"I can't do it," fell from his mouth.
Lana stiffened a moment below his arms before asking, "Do what?"
"Be what I was anymore," he groaned. "Run headfirst into battle and damn the consequences."
Sliding downward, Lana's relaxing body slipped lower until Cullen could bury his chin in her sheared hair. She smelled of the prison they threw her into, fetid mold and stale urine rolled together into the scent of eternal despair. Cupping his hands, Cullen dropped a small cascade of water over her head. Some of it rolled back towards his mouth because he couldn't break from her even while trying to wash her. Only the sound of water slapping against skin and pooling back into the tub echoed through the room. On occasion, Lana would sigh in pleasure as he massaged across her scalp with the special soap bar before trying to wash it all away. Every dump of his hands cleared away more of the filth from the streets and the prison, but it didn't vanish into the ether. It dispersed through the tub, the sludge clouding all the once clean water it touched. He almost choked at the ham fisted metaphor before him.
"I can't do it either," Lana said, breaking the silence and his concentration. Her fingers lifted from the water to wrap around his. Tugging them back to rest upon her thigh, Lana traced up his forearm, following a deep gouging from mage fire, a scar he barely noticed anymore.
"No, I know I can do it. Could leap back into that world, flush out those who would hurt others, put them to a gruesome death and still barely sleep at night. I nearly..." her words trailed off as she shook her head. "I don't want to."
"Did you mean it?" he asked, his breath trying to dry her sopping hair.
"Mean what?"
Cullen screwed his eyes tight and asked what'd been sticking in his gullet, "About returning to Ferelden?"
Turning in his lap, Lana's fingers drifted through his scruff pulling his eyes to hers. "Of course I do. It's my home. It's your home. I..." she sighed. "I know Leliana wishes I'd stay here where she can protect me, but I don't want to be the princess locked away forever in a tower for my own good. I need to dosomething. And, Maker, I miss Ferelden so much -- the feel of winter winds chilling through the thickest coat. Sounds of dogs barking at each other from across miles. Andraste help me, even the food." Tears welled up in her eyes and she bit into her lip. "I wanna go home."
"Me too," Cullen said, brushing off her tears and lightly tracing her lips with his thumb. "It...that's what's been on my mind as of late. What I wanted to talk to you about, been worrying myself down to a nub over."
"Cullen..." she wrapped an arm around the back of his neck, pressing her perfect chest against his. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because, I...I was afraid of the answer. Of what it would mean if you didn't want to, if you couldn't--"
Her fingers brushed over his lips, silencing the stutter in them. A certainty filled her eyes, returning her to the imposing woman who slew an archdemon, "I am never giving you up, not without a fight."
A thousand worries burst to life and died from the conviction in her words. Butting his forehead into hers, Cullen breathed out, "Me neither," before kissing those lips that'd trailed his thoughts and dreams since he was eighteen. Lana's fingers dug into his hair, splashing more of the suds into the knotting curls, while her beautiful breath danced with his. "What now?" he whispered beside her mouth before placing a soft kiss to the edge of it.
She smoothed her thumb over his cheek, rubbing it in concentric circles to try and break up the mud. "I suppose we need to find somewhere in Ferelden to settle. Amaranthine is out," Lana shook her head, a bitter frown warping her soothing features. She exhaled a staggered breath, her eyelashes fluttering from all the loss she suffered there. Cullen's hands burst from the water to envelope her waist. Slowly, he tugged her against his chest until her warm cheek suckered tight. The scents of rosemary and juniper wafted from her washed hair, which she happily rubbed across his still filthy body.
"What of..." he began, swallowing down the burr in his throat, "Denerim?"
"Oh no," Lana stated with absolute certainty.
"Thank the Maker," he gasped, tipping his head back against the rim of the tub.
"Denerim's not the worst place, by a long shot, but far too many people know me there and...Why are you so concerned about that one?" her sly eyes rolled up to try and catch his. Cullen tried to wipe away the guilty look but he was too slow.
A chuckle rumbled up her chest, bouncing her freed breasts and momentarily distracting him. "Do not tell me you honestly thought I wished to live in the palace?"
"It..." Cullen struggled to find an answer for his worries. "It's not beyond the realm of potential."
Placing a wet hand upon his chest, she broke from snuggling to him so he could watch her lift an eyebrow. "You've never had to live with Alistair. I'd give it a month tops before we would get into a shouting match across the entirety of the palace that would rival dragons fighting over territory."
"He's your friend," Cullen tried to wipe away any venom he felt towards the king in his sentence.
"No, he's my potential friend. We're still working on it. Maker's sake, Cullen, I would never put that on you. The eternal awkwardness alone... And, I suspect keeping a country's breadth away from Alistair will work better for our embryonic friendship."
A breath burst through his lungs that cracked off the vice he'd kept upon them for the past months. "I am such a fool," he sighed, ending in a soft laugh.
Lana's finger tripped over his chin, tracing the imperceptible indent before she smiled, "No, you're not." Her calming words drew his attention, the blush fading away at her lips half turned up in contemplation. Cullen's hand parted down that soft cheek, her enticing neck, across the tempting acres of her chest, and down to her stomach. Nipping her lip, Lana shuffled on her legs, when he fished the soap out from between their bodies at the bottom of the tub. She laughed at the small splash and pulled it away.
Rotating back, Lana began to lather up her arms, scrubbing all the filth until she was made anew. Cullen pinned both hands to her stomach, waiting patiently until it was his turn.
"If we play our cards right, we could probably get some land out of Alistair."
"Land?" he started, shaking his head, "What are you planning that you need so much land the crown gets involved?"
"Oh," Lana smiled slyly over her shoulder, "you'll see."
Chapter Twenty-Five
Moving On
Four boxes waited in the apartments, each packed tight with special focus given to the one marked "Glassware - if you break it, you answer to a vengeful mage." Lana clung to her new cane, one with a silver and cobalt vein swirling through the wood. A gift from Leliana, who was watching Cullen struggling to slide the gilded armchair back to where he found it. For nearly four months they stayed inside this apartment their burgeoning life growing into something more. Her eyes traveled over to the comfortable divan where they'd often sit, Cullen massaging her legs until she could risk walking and then she in turn holding him as he fought through the lyrium's song.
The chair rattled out of Cullen's hands, landing close enough to its starting point. He dug a hand through his hair, smooshing up the curls with the help of his sweat. "I think that's where it belongs," he began. For a moment, his eyes glanced up at Lana and the sweet smile strung a chord in her heart. Shuffling across the floors they'd trudged upon a hundred times, and once - after finishing up the sherry - danced together on, Lana slipped into his waiting arms. They shouldn't fit; mage and templar, two people opposed by duty, by birth, and a world always tearing each of them in twain. His lips pressed into the top of her head.
"Mmm, your hair's getting much longer," he mused, thumbing up the pitiful half inch it managed in the time.
"You are a terrible liar," Lana laughed, rolling her fingers across his stomach and rising up to kiss him. Cullen met her halfway, as he did on everything. They shouldn't work, both shattered to pieces by loss and tragedy; barely stitched back together like two broken pots glued to make
one.
"Is this all of your belongings?" Leliana asked, causing Lana to turn away from him.
"Yes, though I have no idea how we accumulated so much while here."
"There's still the matter of my things left at Skyhold," Cullen mused aloud. They had something of a plan in mind, though it'd be months to a half year until they managed to settle anywhere permanent.
"How much can the austere commander have to his name?"
He tipped his head and a free hand moved to the back of his neck. "You would be surprised. Two years and...people enjoy giving us gifts. Sometimes strange ones."
"Oh Maker, we're not going to unbox something at your sisters and have an old Tevinter fertility statue fall out, are we?"
"No! Least, I don't think so..." his rubbing increased, causing a burn to rise up.
Chuckling, Lana tugged his fingers down to wind about with hers. "It's okay, we'll say it's a coat hanger." His glower only made her giggle more.
Embarrassed, or perhaps overcome by the rising tide of emotions, Leliana slipped back, her eyes upon the rug beside the breakfast nook. "Is that a stain?"
"Ah..." now Lana's face flushed and she shared a guilty glance with the man who helped to create said stain. Rather than own up to it, he wrapped his hands tight around her stomach and buried his mouth into her hair. Against her knotting curls, she could feel him trying to silence his laughs.
They shouldn't love, trauma coiling through their every breath, on bad days dragging both down to insurmountable depths. Trying to cover over for their reconciliation stain, Lana pointed at the ceiling. "Oh, we can't leave behind my plant."
Cullen released his hold on her and with his greater stature easily stretched up to unhook it. "Are you certain you don't wish to leave my blunder behind?" The adder's hiss fanned out beyond the breadth of his shoulders, making it unwieldy even in Cullen's great hands.
"Yes, it's mine and I'm keeping it," Lana insisted as she pulled it away from him to overflow out of her smaller arms.
Smiling, he curled a hand around her back and slid behind her, ready to protect and support her should she need it. They shouldn't fit but they did, the strapping, pale templar folding to embrace the tiny, dark mage. They shouldn't work, but whenever Lana's reach was too short, Cullen was there to extend it. They shouldn't love, but when he fell to darkness she was there to overfill his heart with everything inside of her.
"Are you certain now is the time to leave?" Leliana asked. She wasn't in her Divine robes, nor the old Spymaster gear. Instead, her best friend wore the same first set of splint mail Lana gifted her after they left Lothering. It was a strange but touching move. "I only worry, given your injuries, and it can be a long climb to recovery."
Lana slid away from Cullen to reach her friend. Her usual sweet smile, honed by the bardic arts, flipped downward as Leliana glowered at her hands. Lana gripped tight to one, "Leils, this isn't the last you'll see of me. And I'll write, all the time. You know that."
"I do," she smiled. "But I worry about you so far away." Leliana wrapped her hands around Lana's back and tugged her into a crushing hug.
"I worry about you too, you know. I'm not the one with a target painted on my back," Lana slid back from the hug, holding tight to her cane. "What's happened to that false templar I caught? Are you safe?"
"Hanged until dead. There was very little debate about his sentence, particularly with the Inquisitor's insistence," her eyes flickered over to Cullen for a minute and he nodded his head, a sneer lifting up his scar.
"And what came of Detan?" Lana asked. "Dead as well?"
Leliana pursed her lips, "She is being put to use for us, with her intel we hope to trace these terrorists back to their hiding holes."
"Assuming she doesn't betray you first," Cullen sneered and Lana bobbed her head with him. It seemed the most likely outcome.
"I do not think we need to worry about that occurrence. In digging, we discovered some facts about her background that the Order of Mercy, as the new templars call themselves, were using to..."
"I don't care," Lana cut her off. Everyone had a sob story, a reason to turn on their fellows, to twist trust until the edges frayed leaving nothing remaining. It didn't matter. In the end, Detan made a choice and she was paying for it. More than likely, if the templars didn't finish her off, Leliana would use her up until she became a liability. That was the way of this world.
"Lanny, are you okay?" Leliana whispered near her. She understood her concern, they'd both traipsed down this same path before. Weigh the consequences, think of them not as people but collateral. It was the only way to keep going, to rise in the morning fresh to begin again. Lana used to convince herself she was different by keeping the names of those lost carved into her staff. Now...now the only thing she knew was that she didn't know anything.
Wrapping an arm around Leliana's shoulder, Lana sighed, "As okay as I can be."
"You may remain here still. Decoys would slip out and fool the masses into thinking the Commander's returned to Skyhold..." Leliana's idea drifted away as she stared at Lana's set jaw.
"We don't belong here," she said, for the first time feeling a waver to her words.
But Leliana didn't try to crack them open. She closed her eyes and sighed, "No, I suppose you don't. You were always Ferelden down to your core, both of you." Releasing her hold on Lana, Leliana reached over to Cullen and extended her hand. He took it with a question darting over to Lana.
"You have been one of the best things to ever step into Lanny's life, Commander," Leliana said, a rattle breaking through her throat. "And if you love her just a tenth of how much she loves you, then..." she paused and glanced over at Lana who felt her cheeks burning at the attention, "yours is a romance for the storybooks. Keep her safe. No, keep each other safe."
"I will," he pronounced as if giving a vow.
"Where will you be staying on your trip to Ferelden?" Leliana asked.
"Ah, I believe the itinerary has us stopping through a few of the smaller towns," Cullen answered, getting an eye roll from Lana. He knew the answer down to the anticipated hour they'd hit each one. It kept him busy for the week while they packed and prepared, slowly giving their limited goodbyes to the people who'd bustled in and out of their lives.
Leliana's lips turned up revealing that old bardic smile. "There is a lovely hunting cottage at my current disposal and it would be the perfect place for two people to slip away to without risk of being disturbed for a week or more."
Cullen looked about to insist they didn't need it, but Lana caught her friend's wicked edge, "Leils? What's going on?"
"A cleansing that shall shake the dusty cobwebs from every arm of the chantry," she smiled with a razor sharp edge. "It is a long time coming, and I would prefer both of you be far from any reverberations in the web."
That was nearly her life: intrigue, false smiles, knives in the dark. Lana could feel it rippling below her skin, how she could fall back to the days of her working through the shark infested waters of politics. But that wasn't what she wanted. Wrapping her hand around Cullen's, she stared up at him. That wasn't what he wanted either. Her time was limited, everyone's was by the discretion of the Maker, and Lana intended to spend every moment she was allotted making up for what was lost.
"We should take it," Lana said, "give your sister time to prepare, and...keep the Commander away from anyone's pinchers."
His eyes slipped shut and he nodded. "You're right. Thank you, Leliana."
A bark echoed from the middle of the boxes and Honor trotted out of her napping place. Hers were the saddest goodbyes of all, every person on her daily walks offering up their favorite mabari treats, pets, one even tied pink bows around her collar. Tatters of the ribbons dangled free, the mabari not having much use for the Orlesian finery, just like her masters. Proud of her minimal accomplishment, Honor stuck out her chest before barreling face first into Cullen's leg.
"Silly girl, what do you want now?" he sighed.
Behind t
hem, the door opened, revealing a trio of nearly identical dwarves even down to their red beards. "We're here to haul your stuff down to the carriage."
"Of course," Cullen sighed, wrapping a finger around Honor's collar and pulling her out of the way. He gestured his head at the four crates, "That would be all of them."
"Right," the leader of the dwarven moving company nodded and the three of them hauled up the first. Lana jerked at the sounds of glass shifting below their fingers, prepared to tell them to be careful, but the third pointed out her sign. Slowly, three sets of crystal blue eyes swiveled towards her and each gulped. As if carrying a priceless statue of Andraste, they eased towards the door, murmuring how they were being extra super duper careful.
"I suppose that's it," Lana said. "By nightfall, we should reach the town of...?"
"Hamsville," Cullen groaned, struggling to not roll his eyes. She'd made an interesting game out of finding the strangest named villages across Orlais, and talked him into stopping at a few of them.
Cupping his fingers in hers, Lana squeezed once. Any perturbations he bore vanished at the touch of her skin. Smiling with his whole soul, the man who matched her step by excruciating step, pressed a whisper of a kiss against her forehead. It hadn't been an easy road, and Maker knew it wasn't about to lighten anytime soon, but she couldn't imagine having to walk it without Cullen. Dropping his grip, Lana hauled up the adder's hiss in her arms.
She glanced once more over the apartments gifted to them, searching to see if there was anything else they missed, when Leliana's hands wrapped tight around Lana's shoulders. Tears rarer than any gemstone dripped down Leliana's cheeks as she hugged her friend close. Lana struggled to return the affection, the plant holding her arms hostage.
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