My Love
Page 92
"Of course," Gatlin bowed in relief, her quill scratching down the information for chantry records.
"And they will be staying in these apartments for..." Leliana turned back to Lana for an answer, but she had none. Her mouth jammed shut tight as her widening eyes hunted through the ether. Smoothly spinning back, Leliana continued, "some time. They are not to be disturbed under any means."
"Of course, Most Holy," Gatlin bobbed again, her continual bowing giving Lana seasickness. "What of servants come with food or to draw baths?"
Leliana turned fully to Lana so the cleric couldn't see her face, but Lana only shrugged. In theory, no one else in Val Royeaux should recognize the Hero of Ferelden, but her portrait was passed around for sometime, especially after that woodcut was made and inked into every one of Tethras' books. "I will..." the Divine sized up her underling, "think of something."
"Very good, very good," Gatlin jotted that down as well, her tone switching quickly to condescending. Her watery grey eyes snapped up at the Divine, who crossed her arms and lifted only the barest edge of her lips in a snarl. Realizing her mistake immediately, Gatlin bobbed so low she was practically on her knees.
"If there is nothing else, the...Commander and I have much to discuss," Leliana said.
"Begging your pardon, my Worship, but as I said previously, you have spent the entire day with the Commander...without taking any other appointments."
A groan rolled through Leliana's throat, far more guttural than anything Lana thought her ever capable of. Even when under great stress, somehow Leliana always managed to keep the sweetness in her tone for the sake of appearances. But now she looked as if she wanted to rip the cleric limb from limb.
"It is the Grand Enchanter, is it not?"
"Yes, and she's, um, she's here," Gatlin squeaked, rolling back and forth on her heels.
"Andraste guide me," Leliana prayed, her hands clasping. "I cannot avoid this, not if Vivienne..." She snapped her crystal eyes up and spoke only at Lana. "Will you be all right to remain here for a few hours? Perhaps the entire day?"
Lana opened her mouth to speak, when she caught the cleric leaning in listening intently to try and suss out any gossip. Quick to catch on too, it was Cullen who answered instead, "Yes, I think I will retire. The road exhausted me more than I anticipated."
"Good, good," Leliana bowed her head, her eyes closing as she screwed up the courage to face whatever the Grand Enchanter had for her. She rose away from the table, already adjusting her robes and making preparations to swing by and pick up the hat. At the door, suddenly she scampered back to the table and threw her arms around Lana's shoulders. In shock, Lana barely had time to embrace back before her old friend stood and drug the cleric away with her.
Lana held her breath until the door clicked shut, leaving them both alone in the ostentatious room. "That could have gone worse," she said. A chill crept up her skin and she wrapped her hands around shoulders to try and combat it.
Always watching her, Cullen reached into his pack by the door and unearthed a blanket. Blue with green checks, it smelled of horse and the waning bitter weeds of the Anderfells. They bought it off a rattling merchant whom Alistair made certain to take the time to ask if he knew of any golems they could use. Alas, they didn't find anymore slayers of birds to add to their retinue.
After helping to wrap it around her shoulders, Cullen slumped back into his chair. One hand remained pinned to her upper arm, massaging life into it. Lana sighed into the back of her throat at the thought of his hands climbing up her legs to dig away at the pain. "You look exhausted," he said, those honey eyes trying to pierce through her hooded ones.
"I always look exhausted," she groaned. Cullen pursed his lips from her hand wave answer, and she chuckled at him. "No naps, but...we could sit on the sofa and would you mind rubbing my legs?"
He smiled, happy to have a task ahead of him, "Of course I don't mind." After piling up the few plates, he rose to his feet and offered a hand to Lana. She took it and brought her full weight to the waning muscles in her legs. The calves screamed out first, a fire burning from her daring to use them, then the thighs joined in. Lana felt herself sinking towards the floor -- she'd pushed herself too far -- but Cullen swooped in to rescue her. He caught her about the waist, both hands steadying her up as he transferred her weight off her legs and onto his arms. "I've got you," he assured her.
Lana couldn't bury the smile from how obvious his statement was as he worked her over to the couch. After she fell down into the cushions, Cullen gently scooped up her legs and brought them into his lap as he joined her.
"Maker's breath, this is comfy," he gasped while arranging the blanket around Lana's legs. Beginning with her right foot, he dug the heel of his hand against it, pushing with enough force to bring the blood down.
Biting down a moan almost on the edge of pain, she laughed, "I know. Think Leliana would notice if we stole it?"
"Most certainly," Cullen said, his palms rolling around her ankle and worrying up her calf. The pressure was a harrowing mix of pain when he gripped tight, and pleasure when he released it - her muscles contracting the way they were supposed to instead of the jagged stone feel of before. "If you intend to abscond with it, you best hope you can evade an Exalted March," he said, barely a hint of a laugh in his tone.
Rising up as best she could, Lana's fingers traced down his jawline, then back up so his scruff scratched them up. "I have faith in you," she sighed wistfully. Focusing on her thumb, she traced it against his lips in a tempting circle before aligning it with his scar. By all that was real, she ached to kiss him, to tousle his far too long tresses, and... Lana shifted in her seat, aware of the a blush burning not only her cheeks but up through her inner core as well. She was uncertain what to do with either of them, her body always fighting her every move. Releasing him, she leaned back, savoring the massage as Cullen switched to her other leg.
Silence fell between them while Cullen's hands broke apart her pain and rebuilt it into something almost livable, at least for a few hours. With the sting fading into the background, exhaustion roared back to life, tempting her into its grips. Lana crinkled up her nose, damning the yawn rising up her throat back to its grave. She felt amber eyes watching her struggle, but he didn't say anything, only kept up his work. As his hands climbed higher above her knees to dig and knead into her thighs, the dormant fire burned through her. If he felt the same rising desire, he did his damnedest to hide it, his face neutral to the point of being unreadable. Lana bit back an accidental moan when his flexing fingers spread over the tops of her thighs.
"Did you mean it?" Cullen stopped, his work done. He laid her legs out over his lap and smoothed out the blanket, wrapping her in as much warmth as he could find.
"No, I won't steal the divan. I'm not certain how I'd get it down those winding stairs without breaking something."
He chuckled once at her thinking he was truly afraid she'd steal from the Divine. His hand flexed overtop her legs, and he lifted one, almost as if he wanted to reach out and hold her hand, before he dug into the back of his neck. "I meant after I, we pulled you out of the hold upon you in the Fade and you..."
Screwing his eyes up tight, Cullen swallowed deep, the discomfort in him drawing Lana closer. She struggled to sit up higher, her legs pulling away from his lap. The move caused him to look over at her, but the sudden sadness at her departure vanished as she snuggled her head against him. With a grateful sigh from the bottom of his heart, Cullen pulled his arm around her, enveloping her into his half embrace.
After kissing the top of her head, he started again, "When you said you wanted to be with me, in the future, did you...I understand, stress, and you'd only just revived. It's understandable that you weren't thinking clearly and made a brash--"
Lana knotted her hands around the back of his neck and guided him to her for a kiss. His guarded lips took a moment to soften, as if they were tied up in the same knots twisting his tongue. But as she curled the back of he
r fingers against his cheek, and he pressed his hand to the small of her back pulling her tighter to him, Cullen melted at her touch. With the tip of her nose sliding against his, she whispered, "I meant every word I said. I love you."
"I love you too," he responded back and then a bright smile lifted his lips. He wore the same every time she'd tell him the truth in her heart, a surprise that it was real, that she loved him. "My concern is only in, we, we're in Val Royeaux."
"What now?" Lana caught on to what he was dancing around. "Everyone worries about ending the blight..."
"Stopping the would-be darkspawn god," he said, both of his hands locking around her back.
"But it's the aftermath when the real work begins," she sighed, remembering Amaranthine and the toll it took upon her. "It doesn't take much to knock over a city, but rebuilding one..."
"Even after years, it's never the same," Cullen sighed as he buried his face into her scraped hair.
"No, it isn't," her eyes darted away. She forgot that he spent years in Kirkwall after the chantry explosion, same as she did in Amaranthine. Both of them separated by a sea, struggling to put back together what was taken in an instant. "Cullen, the future, I..."
"We never had much time together," he said, a rueful smile falling in place.
"Having second thoughts about trudging across thedas to find me?" she smirked, trying to be playful about the truth. People wanted to act like love was enough, somehow it would sustain and blanket over any problems, but she'd already lived through that falsehood once before. Love took work and sometimes vice versa.
"Never," he pressed his forehead to hers, the full luminosity of his amber eyes beaming into hers. "I...I've never felt like this before and Maker, I don't want to ruin it by rushing things, or not rushing things, or anything else I could..." His eyes slipped closed and he whispered, "This is all new to me."
"So," Lana ran her fingers over his cheeks, "we take time, get to know each other. I don't think there are any darkspawn about to knock down the door at this moment." She turned and lifted a hand to her ear, "Nope, I'm not hearing any. No, grand clerics screaming about a dragon swooping in out of the sky."
Laughing at her flapping her hand to mimic a dragon, Cullen asked, "What do we do?"
She shrugged, "I..." Rolling her tongue through her cheek, she struggled to sit up higher in his arms. Draping her elbows beside his neck she smiled, "have no blighted idea." So she kissed him, the taste of his lips pushing her past the weighty questions that trailed her every move. Since she was nineteen people placed the weight of nations upon her shoulders, and that pressure only broke to have her thrown into a never ending struggle to survive. For the first time in half her life, she felt she could stop and really breathe.
Snuggling to his chest, Lana ran her fingers down his tunic, the filth of the road flicking up from her nails. His clothes needed a good washing, as did hers. All of which she wore amounted to a few purchased over shirts and the still borrowed tunics and trousers from the men who rescued her. "What's your favorite color?" she asked.
"What do you...?" Cullen started as if she yanked him from his own waking dream by her question. Locking his hands around her back he took a deep breath, Lana rising against his chest, before slipping his eyes closed. "It's green."
"Really? I'd have guessed red or...maybe a golden yellow, because," she gestured at his outfit that was of a drab autumn motif. "I mean, even your armor at Skyhold was all golds, and crimsons and..."
He chuckled at that, the muscles across his chest flexing in response below her cheek. "I, well, suppose I wore the templar armor for so long the colors seemed natural to me."
"And crimson hides the blood stains better," Lana said pragmatically. She had more than a few robes with the same look, all deep reds and tans so she'd appear presentable around nobles while covered in the smears of her work.
"Too true," Cullen curled his arms around her, as if he wanted to engulf her inside his chest. After pecking a kiss against her forehead, he sighed, "I haven't worn anything green since I was a boy."
"There's time now," she sighed. From the warmth spilling off of his soothing body, Lana's eyelids decided to anchor themselves shut. But she wasn't tired, no. There was no reason to sleep, not for a few hours. Not at all.
"I...had not thought of that," he tipped his head back against the cushion of the divan, only the susurrus of breath whispering between them. "What of you? What's your favorite color?"
"Mmm, hm?" Lana tried to lift up higher, but her shoulders could barely command her arms, both of them lead against Cullen.
"Do you need to sleep?" he shifted, "I can take you to the bedroom...and whatever imposing decor awaits inside."
"Nope," Lana shook her head against his chest. She raised it a bit to convince him she was wide awake, but her eyelids were in no mood to lift. "I'm not tired at all. Only lost in the warmth of you, here," she paused once, a prick of tears billowing behind those closed lids, "with me."
Cullen sighed, clearly not convinced of her claims to not be exhausted, but he didn't pick her up and cart her to the bedroom. Instead, he shifted her in his lap so he had a better grip on her. "Well, if you're not tired, then what's your favorite color?"
"You're going to find this funny," Lana said, the strain in her voice lifting as it lilted into a soft laugh, "but it's blue. More an aqua teal, like the sparkling northern seas than the deep indigo of the Wardens, but..."
"Blue," he smiled, his chin resting comfortably in the thickest tuft of her damaged hair. "I can see that."
"Oh?"
"You were often in sapphire colored robes while in the circle."
"Right," she chewed through the fog wrapping around her brain, more of her body trying to convince it to sleep. "The tower. We'd rarely get much say in our robes, but I found if I helped out in the stockroom with the pair of mages who did most of the enchanting and sewing I could make a few suggestions."
Cullen laughed, "Sneaky, but prudent."
"And you," she tried to will her fingers to reach up and touch him, to do anything but rest limply against his sides, but exhaustion took the power from her. "You never wore anything green in the tower."
"No, I did not," he chuckled again, his fingers rubbing circles against her back. She didn't want to sleep, to face the fade and what could be lurking there for her, waiting to pounce and...and maybe not let her wake up. But wrapped up safe in Cullen's arms, with the temerity of the chantry's luxury surrounding them, slumber glided across her skin like water from a standing pool. Cullen seemed to sense the change as her head grew too heavy to lift. His gentle circling paused and his fingers locked behind her back, holding her tight to him in the event she fell asleep.
Lana heard a soft rushing on the edge of hearing, like surf pounding against the sand. "That's a shame," she mumbled her last words, before sleep snatched her back to the place she struggled for two years to leave.
Chapter Two
Choices
"Leliana, this is foolish," Lana sighed, her hands extended at the shoulders while an elven woman kept stretching a string across her back and huffing with each measurement. She got an exceptionally long sigh after the seamstress wrapped the string around Lana's waist and brought the waning size to her face.
Her friend cast off her Divine robes for the far more practical look of an average, forgettable cook waltzing through the back rooms of the Grand Cathedral. It wouldn't fool anyone with half a sense as Leliana always wore this ethereal glow around her, but she seemed more at ease without the needs of the chantry bowing her brow. Leliana sat upon the famed divan that Lana wound up sleeping on for most of the night. When she woke, she found herself locked in Cullen's limp arms, his head fully tossed back as a gurgling snore worked its way up through his throat and out the nostrils. Lana regretted forcing him to remain there, doubly so when he rose and had to dig out a crick in his neck and spine, but she was grateful that he stayed with her. Maybe one day she could finally face sleep without fear stirring in
her heart.
After a few hours of the early morning lost reading and a hearty breakfast dropped outside the door by quick and silent footsteps, she found herself at the mercy of Leliana while propped up on a footstool, spinning when commanded. Bolts of fabrics rested beside Leliana on the sofa, which she kept running her fingers over before pronouncing which was the better option. Her eyes darted up to Lana and she sighed, "Lanny, you can't tell me you intend to spend the rest of your life in ill fitting men's clothing."
"Well, no," she sighed, then reached down quickly to catch the slipping waistband on her borrowed trousers. Even with a belt, it refused to remain up. "But I don't need all this fancy measuring and fitting and...just give me a robe. I can slip that on, knot up the belt, and be on my way."
Leliana stood up and caught the seamstress' tight hand, "Could you give us a moment, please?"
"I suppose," her orlesian accent was thick, almost to the point Lana couldn't understand it and she relied on Leliana to relay the gist. Bobbing her hair filled with pins, she slipped out of the apartments and gently shut the door.
Once she was certain they were alone, Leliana picked up a bolt of fabric and held it out to Lana's fingers. "Lanny, I know you only arrived, and I do not want to heap more worries upon you."
"Come now," Lana sighed at her friend even while mentally admitting the golden fabric was smooth as water, "worries are part of my diet. You of all people know that."
"Sadly true," Leliana folded her arms across her chest and tipped her head down, "before the...siege at Adamant, you made overtures about leaving the Grey Wardens."
"I," Lana's head bowed to her chest, "yes, I did."
"And you intend to keep with that plan?"
Lana grimaced; even if it was the best decision for her she still felt like a failure for turning her back on them. She did owe the wardens her life, even if she gave it back in return. "Yes. Given what the fade did to...my state, I rather doubt they'd want me back."