"Last I checked, there were a few positions that didn't require standing. Rather a lot of them, in fact."
He snickered from behind her and placed his lips against the back of her neck. The hot breath warming her frozen skin sent shivers down her spine. Goosepimples answered in kind. "Maker, but you are a challenge," he sighed, locking his arms tighter around her. She knew that to be true beyond measure and yet he came for her. Not like that, well, okay he had done that as well, but to have him forsake the Inquisition to save her. To risk his life when there seemed no chance to find her. She pinched herself to remember this was real, all of it.
Cullen whispered to himself, "I never want to hurt you."
And he'd forsake sex for her, for fear of pushing her past her limits, for her comfort. Lana wished she could spin in the saddle to kiss him, but the best she managed was pressing her lips to his hand. Happy tears in her eyes, she asked aloud, "How in the past two years did no other woman swoop in and take you?"
"Because," Alistair waved his hand, drawing their attention as he'd gotten a bit further down the road but not far enough away to miss their conversation. "Swooping is bad!" he finished with before kicking his horse into a gallop, the dirt misting in their wake.
"That man is..." Cullen sighed, shaking off whatever he was going to denigrate Alistair with. Instead, he pressed his lips to Lana's ear and whispered, "I was thinking, when we arrive in Val Royeaux, there's no reason we couldn't stop by the White Spire."
Lana smiled wide as she steered their horse towards Orlais. "I love you."
* * *
Careful to roll up the drooping sleeve of her robe, Leliana lifted the match higher as she dropped it against every white wick crying out for light. It was a trivial matter, beyond the Divine's attention, but she enjoyed the tranquility in watching each virgin candle burst alive with its first flame. That spark that would carry it throughout its brief life to warm the chantry and bring light to the darkness of all who gazed upon it.
"Your Perfection," a clerk's voice called from behind her. She didn't recognize this one, her preferred personal attendant on leave to visit her family. A few clerks took over her duties, none of them as quick witted or sharp tongued as Leliana's favorite.
"I assume you have compiled my agenda for the day," Leliana said, reaching the second row of candles.
"Uh," the clerk stumbled, unused to the perceptive Divine. Many glossed over her previous life as a Spymaster, even if it was only two years ago. "Yes, we've slotted in a few meetings before the first services of the day."
"Wonderful," Leliana sighed. She'd prefer to have a few moments peace to herself before diving headlong into the never ending arguments, but if she wanted that to be her true lot in life she'd never have put on the hat. "Who is first on the list?"
"Duke de Comfot." The clerk rolled open a scroll to read through it, "He wishes to discuss..."
"The chantry's levying of his lands nearly one hundred years ago to aid in a matter. Yes, I know. And will hear it repeated until the day I am on the pyre...or he is." She meant it in jest, but it was tempting to solve some of her problems with the employ of an assassin. The Maker knew she yet had access to them, but that wasn't the reign Leliana wanted to leave behind. She was better than that. "Who else?"
"The Grand Enchanter is..."
"Ugh," she refused to hide the groan at the mention of Vivienne's name. The woman never came herself, only sent toadies in her stead to sow chaos about the 'mage situation' in thedas. Their particular scuttlebutt of late was to try and scoop up the few templars remaining in the Inquisition's possession. Some they'd already wormed away with the promise of more lyrium in their ration. "And I'd been hoping today would be a lovely one," Leliana sighed, the final candle alighting. Smiling from her work, she laid the matchstick on the altar and turned to face the clerk. "Anything else of import?"
"No, not much..." the young woman flipped through her scroll, probably mentally jotting down a note to never mention Vivienne again. Her finger paused and she glanced up, "Oh, the commander of the Inquisition is here."
Leliana snapped her head up, her eyes winnowing down to their old crystal glare. "Commander Cullen? He is here, in Val Royeaux? And you're only now telling me?!" Striding past the harried clerk, Leliana clipped quickly down the aisles of the Grand Chantry, her heels echoing off every stained glass window and marble statue. A few heads swung over to demure to the Divine, but she paid them no heed, only kept shouting questions at the clerk trailing her.
"Where is he?"
"In your outer office, with the others waiting to speak to you," the clerk huffed beside her. Divines were supposed to be ancient, with slow laborious movements. Normally, Leliana obliged this assumption, taking her time to pause a moment after each step, but now she flew through the halls up the grand staircase towards her numerous antechambers.
"Did he come alone?" she shouted at the clerk behind her.
"I'm uncertain," the woman rattled her scrolls as if there was an answer there.
The Divine snapped to a halt, and she spun on her heels. It wasn't the beatific voice of Andraste who glowered death at the clerk, but the once bard turned Spymaster for a heretical Inquisition. "Was there someone with him?"
"I don't know!" the clerk squeaked.
"You do not know?"
"There were a lot of people in there this morning. And I didn't check to see who was with who and...I, I don't know!" she cried but Leliana spun back on her heel, practically running towards her office now. The clerk kept begging for forgiveness and also understanding, but she ignored it all. Blood rushed through her veins, dredging up both fear and hope in equal measure. Pausing outside the door, Leliana whispered a prayer to the Maker to do the impossible, to bloom on the dead rose bush once more. Using every skill available to her, she wiped away the panic in her face, steadied her trembling hands, and she slipped into her office.
A dozen faces lining along the benches of the lavish chambers turned to her, preparing to snag the Divine's attention. Leliana wafted past each of them, all her sights upon the blonde man with his back to her. He twisted his head, catching on to the rising excitement whispered around the room, and rose. Sure enough, it was Commander Cullen - even without his trademark armor none could match the man's taciturn cheeks and hollowed eyes. Something in his weathered face struck her, dragging the panic back from its banished depths. If he had succeeded at all, then...
The commander bent over and offered his arm to help lift up someone with a hood drawn over her face. Leliana gasped, her hand slapping over her mouth as she drew across the gap between them. A few concerned people begging for her attention tried to stop her, but her eyes were only on the woman inching back her hood. "Blessed Andraste!" Leliana cried, her heart blooming in joy as she wrapped her arms around the friend she'd lost those two years ago.
"It's good to see you too, Leliana," Lana whispered, gripping back.
My Future
After Cullen rescues Lana Amell from the fade, the two of them find their lives at a junction. With no Grey Wardens, no Circles, and no Inquisition, what will they do? All they have is each other and a lot of questions.
Chapter One
Arrival
Maker, that was a lot of gold, and silk. Far more silk than he would have expected in anything related to the chantry. In his mind, the chantry was all hard wood pews, grouted cobblestones, and fraying woolen robes. Cullen felt a growing urge to turn around and run, and they hadn't technically gotten past the front room, which Orleisans would argue themselves to death over whether it was a foyer or a vestibule. He missed his old days of referring to it as the mudroom, which would certainly cause some of the soft spoken Mothers in Val Royeaux to faint straight to the marble floors.
"Forgive the state of things," the Divine spoke beside him. She'd rolled up her drooping sleeves and pinned them in place with the eye of the Inquisition. It felt strange to see the symbol that encompassed so much of his life yet again. "I'm afraid no one's really cl
eaned it up since Justinia."
"Leliana, it's beautiful," Lana gasped, her eyes widening even more as the Divine pushed open a door revealing a room large enough to house the entire scouting regiment of the Inquisition. With the inborn manners of a dog, Honor barreled past her owner to stand panting in the middle of the room. Her stubby tail wiggled back and forth, daring Cullen to call her out for being naughty in the face of such adorableness. Sighing, he only pointed a finger at her and threatened in a whisper, "Do not break anything."
"Oh dear," Lana's gaze wandered over to him and she placed a hand to her gaunt cheeks, "I fear this may be too ostentatious for the Commander."
"Nonsense," Leliana waved her hand at Lana's statement before lifting a flint up off the mantle and bringing to life a candelabra dangling over a table inlaid with not only gold but what looked like silver and possibly rubies as well. "This is the breakfast nook," she gestured at the table whose sale could probably buy them an entire cottage. "And somewhere in the back is a proper dining table."
"A proper..." now Lana's lips slackened in her own shock. Cullen turned his cocky grin and mouthed "ostentatious" back at her. She only shrugged, her eyes widening further. This was even beyond the jaded Arlessa.
"Wait until I show you the bedroom. There's a jewel encrusted washing basin from the Blessed Age."
"I..." Lana moved to take a step, when her body slipped out from under her tight control. Cullen raced forward, both hands grabbing onto her. One caught her arm, digging tight around her brittle bones, while the other managed to wrap around her waist. It pained him how easy it was to lift her back up, but he kept a calm turn to his face.
As he bore her far too light weight, Lana lifted her weary head. "Sorry, perhaps I should sit for a spell," then she paused and laughed at her own pun. Even while putting on a brave face, Cullen and Leliana shared a concerned glance over Lana's head.
"Allow me," the Divine wrapped her own arms around Lana's waist, the mage winding a hand over her friend's shoulders. "Most of the furniture here's as hard as a chantry pew, but Justinia had one of the softest divans I've ever sat upon installed which I ordered moved here for the time being." Guiding her past the golden arm chairs with high backs designed to make the sitter look imposing and not comfortable, Leliana jerked her chin at this mythical divan. While the rest of the furniture bore the same crimson, deep gold, and cherry wood motif of the chantry proper, the divan was every designers worst nightmare. Wide enough to seat two people, it bore a swooping back that bulged at the bottom to fill into someone's lower back, while the sitting cushions themselves fluffed upwards with a good foot of downy give. But what was perhaps most perplexing was the upholstery done in soft pinks and greens and bearing a continually repeating folksy chicken pattern.
The Divine helped Lana down onto it, then sat beside her. Ever since she first threw her arms around Lana in her office, Leliana hadn't let her get further than a few feet, even chasing away some very important grand clerics, not that Cullen could blame her. He felt the same need when he looked at Lana, to touch her skin, hear her voice, and remember that this was all real. She was back.
Uncertain what to do, Cullen slid off the pack around his neck, letting it lay beside the door. He picked up one of the chairs and pulled it closer. Sweet Maker, the thing had to weigh a good hundred pounds. Not expecting it to be made from solid gold, Cullen struggled to get a better grip before a chair worth more than himself slipped from his fingers and broke. Gritting, he managed to lift it a few inches off the floor and placed it near the divan. He caught a small quirk of Leliana's lips from his strain, but she didn't say anything. She was too busy fussing over Lana, who kept trying to wave it all away.
"If you are tired, you could nap," Leliana said, gesturing back towards the most imposing room in the apartments lurking behind a solid door. "The bed is beyond grand, but the reliefs carved into it are...not what one would expect. Apparently, Divine Innocente had a particular aesthetic that belied her rather stringent reign."
Lana buried the panic he came to know whenever sleep was mentioned. She needed to rest so her body could recuperate, and she knew it. But any mention of sleep and returning to the fade drew forth a sinking in her lips and dread in her eyes. "No," Lana shook her head, her hand patting Leliana's in a comforting fashion. The Divine frowned, her painted lips knotting from the sharp bones poking up through Lana's skin. "I only need to sit for a time. Take in all this grand splendor. It's..."
"You didn't see the apartments the first time you visited the Grand Cathedral," Leliana smiled. "Though these are nothing compared to mine."
"I'd imagine," Lana bobbed her head. "Enough room to raise your nugs?"
"Three families."
"You've been to the Grand Cathedral previously?" Cullen interrupted. He shifted against the hard seat already trying to flatten his tailbone. Any longer in it and he was liable to wind up without a backside, period. Absently, his hand patted Honor's head as she took up sentry sitting beside him.
Lana tipped her head, "Officially, no. But..."
"She assisted me in a small matter," Leliana filled in.
"I hope there were no darkspawn involved for you," Cullen chuckled.
"Maker, no," Leliana shook her head with a laugh and then a wry smile rose, "No sex either."
"Leliana," Lana groaned, burrowing her head back deeper into the cushions.
"Am I to keep pretending as if I'm not aware?"
"No, but, I don't know. It's a bit...all," Lana waved her hands through the air as if she was trying to cast a spell, then she glanced over at Cullen. He was doing his best to glare through the wall and pretend he wasn't there. It was one thing when her dearest friend caught him nearly naked with Lana, but now that Leliana was the Divine his brain all but shut down at the very idea. Maker, it was bad enough fearing what Alistair would do to him. What havoc could a vengeful Divine wreak?
For her part, Leliana merely turned her head back and forth, washing her hands of the whole affair. She'd left her official hat back in her office, she claimed it was so she'd fit through the doors. Cullen began to suspect it was because she didn't want to be the Divine when with Lana. "I assume you two are still..."
"Yes," Lana interrupted, then concern shifted over her face and her eyes darted over to Cullen, "I mean, right?"
"Of course," leaning off the chair, he grabbed onto her hand. The chill of it rattled across his own skin, and he placed his other palm overtop it to warm her up. "Assuming you still wish to..."
"Oh yes, I mean, I only..." Lana glanced over at her friend and sighed, "We're still working on it."
He felt the calculating glare not of the Divine but the Spymaster who worked beside him for a year, cutting through every inch of his body. She sized him up almost immediately, causing a chill to ride up Cullen's spine. As her ice blue eyes burned through his soul, her whispered threats of what she'd do to him if he ever dared hurt Lana bobbed out of his buried memory. And that was from before she had the entire arm of the chantry with her. Could a Divine declare an Exalted March against a single person?
Either unaware of the rising tension, or in order to diffuse it, Lana rose up a bit from her seat and cheerfully called out, "I could really go for a snack."
* * *
Half of a picked clean chicken rested in the middle of the breakfast nook table. At first Lana felt a bit self conscious having Leliana watch her eat, but the gnawing hunger in her stomach won out over the blush and she dove fingers in. On occasion, Cullen would try one of the multitude of sauces she'd mention, dipping into them with the sweeter breads left on silver platters, but for the most part he also sat back watching. Apparently, it was quite the event to see the nearly starved to death, ex-grey warden chomp through a half dinner. Only Honor attempted to join in with her, the mabari steadfast as she sat statue-still waiting for her treat. She chuckled at the seriousness the dog mirrored from her owner, and her fingers occasionally slipped a pinch of bread to her greedy mouth.
Lana re
ached for one of the mustard based sauces when her stomach rolled in a loop. Having fallen barren for Maker only knew how long, at first Lana couldn't fill it with more than a few bites. Each day she found herself able to eat more, but pushing past that limit only ended in nausea or worse.
"I'm afraid I'm stuffed," Lana admitted aloud, folding her napkin up on the edge of the table. She caught Cullen's eyes wandering over the remaining food, a calculating concern flaring in them.
Leliana shook her head, "Don't concern yourself with that. The chefs will find something to do with the remainder, I'm certain."
"Chefs?" Lana mouthed at Cullen, and he shrugged. Back at the Vigil they only had the one, and she also doubled as a blacksmith when Wade was in one of his moods.
A soft whine drew them towards the apartment doors cresting open. A cleric stood in the opening, her robes starched and pressed, whiter than a star. She practically glowed regulations as she ran a finger down the clipboard in her hands. "Your Most Holy," she bobbed her head deep to the Divine relaxing in the chair, one of Leliana's hands holding up her chin.
"What is it?"
"It's only that, well, you see..."
"Maker's Breath, spit it out Gatlin," Leliana rose up from the chair, a fire in her words.
Gatlin dove deep into her clipboard, her entire face eclipsed by the vellum, as if she hoped it could defend off the incoming Divine's wrath. "Well, my Perfection, it's...you seem to have spent most of the day in private commune with..."
Lana rose up at the hand pointed at her and a panic knotted around her throat. She didn't want...what did she want? Maker, with a full stomach and her limbs crying out for relief, all she wanted was to rest on the divan. Not about to let her friend waft in the breeze, Leliana interrupted, "The Commander of the Inquisition and his accompaniment."
My Love Page 91