"You glowered until the poor kid nearly pissed himself?" Lana said, getting a chuckle.
"He had enough presence to not do that, but there was a marked timidness on his part. No, the problem was the damn mage. Throwing his arms wide, he ran a wet finger to curl his mustache and remarked, 'Why Commander, when in Orlais do as the Orlesians do. It's not as if you'll melt once you hit the water, correct? Or do all Fereldens fear water the same as your hounds? It would explain the smell.'"
She couldn't bury the snort from the way Cullen tried to mimic Dorian's voice before growling. Lana called out, "It is a wonder you didn't haul off and clobber him right then and there."
"I'm growing soft," he grumbled, but there was a small smile in it, "The Inquisitor tried to give me an out, attempting to call Dorian off, but then the Count or whomever insisted that there be no work done until everyone was in his blasted pool."
"What did you do?"
"What could I do? There were a good dozen people staring at me now, the Inquisitor's steely gaze, the Count's boisterous paddling the water, and that damn mage laughing behind his ridiculous mustache." Cullen's story paused and he looked dead on at Lana, "You're right, I should have hauled up Dorian by the back of his robes and tossed him out of there without a second thought."
"I never said that's exactly what you should have done," Lana tried to cover for herself, but if she'd been in his place she's probably have done just that with the help of a little magic.
"So, I look to the attendant turning whiter and whiter with every word, and ask for one of the damn bathing suits to change into. Simple, yes? He barely glances at me before whispering that they no longer had any in my size."
Lana's hand banged into the pool wall, startling her. She became so enraptured in Cullen's story, she didn't realize she'd swam another two lengths. His eyes trailed over her at the splash and his tale faded away. Waving her offending hand at him, she smiled and turned back, resuming her swim. He, in turn, revived his story.
"I did my best to back out of it, pointing out that if there was no suit then I couldn't join them. Which was when the blighted mage spoke up once again. 'Well, there's nothing stopping you from reclining in the nude.' Maker, I think the only reason I didn't rip his mustache off was because I melted into a puddle on the floor. The Inquisitor sputtered and tried to insist that it wasn't necessary, but the Count seemed invested in the idea. 'Nude or not, we're not starting any talks until everyone's in here.'"
Cullen paused to cradle his head in his hands. She wanted to run her fingers over the muscles straining across his arms and...Maker, those thighs. Taut with that curve down the sides that could make for the perfect firm pillow. Was she always a leg person? She couldn't remember caring before but at the rate her libido kept notching up she was liable to start craving his earlobes.
"I had no intentions to get nude, and the Count refused to budge. Which was when the Inquisitor suggested I at least strip to my smalls."
"Oh no," Lana sputtered, her head drifting lower underwater as her hands failed to adjust.
"I don't blame him, it's not as if he would know the truth."
"Maker's breath, I hope not," she gasped, but couldn't shake the smile off from her little needling of him.
Cullen groaned, sliding his shimmering foot back and forth over the mermaid tiles. "Do not start with that, I heard enough of the insinuations from...it doesn't matter. Without knowing about you, plenty of people preferred to assume my tastes ran...well," he shrugged.
"Yeah, I got that a lot too," Lana admitted.
"Really? Even with the king and..." Cullen blinked in surprise, but he managed to get his little sneer in at mentioning Alistair. She was coming to expect it now.
"Apparently if at any time you're not either madly in love with, pursuing, or curing your heart from losing someone you must be deep in denial about your true nature. And gossiping about your commander is the number one favorite pastime for soldiers."
"Do not remind me," he scrunched his whole face up in such a way, it drew Lana's attention. Perhaps she should ask Leliana about some of the rumors that would have circulated about the Commander of the Inquisition. They could prove enlightening. Cullen's eyes opened and he pointed at her, "You've stopped."
"So have you," she said, her weary feet bouncing on the bottom of the pool. "Unless there's more to the story then I suppose I'll get out..."
"Keep swimming, there's more."
She wasn't entirely thrilled about beginning again, a pain digging into the back of her shoulders that she didn't think possible, but by the Maker she had to hear the end of this. As Lana paddled on past, her waning limbs slipping into the hated mabari style, Cullen continued.
"With Maker knows how many people looking at me, I began to strip. I swear I hadn't done anything so humiliating since I was fifteen. The surcoat, armor, bracers, tunics, all of that was easy. Sliding off my boots, no problem, off went the sword belt and that's when I paused. Two choices before me, neither of which I ever wanted to dwell upon..." he paused, and Lana turned to face him, enthralled beyond measure. For all his grumblings about Varric he seemed to have a bit of a storyteller's instincts as well. "And I decided to climb into the pool with my trousers on."
Lana giggled madly, water bubbling out of her mouth from the glee. "Maker, that had to be...What did you do when you got out?"
"Facing a day walking back to our lodgings with soaking wet breeches was preferable to...the other option. But that wasn't the worst part, no, the humiliation refused to end because in my haste to get it over with, I failed to take into account the air trapped between my legs and the fabric."
"Oh no," Lana's limbs slowed and she gently crested to a full stop. With her freed hand she cupped her mouth to try and hide the smile as she tried to ply Cullen only with sympathy. But he caught on to her ruse and only sighed.
"Yes, I essentially had two air bladders attached to my legs while trying to act as professional as possible to secure...I can't even bloody remember what we needed from the man. It was the cream on top of my day and why I came prepared this time." His fingers drifted down the far too narrow strip of fabric around his hips. It drew Lana's eyes and she had to swallow back a groan from the view. While he may have thought to wear his own backups, he sort of forgot about the fact that white fabric washed translucent in water. She jammed her hand into her mouth and bit down on the fleshy palm to keep from squealing at his smalls suckered tight against his so tempting cock.
"What?"
"Nothing," Lana snapped her head up and shook it. Sliding through the water to cut off her view lest she do something her exhausted body may come to regret later, Lana ran her fingers over his arms. Okay, the taut flexing of his forearms wasn't helping her state either. "Nothing at all, I...uh," she felt the blush rising to match her internal one.
Needing something to distract him before it got awkward, Lana spoke her suspicion. "I think I know why Dorian set you up like that."
"Because he gets his thrills from humiliating anyone in his vicinity."
"No, I think he was trying to win his bet with Varric about your underclothes. And he probably paid off the attendant to claim there were no suits that would fit you."
Cullen's eyes slipped closed and he snorted once. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled Lana across the pool into his enticing embrace. She gladly succumb to it, her head resting upon his naked chest. "So, exactly as I said," he chuckled before pressing his lips against her wet hair. "How are you feeling?"
"Exhausted," she sighed. There was a burning rising up through her legs and from the edge of one wrist across her chest to the other.
"Would you like to get out?"
"Oh, now I'm free to leave," she mockingly placed a hand on her hip but, in truth, deep in her gut she didn't want to. Curled up in his naked arms, with his naked chest suckered to hers, and his naked thighs doing distracting thigh things she wanted to stay in the pool until all of her skin pruned up. Then her chin dipped down and she started
from water bubbling into her mouth.
"I take it that's a yes," he said, already lifting her up in his arms and walking her towards the steps out of the pool.
"In my defense, I barely slept last night," Lana said. Her weary hand reached out to grab onto the guide bar and she placed one foot above her onto the stairs. Andraste, it was like she was trying to crawl out of the fade all over again, the water attempting to drag her back down to its depths. But this time she had Cullen helping to hoist her out. His hands cupped along her waist and as she moved up each of the steps, his fingers drifted lower down her hips. By the time she stepped away, his hands fell slack against the water. Lana made it to the edge on her own and smiled. Glancing over her shoulder, she was about to boast that fact when the blush in her stomach increased tenfold.
Cullen stared up at her the same way he had after their first time in the deeproads. She'd been about the average level of self conscious about her body, aware of the areas that puckered in strange shapes and the detractions. But when he looked at her as if he couldn't imagine glancing at another woman, she felt like the most beautiful woman in thedas. Blessed Andraste, she did not deserve him.
Rising from his stupor, Cullen realized she caught him leering and he stumbled backwards. A hand whipped out of the pool, aiming for his awkward spot behind the neck, which sprayed water at her and then his face. "I, uh, was thinking I might put in a few laps myself before we head home. Are you okay to move to the chair? Do you need me to get you any towels?"
"Nope," she smiled brightly, "I've got two robes I can throw on while I watch you." He gasped once, his own blush rising up as her eyes took the time to savor him. Bobbing his head, Cullen sank deep into the pool and swam properly, his hands rhythmically breaking the surface to propel him onwards. True to her word, Lana threw on both her robe and then his for warmth, as she settled onto the deck chair. Exhausted from the trials and wrapped in the warmth of cuddly cloth, she felt sleep knocking for her, but she couldn't sleep, not now. The Commander of the Inquisition, wearing only tiny see-through small clothes was swimming back and forth below her and she was the only one allowed to witness such a magnificent sight. She wasn't going to miss a single minute.
Chapter Seven
Wednesdays
To L___ _M___
C/O Blank Blank Blankity Blank Blank
(Note from Leliana: Can you ask Hawke to not be so cryptic? I assumed this was from one of my spies in Kirkwall and had an entire team at work to decode it before realizing is was for you. They lost five days trying to crack her doodles in the margins.)
Long time since I sent you a letter. In fact, I don't know if I've ever sent you a letter. Well, first time for everything, eh? Heard you buggered on off to Val Royeaux. _N_E_S says hi, then some other magicy things about the fade, but mostly hi. I won't put down all he said because I stopped listening. I'm technically back in Kirkwall, though no one's supposed to know about it. So shh... People are still a bit tetchy here after the whole chantry go boom fiasco, but Varric asked for my help and here I am. Had to leave you know who somewhere else in the mean time. Turns out there are a few Warden safe houses around here.
I don't want to worry you Cuz, but he's been getting twitchy lately. Been seeing the other one a lot more, if you catch my meaning. No idea why, it doesn't even rant and rave about injustice like usual. Only hangs around like it's waiting for something to happen. Maybe I'm imagining it and nothing bad's gonna happen for years. Wouldn't that be nice for a change? Everyone sit down and be good for a decade or I'm turning thedas around!
Varric wants to know if you've got any good stories to tell about the fade. I told him to shut up and not ask you because it's not polite. He may still do it if you ever meet up again. Which raises up my next question, what're you doing in Valley of the Royals anyway? Skyhold ain't my favorite of places in thedas, but I figured since you're in heart eyes with its Commander you'd be recovering there. I'd already planned to send my homemade care package there when Varric stomps in and tells me that word on the deep down low is you headed to Orlais. Then he made me throw the care package away because it was buzzing. Look, it ain't my fault that the bees hadn't finished making honey before it was ready.
I know we had that talk, and you said you chose to stay behind for your own reasons that somehow meant I didn't fail you, but you better get better or so help me I will stand over your bed and shout at you until you do. I'm tired of losing family. Give a hearty pat on the back to Cullen for me. Though I'm guessing you two are up to a bit more than that given free range in the Grand Cathedral. Ever done it on the altar? Isabella claims she did once, but I don't believe her. How could you lay down on the thing without impaling yourself on the sword in the middle? I guess if you straddled the bowl of fire but then you're in danger of setting your hair aflame.
It's funny, when I first met that awkward, bumbling templar too terrified to talk to the prostitutes at the Rose, something told me to keep an eye on him. There are people that just keep bobbing back up to into your life no matter how far you travel across thedas, you know. Like the Maker or someone else up there wants you to find 'em, to like 'em. To save 'em. Eh, I should stop drinking this "Elder Jessup's Tonic" makes me sound all philosophical.
I tried to include drawings of some of the last dragons I ran into, but I'm not sure if I captured their epicness enough. They were very epically epic, I can assure you. Varric tells me epicness isn't a word, but what does he know? Authors are the worst proof readers.
The Bird of the Wall
(That's Hawke if you couldn't tell)
To Hawke
C/O The Viscount of Kirkwall
Cousin, I don't think you need to rely upon such stealthy subterfuge in your letters. Leliana has a firm grip upon what comes in and out of the chantry, which should surprise none who know her. She also asks that you either label your doodlings or create more elaborate ones to give her codebreakers something to work for.
My healing is progressing well. After a suggestion from our new assistant Detan, I've spent every other day this past week swimming in a spa. Maker, I wish you could attend with me sometimes if only to see the dropped jaws and scattered fans of Orlesians at your imposing presence. It's entertaining enough when I waltz in with a mabari at my hip. Honor's been acting as my concierge and occasional balance when I need it. She also adores the chance to leap belly first into the pool and splash around. For a time, Cullen came as well but he grows more busy with each passing day and rather grouchy when being surrounded by gawking Orlesians. No doubt by now word has reached, if not you, certainly Varric that he's leaving the Inquisition. I am uncertain what that fully means for him, for, I suppose, me. Yes, yes, I can see your knowing smirk in the Orlais all the way from the Marches. We have intentions to remain together through whatever change is coming to our lives, we're only uncertain what that all entails. If you have any ideas I'm all eyes.
I am uneasy to hear about Anders and Justice. We know so little of possession, and less of the fade, that I cannot fathom a guess at what is drawing his current condition out. Perhaps it will pass, or Maker willing, Anders will gain control. Still, I may be able to secure a few connections to the mage college through Leliana. There'd been some talk of research into possession before the rebellions. It related to tranquility, but a starting point is better than non
Lana drew her quill away from the unfinished word. With barely a flick of her wrist, she dipped the sharp end back into the ink bottle and returned. While her mind managed up another sentence, nothing appeared on the page. "Blasted, out again," she cursed to herself. They'd been tearing through the bottles lately, which -- she had to give Detan her kudos -- she managed to keep them well stocked. During Lana's days in the Vigil there were often times the seneschal would beg her to slow down on letters and paperwork because the ink makers couldn't brew it fast enough. They rarely had to worry about vellum because of the damn hides she was always dragging home. It seemed as if all of the wildlife in thedas had it out for the
mage.
Rising out of the chair, Lana stepped away from their dining table. She didn't have too many regrets turning the office over to Cullen because it kept him from keeping boxes piled up all across their increasingly smaller apartments. The boxes seemed to appear overnight with Detan directing more and more to every available corner. When Honor had to lay down on a pile to get comfortably, Cullen began stashing them in the office. Snatching up her empty ink bottle, Lana rolled it through her fingers as she walked towards the back office.
While she wasn't about to start running across thedas in pursuit of darkspawn, it felt good to be able to step across the floor without needing any magic shoring up her legs. At best, Lana could manage a dozen steps before she had to sit, but progress should be celebrated - or so Leliana insisted. With the ink bottle extended as if she was bellying up to a bar, Lana stepped into the office.
Cullen stood to the side of the desk, both hands splayed out over the top, while Honor rested under his feet. In fact, she was so near she had her chin laying upon his boot. Her owner didn't seem to notice as he was glaring down at a stack. His fingers reached towards the edge when sounds of broken glass shattered the air followed by a "Damn it!" Honor's head shot up, the rest of her leaping to her feet. It wasn't the fallen bottle knocked off the desk that disturbed her but Cullen's curse.
He leaned over at the shattered glass and let slip a few more blasphemes before digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Are you okay?" Lana asked. He must not have heard her enter as Cullen jumped a moment, his hands instinctively reaching for a sword that wasn't there.
After taking a deep breath at recognizing her, he sneered and bent over to pick up the glass shards. "It is nothing, an accident. What brings you in here?"
"I ran out of ink in trying to write a letter to Hawke," Lana explained as she slid closer. Most of Cullen was eclipsed by the desk as he dropped to a knee to pick up the scattered pieces onto a stack of papers.
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