My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  "What pool?" Cullen tried to barge in as the rest of the soldiers fell to whispers.

  Addley shouldered past the group forming an envious wall to keep their old commander out as they debated the winner's identity of their betting game against him. "Commander, I see Orlais hasn't fully ruined you," she smiled, tipping her head.

  He felt foolish for feeling foolish. They'd never done more than exchange a few sentences here and there outside of work, played a handful of friendly chess games. But Cullen swallowed at Addley's not quite pained look skipping past his shoulder to where Lana turned a corner. Digging into his neck, he shrugged, "Given the change, perhaps it's best if you call me Cullen now. That goes for all of you."

  The chittering about this pool and who won it paused as every eye darted over their once Commander, then back to the new one. Addley tugged at the end of her braid and lifted on her toes, "That will require some adjusting, I fear."

  "Don't I know how that goes," he chuckled and the laugh darted through each of the soldiers sliding to ease at their old commander folding back in with them.

  Addley smiled over her soldiers, and then slipped on the commanding presence she rarely wore outside of work, "People, we are thirsty and need to find ourselves a dark, dank, hole in the wall to invade for the next few hours. I'm talking the kind of place that'd give your mother a black eye for walking into it. You have your orders." Clapping and some half hearted hurrahs broke from the group followed by suggestions for the filthiest pubs and taverns they knew in Val Royeaux. Moving like a phalanx about to take the field, the soldiers fanned out into the streets taking their Commander's orders as seriously as any given out during war.

  Smiling at them, Addley paused beside Cullen. "You're doing great with them," he praised her.

  "I..." her crisp eyes darted up to his face before she turned back to watch them. It had to be his imagination that a flush broke over her cheeks. He put her in charge of the insurmountable often, from Kirkwall to the Inquisition itself. Picking up the pieces after the Inquisition changed hands to the Divine seemed a natural fit for her.

  "Ser," Addley stuck out her hand and Cullen took it. "I'm glad that you've found happiness."

  "Ah," any guilt in his system at abandoning them vanished, "thank you...Commander." That drew a bright smile to Addley's cheeks.

  Dropping his hand, she turned back to her soldiers. "Shall we? I should warn you, Darby's discovered Diamond Back."

  "Delightful," Cullen murmured, happily worming back in with the old group - at least for a few hours. When the tales were spun, the drink topped off, the no doubt naked Darby fished out of a well, he had Lana to return to and a future bright enough to seem unimaginable.

  Shouting with enough fury half of Val Royeaux had to hear, Darby turned to Binla, "Are we not supposed to talk about the ol' Commander's little girlfriend?"

  "Ancestor's right thumb, Darby," she groaned, shoving into his shoulder.

  "What? She's pretty. Shorter than I'd have expected. I'd think the ol' Commander woulda gone for someone big 'n' strapping like the Seeker. Looked kinda familiar too."

  "Do you ever shut up?"

  * * *

  She was happy to let him spend time with his soldiers. Maker knew there were moments at night Lana wished she could speak with her wardens again. To laugh at the same old inside jokes, fall into the familiar patterns, and... Lana shook her head, trying to wipe away the sting clinging to her brain. Every memory of her wardens was clouded by what happened to Nathaniel, to all of them at Adamant and beyond. There was nothing Lana could do that would make up for how she failed them, how she failed herself.

  Honor barked and dropped a soggy ball at Lana's feet. The mabari pulled her from her maudlin memories back into the present where a dog waited for someone to throw the 'borrowed' yarn ball already. Sighing at the slobber soaked into the brown yarn, Lana picked it up and tossed the ball across the street. It skittered against an awning, bounding off a few tables in the distance where Orlesians sneered at the sight. When a good 70 pound mabari pummeled past their legs, knocking over empty chairs in pursuit of the ball, they all leapt away. Perhaps she should have felt bad to disrupt their lunch but the Ferelden part of her secretly laughed whenever Honor barreled through instead of around.

  Maker, maybe she was spending too much time with Cullen.

  "Excuse me, my Lady..."

  Lana turned away from Honor, who was now trying to lap her ball out of the fountain, to find Detan standing behind her seat on the bench. The elf looked frazzled, her normally pinned and coifed hair splintered into tendrils. "Funny running into you here," Lana began, but the elf didn't focus on her. Detan's eyes kept dancing through all the denizens of the plaza as if hunting for someone specific.

  "Do you, if you are of a mind to share, happen to know the location of the Commander?" Detan pivoted back and forth on her shoes, the end of her sentence almost fading away. It was as if she didn't even want to ask the question.

  "I'm afraid not precisely, no," Lana admitted. "He met up with some of the soldiers from the Inquisition and they are more than likely heels up at one of the seedier pubs in Val Royeaux. As seedy as one gets here, anyway."

  "He is not alone, I..." Detan blinked rapidly and swallowed. Bounding with all the happy force of a freed mabari, Honor skidded across the cobblestones to plop her ball in Lana's lap. "You have the dog with you," Detan narrated as Lana plucked the ball up with her bare fingers.

  "Yes," Lana hurled it away from the people and down an alley while Honor renewed her chase, "he seemed to think I required an escort." She smiled at the mabari's exuberance before turning to Detan, "Is there something you need?"

  "I...am, um," she bounced her hands that clung to piles of parchment but no clipboard, "have a few letters and other correspondence for the Commander to read. He will meet up with you later, then?"

  "Most likely," Lana said.

  "Do you know when?"

  Lana shook her head slowly, "If these are a matter of grave importance, you could leave the documents with me. I'll get them to him." She reached out for the papers, when Detan reared back.

  "No, they are...it is not vital they be attended to at the moment. I merely...spotted you and thought the Commander would be nearby. As that is not the case I shall return them to the office for later."

  "Are you certain?" Lana asked, "If you're worried it'll get you into trouble I can cover for you. It's my fault he's wandered off, sort of."

  "Cover for..." Detan's lips parted and she stared slack jawed at Lana as if she'd never seen the woman before. The moment passed instantly and she shook her head, "No, no, I require no covering. It is not a matter to concern yourself with. I...thank you for your time, my Lady." She bowed her head deep with that.

  Lana began to rise from her seat so she could turn and ask if something was wrong, when a clattering and a scream echoed from the alley. Running without a care in the world came Honor around the corner. As she skidded to a stop beside Lana, she plopped what was clearly not a yarn ball in her lap. "Honor..." Lana began, lifting the dog's gift up to her face. "Return this hat to whomever you stole it from." Barking as if it was all part of the game, Honor's teeth bit into the brim and she scampered away, her tail proudly wagging.

  After laughing at the dog's antics, Lana turned to resume her conversation with Detan, but the elf vanished. Mentally, Lana made a note to mention her erratic behavior to Cullen. He spent more time with her, perhaps he knew if she was having family or personal issues.

  "You stupid dog!" cried out in Orlesian, a man in a soggy hat shaking his fist and trying to chase after the mabari returning to her mistress.

  As Honor skidded to a stop before her, Lana sighed. "I suppose it's time we moved on. Silly girl."

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ice

  After walking some of the market while watching Honor draw many into her charming web, Lana spent the rest of the afternoon waiting at the bakery. Her baker friend was busy for most of the day, but
he'd take a few moments here and there to thrust some new treat upon both mage and mabari with a wink and an insistence they tell him if it passed. Of course Honor approved of anything short of a five day old dead rat - and even that was optional - while Lana's palate was about as sophisticated as a finger painting. She couldn't tell the difference between a pork medallion covered in truffle scrapings verses pork butt smothered in mushroom gravy. It was all good as far as her never ending appetite was concerned.

  Having nearly eaten the poor baker out of all of the remnants of his stall, the day was lengthening towards the fall of the sun when Cullen stumbled around the corner. Smiling up at him, Lana set aside the dog eared book Honor pilfered for her, "Finished already?"

  Cullen tipped his head, his cheeks rosier than when she left him. Sliding in beside her, he moved to plop a hand onto the table for leverage but missed. Lana grabbed onto him before his miscalculation caused his chin to smack into the wrought iron. Laughing while hoisting him up, Lana said, "I'm guessing there were more than a few pints consumed."

  "You could..." he shook his head, trying to clear the no doubt happy blue birds circling it, "something like that. Turns out there's an Orlesian whiskey that's far too smooth for the kick you get about ten minutes later."

  "Oh dear." Lana'd never seen Cullen drink much. There was the bit here and there with dinner and after, of course, but he wasn't the type to snatch up a bottle and race to see who could finish it first. The poor man seemed ill prepared for the effects of whatever did him in, though the happy smile plastered upon his cheeks lifted her spirits without requiring any alcohol.

  "It's...what was it called?" Cullen staggered back up, his hand absently reaching for a sword hilt that hadn't been upon his hip in over three months. "Petite Morte?"

  "I, uh," Lana caught the curious glances turning towards the inebriated man who bellowed those words through the crowd, "I rather doubt that was it."

  "Why?" his questioning face was so achingly naive, she didn't have the heart to explain.

  "Just a thought," Lana began to reach for her cane, when she shook her head. "I'm not certain I can help guide you and myself back to the Cathedral."

  "It's not an issue," Cullen tried to dismiss her concerns away and nearly stumbled backwards into a stationary chair. "I have it perfectly over control."

  Stifling a laugh as the fearsome Commander turned upon the threatening chair and waved his brave fist at it, Lana slid forward and grabbed his slack one still struggling to find that missing hilt. "Regardless, allow me to help." Barely threading apart the veil, Lana slipped a small sobriety spell into his veins. Not enough to dampen the buzz he worked valiantly to achieve, but it cleared away most of the motor function issues.

  Gasping as if he broke the ice diving into a freezing river, Cullen twisted his head while clarity rose in his mind. With a better control of his limbs, he stood up high and gazed about at the Orlesians curious into the drunk man's going ons. "By the void," he cursed.

  "Sorry," Lana said, lifting her cane up and rising to her feet, "but I doubt I could literally drag you home and I feared you were about to reach that stage."

  "No, no," Cullen worried the palms of his hands against his eyes, scrubbing them clean to face the real world, "it was appreciated. I'm...I cannot believe I let myself reach such a state of--"

  Lana ran her fingers over his arm and gripped tight, "You were having fun, with your people. It's allowed."

  "Not as the Commander...which I'm no longer," he smiled. "That will--"

  "Take some adjusting, I know," Lana patted his cheek, fluffing up the hairs that could technically be called a beard. "Aside from seeing who would catch the nug king first, how was your visit?"

  Cullen took some of her weight in their joined arms, so Lana only had to rely partially upon her cane. Trotting beside them was Honor, for once without her nose buried in the ground. Val Royeaux drifted off towards its dinner hour, the streets clearing of horses and most of the personable people. Soon it'd be the riffraff, trolling the night for their own fun in whatever form that took. But for now between night and day, it was peaceful, calm. A perfect ending to a long day.

  While Lana guided them towards the Cathedral, Cullen regaled her with the stories from people she'd never met about lives she'd missed out on. She smiled and gasped or laughed when appropriate but had little to add. Regardless, it was nice to see him happy, relaxed. Cullen did his best to pretend when nothing was bothering him, no doubt out of fear that in her weakened state she couldn't handle it, but his avoiding the problem only made her grow more anxious. He'd been worrying holes in priceless rugs with pacing and pitting stone floors without noticing lately. In her heart, Lana wondered if he wasn't regretting his choice to turn over the keys as it were. But after having spoken with this Addley who took his place and the rest of their crew, he seemed more at ease than she'd seen in a long time, perhaps ever.

  "Commander Addley and you seem to get on well," Lana said, realizing a silence fell after Cullen finished another of his stories.

  "Ah, uh, you did? I mean, I suppose so, we've known each other since...she served in Kirkwall."

  "And followed you to the Inquisition?" Lana asked. They'd limped their way away from the main thoroughfare down one of the windier streets, no doubt first laid by cattle driven to market. Now it was cobbled though they were chipping and pitted, with houses looming above them high enough to shadow all who walked it.

  "Yes, I guess, we...she, I mean was loyal. Very loyal," a blush rose up Cullen's cheeks, his eyes darting around the sagging roofs festooned with laundry to dry in the northern winds.

  Lana paused in her steps and turned to face him. Slowing his own steps, Cullen didn't glance down at her, but he did gulp a bit more. "Of course she is, she's yours."

  "She...what? My what?"

  "They all are, your people," Lana smiled, cupping his cheek. Cullen's wandering eyes snapped down to hers and a grateful laugh echoed in his throat. Sliding up on her toes, Lana whispered, "It's not hard to see why people would be fiercely loyal to you." Holding to his cheek for balance, she pressed her lips to his, tasting the remnants of this petite mort or whatever it was actually called. Sweeter than mead, Lana didn't taste the burn until she slid back from Cullen.

  Butting his forehead into hers, he sighed, "You're the only one I want to be fiercely loyal to me now..." A panic lifted his eyebrows and he rose away, "That, uh, sounded better in my head."

  Unable to stop her chuckle, Lana patted him on the hand, "Yes it did, but it's still sweet. What is it, Honor?"

  Their dog paused in walking to plop on the ground. Her teeth gnawed up and down her foot not in the usual scratching way but as if something was bothering her. A whimper rolled through her nervous biting, and Cullen slipped free of Lana's hand to inspect it. "What's the matter girl? Step on something?"

  In a moment's breath, Cullen dropped to a knee to help his dog when an arrow flitted through the air. It shattered apart against the cobblestones. If he'd been standing it would have embedded into his skull.

  "What the...?" was as far as Cullen got, rising up to a sure footed position.

  Instinctively, Lana yanked apart the veil and a barrier rose to cover all three of them. It locked in place just as another assassin's arrow flew through the shadowed air. Lana jerked her head back as she stared down the shaft that'd been aimed for her eye, now hanging suspended in the air. Yanking it in his hands, Cullen growled through the night air, "Archers along the walls!" Snapping the shaft in his fist, he threw it aside and moved to unearth a blade that wasn't at his side.

  Footsteps echoed down the alley and from the rooftops, no doubt where archers were stationed. Well good luck piercing this barrier. Lana trailed her fingers through the fade reenforcing it, but that wasn't all. Rolling deeper than she'd dared reach since leaving the fade, Lana threaded a spell across her fingers in preparation.

  Hissing backwards, Lana reacted when another arrow embedded into her barrier. As mana poured through her
body into the world, the arrows caught ablaze charring to ash before they vanished on the wind. "They're coming from ahead of us," Cullen called, gesturing down the alley.

  Atop the roofs, the sun crested from the clouds just in time to lance upon one of the archers drawing back the bow for another shot. Barely twisting her hand, Lana drew upon the frost that never left her side. She need not give any actual movements in real life to complete the spell, but with the archer's eagle eyes beaming down on her, the mage lifted her hand up and a spear of ice lanced up off the roof, impaling through the archer's chest and piercing out the neck. Blood gushed down the crystal clear ice, slowly melting it to free the twitching body, but it need not bother. Lana yanked it back, drawing the power through her to lance another against the second archer. This one was quicker than her contemporary and darted backwards from the attack, flipping in the air.

  Too bad she forgot to account for the slick roof. Lana washed her hands down, coating the roof in ice and the not so sure footed assassin fell. Her head knocked against it before the rest of her body tumbled off the three foot story building to land like a rag doll on the ground. Both archers dead before they had time to even break through the first level of her barrier. Some assassins...

  "Lana!"

  Cullen shoved her away as a sword sliced towards her head. He had no weapon nor shield to defend with, but he faced off against the armed man, the assassin's face obscured by a rag knotted against his mouth. Whoever he was, he wasn't well trained, as he heaved his long sword too far forward, throwing off the balance. Cullen drew back a fist and pounded against the guy's jaw. His head snapped back, the kerchief flying up and half blinding him, but in his shock he snapped the sword up and it bit into Cullen's arm.

  Blood splattered through the dirt, Cullen rearing back to avoid the mad swings of the man. "Drop down!" Lana screamed. Cullen didn't pause, only tumbled to the dirt without a second thought as fire of a thousand degrees spurted from her fingers over top of him. Every loss, every pang, all of her self hatred burned through her body into the man screaming as the mage immolated him alive. His shrieks echoed through the narrow alley, the assassin begging for anyone to save him, but it was over before it barely began. Charred to a crisp like fat dropped into the fire, the man's body slumped down and tumbled backwards, the blackened skin sticking to the wet cobbles.