to a pair of soldiers clinging desperately to the wall, "Get in there, take what you can. I need to check on the other side. You up for more?" His wary eyes warned her she didn't need to risk it, but she smiled.

  "Only if you are." Lana tossed up a barrier between them. Taking the lead, Cullen relied on his body to block the snow and ice, but the wind was winnowing to a small squall in his wake, one that tossed Lana back and forth across the slippery stone. She inched closer and closer to him to combat the gale forces, until her fingers gripped into the back of his armor plate. Bending her head low to fight off of the ice, they slid around the battlements.

  "What are we looking for?" she shouted.

  "Anyone else in trouble," he called back. They passed in front of one of the block of rooms that'd been left in disarray. Holes in the roof were now plugged by the torrential snow, which was building higher and higher. It had to be at least two feet that'd fallen and climbing fast. How was so damn much moisture in the air up here?

  A crack sundered through the roof snow, and both of them looked up at it. "I'm sure it's fine," Lana said. The overhang ended right at the edge of the doors, meaning if it did fall they'd be buried in it.

  Winds snapped against the snow piles again and the roof shifted forward. Lana dipped into her mana, preparing the spell, when the minuscule grasp the snow had on the roof gave out. She tried to aim anything up at it, but it was Cullen who bull rushed her out of the way of the impending avalanche. His weight carried them against the door which burst open on aging hinges, and together, they tumbled into the room while a ton of snow splattered into their only exit. Pain cracked into her spine from the fall while the frozen armor on Cullen's chest piece almost smashed through her sternum. Lana's eyes rolled up at the man pinned on top of her. He'd thrown his arms out in time to keep from completely crushing her, which was nice. She'd be in an even sorrier state if he'd continued on to the floor with her in between.

  Without any fanfare, Cullen jumped back to his knees and rose up. He spun to face the door bouncing against the wall while Lana rolled to her side, her fingers prodding against her back. She hadn't severed anything, but she landed upon a book in the middle of the floor. "Hard in Hightown, volume 9," she read aloud off the cover. "These things are everywhere."

  "Do you think you can melt this?" Cullen gestured to the fallen snow blocking the door almost to the top. Drifts of it scattered into the room, but most decided to flatten against the doorframe, the ice storm quickly shifting it to a frozen blockade trapping them inside.

  Lana rose to her feet and an involuntary groan rolled out of her throat. There were going to be new bruises, she was certain. Slightly guilty, Cullen turned to her and tried to offer help but she shook it away. Massaging her back, she inspected the snow pile. A powerful burst of fire would melt most of it away, except the entire frame of the door was in the way. And that wood connected to other wood all along this face of rooms filled with Maker only knew how much kindling. One errant breeze, and she would be the one to destroy Skyhold.

  "I don't think I should risk it," Lana said. "Not a full blast anyway. The entire place could go up like tinder." Shame twisted up her stomach and she turned away, "I'm not the best at controlling flame. Sorry."

  Cullen's gloves ran across her arm, squeezing as he spoke, "It's all right. We'll think of something."

  "I can try small bursts," she said. While Cullen stood behind her shoulders, Lana snapped her fingers knocking a spark of fire in the middle of the snow. It flared briefly before the dripping snow extinguished it. She tried again, getting the same result. "This may, uh, take some time."

  Cullen chuckled and threw his head back, massaging his cheeks with his fingers, "Do not bother. At that rate, the snow will have first melted from the summer sun."

  "I'm trying..." she shuffled her feet, wishing she'd mastered a primal beyond ice. Sure, fire and lightning were flashier, but cold sang to her in a way the others never did. Now, ice was the last thing they needed.

  His laughter sloughed away, and Cullen reached out to her. Caressing her cheek, the snow on his gloves melted against her over-warmed skin. "Oh, no, I...you're doing fine. Better than anything I could. I was only thinking how sadly hilarious it is that we're trapped here in our own damn keep because of a bit of snow."

  "That's a bit? Maker, how long have you been on this mountain?" Lana reared back and Cullen chuckled again.

  "Not long enough for a contingency plan, I fear. Still..." he gazed around the room. Like many of the other abandoned rooms in Skyhold, piles of shattered wood lay where furniture once stood. A pile of bunk beds crashed and rotted in on itself centuries ago, the moldy straw heaped in the middle. "There are few I'd rather be trapped with."

  "I'd pick a fire mage first, then Hawke."

  "Hawke?"

  "She'd dive head first through that, probably eat a tunnel for us," Lana giggled at the image and Cullen joined with her, his fingers running along her shoulders and digging into her muscle below the cloak. Unclasping the hood, Lana tugged it off, snow tumbling to the floor about to become water. An antler hung suspended above the doorframe. After shutting the door, she dangled her wet cloak off it and then shimmied out of her boots.

  "They're certain to come looking for us once the storm's passed," Cullen said.

  "In the mean time, I guess we stay put." Lana's eyes hunted over the room that became an accidental prison. A small hearth claimed the west side of the room, so they could have heat assuming they find a source of kindling. Luckily, the rotted interiors of Skyhold provided more than enough. Pointing at the fireplace, Lana said, "I'll get a fire going if you can pry apart some of the old furniture."

  Cullen nodded. He walked towards an old end table shattered into three pieces with a tree climbing through the middle, when he paused. "There isn't much point to wearing all of this now." To the antler, he added his furred surcoat beside Lana's cloak.

  "How can you stand that much metal in the middle of a snow storm?" she asked while watching him strip out of each armored piece and lay them next to the wall beside her boots.

  Shrugging, he yanked off his own shoes, "I barely notice it. It's not much heavier than the templar armor...um, was." Cullen stood only in a tan tunic - the unknotted ties revealing hints of his chest hair - his breeches, and a pair of wool socks.

  Lana jerked her head to the scabbard flush against his hips, "Think you'll need that?"

  He tapped the pommel of his sword, "How else will I hack apart the wood?"

  "That's a good way to ruin your blade."

  "I'll be gentle," he said earning a hearty laugh from her. Cullen got to work trying to use a sword to saw apart the table, while Lana dug through piles of wood scattered in a heap above something promising. She collected the smaller and mercifully dry pieces in her arms; they should make for acceptable firewood at least. After depositing the first pile into the hearth, she paused to watch Cullen abandon his sword before it was beyond repair. Gripping onto the legs of the end table, he pulled with all his strength, gritting from the strain to get them to pop apart. Lana mentally cursed the tunic obscuring every muscle flexing from the effort. It wasn't until the wood cracked and Cullen turned to her that she realized she'd been staring slack jawed at him.

  "I, uh, should get back to...the wood, other wood. For fire stuff," she mumbled, covering her face with her hands. Why are you acting like you're seventeen around him? For the Maker's sake, you've already taken him inside you, more than once. She berated herself a few more times, but secretly delighted in the loops her stomach twisted in while he tossed the liberated table legs into the hearth. Lana never thought she'd feel those butterflies again.

  "Do storms of this magnitude happen often in Skyhold?" she tried to start a conversation to pull away from the blush on her face.

  "I wouldn't know," Cullen said, "this is the first."

  "Really? Given how prepared and organized everyone was, I assumed these wer
e a monthly occurrence." She yanked up a pile of molded wood and tossed it into the corner. Completely useless. "Even the mages were saluting and answering orders. Andraste's tears, it's easier to herd cats than get mages to fall into line."

  "They, uh, they've served the Inquisition well," Cullen gulped. He prodded at the hearth, trying to break up more of the table into kindling.

  "I know, I was...it's strange being around them again. They don't know what to make of me, not that I blame them. I'm an outsider, worse than that, I didn't fight in their rebellion. And..." Lana paused in her work, her head hanging down, "What do you think will come of the mages here?"

  Cullen started, the table scattering out of his hands. His fingers massaged the back of his neck in thought, "I am uncertain. For now we're focused on Corypheus."

  "Come now, Corypheus is gone, the world is saved. Hurray. What then?"

  "What would you like to have happen?" he batted the question back at her.

  "I'm so far removed from the equation now, I don't think I have a right to answer."

  "And I have any better standing?" Cullen continued to dodge it. She shouldn't be picking at this, she knew that. They really did have the whole world ready to crumble from a mad man who maybe created the blight. And yet...

  Lana walked towards him, her arms loaded with the last of the wood. After tossing it across the rest of the reclaimed wood pile, she wiped her fingers across her pants. Cullen remained crouched on one knee while snapping apart kindling. Her fingers curled against his shoulder, massaging apart the knot buried in there.

  After a moment, he sighed into his chest, "You will not leave this be." Tossing the last of the brittle pieces into the hearth, his fingers cupped hers. "I do not relish the idea of mages being free to put others in danger, but the circles did not work. I saw more than my fair share of proof in Kirkwall. I let it..." He shook away the fault on his lips, but she knew he still bore it in his heart. "Given how things seem to be working here, perhaps a mixed service or healing clinics, pairing templars with mages not at odds but coming together to solve...It is only an idea." His shoulders sagged out of her grasp, deeper towards the ground from the burdens heaped upon them.

  Falling to her own knee, Lana scooted towards the hearth and tried to catch Cullen's eye but he was too busy boring into the floor. "It's not a bad plan. I..." She dug into her own shoulder while glaring up at the ceiling. A few tiles were missing, but at least it was mostly intact. "I should not have asked. What's the three things to never talk about? Magic, Politics, and Sex?"

  Cullen chuckled into his chest, "So, your thoughts on Celene maintaining her grip on the throne are next then?"

  "I was only there to shoot ice at clowns, that's all on the Inquisitor or Orlais as far as I'm concerned," Lana turned to the hearth and flicked fire at his kindling. It took up a treat, flames licking up the wood as warmth coalesced across their faces. "I'm done putting asses on thrones."

  With the fire roaring, thanks to a little coaxing by the mage, the pair of them settled on the floor beside it. Cullen sat rigid, his hands pressed against the stone ground until Lana picked one up, placed it upon her shoulder, and snuggled into his chest. His heart beat rapidly at the contact, the muscles in his body tightening as if afraid this was all some test, but after a minute he let himself relax.

  "There are still snowflakes in your hair," Cullen remarked, his fingers trying to dig them out.

  "Hm...I guess my warming spell doesn't work on hair. Actually," Lana twisted her head away from the fire to catch his eye, "that's curious. Why wouldn't it work on hair? It's a part of the body, the spell should work on living flesh, but does hair not count as living? Is that it? What about nails?" She turned her fingers about, wondering if her broken stubs behaved the same. "Oh, I uh..." embarrassment burned up her cheeks as she realized he probably didn't care.

  But then Cullen picked up her thread, "You can pass that warming spell to other people? Or so I've seen. Would it affect someone else's hair?"

  "I have no idea. Maybe. Maybe not."

  "Here." Against all common sense, he reached for the melting snow piled by the door and dropped a handful onto his own head. "Try it on me."

  Lana smiled at the commander of the Inquisition with a tuft of snow plopped on top of his head like a dollop of cream, but she placed her fingers upon his hand and willed a bit of her magic warmth through him. Not much in the already cozy room, but it should be enough to melt frozen water. A flush rose along his cheeks from her contact, but when he touched the top of his head it came back with clumps of frozen snow.

  "Still ice cold."

  "That's fascinating," she picked at the snow in his fingers, then leaned forward to knock the rest of it off his head. Her fingers tousled through his hair dampened from the snow and Lana lost herself in his compassionate eyes. She took him in a kiss, one almost as pure as the snow she knocked off him. Before it grew to anything more, she slipped back and smiled. "You didn't need to do that with the snow."

  Cullen shrugged, "Maybe, but you made me curious as well."

  Snuggling tighter into him, Cullen wrapped his arm around her shoulders while they watched the fire hissing against what used to be someone's table and nightstand. "How long do you think we'll have to stay here?" she asked.

  He glanced out the slit of a window where white continued to flit through the night's sky, "Judging by the rate of accumulation, we may be here until morning."

  "At least we have a bed at our disposal," Lana said gesturing to the one she unearthed from below the scattered remains of Maker only knew.

  Cullen rose up beside her and tried to inspect it. The mattress was clearly made of straw, but anything was preferable to a stone floor. Someone was kind enough to leave a fur blanket stretched across it, though the frame itself bore similar signs of mold as the wood Lana chucked to the corner. "It doesn't appear sturdy."

  "Sturdy?" Lana scoffed. "Is that an issue? What were you planning on doing in it?"

  "I, uh, hadn't been planning on. I mean, not that, if you'd..."

  She kissed him again, unable to restrain herself. "If you break the bed, we can always move the mattress to the floor."

  Cullen twisted around and guided Lana to sit in between his legs. As she leaned her head back against his chest, he wrapped his hands around her stomach, guarding her from any errant embers out of the fireplace. A contented sigh rumbled in his chest and he placed his chin atop her head. Her fingers softly traced the stitching along his shirt's arm. After a moment, his voice rumbled, "I wasn't certain if the Winter Palace was, if there'd be a repeat of...to presume. It'd only been a few days since our return."

  "Yes, I wanted to, attempted to...have you ever tried to duck Hawke? The woman is a blighted blood hound in armor. She found me when I was on the roof of Leliana's rookery. How? I have no idea. No one could have seen me from any vantage point, but Hawke knew."

  Dipping his head down, he pressed his lips against her throat and spoke, "While I'm not ecstatic about her interference, I'm glad to know she's looking out for you." Lana was glad too. After so much of her life spent as the one people looked to, it was nice to have a person she thought of as an equal. An infuriating equal certainly, but a friend instead of a subservient. Cullen's lips paused in their gentle kisses as his hands pressed tighter against her stomach. She felt his body stiffen behind her as he shifted away, something rising in his mind.

  "There's, I should have asked before if you, um...that is. Maker, why is this so difficult?" Lana waited, her fingers running up and down his arm. Taking a few more breaths, Cullen dove into what he needed to ask, "When I, uh, with you, did...do you need any, um, help?"

  "Help with...?" Lana shook her head, far beyond lost.

  "Not giving a, carrying a, birth?" he spat the incoherent words out quickly, then buried his face in her shoulders.

  "Oh," she tried to not chuckle at his obvious discomfort. "No, I...it's of no mind."

  "I know of the, uh, potion and the other spells..."
/>
  "You do?" She turned in his arms to catch his eye.

  He glanced up at the ceiling, his adam's apple bobbing as he steadied himself, a beautiful blush warming his cheeks. "The Tranquil would often brew and sell it. I'm fairly certain that was a greater source of income for the circles than any healing draughts at the rate it kept... that doesn't matter to this. If you needed access to...I could arrange a-"

  Lana cut him off by brushing the back of her hand against his cheek, "It's okay, Cullen. It's not an issue. Grey Wardens we're...um, we're sterile." She didn't mean it to sound like a confession, but she winced at the word. It shouldn't hurt her. She'd accepted it long ago, found a comfort in knowing that no matter how bad her life could get at least she'd never drag another innocent into it, and yet...that was the reason she'd had her heart broken the first time.

  "Oh," Cullen became inscrutable for a moment as he digested what she was telling him. No children, no family, not the possibility of a future. That's all she could promise him; no real promise at all. After a breath, he squeezed tighter to her, his arms forming a blockade around her midsection. "Well, that saves on potions."

  That drew a laugh from Lana and lifted a weight from her heart. It shouldn't matter, would never matter, but maybe he deserved to know. Or maybe she just wanted to tell someone and not have him run out the door. Not that he could at the moment. Trapped together by the storm seemed the most inopportune time for confessions, and yet. "Cullen, I...have my own rather prickly question that's been on my mind for awhile. To ask. When, um, we were together in the deep roads, that wasn't your first time, right?"

  "Ah," he buried his chin into the back of her neck, "No, it was not."

  "Good," she sighed. It hadn't struck her until she was long out of Kirkwall that the duty bound templar might have been even more inexperienced than she'd previously assumed. "I mean, I didn't want to with you and then to leave. It would have been...I didn't want to make it worse."

  His lips pressed against her nape for a brief moment before breaking off. "What of you?" he asked, "it only seems fair."