"It happened like...five years ago," she paused to append two years to the date. That was going to take time as well. "You're a terrible not-nephew, forgetting his anniversary like that."
"Uh, Orlais continues to be a fickle pain in the ass," Alistair struggled to think of a way to answer her question, "oh and there was nearly a qunari invasion into the south. Found barrels of gatlock hiding along with the wine in my cellar. Great fun. Though the wine was piss poor anyway, so not a huge loss."
"What? No," Lana shook her head. "Sten, Arishock would never..."
Alistair bobbed his head, his eyes widening, "He certainly would ever, did in fact. Calls you kadan one minute, then plans to blow your house sky high the next."
"At least you caught it in time." She pinned her frozen fingers against her forehead, trying to file away the potential for a qunari war in the future.
"Actually, it was the Inquisition that did. Which only seems fair seeing as how they were the cause of the qunari invasion."
Lana waved her hand out, "Hold a moment, the qunari invaded because of the Inquisition - which is still in power after, I assume, Corypheus was defeated."
"Oh yeah, he went all smoosh or something in 9:42. We had a big party to celebrate the lack of a new god. But the Inquisition is actually working for Leliana now."
"What happened to the Inquisitor?" They may have not got on but she certainly wouldn't have wished the man any ill. She knew all too well the toll one suffered in the aftermath.
Alistair smacked his forehead, then he grinned, "You're gonna love this. The Inquisitor's fine, survived taking down the evil ancient darkspawn would-be god. He works for Leliana now because...are you ready? Leliana's the new Divine."
"No! Leliana, my Leliana? The Divine?" Lana couldn't hide the total shock in her voice as her hands froze an inch off her forehead.
"Who'd have thought it, huh? The little red haired girl we found in a tavern willing to take on a bunch of Loghain's thugs got the big hat and is in charge of salvaging all the souls of southern thedas."
Lana wadded her hands up watching the thrum of her bones from below the gaunt skin. It seemed impossible, particularly impossible given the things she knew of her good friend. Divine? "Next you will tell me Zevran is king of Nevarra."
"No, haven't heard from him in awhile. Not a lot of assassinating needed as of late. Morrigan did something sneaky, then sneaked off to do other sneaky witch things, I guess. Uh, I think that's about it," Alistair glanced around, his voice dragging the 't' out enough to draw Lana's full attention. He didn't look at her as he quickly spat out, "Oh, and the queen's pregnant so there will be a little butt to sit in the throne soon enough when mine finally keels over. It's not my kid, obviously, so not really sure how much an effect it has on my life in the end, but it's something fun to add to the Satinalia newsletter and all."
"Alistair," Lana folded her arms across her chest, glaring at the man who still wouldn't look at her. "Do not tell me you traveled across thedas, risked your life, did Maker knows what else to rescue me from the fade all so I could tell you what you already know."
"Uh, um, maybe?" he knotted his lips up, the fear evident in his eyes.
Lana leaned forward to clap him on his unhurt shoulder, "You will be a wonderful father. You know that."
"Even if...?"
"It won't matter who...made the child, because you'll take one look at that little face cracking its first smile and you'll fall head over heels for your baby prince or princess. Ten sovereigns says it happens in the first week."
He dug his fingers into the grass, threading each one as if he intended to weave it, "I keep thinking how easy it was for Maric to, you know, and well... What if like father like son?"
"You're not your father," she smiled. "It's not a traditional arrangement true, but that's no reason for you to not love 'em, which I'm sure you will. You love easy, care greatly, that much is obvious. Besides, you're about 85% child anyway."
He laughed at her assessment, then nodded softly, "Thanks, Lanny. I guess I just needed to hear it from someone I trusted, who I knew wouldn't blow smoke up my ass."
"They charge extra for that at the Pearl," she cracked, before patting him one last time on the shoulder. "You're a good man."
Alistair shifted his jaw around, his eyes darting past her towards the stand of weak trees. "The templar, I know he's not really a templar, but... He's a good man too. I mean, you can do better of course, but if you had to settle for a templar, he-" Alistair rose up from the ground to sit up. His eyes bored into hers as he defended the last person she'd ever have expected him to. "He put up with a lot to get to you, more than I'd have expected anyone to make it through."
"What did you do to him?" Lana asked, turning her head back to the shadows Cullen disappeared into.
"Me? Nothing. Not, entirely nothing, there were a few things that aren't even worth mentioning, really. Look, I know I don't trust templars -- especially near you -- but he's not so bad. Cares anyway. Got a hell of a right hook too."
Lana blinked from trying to peer through the darkness to whip back at Alistair. "Right hook? Did you two...fight? You brawled? And I missed it!"
Alistair gawped, his mouth dangling open to let flies in before he jammed it shut, "I am not at liberty to divulge that sensitive information. Upon pain of more black eyes."
"You know I'll get it from one of you," she said, waving a finger in Alistair's face, but he clasped a hand over his mouth, the edges of a smile peeking off the sides. They really fought? Maker's breath. What else happened to them? There were a lot of dangling conversations she needed to have with Cullen. Maybe it was finally time to yank off that bandage and see if there was any hope of healing. Lana staggered to her feet, her makeshift cane bowing from her weight. She was going to have to find a real one soon.
While she turned away, Alistair reached over to snag her hand. He placed both of his overtop hers, pinning her in place as his pleading eyes beamed up at her. "Lanny Amell...?"
"Hm?" she turned to him, feeling awkward at him sliding up to his knees to reach her.
"Will you," he wiggled back and forth as if struggling to draw forth the question weighing on his heart, "will you be my friend again?"
Lana chuckled at the pure sincerity in his plea, like a child asking if another would come out to play. "I will have to think about it."
"All things considered," Alistair sighed, "that's the best I could hope for." He released her hands and slumped back to his bedroll.
Willing more mana into her limbs, Lana staggered towards the direction of Cullen. She made it past the eclipse of the firelight before turning back to Alistair and saying, "But I probably will." His grin cracked from ear to ear, infectious enough to jump to her strained lips. Turning away from her once and future friend, Lana limped into the darkness.
With eyes closed, and his head tipped back to let the breeze wash over his face, Cullen looked almost at peace as he sat upon the grasslands. Below him, a valley drifted into the shadows of the setting sun - the tan grass a vibrant orange as if it erupted in flames. One of Cullen's hands rested in his lap while the other knocked around his dog's ears. Honor leaned into it, savoring the scratch until spotting the mage limping towards them.
Her entire back end wagging, Honor leapt away from Cullen to bowl into Lana's legs. He spun around and tried to shout her down before doing any damage, but Lana only laughed at the ecstatic dog. Rubbing madly, she massaged the mabari's stomach getting a shaking leg for her troubles as well as a free lolling tongue.
"Honor," Cullen sighed, his voice weary, "here." He patted his side to enunciate the command. Rolling to her feet, Honor glanced up at Lana, but she waved her hands that obeying seemed the best choice. "She can be over exuberant at the best of times."
"It's all right," Lana smiled, unable to stop patting the happy mabari's head. It'd been years since hers had passed, and despite so many insisting she get a new one to replace him, it never felt right. "I like dogs. May I join you?"
; Guarded eyes turned to her but he shrugged his shoulders and patted the ground. This only encouraged Honor to scoot over towards his hand which got another eye roll from Cullen. "You are a silly one," he sighed, grabbing onto his dog and trying to manhandle her to his other side. Carefully, Lana lowered herself to the ground. Not an easy task, but she couldn't stand for longer than a few minutes. Either way she was hitting the ground; she'd figure out how to rise later.
"How is he?" Cullen asked, gesturing to the king.
"Fine. If it weren't for the poison the knife wound would be little more than a scratch." Lana watched him knot his hands in his lap, uncertain where they belonged. "What about you?" she asked.
"What of me?" In the setting sun she couldn't see his amber irises, only a darkness across his eyes.
"Withdrawals from the lyrium..."
Cullen sat rigid, both hands slapping into the ground, "I can explain why I had it--"
"It's all right," Lana wanted to touch his arm, to hold his hand in between hers. Instead she plucked at the tie against her borrowed breeches. "Alistair told me."
Cullen's head bowed down as if someone placed another brick atop his heavy crown. "He had to talk me into it."
"I wish he hadn't at all," Lana mused, pinching her lips together.
"Why?" Stricken cheeks pulled back in confusion, his brow a furrow of deep rows. "It worked, it-we...saved you. Found you."
"And it could have killed you!" Lana tried to strangle back the tremble in her voice. She'd drug it out of Alistair the second he was conscious enough to talk, not happy then and growing more unhappy with each moment neither of them spoke of it. "Or worse, for that matter still, it could... I, it must hurt you." Cullen waved off her concern like an errant fly, but she knew he had to be suffering while having to do it in silence, as so many others thought they deserved. "Please, I could help. Heal the pain, maybe take away some of the thirst. I have a few ideas on how to..."
Her pleading fingers glanced over his and a shudder knocked through his body. Instead of yanking his hand away from hers, he gaped at it as if it was the final oasis in a never ending desert. "No, I-I will be fine."
"For the Maker's sake Cullen, why won't you let me help you? Is it my magic? Are you worried I'll, I don't know, raise a demon to do it?" Her voice slipped higher in her anger, the raw edge scratching up her underused throat.
His lips parted for a moment, a certainty gripping him, but then it all flooded away. The stoic warrior sunk back in on himself, his head drooping as he glowered at the ground. "I don't deserve you," he whispered. "You don't know, don't understand what... He, he was the one to plan all of this. The reason either of us are here, the one to keep pushing us to find you," Cullen kept jabbing in Alistair's direction, who had to overhear them but was thankfully pretending he didn't. Lana cast a glance back at her patient, then tried to catch Cullen's eye, but it fell to the ground once more. "I, I nearly didn't come. I tried to abandon this-you, abandon you because... It doesn't matter. My belief wasn't strong enough. I didn't have hope to...I failed."
Lana's heart cracked in half as she cupped his cheeks with her hands. She barely had the strength to lift his head from his dour turn, tears dripping across her fingers as she struggled to catch his eye. "Cullen, oh Maker. No. You didn't fail anything. You're so much more than... Blind faith isn't what I, one grand romantic gesture means nothing. It doesn't make up for-for years of, or what we..." Lifting his hand in her own, it felt heavy as lead, Lana carefully cupped his chin. "Even if you weren't here, if it was just him and some hired mercenaries -- Cullen, you would have been the first person I hunted for, I found after being released."
"Why?" he struggled through a knot twisting up his features, pain etched across every well worn line. All she wanted was to wash them away, if not with her magic then with her words. "I am no romantic, I know this. It has...I am never good enough for it, for any chance of..."
Gently, Lana twisted his hand in hers. "You're better than you know. You held me so tight after I had to-to end Nathaniel." She rolled up the first of his fingers into his palm. "You defended me, not just against harlequins or demons, but anyone who thought I was a danger." Another finger down. "You've been the constant shield at my side, even in the face of...of things beyond belief, when doubt is in question you are still there, still trying." As she closed another finger, her other hand cupped his cheek. Those amber eyes remained shut tight, but he leaned into her palm, his lips dancing close to touching. "I don't need the fancy poetry, the dancing, the whatever else makes up courting. You'd, you listen to my ramblings, my wild theories, not because you had to but-but because you wanted to." After rolling up the last finger, Lana lifted up his fist closed tight around her own fingers.
"One large gesture cannot compare to a lifetime of small ones. Love's so much more than making one move, saying the right thing at the right time, winning the war after losing every battle."
His eyes opened, hope bobbing in the depths as he focused on her. Licking his lips, Cullen whispered - his cheek rising against her hand, "Love?"
"Ah," Lana dug into her forehead with her fingers, trying to cover up the obvious flush rising to her cheeks. "I didn't want to- I had a speech planned and it was pretty good. I could start over, but there's not... Sorry, I'm-right. Okay."
Now it was her turn to focus on the ground, digging in a steadying breath, "Cullen, I am so sorry for what I did to you. For leaving you without an answer, an answer you deserved. I was scared, of myself, of how badly I could mess everything up. Did mess everything up."
Warm fingers ran down her upper arm, gently patting her, "Lana, I-" He turned in on himself, struggling to raise the words clinging to his tongue, "why did you stay behind? Was it...?" he gestured at Alistair, then his head dropped down and he pointed the accusing finger at himself.
"No, Andraste no, it wasn't you. It wasn't even..." Absently, she wiped at the tears percolating in her eyes. "I was wounded in the last fight, badly. Beyond badly, it was fatal. And with my mana drained, I knew that I wasn't going to survive more than a few minutes. I just kept thinking if I went with the Inquisitor, if Hawke remained behind then she'd die in the fade and I'd-I'd bleed out on the floors of Adamant. Possibly at your feet. I couldn't, I couldn't take two lives, not like that."
"I don't understand. The Inquisitor, Hawke, neither mentioned you being injured."
"They didn't know. There wasn't time to tell them, and, you know Hawke. She'd probably have spat on the wound and thought that would close it," Lana struggled to smile through the tears washing her cheeks.
Cullen gripped tight to both of her shoulders, his body hanging off her for support, "How did you...?"
"Survive? A spirit rescued me, healed me. I should have died in the fade, the way everyone thought, but I didn't. I held on, every day, every hour, every minute clinging to life because-because I had to find you, to tell you the truth." She lifted her weary head, Cullen barely visible through her tears. Lana swallowed deep and steadied her breath. "I love you. I've loved you for, Maker, I don't know. So long. Too long, but I was so scared and-and wrong." Unable to explain it verbally, Lana lifted up her hand, a spark of fire raising off her fingers. It burned an otherworldly purple between them before she extinguished it. "I should have realized back at Skyhold, or before, but I wanted to run and hide, to keep myself chained away so I didn't..."
Lana tipped her head back, unable to speak coherently through her wobbling lips. Screwing her eyes up tight, she willed the tears back, at least for a moment. Taking a calming breath, she looked into his inscrutable eyes, "I never wanted to hurt you." His thumbs massaged into her muscles, tenderly rubbing the tunic closer to her skin as his eyes drifted off a thousand miles. Thoughts churned through his brain, all of them cut off from her as Cullen drifted deeper inside himself.
That was the easy part, Lana thought. Now...now to face up to what she suspected would be her undoing. Knocking her teeth together for a moment, Lana searched for that mysterious and mythical
courage to damn herself. "I don't want to hurt you now either. Cullen, I...Maker's breath, I was dead and, gone, and-- Two years is such a long time. If you've--"
Before she could continue, he pulled her across the gap between them and pressed his lips against hers, all of the man she loved poured into that one kiss. Both of their lips were salty from the tears but Lana didn't care. She cupped his cheek, trying to dive deeper into his kiss - to never surface. Two years she walked the plains of the fade with only the spirits to keep her company. Despite shoring up her heart behind a wall of stone, lying to herself about what hid deep inside her soul, every sleep she whimpered to taste his kiss one more time.
Cullen broke first, but not far, his lips opening a breath from hers as he panted for air. "Lana, two years is nothing for you."
"You," she gasped, her mind struggling to understand. The way he'd kept himself aloof, distant, disjointed from her, she assumed he'd moved on - perhaps more than moved on this time and closed his heart to her. "You want me?"
"More than anything in thedas," he whispered, his heart clutched in every syllable.
"I-I want you too," she said. "For so much longer than, I never dared... But," her forehead slid away from his as she struggled to place a hand on the ground - her meager energy draining away. "To the wardens I'm dead, to the circle I'm long gone, even as far as Amaranthine is concerned I'm nothing - the line of succession long since passing me by."
"What is it?" his strong and callused palms rolled across her cheeks, Cullen's concern etched in his lifelines.
"I," Lana bit her bottom lip and turned her full gaze upon him, "I'll always be a mage. It's more than a part of me, it is me. It took me a long time to accept it and, and if you can't, then..."
"Oh, Lana. I," he lifted up her fingers that sparked tinder with a snap and brought the death of winter with a wave. Gently he kissed one, his cracked and bruised lips pressing warmth against her skin, "I know you're a mage."
"It's not that, it's... Can you trust me? Can you trust my magic?"
Cullen paused in kissing her other hand so tenderly as if he was tending to a cut. "I do. I..." he sighed in agony, "I've given you nothing but pause, reason to doubt me, but I do trust you with it, Lana."
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