"Then why won't you let me help you? Let me heal you?" she pleaded, her fingers curling up into fists even as he held her wrists.
Furrowing his brow, Cullen cursed under his breath at himself, "It's not you, it's... I'm scared too, scared of growing dependent upon you to wipe away the scars in my mind or my body, just as I did the chantry, only to... Only to have it all get taken away. Losing you nearly, it-I couldn't survive having all of that, everything lost. I never wanted to reject you or your magic, I'm so sorry."
To defeat the demon she had to chip away at the barrier using every heartache inside of her. While Alistair's wore it down, it was the one of Cullen that freed her because it cut so deep to the bone. Intellectually, she forgave him, she understood the horrible stress he was placed under, his reasons for lashing out. But in that animalistic part of her brain, the brash section of her heart she guarded closely, she feared she could never be all of herself with him. That she could never fully trust him to not cut her down, to grow distant because of what she was, to turn from her with every spell she cast. Now, a small chip of that fear knocked away. It'd take time to break it down, time to be her full self with him, but it was a start.
"I love you," Lana whispered, placing her lips against his forehead.
He shivered at her touch before tugging her down for another kiss, softer than before. "I love you too," Cullen answered. He wiped away her tears and she did the same to him.
"I feared that you'd grow angry at me, for the fade, or because I couldn't..." she stammered, terrified that this was all some dream. It didn't seem possible by any stretch.
"Never," he sighed, cupping his lips against hers for another kiss, "I can never be angry at you."
Lana chuckled, "I'll hold you to that one day."
"Losing you, it-it wasn't easy, but I..." he rolled over on his side to reach into his pocket. After yanking free a small book, he left it in her confused hands. "I'd read your journal to give myself a peace of mind, to hear your words."
Ripe with the warmth of his body, Lana rifled through the book's pages, a smile knotting up her stomach. She forgot about leaving it behind. "Did you find anything good in there?" she asked mischievously.
"Proof that I was a fool for ever questioning if you cared," he ran the back of his fingers across her cheek and she turned to plant a kiss against them. They needed to talk but Lana couldn't stop kissing his skin to remind herself this was real. He was real and so was she. "I read some of your book recommendations too."
"Oh? The adventure stories?"
"And the mage tomes as well," he rested his hand upon her lower thigh, squeezing the muscle back to life.
"Really?"
"I suppose the key phrase is tried to read. Most were beyond me, all save one about Nullification of Magic..."
"You understood the Null Theory of Magic and Its Adverse Affects Upon the Veil?" Lana sat up higher, her eyes glowing in excitement.
"Uh, I believe so," Cullen glanced briefly to the side, his lips twisting as if fearing this was all a trick of the Maker's.
"Only a handful of mages can wrap their minds around the idea of a null magic, an anti-magic as some call it. But then, perhaps your templar abilities give you greater insight into..." She laughed at her own idiocy and bit her lip. A dozen questions flitted through her mind to ask him about a magical theory that bore no semblance to their problem at hand. "I had the sudden urge to deluge you in questions about the null phenomenon. And you thought you were the terrible romantic."
His hands brushed back the gnarled hair off her cheek and he pulled her close for a series of quick kisses, a gentle laugh punctuating each one. "Maker, I've-I've waited so long to hear you do that. Spin your theories at me, and...You're here, you're really here, in my arms." Cullen wrapped his caressing fingers around her back, drawing her tight into his chest. How did she spend two years away from him? Away from his bittersweet smile, from those honeyed eyes, from his full embraces, from his gentle stutter. Fourteen years, Lana Amell walked the lands of thedas struggling to stop the blight, to put an end to darkspawn, to save people and protect it. She'd sealed her own wants, her own needs behind glass because it was the only way to keep going. Now what?
With her lips buried against his chest, the heat of his body overwhelmed her trying to drag her to sleep, but she clung tight to the waking world - never wanting to miss another moment of him. Gently, Cullen's fingers brushed back her hair exposing her neck and her birthmark. He didn't race to kiss it, but his thumb tapped against the edge along her collarbone, as if grounding himself.
"Lana, I..." his waning chin raised up as he paused for a moment. "I should, you deserve to know that in your absence the wardens of the south have rebuilt, though their leadership was devastated in the wake of Adamant and is still waning. And Grand Enchanter Fiona created a college for mages near the Waking Sea."
She parted her fingers down his chest, pushing the lesser of his soft shirts against the outline of the muscles. Without any evident armor, she was able to feel him below - his body folding into her touch. "There are many options. I could resume killing darkspawn, I was rather good at it. Or, return to the circles for study and research. Put all my half thought ideas to some use."
Cullen didn't respond, instead he locked his arms tighter around her, his chin resting on the top of her head. Matching him in kind, Lana circled her own hands around his back, snuggling deeper into him. "Or, there's Leliana. As Divine, I'm certain she'd love having me around. I could play the good mage example, an advisor, or council member, or whatever they call it in the chantry hierarchy when you're not really in the chantry."
Releasing her hold, Lana tugged down upon the back of Cullen's head, aiming his focus to her. He resisted at first, redness welling around the sides of his eyes, but eventually he gave in. Lana caressed her fingers across his warm cheek. "For the first time in my life, I don't care what I do..." she pulled herself up higher to place her forehead against his, "as long as it's with you."
A whispered sigh broke from Cullen's lips, raising in a tepid smile. "Are you...?"
"Kinloch, Kirkwall, Skyhold, I've put my duty ahead of my heart, ahead of you for far too long. I-I can't do it anymore. Every time I've given you up because I thought I had no choice, because it was the right thing to do. I'm, I'm not strong enough to walk away again."
Chuckling in relief, he swooped her up for a kiss - at first as gentle as before with lips soft and sweet. But as she pressed her chest against him, the smoldering fire between them lit brighter. Cullen's hands cupped against her waist, tugging the wide collar of both tunics further down to reveal more of her birthmark and her straining cleavage. With her arms wrapped around his neck to anchor herself, Lana teased his tongue with her own, tasting all of him - the earthy undertones of her stoic templar.
Heat rolled across her body, and she blinked rapidly realizing it didn't come from her desire rising up from the dead, but the campfire sputtering into a small inferno. In her excitement, she'd dumped enough mana to take out a small nest of deepstalkers. A grimace knotted up her face as she tried to wave it back down, but Cullen caught her flinching cheek - angry at herself for losing control - and he pulled her eyes to his. "I trust you," he said kissing her and nearly restarting the fire she dampened down.
Lana moved to kiss him harder, when Alistair's voice rose through the night air, "So, uh, totally unrelated to anything happening off in that direction, but I'm suddenly going to talk a walk far away over there. Does the doggy want to come with? You want to come with, trust me."
Rising off the ground from her nap, Honor quirked her head at Cullen, who sighed. "Yes, you best go with to keep him safe."
"Hey, I'm the one who saved you from a back stabbing, remember," Alistair complained as he staggered up to his legs. "And all I got for it was a lovely qunari souvenir." Running his fingers over Honor's head, Alistair began to stagger away from the campfire and what they probably shouldn't have shared so close to him.
Lana knotted
her lips up from the faux pas, then she turned her head to shout, "You better not tear any stitches because I'm not fixing them."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he complained, his voice already drifting away in the darkness.
With a strange but welcome certainty in life warming her bones, Lana turned to Cullen and saw him anew. Her fingers rolled across his hair and she smiled, "You're back to the curls."
"Oh, yes," he reached up to touch his hair and found her hand instead. "With the sea water, killing slavers, and qunari problems, there wasn't time to-to straighten it. Is that a...um, is it a problem?"
"No," she sighed, his knotted hair twisting around her finger, "I've always loved your curly hair. In truth, I was a little sad to see it gone."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
Lana shrugged, "It didn't seem my place. And wavy hair, curly, bald..."
"Grey," he threw out.
By the dim light she could barely tell if there was any white mixed in with his sandy blonde. Maker only knew how much snow moved in through her ebony. "It doesn't matter, Cullen." Her fingers splayed out across his whiskered cheek, the same one she'd watch rise in discerning smiles and even, on occasion, full laughs. Those deep, golden eyes that'd wash over her in concern and hunger. His tender lips that'd ignite her body and soothe her soul. "You'll always be the handsomest man to me." Perhaps it was a little of the Jowan's spirit remaining in her mind, but Lana tenderly touched the scar splitting apart her face and felt a pang of regret at her own marring.
Cullen caught her hand and pulled it away so he could look at her fully. Their palms pressed together, fingertip to fingertip, as he gazed over her, "Lana, I-I've tried to, to think of a way to describe your...um. There's no woman in all of thedas like you. I love you, all of you."
"I love you too, Cullen Rutherford." His full name drew a great smile to his lips, so great she blinked in surprise, "What?"
"Your r's, the way you...Maker's breath, but I love hearing your voice again." Enveloping her into his embrace, he peppered the top of her head in kisses while Lana struggled to remain awake. Unable to sneak anything past him, Cullen's warm fingers pushed back her hair as he whispered, "You're probably exhausted. Beyond. You, if you want-need to sleep I, don't let me stop you."
Lana threaded her arms around his back and gripped her fingers against those straining biceps - the ones that could cut down a qunari warrior now holding her secure. She didn't realize she was crying until she spoke, tears threaded in her words, "No, I...I am tired but, the thought of. I'm-I'm...scared, terrified about returning to the Fade again and...and not coming back."
Agony washed over his face as he slumped down to press his forehead to hers. "Oh, Lana. I'm so..."
"Be here, with me. Ground me. Keep me...here. I'm sure I'll pass out eventually, but I-I don't want to wake alone. Okay?"
Cullen, the awkward templar baptized by trauma into a vengeful protector, rescued from his own hubris and transformed into the compassionate man before her, rolled his thumbs against her tears. He whispered with certainty, "You won't have to, ever again."
Maker, whether you're real or not, thank You for this moment.For every bad day in her life, at least there was this. Lana's head snuggled onto his shoulder, the warmth of his body and the cushion of his chest doing most of the work to drag her back to sleep. A chuckle rumbled in her throat as she drifted back to the other time he held her until she slept.
"What is it?" Cullen asked.
"You made it. You got to the Anderfels," she smiled, dredging up their conversation as she struggled to heal from Nathaniel's wound. "Did you try the dumpling I mentioned?"
"I did," he said. "It was spicier than I expected."
"Ferelden boy," Lana snickered, savoring every inch of this man from Ferelden wrapped around her.
Cullen laughed as well, his warm breath caressing her forehead, his lips almost dancing across her skin as he spoke, "And, I also stopped in Rivain."
"Really?" now she struggled to rise up, a final shot of adrenaline waking her up. "What was it like? Did you see the fabled towers of Kont-arr?"
"No, I'm afraid it was only a stop at a port before we resumed sail on the pirate ship."
"Pirate ship?"
Massaging up and down her exhausted arms, Cullen worked his own magic to comfort her. "Yes. A friend of the king by the name of..."
"Isabela," Lana answered, then her eyes widened as she glanced around the area. "She didn't uh, mention anything about her past and any um, with, uh, people who might be wardens?"
"No..." those golden eyes narrowed down, "though I am curious now."
"That uh," she snickered at memories of her less than discretionary youth, "that will take some time, but I promise I'll tell it in full." She thought back to who shared in the moment and amended, "Mostly in full."
"Very well," he didn't sound fully convinced, but he let it go. "Perhaps we could visit Rivain again, together."
That sounded perfect, maybe he'd even find something of interest in her own scholarly quests - or he could play with Honor while Lana buried herself in books. It would be wonderful to walk the streets of...her legs whined in a pain deep to the bone, not the kind she feared would heal in a day or two. "Someday," Lana smiled, promising it to herself, "we will go. Will be together."
"As long as we can," he answered.
The whippoorwill of a bird dashing through the grasses drew Lana's attention up into the... Maker, the night's sky. She forgot how beautiful it looked, blues and blacks comforting the world in an evensong blanket glittering with Andraste's tears. "The stars," she gulped, her fingers digging into Cullen to remind herself this was real. "I forgot what they looked like."
A shuddering breath broke from Cullen's throat, but he powered through it, kissing the top of Lana's head as he pointed above them. "That's Draconis."
She smiled, "You're right. And over there's Fenrir... Cullen," Lana raised her head with the last of her energy - she knew sleep would take her soon, but she had to get this out. He caught her waning jaw and lifted it so their eyes would meet. Smiling wide, she whispered, "You stayed safe."
Blinking through his own tears of joy, he beamed at her, "So did you."
Chapter Thirty-Two
Bloom
9:44 Orlais-Nevarra border
"Welp, that looks like the dreaded crossroads," Alistair called from his perch on a borrowed horse. He directed the bay further across the road to glare down at the jointing of two different highways. "How many undead do you think are buried under there?"
Lana urged their horse to follow the errant king, her thighs digging into the shared saddle. She slid from the moisture hanging in the wintry air, but Cullen reached out from behind her to offer a steadying hand. "I suppose this is where we part ways," Lana said to Alistair.
Her voice snapped him out of his attempt to glare into the ground and hunt for any skeletons waiting to pop out. He'd healed rather quickly from the poison, only a day down - she was proving less resilient. "Guess so," Alistair tugged on his reins until his horse butted up against Lana's. "I know you're going underground and all, but you'll be sending me letters, right? I'll go mad if I don't learn who the Countess wound up marrying."
"You could always read the book yourself," Cullen interrupted. Travel was slow, even with the horses, and somehow Lana found herself retelling nearly the entire plot of an old epic tale to Alistair to pass the time. She had no idea Cullen even listened until he'd fill in the occasional missed detail for Alistair.
Scrunching his royal nose up, he turned to Cullen, "You're going to miss me, templar. I just know it."
"And the sky could split in half and all the demons of the fade would fall from it," Cullen answered, his words light.
"Or an archdemon would crawl out of the depths of the deeproads and plunge all of us into a blight," Lana spoke up.
Alistair scratched the back of his head, "Or, or, someone could destroy the veil and plunge all of us into a magic infested world of...eh, I've got no
thing. Lanny, get better, eat all the tiny cakes in Orlais, spend a month in their bath houses, and I'm serious about the Countess. She'd better not have wound up with that brutish Duke or so help me."
He reached across to pick up her hand, gently shaking it. The warmth of his skin washed over hers that were always trapped in cold now. Gloves seemed to be an inevitability in her future. Dropping her hand, Alistair turned to Cullen, "Can't say it's been fun, but...it worked out. For your sake you better treat her right, or--"
"Or you'll come after me and finish what you started?" Cullen asked. Lana wished she could spin around to see his face because his tone gave nothing away.
Alistair snorted, "Me? I was warning you. You're both off to visit with Her Hatness. She gets even a whiff of you not being, you know, up to snuff... Maker, I don't want to imagine what she'll dream up." Rolling his head, he turned his horse and began down the road towards Ferelden. "So long," he called, waving his hand while trotting away.
"For now!" Lana shouted out, struggling to rise up in the stirrups so he'd hear. As she slumped back, Cullen's hands enveloped around her stomach and she leaned against his steadying chest.
"How are you feeling? If it's too much we could rest," he said, his fingers sliding down her thighs to dig blood back into them.
Lana shook her head against his chest, almost lulled into agreeing by the warm musk radiating off him. "We have a long way yet to go. And I'm, I'm good."
His hands broke from the massage to wrap around her shoulders in a one sided hug. "Lana, you do not need to push yourself. Val Royeaux will remain even if we take another day or two to arrive."
"I know," she gripped the rather patient horse's reins in one hand to hold onto his crossed arms with the other. "Now that Alistair's gone, we could always, uh, enjoy our alone time."
"You can barely stand," Cullen started in surprise, as if she didn't regularly feel him erect, pushing against her as they slept, or when he pulled her into his lap.
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