Love's Blush

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  They passed a staircase covered in debris but surprisingly not buckled by time. Lana began to move past it, when Cullen suddenly stopped and glanced back. "I remember," he said, then began to pull her towards it. She eyed up the mess of stairs that looked like it'd be a death trap for her even if she wasn't so front heavy now. Chuckling, Cullen swooped his pregnant wife up into his arms and began to carefully ease up the stairs.

  Lana pressed her hands tight against the back of his neck, her cane dangling off her fingers, as she giggled, "Bet you never thought you'd have to carry me up these things."

  "Have to?" he chuckled once before the rarely seen mischievous amber rolled down to her. Perhaps something about returning to where he'd grown up, in many different ways, was bringing back the young adult from before. Lana felt it too. She remembered these stairs. After she'd been in the tower for a few years, the kids learned how to make static charge balls and in a bit of brilliance tried to roll them down these stairs. It went pretty well until the balls had to discharge against the wall, leaving a small burn mark.

  Certain she was secure in Cullen's arms, Lana let her fingers reach to trail along the stone walls. Maker's breath, it felt familiar. Kinloch was made out of a stone not common to most Ferelden castles, being more porous than others. It was a wonder a good rain didn't knock it over, but somehow this place endured for centuries. She felt every divot in the rock, the kids making up stories that they were carved there specifically by old apprentices that were trying to warn them about what evil horrors lurked in the undercroft. Only no one could understand the code and every year another apprentice was eaten by the hideous monster.

  At the top of the staircase, Cullen placed her feet down to the ground and let her get her bearings before he dashed over to stand where the bookcases had. They were obliterated beyond imagination, most of the wood having been chopped apart for fires and the tomes held in them either left to rot on the floor or torn apart for kindling. So much of her life was spent pressed between those cases, her nose buried in books while trying to find her purpose.

  "Right here," Cullen stopped, an excitement clinging to his bright eyes.

  Lana blinked her eyes and tried to shake away the pain of seeing her childhood home in ruins. "Right here what?"

  "This is where you were standing when I first saw you," he announced, his arms waving around as if he'd performed a magic trick.

  "The library," Lana chuckled. "Why am I not surprised?"

  "I was there, in the stairwell, and you..." Cullen whipped his head back and forth from her to make certain he had the angles right. "You were carrying a stack of books." She sighed at that, remaining unsurprised. "And were arguing with that mage."

  "Margie?"

  "No, the other one," he shook his head.

  "Oh, Jowan," that sounded right too, sadly. It was a wonder they were ever friends for how much they fought, or how he used her.

  She didn't mean to frown but the thoughts of the man that betrayed her took her into a dark turn. Catching on, Cullen scooted away from this mythical spot to cup her fingers in his. "I was in a dour mood at the time," he confessed, "trying to break away from some celebration or other, and then you... Maker's breath, you stole my heart away in an instant."

  A blush burned against her cheeks while the man gazed down upon her as if she was all of fresh faced 17 again instead of a hardened warrior broken and battered, and also swollen from wrist to ankle. Cullen cupped his fingers against her face, softly pushing back the mounds of curls. "There were quills inside here, and, Maker, how badly I wished to pluck one out. To run the feather over my fingers because...because it'd touched you."

  "Cullen..." She was fully melting into the floor, her cheeks bright red in this adorable agony.

  "Eighteen years old and I'd never seen anyone so beautiful in my life. I'd thought you were a messenger of Andraste herself, and never, in a hundred years, a thousand years, did I think I could do this." Curling his fingers against her soft jaw, he tipped her head back and placed a youthful kiss to her aching lips. All the exhaustion in her body, in her mind, the years that trailed them both like nightmares clinging to the waking brain, it all faded. Lana felt all of seventeen; that bookish, giggling apprentice who couldn't stop staring at the newest blonde templar blushing across the room.

  The burn of being able to touch him, to taste him, drove her to wrap her free arm around the back of his neck. She devoured him, the ingénue fading to the experienced woman who wasn't shy to be with the man she loved. "Please," Lana panted as Cullen took a steadying breath, "tell me we're alone and there aren't about to be a dozen bandits bursting out from behind the barricaded bookcases?"

  He staggered up to his full height, Lana cursing her love of tall men as those lips slipped too far away for her to bend them to her will. After playing with her curls, he smiled, "Do you really believe I would risk my pregnant wife anywhere near bandits?"

  Shrugging, Lana answered, "Depended on how much fun you wanted me to have."

  That earned her a chuckle, Cullen placing his lips to her forehead for a less lustful kiss. "How about after the baby is born? With me and Honor," he tacked on, no doubt fearing the second she was free of child, Lana would hop out of bed, snatch up her cane, and find the first bandit she could to fricassee.

  "As you say," she sighed, "though it's been quite a few years since I used my spells for damage purposes."

  "The darkspawn under the lodge," Cullen said without a second thought.

  "Oh right, but do darkspawn even..." she was going to lose this argument before even beginning it. While Lana wasn't without her own defenses and skill, she couldn't exactly blame Cullen for worrying about her now. Running headlong into battle was something she'd have to leave to others unless there was really no other option.

  Curling deeper into his arms, Lana buried her cheek to his strong chest. How many nights did it have to help carry her to bed? How many more did she lean against it either while fighting through the darkness or panting from joy? A smile wafted through her stomach bringing up an old memory. Snagging onto his fingers, Lana leaned back and said, "Come on."

  "Where are we going now?" Cullen asked. Perturbations drifted in his tone, as if he feared she was about to stomp off to find bandits or darkspawn to slaughter.

  "It's my turn," she didn't explain. Trailing across the library and back downstairs, they came out in one of the grander openings. It was an all purpose room, often the sight of apprentices learning how to throw greater area effect spells, the occasional mass meetings if there were many famous mages visiting, or a place for bored children to run around. Lana stopped and turned with her arms extended.

  Ringed by twelve giant pillars, it was hard for her to remember the exact one as they all bore the same look. There used to be tapestries denoting the various mage fraternities, as well as some for Ferelden and the chantry hanging upon the pillars but they were all either torn down or eaten by moths. Only a handful of brass bars remained, tipped against their nails.

  "There," Lana declared, somewhat certain she was right.

  "There what?" Cullen asked, stepping towards where she seemed to be pointing at little more than a smudge on the floor between two pillars.

  "Two children were playing with a ball, a special treat no doubt for learning spells. They were kicking it as hard as they could from one end to the other, when one gives it all the force he can. It scatters through the air, bounces on the pillar above, whacks into the back of a man, and becomes trapped behind the templar," Lana traced the memory ball's trajectory before landing back upon Cullen who seemed confused.

  "The templar snatches up the ball while the kids are knock-kneed terrified. He extends it, shaking it for them to pluck it free, his voice rattling in the tin, when suddenly he sighs. With one hand he yanks off the helmet to reveal..." she sighed, plowing her curled fist into her cheek as if she was seeing it all again, "this golden face. Golden curls, golden eyes, golden smile that dashed about young lips while you tried to h
and the ball back to the kids."

  The same smile flitted through her husband's lip, lifting the scar, "Oh. I...I don't remember that."

  "It was the first time I saw you, your face without the helmet in the way. Margie caught me staring and, of course, I denied it. But, blessed Andraste, I was gobsmacked. You were so adorable swiping back your mess of curls," Lana staggered up to reach over and part through his, "and a blush to your cheeks as you watched the kids trail off to play."

  Cullen slid his arms around her waist, his warm lips breathing against her forehead, "Is that so?"

  "Not many apprentices knew I was enthralled with the newest Knight-Recruit but a few did. I wasn't so good at keeping from staring," Lana admitted. Not that it was easy for her, the templars rarely taking off their helmets. But she'd gotten a good sense of his routine and knew when to expect the need to take it off for a breath of fresh air.

  "Well," her husband chuckled with a dusky voice, "you're free to look all you wish now."

  "I suppose I am," she smiled, her fingers brushing against his scruff before clasping behind those curls she adored.

  Lana began to tug him down for another kiss, when Cullen spoke, "I thought you said we met during the, um, bathing incident."

  Rolling her eyes, she sighed, "That's when we met, this was when I first saw you. Now shut up and let me kiss you."

  "As you wish," he murmured, returning her need to circle back the memory. At seventeen she knew two things, that she'd never been so enthralled with another man before, and that she'd never be able to act upon it. By nineteen Lana realized that there were other men in the world to catch her eye, but that first one was the one worth waiting for.

  Ghosts of the past trailed her vision, and she could almost see the old sconces lit with mage flame, the shadow of robes filtering through the doorway, all while she made out with a templar. Giggling and fanning her cheeks at the impropriety, Lana slid away as if there was a real threat she'd be pulled in front of the First Enchanter. Maker, that would have been her undoing before, and now... She'd walked the world of the Fade for two years and killed an archdemon. What would that crush-struck seventeen year old have thought of her life?

  Lana's hand circled over her stomach, the baby resting. No doubt it would resume its dancing once she intended to sleep. It wasn't perturbations or exhaustion she felt in her soul at the thought but a satiety. Here in the tower there'd been no hope, not for her to ever love a templar, much less to wed and then birth a child with him. And now...

  Unaware of Lana's inner turn, Cullen glanced around the space and he smiled, "I remember this area well."

  "There were a lot of meetings and the like held here," Lana said, almost waving it away.

  But Cullen didn't seem to be considering that. He smiled a moment and shook his head. "No, I was thinking upon all those dances the apprentices held."

  "Ah," she felt the blush rising up. Awkward to a nearly debilitating degree, she suspected they were ordered by the Senior Enchanters who wanted to punish all the gangly apprentices. Most grew up in the tower with the very people they were suddenly supposed to dance closely with. "Did you have to guard many of them?"

  "A few." Cullen's hand slid up behind the small of her back and he whispered down to her, "And it was torture to see you standing alone beside the wall, wishing I could pull you into my arms."

  Most of the apprentices were the same as her, clinging to the edges and hounding the punch bowl on the assumption that if they were too busy holding a glass they couldn't dance. Of course there were a few of the involved mages that would dance so close together the chantry sisters were praying for the Maker's intervention. Lana remembered Anders in particular would often flit from arm to arm, that cocky smile stuck to his face. He reveled in the moment, happy to have something to break up the monotony of study. But not her, she only went because it was required.

  "Well," she spun to face her husband and wafted her fingers across his shoulder to lock behind his neck, "there's nothing stopping us from dancing now?"

  "I suppose not," Cullen smiled, leading her into a slow shuffle. Their clasped hands extended out in proper form, but they certainly weren't leaving any room for Andraste's spirit between them. Her stomach was about the only blockade, and even then Cullen bent over enough to adjust, those amber eyes honed in on hers. It was a quick dance without music, and her husband only risked one spin before returning her to his safe arms.

  As they both slowed to a crawl, accepting it was over, Lana skirted her fingers tighter to the back of his neck in order to tousle those curls. "That was the most fun I've ever had at a tower dance."

  Sliding closer, Cullen placed his forehead next to hers. She breathed in slowly, anticipating him to kiss her, when his hand slipped off the small of her back to caress her ass and give it a gentle pinch. "Very much so," he chuckled, a gleam in his eye at the bold move.

  "I love you," she murmured, her cheek returning to his chest where it belonged.

  "I..." Cullen gulped, his eyes darting around the room. Could he see the same ghosts she did in her memory's eye? So much life spent in this tower and it was all gone in a breath. "I've loved you since I first saw you."

  "Love at first sight?" she scoffed, "What if I'd turned out to be an idiot? Or had a terribly squeaky voice? Or smelled of moldy cheese?"

  He chuckled at her insolence, the mage always less schmaltzy than the templar. "I thank Andraste every day you do not."

  "My Harrowing was...a very dark day for me, but," Lana slid back and blinked into his shrouded eyes, "I think upon what you told me."

  "What? You mean when I stammered outside the First Enchanter's office and then ran out of fear of you...no, out of fear of me having no idea of what came next but taking some steps towards it?"

  Lana laughed, in truth having forgotten that part. She had had a very involved day. "No," her fingers ruffled down his shirt exposing a scrap of chest hair as she dipped lower to rest her palm against his flat stomach. "When you helped me out of the Harrowing chamber to my bed. I was stunned and incapable of much beyond mumbling. But you guided me into my bed and whispered 'The worst of it is over.'"

  Cullen grimaced at that. "Maker, I forgot how truly naive I was."

  "No, it..." she shook her head, "I know, given everything that happened after with Jowan, and the Grey Wardens, and Uldred it seemed a poor guess at the future, but it strangely helped. I carried your words through a lot of the Blight. A reminder that I wasn't formed from clay, I'd taken on something in my lifetime and survived, and I could do it again. It wound up being quite a few somethings, but..."

  Her husband fell silent, his eyes staring into the floor. Lana let a beat or two pass before she curled her fingers with his. Shaking his head, Cullen spoke. "I never thought you thought of me, not just in that way but in anyway. It was foolish to consider, to weigh the attentions of a mage upon a templar but...Maker, I wanted you to."

  "When you left with the Wardens," he drew his fingers around her jaw, cupping her face as if protecting it, "I was crestfallen, but it felt idiotic. As if I fell in love with a character in a story after the book ended. I wanted so badly to love you, but the idea of you loving in return was impossible."

  Lana smiled at him, "You should know by now I'm rather famous for the impossible."

  "Quite," he laughed once, tears of sincerity glistening in his eyes. Tugging her face to his, they shared in a kiss that began to grow in ferocity. Lana's heart thundered in her chest, craving his fingers to touch more of her skin than her cheek and hands. An idea popped into her head and she slid back.

  "Where did the templars sleep?" she asked, clearly upending Cullen.

  He seemed to still be lost in the throes then rapid un-throes of passion. "Hm...why?"

  "Well, you all knew where we slept. I was just curious. All the apprentices used to take guesses what the templar dormitories looked like. The prevailing theory was that you each had a golden basin and a full sized bed with silk sheets to stretch out upon
."

  "Ha," Cullen barked once. "Perhaps for the Knight-Commander, but Knight-Lieutenants were left with little better than the mages."

  "Really?" she placed a hand to her hip, not believing him. "Prove it."

  Cullen blinked madly a moment, trying to reassess where this suddenly went. "All right, but there is a good chance it's been long since ransacked." Taking the lead, he guided Lana through one of the old doorways she'd never entered before. Sure enough there was a small staircase that led up to the third floor. It didn't connect with the other enchanter's bedrooms, somehow being cut off. No doubt to keep mages who didn't appreciate templar intervention from causing a ruckus with their unmentionables.

  They passed first through what looked like a simple sitting room, benches stacked along the walls and a cold fireplace stewing in the back. Absently, Lana drew forth flame of the veil into it to light their way. "We'd pass some time here," Cullen explained.

  "Card games, gossip, and the like?" she asked, having seen much the same with her own soldiers.

  "There was more prayer involved, but yes, the like," he sighed, his shoulders seeming to rise in a knot. Lana reached out and caught his fingers in hers, squeezing tight. She was here with him, it would be all right.

  Cullen nodded his thanks for it, then opened the door. Darkness and dust pervaded what felt a wide space, until Lana lit the sconces remaining screwed into the stone. "Maker's breath," he gasped, "it barely looks touched."

  The beds were single, no having to deal with someone's errant foot drifting down near your face the way mages did, but the templar dormitories did look much the same. Beds sat close to each other with just enough space for a rug, perhaps to pray upon, a small chest, and a stand for armor. Cullen's eyes opened wide and he stared around the room. Almost as if on instinct his steps quieted, like he was often required to pad through there to keep from waking other templars.

  "Where was your bed?" Lana asked, her fingers locking tighter to his.

  It took a moment for her words to reach him, his free hand swiping dust off an old board that might have held duty rosters. "What? Oh, it was..." tugging her with, they zipped down a few lines of beds before coming to a stop beside a mattress set into a hard wood frame. There was no design to the frame beyond holding up a mattress, the bed achingly close to the floor. "This one," he said. Cullen glanced around and a sigh reverberated in his throat. "There were so many people here once."