My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  Lana reached down to snatch up her dress, but her legs seized up. Glancing upward at Cullen, she began to ask, "Would you mind...?" Her words trailed off at the way he seemed lost in her, no doubt taking in the new scars etched upon her stomach, or the sunken muscles of her legs. It wasn't the pervasive need Reynard tried to project, but a gobsmacked approval radiating off his face. "Cullen?"

  "What? I..." he pinched his nose to bring himself back, "Right, dress, I can help with that." Dropping to the floor, he snatched it up and rather neatly folded it before adding it to the chair pile. At her look, he smiled, "Don't act surprised. I had chores to perform as well."

  Lana glanced back at the water waiting for her in the pool. She'd been dreading it ever since the elf made the suggestion, a deep in her bones kind of dread. All of last night her dreams filled with water either overrunning itself out of a tub, lapping up through the stones in Vigil's Keep, or spurting from her fingers and never stopping. It grew so bad, she at best got a few hours of sleep, her mind relentlessly waking her as if she was drowning.

  "I don't know if..." She started turning back to Cullen and all sense flew from her brain. He slid off his trousers to reveal the tiniest pair of white smalls she'd seen in years cupping his oh so tempting bulge. Sweet holy Maker, his thighs popped from him bending over to pick up the kicked off pants and Lana felt a squeak rolling in the back of her throat. If he turned around giving her a view of his tight buns, she knew she was going to die right there on her feet.

  Cullen didn't look over at her struggling to breathe or make sense in the world, he calmly folded his trousers up and added them to the pile. He knew, he had to know that she was stricken dumb from the sight of his glorious flesh and was relishing in it. Well, he did deserve it and Maker knew Lana had no intentions of stopping. Her fingers crawled up his arm, following the line of blonde hair up to his bicep, which she felt harden to steel below her fingers. Trying to not "Ep" right then and there, she rose up on her toes and placed her lips against his cheek. Moving swiftly, Cullen turned his head and met her for a kiss. She hadn't felt this much skin against her own naked flesh in two years. When his hand cupped her cheek, his lips parting to find her tongue, the idea of leaping on top of him in the deck chair overloaded her mind.

  As if aware of her libido's plans, Cullen broke the kiss and chuckled, "You can't tempt me that easily. You need to swim."

  Lana's head fell back and she groaned, "How do we even know if it will work?"

  "That's why we try, and if it doesn't nothing lost, right?"

  "So help me if you start in with the pep talks..." Lana threatened, waving a finger near him.

  Chuckling, he cupped it and then took her hand in his. "I promise, you'll get none from me." She nodded at that, accepting his word, then cast a sidelong glare at the water. "Why are you so bothered by it? Did you never learn...?"

  "I can swim," she interrupted, aware of what he was thinking. "I had to spend a lot of time on ships for travel, I figured I should learn in case, you know..." she mimed a giant squall squashing a boat.

  "Okay," he backed down from his assumption, "then why don't you want to?"

  Screwing up her nose, she sneered at the silent water waiting for her, "What if I...can't?" Turning back to him, Lana felt an urge to bury her face in his chest and never come back, "What if I try and my arms won't work and my legs fail and I...I can't, I never can again? What if I'm too broken?"

  "Lana," he wrapped his hands around her, his fingers combing through her short hair. "I...have faith in you."

  "Faith can't cure me," she shot back, then grimaced at her dour words. He believed, but she wasn't so certain anymore. No, she was never certain at any point in her life in either Andraste or the Maker.

  Cullen didn't rear back, nor did he stop caressing her hair, "Not faith alone, but if we put in the work, take the time to heal, then it might get better."

  "And if it doesn't?" she asked the words that'd been sitting in her heart since she failed to step out of the chamber under her own power.

  "Then we think of a new plan to get you around," he cupped his hands against her cheeks and pulled her away from his chest to look into his eyes. A soft smile turned up his lips, "Perhaps Honor could pull you in a cart. I'm certain she'd adore it."

  Lana snorted at the idea, and dropped her head lower so her forehead skimmed against his chest, "Okay, you're right. Might as well try it and see." As her eyes stared down at the slip of white fabric straining from his bulge, a question rose in her mind. "Cullen, where did you get those smalls from?"

  "Ah, well," he rubbed the back of his neck and almost stumbled away in embarrassment, "I have a few pairs in case of emergency reasons."

  "And you knew to bring them, wait, why did you say they wouldn't have any bathing suits in your size...? Holy Maker," Lana's hands flew up to her mouth from shock causing Cullen's eyes to widen in dread, "You've been to a spa before."

  "It..."

  "You, you-you, Commander of the Inquisition, once templar, grouchy about anything Orlesian, came to a spa in Val Royeaux," she shook her head, trying to whip sense into it.

  "It's not what..." he waved his hands around in a circle almost whacking himself in his perturbation, "I had to attend one once, only once, at the behest of the Inquisitor. For Inquisition purposes."

  "Uh huh."

  He glowered down at her, his sneer snapped into place, "Would I willingly whittle away my hours here unless it was for the good of thedas?"

  "I don't know," she said unable to bury her smirk at his discomfort for being caught, "there could be a softer side you've kept buried deep under your armor all these years."

  "Maker's breath," he sighed, tenting his fingers over his forehead like a helm, "I am never going to hear the end of this."

  "It's rather cute, if that helps," Lana tried to cheer him up. "I'd never been asked to a spa before, even as the Hero of Ferelden. People tend to get jumpy about a mage being so close to them, add in the warden mystique and, well..."

  Cullen grumbled, but his sneer faded to a general scowl, "I did not wish to...there were a few extenuating circumstances that... Will there ever come a time when I stop embarrassing myself in front of you?"

  "Sweet Andraste, I hope not," she cried, "you get the most adorable blush when you're all flustered."

  "And you are...trying to distract me so you don't have to swim. It will not work, Lady Amell."

  "Fine," she folded her arms together, accepting that his damn iron will wasn't about to rust from a few embarrassing moments. Turning to face the water, Lana limped towards the pool's edge. When she reached it, she spoke impishly, "Did the slippers fit during your first spa visit?"

  "There were none, now get in the water." He was all business now, the adorable bumbling erased by the Commander. She should probably feel flush from the powerful presence in his voice, but fear dampened down any spring in her libido. Lowering herself to the ground, Lana let her legs up to the knees rest in the water. She had to admit, the warmth circling them felt invigorating.

  "What now, boss?" she asked, turning to find him pick up her cane and place it safely against the wall.

  "So it doesn't get wet," he explained and she nodded. Cullen stepped closer, his hand glancing across her shoulder. He paused at the water's edge and without any trepidation leapt in. Lana shrieked at the splash breaking over her face and down her chest, which quickly transformed into a laugh. The water circled around the middle of Cullen's chest, seeming to bisect him into one half tantalizing dry templar, and one part enticing wet. He bent over backwards to dip his hair into the pool, and then snapped upward, whipping the excess through the marble baths.

  "All right," he parted his hands, "your turn."

  "I..."

  "I'll catch you so it's not too jarring," he assured her while stepping closer.

  "If you're sure..." Lana closed her eyes and tried to strangle the part of her screaming that she was about to ruin everything. Pushing off her hands, her body slid off
the stone ground right into the waiting pool. Water slithered up her body, far past her chest and heading towards her neck, when Cullen's hands locked under her armpits. Holding her tight, she kicked her feet a few inches above the floor. With a wicked smile, she said, "As the sapper said to his wife, 'Well, I'm in. Now what?'"

  "Maker's breath, where did you hear that one?"

  "Varric," she said, getting a full groan from him. Lana giggled at the ferocity of his disapproval of the dwarf, aware that there had to have been some kind of mutual respect even if Cullen never wanted to be trapped in the same room as the new Viscount. "I think you can drop me," Lana said, her toes still wiggling through the water.

  "Ah, right," the blush that was never far away curled up both his cheeks and that taut, exposed stomach. Before Lana could get any ideas to try and trail that strip of blonde hair further down his body, Cullen lowered her towards the bottom of the pool. She gritted her teeth in anticipation of the same pain that always jarred up her legs whenever she rose to her feet, but only a glimmer of it whimpered through her calves. Testing her weight out, she extended her legs a bit, and struggled to keep her head above the surface.

  Lana tipped her head back, the level darting dangerously close to her chin which received a gentle laugh from Cullen. "I forget how short you are, sometimes."

  "Oh yes, it's so funny," she grumbled, "perhaps we should try exploring through tight quarter caves next."

  She expected him to grumble but Cullen's fingers caressed down her submerged shoulders, "If it'd help you, I'll crawl upon my stomach."

  "That, uh," Lana dropped lower into the water, only her nose skimming the surface as she tried to cool off the blush burning from the sincerity wafting off him. The fact he meant every word slightly terrified and thrilled her. After collecting herself, she bobbed up and asked, "What do I do now?"

  "Walk, I suppose?" he kept his hands near her for fear that she might suddenly pitch forward and drown herself, but Lana didn't need them. Despite being nearly fully underwater, there was a surprising lightness to her bones, as if some of the weight of the world was pulled free. Shuffling at first, Lana moved towards the end of the pool, her arms digging through the warm water circling her wake. Cullen followed close beside for a few laps, those honey eyes trailing her move and she suspected occasionally wandering down the ample cleavage exposed by her swimming band. Not that she could blame him, she had to keep her focus straight ahead or she'd risk walking right into a wall from the acres of delectable skin he had on display.

  After managing three laps back and forth, Cullen spoke up, "What if you try swimming now?"

  That earned him a glare, "What if you try climbing the walls?" While there was a strange cushioning for her in the water, she could feel the threat waiting for her on the horizon. If she wasn't careful, if she stepped too far or too fast it could all come crashing down.

  Cullen held his hands up, "I am only suggesting you try."

  Maker, she had to fall for an eternal problem solver. It was heartwarming how much he threw himself into helping her, but Andraste's flames, did he have to put so much effort into it at the same time? She needed to find him a hobby, maybe something to do with Honor? Did Orlesians require instruction in the matters of combat from a man and his mabari?

  "It might help to stretch the underused muscles. Firm them up and..."

  Lana paused in the water and crossed her arms under it, "You've been talking to Leliana haven't you? She kept threatening to bring in this famous healer from I don't remember where, who had all these insane theories to fix me. Leeches, he wanted me to swallow leeches, while they were still alive."

  "I," Cullen grimaced at the leech mention, "I'm not saying you should consume parasites, unless it's on the menu and we can't avoid it, but... Lana, it could help."

  "So could summoning a demon, but you don't see me throwing that idea out," she stormed, growing more belligerent. She meant it as hyperbole but a strain echoed along Cullen's features, one he did his best to paper over, but she caught it and mentally slapped herself for it. Maker, out of all the people in thedas, he's the last one you want to go mentioning demons to. From the pain burrowing in the back of her brain upon thinking of them, she began to suspect she was the second.

  Sliding closer to him, Lana wrapped her arms around his waist. His slick skin melded against hers, and she tugged herself into a hug. "All right, if it'll make you feel better I'll attempt swimming, but...you have to do something for me."

  "Anything," he volunteered, but at the mischief glimmering in her eye, his enthusiasm faded, "What is it?"

  "Tell me about your first trip to the spa, and don't skimp on the details."

  "Lana, I really don't think..." his arm burst from the water, scattering drops over the calm surface, so he could ruffle his wet hair. "It was not that interesting."

  "Nope, that's how it works," she slid away from him to find her own pitiful lane. "As long as you're talking, I'll swim. But the moment the story stops, so do I. Do we have a deal?"

  "I...uh," Cullen's amber eyes darted around the pool as if he'd find some other excuse waiting in the empty room. "Fine," he crumpled inward, making it obvious that he was not pleased about this occurrence.

  Lana smiled at him and waved her hands in the water. She did know how to swim, and knew exactly three ways to go about it. The crawl was right out, bursting the surface with her weary muscles was next to impossible now, never mind while propelling herself onward. And while mabari paddling could get her back and forth, she feared she'd never live it down in front of him. That only left one option. Sliding down, Lana readied herself, then glanced over.

  "Well, are you going to talk or do I stand here?"

  "Maker's breath, I...very well. This occurred in the earlier days of the Inquisition, before you, uh..."

  "Came back into your life," she answered. Good on her word, Lana kicked off of the ground. She kept her head above the water to listen to Cullen's story and because she wasn't the best at the whole holding her breath parts. Suffocating had a habit of drawing forth nightmares for her. With her hands cupped near her chest she drew them out to propel herself down the pool before drawing them back to begin again. The warden who taught her how to breaststroke about had a heart attack every time he had to mention the word, but it served her well.

  "Yes, I, that's one way to look at it." He was stalling, doing his best to say nothing while still talking. To show she knew, Lana slowed down, her arms extending as if she intended to float upon the water. Sighing at her, Cullen pinched his nose and continued. "I forget why I was in Val Royeaux, but the Inquisitor was the one who invited me to a meeting. Thinking little of it, we'd been taking them all day to assist in reviving Skyhold, I arrived dressed in my usual armored attire at a spa similar to this one."

  "Bet the patrons practically shat themselves..." Lana mused, spinning around and turning back to the other side. "Oh Maker, don't tell me you had your sword with you?"

  "Of course I did, I saw no reason not to. Thinking it had to be some mistake, I attempted to extricate myself before every man and woman relaxing in towels in the foyer had time to gawp at me. But that damn mage spotted me."

  "You'll have to be a bit more specific, I remember a lot of 'damn mages' in the Inquisition," Lana said. She misjudged the dip of her hands and pulled her chin lower, dragging her mouth below the surface. Water rushed down her throat, and she sputtered, coughing it out as far as she could.

  Cullen glanced over, but didn't rush to rescue her. He seemed content to let her swim her way to health, "The Tevinter one, in this case." Lana giggled at the way he didn't say Dorian's name. "He sweeps me up and begins chattering away with all the certainty his countrymen posses. I'm trying to get a question in, but his mouth has become unhinged and he cannot stop the spray of words."

  "I found Dorian rather delightful," Lana said, "egocentric of course, but he is a Tevinter magister."

  "Yes, he certainly delighted in finding new and interesting ways to get und
er my skin," Cullen groaned.

  "Ah," a moment of realization struck Lana, and Cullen whipped a question at her, but she waved it away. Her suspicion could wait until his story was finished. "Please, continue, unless I'm also done swimming."

  "Are you tired?" he asked.

  "Nope," she shook her head, surprised to find that generally true. The ache was minor compared to her normal ones, and she felt as if she could keep this going for a good half hour or so more.

  Cullen leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms, "I'm led to the Inquisitor and some Duke, or Viscount, or, Maker, it doesn't matter. They're both relaxing up to their necks in a bubbling hot spring. I'd heard of them before but had never seen one. It was interesting, unlike using runes here it had some underground lava connections the dwarves dug in."

  "How'd they maintain the temperature range so as not to scald anyone?" Lana asked before grimacing. He knew her damn curiosity would trip her up and stall his story.

  "I rather doubt they bothered, perhaps an elf would dump a bucket of cold water to combat it if it grew too great. I could always go and ask..."

  "Nice try, but story," she interrupted his attempts to drag Reynard back inside. Maker, if he was going to the trouble of drawing that man's attention, his story must be something else.

  "Very well," Cullen swallowed. With his chin jutted out and his arms behind his back, he bore a striking resemblance to a statue someone would put guarding the entrance to their hidden lair. Lana wasn't certain if he was even aware he was doing it. "I assumed we could get the matter discussed and over right then and there, and pulled a chair similar to those towards the edge, when one of the attendants appeared."

  Cullen paused, and rotated his neck, "He insisted all who entered the hot springs area had to be dressed in the same skin tight bathing attire on those racks. I objected, rather, um..."