My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  Cullen sighed, "I know," he fluffed up his dog's slick coat, which Honor in turn answered the attempt by licking his hand, "but I cannot help it, worrying may be what I am best at."

  Her doe eyes dropped wider into compassion as she lightly trailed her finger down his elbow, knotting it against the sheep's wool that bunched up at the joint in his coat. Mia coughed, her eyes darting down the street. "Ah, I did forget something. Think you can help?" she asked, shooting a look at Cullen.

  "I believe so," he answered, trailing with her towards what looked like a small stand currently boarded up against the press of winter. As they turned the corner, Mia paused and folded her arms. "I...what do you need help with?"

  "Maker's breath," she rolled her eyes and shook her head at the clear ruse she pulled to get him away for a private talk. Cullen bounced back and forth on his toes, feeling even more foolish for falling for its obviousness. "Now, you're going to write, right?"

  "Yes," he said, bobbing his head.

  "Good, and to all of us, even Del because she's been in a mood as of late after the baby and she loves having letters from the 'Commander of the Inquisition' to flash around."

  "Wonderful, that's probably why it seems all of thedas knows I'm here," he grumbled, but intending to follow his sister's orders. He feared the consequences of disobeying.

  "I know you won't be finished up by Satinalia, but you should get back home in time for Wintersend. Paint some eggs for your nephew and nieces."

  "You mean try to not crush the fragile egg shell," Cullen sighed, aware of how well his attempts went when he was a child.

  Mia chuckled, "That's half the fun, and why we've got so damn many of the backups around." She patted once along his shoulder in a friendly manner, then her eyes winnowed down to a death stare, "And, for the love of the Maker, Cullen, do not screw up what you have with her."

  "I..."

  "It ain't often the Maker sees fit to make someone that...shit, she's the damn Hero of Ferelden and for some reason seems to be smitten with you. I don't know what trick you pulled to manage it, but..."

  "By the void, Mia. I know that, okay," he spat, well aware of the lifetime opportunity afforded him.

  She blinked at his outburst, and then sighed out of her nose, "If you will let me finish, I was going to say that you make a lifelong habit of diminishing yourself but that girl, sorry, woman, she's your fit. Maybe not perfect, but what is? So don't screw it up by second guessing things, okay? You deserve happiness even if you think you don't."

  With his eyes on their boots covered in snow, Cullen laughed at her accurate words, "I will do my very best to remember that."

  "Good," she slugged him once in the shoulder, then turned back, "Now give me one last hug before I set out. I can't wait to get out of this blighted country and return to a proper one. If it weren't for your mabari I'd fear I'd gone deaf from the lack of barking here. It's not natural."

  Laughing at her always right assessments, Cullen obliged his sister with their family hug. The last time they'd embraced in such a manner he was all of thirteen and about to leap onto a broken down nag to head towards Denerim for templar training. Despite it being twenty some years later, and his mind having hardened against all manner of pain and horror thedas could conjure, he felt like the frightened child saying goodbye to his overbearing and loving sister.

  "The world's taken enough from you," Mia whispered to him, "time you took some back." Slugging him once more on the shoulder, she walked crisply to the wagon, patted Honor, gave Lana a gentle hug and then leapt onto the seat. As the caravan rattled away, the wheels and footprints disturbing the grey sludge of the street's snow, Cullen wrapped an arm around Lana and pulled her tight. She melted against him, wrapping herself tighter even if she didn't need the support. The first time he walked away from his family he had nothing but the fire in his soul. Now, a new fire stirred in his heart lit by the hope of the woman wrapped in his arms.

  Chapter Eleven

  Birthday

  Watching Lana dig into her pockets, Cullen felt the curious stares of the watch guards beside the internal chantry door. Instead of templars it was some of Orlais' soldiers generously donated by Celene to the chantry during its time of need. Of course it raised the question of who they truly answered to, but it wasn't as if anything of great importance would happen at the door out of the Grand Cathedral.

  "Maker's balls," Lana cursed, her hands coming up empty. The swearing drew more glares from Mothers but once they saw who let it slip a few pursed their lips and their admonishments died.Strange.

  "What is it?" Cullen asked, already sweating under the heavy coat and wishing the chantry braziers came with a setting lower than the face of the sun.

  "I lost one of my gloves," she sighed, waving the solitary left one in her fingers.

  "I can go and find it..." Cullen offered, prepared to head back up the stairs.

  But Lana waved her hand, "No, I have this. I suspect I know where it fell out. Honor," she called to the dog waiting patiently at their side. "We've got a glove to find." Mage and mabari limped back towards the living quarters of the chantry, leaving Cullen alone at the doorstop with nothing to show for it.

  He nodded once at the guards who gave him a sympathetic wince before turning back to staring into the chantry proper. After a few minutes of absently inspecting the air, Cullen began to wonder if he shouldn't chase after Lana when the guards snapped to attention. Lifting his eyes away from the nails he tried to pick clean, Cullen spotted a great entourage flowing behind the Divine. Guards circled around it like vultures would above a corpse, the grit in their jaws far more impressive than the two left by the door. He began to slide back to give the Divine passage out to Val Royeaux. She was wrapped up in a conversation with three different people, all of them flapping their sleeves to make exuberant points, which she deftly batted away. Seeming to be consumed by politics, Cullen assumed she wouldn't spot him.

  "Ah, Commander."

  He was known to be wrong.

  Gently parting her flock as if they were sheets dangling upon a line, Leliana slid towards the man trying to meld into the wall. "What brings you down here today? Without your dog no less."

  "Honor's off with Lana searching for a lost glove. We were going to take a stroll through the markets to try and savor the snow free day."

  A smile turned up Divine Victoria's face, "It is a true gift of the Maker to grace us with such a beautiful morning in the midst of a trying winter."

  Murmurs of agreement broke from her entourage, a few adding their own grateful prayers to the Maker or Andraste. Leliana barely waited for them to finish before she leaned closer to Cullen. "Is Lanny up to it?"

  "She swears she is, but that's why I'm bringing Honor with. In the event it wears on her, we can find a sled and tow her back."

  A half a smile curled up Leliana's cheek; she clearly found the idea of Lana being pulled by a one dog open sleigh amusing. Wiping it back down to her magnanimous Divine facade, she bowed her head. "It sounds a joyous time for all."

  "I suppose so," Cullen blinked, trying to keep abreast of all the aloof greetings. He'd just managed to reach the point of seeing Leliana hiding under the office while in the apartments. Returning to the remote Divine was unnerving.

  He was about to bow his goodbyes to the Divine, when Leliana darted forward and whispered, "I assume you're planning this as a way to celebrate Lanny's birthday."

  What?!

  "Ah...I, um, yes?" limped out of Cullen's mouth.

  It was her birthday? How didn't he know that? That should be something he knew. Right? Most certainly. Cullen's brain panicked, but years at the helm of an army taught him to keep his face neutral.

  Leliana only offered a quick once over at his response before she slipped back, "Enjoy your day, Commander."

  "And, uh, yours..." he called out to the retreating Divine and her conclave of very important chantry clerics.

  Once they slipped around a corner, he slapped his forehe
ad in consternation. Maker's breath, her birthday? What was he going to do? She hadn't said a word about it, merely suggested this morning they head out because the snows finally broke. Had she been waiting expectantly the whole morning for him to wish her a happy birthday? Sweet Andraste, what was he going to do?

  "Found it!" Lana's voice echoed over the solemn faces of both the stone statues as well as the chantry clergy. Waving her claimed glove high in her hand, she limped towards Cullen with what looked only like proud glee on her face. He tried to find a hint of any sorrow at his forgetting, but there seemed to be none there. Did she expect him to forget or was there hope of a greater surprise later?

  She extended her arm to him and smiled up, "Shall we?"

  "Of course, yes," Cullen bobbed his head at her and took her arm in his. Snuggling in tighter than she needed to, Lana moved with his body towards the front door while Honor barreled to the front. Cullen fought to keep a tremor out of his legs as his mind panicked, whispering that he failed at this before he even began. Why must relationships be as difficult as leaping blindfolded across a swamp that's also set on fire? Perhaps it was his imagination, but he could have sworn the two stone faced guards snickered at his predicament as they walked past.

  He was screwed.

  In what came as no surprise, the market place overflowed with people rushing to fill orders and their pantries thanks to the snows breaking for a quick reprieve. Weather mages weren't known to be exact, but nearly all of them predicted another large storm looming on the horizon and no one wanted to be caught unawares. Because of that, Cullen was in a particularly fouler mood than usual, his anger increasing with each pointed shoe that tread over his foot and gilded elbow digging into his side.

  Lana sighed at the press of bodies, her voice barely audible over the all encompassing din of hundreds of Orlesians screaming for what they wanted. Screaming was accurate. No one in Orlais seemed capable of any patience. Everyone crowded around a stand, their manicured fingers heaving royals or gold at the clerk and shouting at the top of their lungs for what they wanted. More than a few stands seemed to have been swallowed up by the horde, most likely to never be seen again.

  The only plus to the madness was that in order to avoid being accidentally struck, Lana had to keep close to him, nearly her entire arm wrapped around his back. On occasion her hip brushed past his thigh and Cullen felt a small flush at the memory of his hands digging across her naked flesh as he... No, not the time, and certainly not the place.

  That wasn't what he needed to be focusing on anyway. Somehow he needed to come up with a present while the birthday girl stood right beside him. Maker, finishing off Corypheus seemed an easier task. For her part, Lana seemed happy and still gave no impression she was in anyway miffed at his bungle. On occasion, she'd pause and point at something that caught her eye, which gave Cullen hope it'd be a potential option, only to have her snicker at how ostentatious, gaudy, or confusing it was.

  "Maker's breath, I haven't been surrounded by this many people since...come to think of it, I'm not certain," she said, sliding the pair of them away from a poor shopkeep succumbing to the crushing wave of customers.

  "You never had to attend any parades in your honor?" Cullen asked.

  "No, I always managed to find a good excuse to get out of it. 'I killed an archdemon and can do what I want' worked for years."

  He snorted at that as they came to rest beside a small jewelry stand. Nothing ornate, the wares seemed to be made up of small baubles and simple wire knotted together to make bracelets. "Aren't you lucky. I wound up walking in a good half dozen I believe. There were a few after the Qunari invasion was repelled to show the chantry's strength, or something of that nature, and even more after Corypheus fell."

  "I bet you didn't have to literally walk in the last ones," Lana smiled, her fingers prodding over a pinkie sized blue gem shaped like a tear. He watched her curious to see if that was something special to catch her eye so.

  "How do you know that?"

  "You were the big heroes, those always get horses to ride on. Keeps you from having to walk through shit."

  "I thought you avoided all the parades," he smiled, softly cupping his hand over the small of her back.

  Lana sighed, "Very well, there was one and I was too young to know to weasel my way out of that."

  "Right after the archdemon died," Cullen spoke more to himself, but Lana glanced over her shoulder at him.

  "Yes, I...it was strange to be up there, be lauded after a near on year of ducking attention and worrying about assassins at any moment. I...didn't enjoy it." He remembered well. It was what he thought would be the last time he'd ever see her after she rescued him from the tower. A dull pain rolled up Cullen's stomach and suddenly he needed to touch her. Sliding closer, he drew his fingers over her cheek reminding himself she was here with him. Lana smiled in kind, her fingers wrapped around his.

  After breaking away, Lana snagged the shopkeep's attention who asked her a few questions in Orlesian. Lana responded in kind and smiled brightly before, to Cullen's consternation, she placed a few silvers in the man's hand and deposited the small bauble into her deep pockets. So much for that idea.

  Trying to hide his obvious regret, Cullen wrapped his hand around her arm and asked as nonchalantly as possible, "What is that gem for?"

  "Hm...? Oh, Leliana and I, we have a sort of contest between us. It's a bit silly, but whenever we're in a market place we try and find each other something small but memorable that also follows along the color spectrum. She last got me these purple gloves," Lana waved her fingers warm inside those hard fought gloves, "so I spotted that indigo bead and thought it perfect."

  "Ah, it's for...I understand, I think," he shook his head, accepting that Lana was going to be no help in picking out her own present.

  Holding her closer, the pair returned to the river of bodies running the length of the first half of the market. The proper bazaar was closed up for winter and it offered true ceilings with stands embedded into the stone passed down in families for centuries. This was more a case of people nailing up a few boxes for a stand, tossing all they could grab out of their houses across them and marking everything's price up before the next round of storms. It wasn't fancy but it got the job done.

  "This is rather lively," Lana giggled, shuffling to keep up with the press.

  "It's not too much, is it? We could stop," Cullen offered, wishing she'd take the out. He was growing tired of it five minutes in.

  "No, no," Lana laughed, "I'm good. Where's Honor?"

  "Slobbering at the back of my knee," Cullen assured her. While the mabari at first afforded them a bit more breathing room, as the sun rose along with the temperature more and more Orlesians flocked outside. Standing-room-only barely applied, they were approaching wall-climbing-room-only soon. The buzzing burned at the back of his head, and he'd give anything to slip out of the crowd for a few quiet moments with Lana, but she seemed to be enjoying herself and he still had to solve the birthday dilemma.

  "Ooh," Lana pointed at something in the distance and broke off from the thick crowds to cluster near a smaller press of bodies. Dangling off what looked like a dismantled gibbet were woven rugs. A sign proclaimed them "100% Rivaini" which meant they were probably stitched together in Jader.

  As people jostled them closer together, Lana laughed, "You know, the first time I ever entered a market place was rather hilarious."

  "Oh?" he struggled to keep up with her conversation and satiate the buzzing in his head.

  "Mm hmm," she slid her arm around his back and tried to raise up higher so he'd hear. "There were so many options I had no idea what I was supposed to choose. In the tower, we were given what we needed. So, I stood there like an idiot for a good five minutes not saying a thing and waiting for someone to hand over the necessary supplies. Poor shopkeep grinned at me, I'd smile back and resume waiting. He had to think I was mute or suffered serious brain trauma."

  "What happened?"

&nb
sp; "One of my companions stepped in, wondered what was taking so long and then rather patiently explained how it all worked," her smiled faltered for a moment and Cullen realized he didn't need to ask who that companion was. "The worst was money though. I didn't entirely get the decimalization aspect. A coin's a coin and all. I tried to pay for something that cost 12 silver with a hundred and twenty coppers."

  "Maker's breath, how did you even carry around a hundred and twenty coppers?"

  Lana shrugged, "I never noticed the weight of coins much what with all the other gear loaded on my back. The tower does a poor job of preparing people for the real world." Her words trailed off as she ran her palm over her middle finger and the ring bulging below the glove. "I wonder sometimes how the mages managed during the rebellions. We rarely cooked for ourselves, never faced cold or wolves, they'd have had little shelter while on the run and never learned how to create their own. If it weren't for Redcliffe taking them in..."

  He'd never thought about it, how debilitating life in the tower was. Most mages arrived around age thirteen and up, but some like Lana could spend nearly their entire childhood growing up in one. Never running in the rain, or buying a melon to cut up right there on the grassy knoll before heading home. They'd always seemed so capable and certain in their actions, almost to a smug degree, because they had to be. If not, then people began to question if that mage could survive a demon's temptations, if they could be trusted. It used to gnaw on his nerves the way some mages would walk into a room as if it was grateful to have their addition, but how many of the cocksure ones fell to nothing more than not knowing how to cook or recognize potable water?

  Fingers dug up his arm, drawing him out of his thoughts. He smiled at Lana trying to assure her he was all right, but something of his dark thoughts must have shown through. "Perhaps we should try and disentangle ourselves from the twitching mass of consumers for a bit. I wouldn't be against finding something to eat," she smiled.

  "Your appetite could put a dragon to shame," he sighed, aware of the breakfast they had not even two hours ago. Then he grimaced, not meaning any offense by it. He was happy to see it as she tried to overcome not only her forced fasting but the pull of the taint as well.