My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  She expected the old templar armor to fall back into place, for Cullen to rear up and thunder against mages, but a different cloud stormed across his face. He winced and glared through the window slit behind his desk. "You were right."

  "That'd be a first."

  He turned from his vigil to shoot her a patronizing look, but Lana wasn't being sardonic for once. She felt the sting of her mistakes that led to losing them in every step across Ferelden and Orlais trying to right her wrongs. It was a wonder she didn't leave behind bloody footprints. Cullen sighed, "You tried to warn me about Meredith but I couldn't see, wouldn't see. I failed them, failed you, I should have listened to what you told me."

  "Maker's breath, Cullen," Lana snapped pulling his attention from the window, "I had no idea about the whole evil red lyrium statue sword thing. No one did."

  "But you knew about the violations, the brandings, the...everything I missed!" he twisted his head around as if trying to shake the misdeeds from his soul.

  She couldn't stop herself from cupping his cheek. The warmth of his body radiated through her cold hand and he leaned into it, his eyes slipping closed. For a moment she lost herself and stroked the scar upon his lip with her thumb. "Do you want to hear every thing I've missed? Every poor decision I've made? I hope you have a comfortable chair because it's a rather long list."

  Cullen snickered, the laugh drawing his stubble across her palm. It refreshed her skin to feel it again. "I don't know if we have the time. 'The day slips away.'"

  "'But the moon is fresh,'" she quoted automatically, then had to shake off a blush as she remembered where the passage originated. Cullen's own guilty eyes glanced towards the bookcase. She had no idea templars read the contraband books after confiscating them. An easy silence rose between them where neither needed to say a word to fall into each other's presence, but she knew where it could lead. Where it shouldn't lead. Lana pulled her hand away from his cheek and placed it back upon the desk.

  "Three years," she said staring a hole into the ground, "is a long time. With the sky tearing, and a mad darkspawn on the loose...Maker, why does that sound so familiar?"

  "Four years, actually."

  "Hm..." Lana turned to Cullen. His own transient thoughts shifted across his face.

  "Four years have passed since we last...when we were toge- assisted each other in our duties."

  "Right," Lana bobbed her head. "Four years, even a bigger amount of time then. And I don't want to...I mean, if it--"

  Cullen rose up from his lean upon the desk and adjusted the sword upon his hip. The action drew Lana's attention downward and she realized she'd best continue to his feet or risk another blush. "I understand. You do not wish to make things difficult between us given the importance of the work here."

  "Things were never difficult," Lana began, a smile from the memory curling through her. She broke it off and backed down from the foolish thought. "You're right, for the sake of thedas it's best if we be, forget about...No, I don't mean forget. Be friendly, not that we're not being friendly now...Maker's sake," Lana curled her hands around her forehead in consternation, "why is this so hard?"

  She heard a soft chuckle from the sidelines and turned to stare a question at Cullen. He smiled a knot of pain and answered, "I believe that was what ran through my head after you walked into the war room. That diatribe more or less."

  "Never gets easy does it?"

  "I'm afraid not," Cullen admitted and weariness washed across him. It was as if he cut a string and let every heartache, every loss show upon his face. Just as quickly he pulled it all back. The joys of command.

  Lana had her own duties to attend to, and it was unlikely Hawke would remain docile for much longer. She eased off the desk, hiked the pants back up, and smiled, "I should go find my old friend turned personal torturer and explain why I wasn't there for her. Think of a plan to solve this warden problem."

  "Right, of course," Cullen dipped his head.

  Padding towards the door, Lana paused at the handle and turned back. "Thank you again for the clothes. I probably would have died in a puddle of embarrassment if I only had that little Orlesian robe to wear."

  He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes, "Then I'm glad I helped. It would not do to lose you now."

  Lana nodded and glanced down, "Cullen, for what it's worth, I am glad to see you again."

  His taciturn smile shattered and he dipped his head down to gather his thoughts. "I am glad to see you as well."

  With his parting words Lana yanked open the door and ran smack dab into Hawke. Almost literally as her giant of a cousin stood hulking outside the door. She easily spotted the commander over Lana's head, then glanced down at her. "Hey! If it ain't the lady of the hour. Been talking to Varric and...what in Andraste's tits are you wearing? Nearly got your own tits on display to, if ya didn't know."

  Lana sighed and tried to carefully shut the door behind her, but Hawke managed to step in the way, "I am aware, thank you. The commander was kind enough to loan me a change of clothes after my Skyhold welcome."

  Hawke guffawed at Lana's pulled face, "Heard about that fun bathing time. Everybody's heard about it, in fact."

  "Wonderful, I'm famous."

  She thought her sometimes surly nature would turn off the Champion, but it only seemed to encourage the woman who went beyond the pale to get her to smile. It seemed to be Hawke's newest game, or perhaps her own sacred duty. "So you and the ol' Cullen know each other then?"

  Lana glanced back at the man trying his best to pretend he couldn't overhear two people talking about him in his own doorway. "Yes, in a way, we were in the same circle in Ferelden."

  Hawke scrunched up her face in thought, obviously ignoring Lana's explanation. As if struck by lightning, Hawke stood bolt upright and snapped her fingers. In a voice that could shatter mountains, Hawke said, "Oh! That's the templar you were begging for in your sleep."

  "Bloody hell," Lana squeaked. She couldn't dare risk glancing back at Cullen, so she focused a glare on Hawke. The woman was infuriating. She played the ignorant but giddy fool until you spoke to her for a few moments and realized she'd fully sized you up in minuted and knew all your dark secrets. After traveling together for six months, it was a wonder Hawke didn't know Lana better than she knew herself.

  "I never did hear the name, got the templary bits though. Well, not got got. If ya catch my drift."

  "Please, stop talking," Lana begged.

  There was nothing to halt Hawke short of a qunari invasion and even that was dicey, "Explains all that whimpering in your sleep while working through the deep roads."

  "No, that..." Lana's blush snapped away as another shame bloomed in her gut. The first she could stomach, but the latter burned her. "That's something else. Come on," using just a small spell, Lana shoved the immovable Champion out of the doorway and slammed it shut. She shook her head trying to wish some sense into the world.

  Hawke spread her arms wide, "What?"

  Stepping ahead of her cousin, Lana spat back, "You'll be the death of me."

  Chapter Three

  The Plan

  "And you're certain Lady Beverly will not be attending the fete?" Josephine leaned into Leliana's shoulder, prodding her with both a quill and arched eyebrow.

  Leliana sighed, "Yes, the arrangements have been made."

  "Good, because we do not want a repeat of last time. We're still finding pieces of him across Skyhold," Josephine cut back writing a line across her clipboard and then shoving one of the picks across the big map.

  Lana had been hmming and nodding through most of the meeting while she lost herself out the window, but Josephine's cryptic words snagged her attention, "Pieces? Was his body exploded? Do you have access to gatlock?"

  "Oh stars, no," Josephine shuddered at the very idea.

  "She meant his clothing," Leliana chuckled. "The man drank from the wrong goblet, foolishly dosed himself with a wyvern poison meant for another, and spent the rest of the night convinced he wa
s a dragon."

  "Three soldiers had to coax his bare ass off the flag pole," Cullen grumbled. "Because he was 'too important' for us to shoot him down."

  "Sounds like my kind of Satinalia," Hawke quipped. She sat beside Lana along the wall of the important room, her legs thrust so far off the shared bench the advisers had to stumble around her to get at their map. They were supposed to be formulating a plan to deal with the wardens, but they'd spent most of the morning talking about the nit and gritty of life at Skyhold while waiting for the Inquisitor.

  "The man also kicked over three feeding troughs, rolled around in pitch for the roof, and attempted to...become amorous with a statue," Cullen said while his fingers batted against his sword.

  "Please tell me it wasn't one of the horse ones," Lana sighed and caught the commander's gaze. He rolled his eyes and shook his head drawing a smile to her lips. Out of the corner of her periphery, Lana caught Leliana watching her with a quirk across her face.

  The door blew open and the Inquisitor finally graced them all with his presence. An instant solemnity swept over the advisers from his presence. He bowed his patrician head, "Forgive me for my tardiness, there was an incident that required my attention."

  "I hope it didn't involve pitch and a horse statue," Hawke said in a booming aside to Lana. Of course the rest of the advisers heard and couldn't stifle the giggle.

  "I'm afraid I do not understand the reference," the Inquisitor said, his piercing grey eyes darting through the three professionals fighting to get back to neutral. He turned on his heel and eyed up the two women crashed together on the bench, "Please, fill in for us what you know of the wardens."

  "Ah," Lana rose to her feet to approach the map while Hawke leaned back and placed her hands behind her head.

  "What?" Hawke shrugged from four sets of eyes glaring at her relaxed posture, "All I know about wardens involves darkspawn, blight, and their thoughts on riding reverse--"

  "All right," Lana interrupted, "please, do not elaborate on...I have this." She approached the great map and stepped beside Leliana. They'd had an honest discussion away from prying eyes where Lana told her everything, nearly everything. Leliana had a great chuckle over the image of Lana's body smothered by the oversized clothing courtesy of the commander, then offered her own as recompense. She'd intended to take the nightingale up on her offer but their catching up took so long after a time, Lana's were returned. She was surprised how white the Skyhold launders spruced up the vest; that was unlikely to last past the day.

  "To understand what's happening, what must have them concerned, I have to tell you about what makes a grey warden. This is..." Lana sighed. She'd been prepping herself for this. After Clarel called for her head she thought it'd be easy to distance herself. Still, the rules of the order clung to her like twisted bedsheets. They may be threadbare and moldy, but they were all she had left in the world. "In order to sense darkspawn, to become a warden, we drink their blood. We take in the taint."

  "Merciful Maker," Josephine gasped, her quill actually pausing. Leliana knew, or at least suspected enough to be unsurprised. Lana's eyes darted up to the only templar in the room. The wardens were always a bit iffy on whether the joining was blood magic or not, though she suspected they kept it secret so they'd never have to answer the question. Cullen looked wan but stoic, his heels dug in. Well, time for the next bombshell then.

  "People think it makes us immune to the blight, but it doesn't. Not really. We're all...dying. Every warden gets twenty or thirty years and then the taint wins," Lana heard more gasps but she plowed through, needing to get this out. "That's when we start to hear voices, the darkspawn calling to us, or the archdemon, or maybe the blight itself. No one's certain."

  "Like your dreams?" Cullen interrupted. His voice was barely a whisper, but it drew everyone's attention.

  Lana nodded, "Yes, but something's happened. The calling it's...it's in everyone's head and it shouldn't be. Regardless of age or when someone took the joining, they're all hearing it. Every warden in thedas thinks they're going to die."

  "Is it affecting you, Lady Amell?" the Inquisitor asked. He dressed himself in the garb of the Inquisition, the grey-tan leathers buttoned with the symbolic eye, all human attire save a pair of softskin dalish gloves. The familiar embroidery lightly touched her hand, as if he wished to comfort her through a difficult time. She almost snorted at the idea.

  "When I'm focused on a task, talking to someone or casting magic I cannot hear it. But in the calm, it slips back into my mind, like whispers or a song on the wind."

  "It's why I'm here!" Hawke shouted while waving her hand for emphasis. "I'm good at distractions."

  "That's not why...well, that is true, you are good at them," Lana admitted. Was that why she kept Hawke around?

  "Why didn't you mention this before?" Leliana pushed, a note of concern marring her porcelain face.

  Lana shrugged, "Warden secrets. I didn't even realize it was affecting every warden until I ran into Hawke here. While I was investigating the red lyrium I received a summons from Clarel. She was calling all of us to Orlais to solve this crisis of the order."

  "Could it kill you?"

  She shuddered at the panic and also resolve in Cullen's tone, as if he could somehow fight the taint out of her. Lana could reassure him, she grew good at lying for comfort, but he deserved the truth. "I'm already dying, have been since the blight began."

  "But this calling, what effect does it have upon you? We've heard of what Corypheus can do to warden mages, the sway he holds," Leliana whipped her head to Hawke who sat up now with a glare in her eye. Anders was her one weakness. Fire, demons, blood mages, poison spitting giant lizards; none of that slowed Hawke down, but if Anders so much as whimpered she fell apart. Maker only knew what Hawke saw in him, but she'd defend him to the death if it came to it.

  "Varric's been chatty, I see," Hawke grumbled stewing into her folded arms.

  Lana shook her head, "I hear nothing more than the archdemon, it is simply louder."

  It should have been enough, but Leliana continued, "Your collapse earlier."

  There was nothing getting past the spymaster. "It is an unrelated matter. I...would prefer to, it's not important."

  "Lady Amell," Josephine swept in with her honeyed words, "if it could endanger the Inquisition..."

  "Then we have a right to know," the Inquisitor finished.

  "Fine," Lana snorted as she spread her hands across the map and dropped her head, "post guards around me at all times if you're worried. I grew up in the circle, it's unlikely I'd even notice bumping elbows with a soldier or two."

  "Commander?" Leliana turned to Cullen.

  "I trust her," he said sincerely. A warmth spread up Lana's cheeks and she shook her head. Foolish given how many unknowns they faced, but sweet. It was doubtful she'd say the same if the positions were reversed. "We have more than enough templars and mages walking around Skyhold to deal with any matters should they arise. Which is still assuming that Corypheus' control could extend that far."

  "It is still a risk, a calculated one perhaps, but..." Josephine said.

  "What if I promise to watch her? I've been doing it for a few months already. What's one more?" Hawke called out.

  "And you have training in disarming magic?" the Inquisitor turned to her.

  Hawke's jaw dropped open and she shook her head, "Uh, I was in Kirkwall - land of blood mages and demons and other bitey things. They kinda made me their Champion for being good at that stuff. I think I can deal with a bit of magic here and there."

  "And it does not fail to pass me by that you two are related," the Inquisitor continued.

  "So, what's that mean?" Hawke interjected. "Think I will falter in my 'line of duty' cause we've got the same great grandmother?" The two fell into bickering over who could best stop Lana in the event of a total catastrophe with Josephine joining in. Even Cullen tossed a comment or two their way all in support of her. Only Leliana remained out of it, her eyes piercin
g through every speaker and weighing them carefully.

  Lana slammed her hand on the table and shouted, "The problem is not me!" As every eye turned to her, she shrunk down and mumbled, "At least not just me. I tried to attend Clarel's little soiree but was intercepted."

  "By three wardens looking for easy pickings," Hawke shouted. If it weren't for her cousin remaining nearby it was doubtful Lana would be alive enough to be a threat to anyone. They'd claimed they were there to escort the Hero of Ferelden, but the more questions Lana asked, the more agitated they became until -- as all things seem to do -- a fight broke out. While picking over their bodies, Lana found the writ for her arrest: alive or dead.

  "I never discovered what Clarel's game was, but her turning on me, sending wardens to eradicate another Warden Commander is unheard of. We've had our differences, and I suspect she's still jealous of missing out of the blight, but this...Either the Warden Commander of the forces in Orlais, Ferelden, and some of the Free Marches has decided to revolt against the order's laws or she's been corrupted."

  "My vote's on the latter," Hawke called.

  "So," the Inquisitor spoke softly while ignoring Hawke's pleas for attention, "what you're saying is the next step should be finding a way to discover Clarel's true plans. Any ideas on that?"

  Lana turned to the quiet elf and sized him up anew. She'd heard the short short version from Hawke - blessed by Andraste (or not) closed the hole in the sky, mountain fell on him, he survived, got given the sword of power, leads the Inquisition - all very heroic things that could warp to darker ideals when held up to the light. But, for being thrust into a seat of power by either divine providence or random chance, he bore it well. Better than her, probably better than Hawke. It was hard to tell with that woman. She seemed allergic to real command and favored slipping off to the pub when anyone was looking for a leader. This one didn't bluster, he watched. He didn't stomp in and demand the floor, he waited patiently to be given it. But, she suspected, if something crossed him he'd thunder from on high to stop it. She wasn't certain if the man frightened or impressed her.