My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  Lana had hoped to sort of sneak this one in under the radar but judging by the panic knotting up Kelsa's face over Alistair, she needed to hear this or risk a stroke on the day of. "There, um, forgive me for not mentioning this before Sister, but my witness will be, um...?" Lana turned to Cullen, unable to finish the truth.

  "Divine Victoria," he said.

  "D-d-divine, the Divine will be here? Not just here, she'll be standing right, right there," the trembling woman gestured in the area of the stables nowhere near where they'd planned the ceremony. "Where I'll be, be, performing the... Maker, in my hour of darkness I beg of you!" She collapsed at the knees, her hands clasped in prayer.

  It was Teagan who swept her up in his arms, helping the poor woman to remain upright, "Do not worry about the Divine, she is a kind and loving woman." The three who knew Leliana all struggled back a snort at that summation of her. "She's certain to approve of your ceremony." A horrified squeak rattled in the poor Sister's throat at the idea of the most Holy watching her perform the marriage ceremony for Leliana's best friend. And that was why Lana hoped to never tell Kelsa the truth. Leliana was supposed to be here days ago to help and slip incognito through the ranks but chantry business kept her delayed. "Perhaps a bit of sherry will help calm your nerves?" Teagan offered.

  Kelsa bobbed her head, her hands still clasped in prayer as if the Maker would see fit to rescue her from this duty. Kindly, Teagan guided her away while her trembling lips mouthed the chant backwards.

  "So far so good," Lana sighed, tossing her head back to glower at the sky. Her dark mood lightened as Cullen's fingers dug into her shoulder, pulling her back to reality. She couldn't fight the smile as she reached a hand over to half hug him. It didn't matter if the Sister forgot all the words and fled in a shriek leaving Honor to finish the ceremony, Lana had all she wanted right here.

  "I am surprised the Queen would allow you to travel so far with your daughter?" Cullen said, trying to distract from the Sister's panic attack.

  Alistair laughed then scrubbed at his cheeks, "Well, don't tell anyone but she's in the, uh," he curved his hand over his belly, "and doesn't want me anywhere near her again. I hear Orlais' lovely this time of year. All the, ugh, snails one can eat."

  "You take that order well," Cullen responded. His massage ended, he gripped onto Lana's waist, taking some of her exhausted weight upon him.

  Shrugging, Alistair smiled, "I rather like her when she's knocked up. Angry, flushed cheek, curt - it's like she's a person instead of that doormat the rest of the time. Still keep myself moored far away though lest she make good on her castration threats. Which means for the time being my little tater tot and I are..." he turned back to look at his daughter who was knees down in the mud and scooping something towards her gaping mouth. "AH!" Alistair shouted, trying to get her attention.

  Instead of listening, the princess had one hand glued to Honor's collar, while the other weighed the dirt clump in her hand. Her eyes gazed over at her father, her hand frozen near her mouth but she didn't drop the clod. The king raced over to scoop up his daughter before she jammed the dirt into her mouth. "That's yucky! We don't eat yucky! Unless it's snails and we have to pretend we like yucky," Alistair ordered, his daughter nodding along. She looked almost penitent save the smirk across her lips.Maker, she was his child. "Sorry, we're at that 'we put everything we find in our mouth' stage. Come on, let's get some real dinner before you wither away in my hands." He tossed her over his shoulder, the girl giggling and waving for Honor to follow, and marched towards the kitchens. The Maker gave Alistair few talents, but the ability to find food was a powerful one.

  Cullen watched them both walk away, then whispered to Lana, "Now when he says 'we're'..."

  She snickered at the implication and shrugged her shoulders, "Grey Wardens do eat a lot, sometimes you have to make due." Her fingers curled up his arm as she whispered, "You didn't have to invite him."

  "Perhaps not," Cullen shrugged, "but he is king and did help us, in many ways. It seemed impolite not to. However, if he makes any reference to droit de seigneur..."

  "I'll kill him myself," Lana interrupted, earning a chuckle from him.

  Knotting his hands around her waist, Cullen pulled her higher to press a tender kiss against her lips. Lana swooped her green fingers through his curly hair, dragging him deeper. As he broke away, he held her up close to whisper, "Sweet Andraste, how did I forget it was tomorrow?"

  "Perhaps the same way I did," Lana waved her hands around at the dozens of wedding preparations tossed aside in favor of an unexpected troop of templars needing ministrations.

  Cullen nuzzled against her neck, his chin resting against the bones of her shoulder as he kissed her, "At least I have you to forget with me."

  "By the Maker, how did either of us ever plan and organize an army to save thedas? We can't even figure out a wedding," she laughed at the idea.

  "If you want a standing army, I could probably whip one up in a month for you," he shrugged, those worked to the bone fingers trailing across her hips in all the right ways.

  "I want you right here, with me, where we can do the most damage together."

  "Ah, um," he rose up, breaking contact, "speaking of damage. I received a message a day ago. I kept meaning to inform you but we became so enraptured in the abbey, I'm afraid I forgot."

  "What is it?" Lana started, for once actually concerned.

  Cullen dug into his piles of pockets, most of which clanked with various medicines, and delivered a piece of parchment into her hands. "It's from Leliana. It seems her caravan is at least a day out, perhaps more due to inclement weather."

  "Oh no," Lana groaned, clutching her friend's writing to her chest. "We can get married without any fancy flowers, without the clothes from Val Royeaux, even without any food, but I say one vow without Leliana here to watch and she will flay me alive."

  Cullen's eyes narrowed, but he tried to play the diplomatic one, "Come now, she's not that..." Lana eyed him up and then slowly crossed her arms. "That is, uh, what do we do?"

  "Keep everyone well liquored up and hope they don't notice it's been a few days since any wedding happened?"

  Sighing, he wrapped his arms tighter around her and gazed at the handful of guests already moving through their new home with a promise of more on the way. "Are any of your tonics alcoholic?"

  "A few, but they'd probably give the drinker terrible bloat and also nightmares," Lana admitted. They'd been planning it for awhile, all of the for some reason important Orlesian details being handled by an ecstatic Leliana, while Cullen and Lana muddled through the rest.

  Where should we get married? Oh, let's just do it at home. We know the property, we know how many it can comfortably fit, and we know how to fortify it. The last was Cullen's concern of course, as if they hadn't both fallen long out of combat practice in the year devoted to cleaning up the abbey.

  She'd begun to chuckle from the never ending sight of rotten debris tossed on a massive pyre. It seemed as if they'd never reach the bottom and burn it all away but they had, and their still nameless refuge was in business. Their first challenge was from the Bann. Not a fear that he'd dispute their operation. He was loyal to the crown and a devoted Andrastian. No, the concern was if he'd recognize Lana for who she really was.

  Luckily, the man was nearsighted the first few times she met him after the blight, and grew more so over the years. He'd called her a scullery maid and dismissed her outright, peppering the decorated commander with more questions of the Inquisition. More than likely the Bann choice was a gift from Arl Teagan who was always generous to the abbey for mysterious reasons. With the Bann, the chantry, and the crown's blessing, they were finally secure, a certainty in her life she'd never imagined possible. She didn't know what spurned her to raise the question. Maker knew they didn't need any official ceremony, but it knocked her over how quickly Cullen agreed - almost as if he'd been working up the nerve but never found the opportunity. Now, they just had to find a way to
pull it off.

  "Cousin!"

  Oh Maker, Lana broke away from her fiancé to spot a giant of a woman running past the scattered wine barrels, her arms thrown open wide. Hawke didn't slow even at the eyes of the rest of the people working in the abbey shooting over to her. A few tried to shush the Champion, but nothing short of knocking her cold could contain the monumental Hawke enthusiasm. Lana steeled herself for what she knew was coming as Hawke closed the gap. But crushing hands didn't wrap around her body and lift her into the sky.

  No, they took Cullen instead. His eyes widened in shock as Hawke hugged him tight, raising the full grown man a few inches off the ground. "W-w-what?" he stuttered, both arms pinned tight.

  "You're family now!" Hawke cried, pushing her cheek against his chest with her hug, "Will be family..." She glared a beady eye at him, "You're not thinking about skipping out, are you?"

  "N-no, of course not," Cullen struggled to answer, his lungs constricting.

  "Hawke," Lana ran her fingers over her cousin's arm, "I think you can put him down."

  "Right, sorry." He dropped to the ground, not much worse for the wear, "Forget my own, you know how it is." And then she slugged Cullen in the arm. He took it like a champ, but couldn't quite wipe away the cross look. Sadly, Hawke didn't notice, she was too busy turning back to look behind her.

  "I didn't want to bring, you know, because, well, you know, so my date's this scruffy politician I found floating in the harbor," Hawke guffawed, revealing the well fluffed chest hair of one Varric Tethras.

  He bowed his head at Hawke, then turned to the happy couple, "Snowflake, glad to see you were only mostly dead."

  "I got better," Lana shrugged. The first time she met up with Hawke, the woman wouldn't stop hugging her for two days. It was a wonder she didn't pop a rib.

  The Viscount glanced over at Cullen and he gasped in surprise, "In all my life, I never thought I'd live to see the day that Curly got...out of armor."

  "Ha," Cullen scoffed, folding his arms across his chest.

  "Well," an impish grin knotted up the dwarf's cheeks, "not unless Wicked Grace and Josephine were involved."

  "Don't you, that's not...!" Cullen rose up, trying to intimidate the dwarf with his stutter.

  "Wicked Grace?" Lana watched a blush charring up the back of Cullen's neck, then she turned to the bonhomie dwarf. "What did I miss?"

  "You didn't tell the missus?" Varric cried in feigned shock, "I'm sure she'll love to hear all about when we got a gander at the commander's..."

  "I'll, I-uh-will tell you later," Cullen picked up her hands, his adam's apple shaking from his concentration. He looked too achingly adorable; she didn't care whatever Varric was speaking of. Steadying herself on his shoulder, she kissed him, his panic fading away below her lips.

  "Shouldn't you two be saving that for the honeymoon?" Hawke grumbled, her hands over her eyes while she peeked through the gap. "Which had better be somewhere fun."

  "We, uh," Lana broke away from him, but didn't release her grip on his hand, "we have too much to do here. Perhaps one year."

  "When the world doesn't need us?" Cullen smiled down at her, well aware of the chances with the pair of them. There would always be some crisis that kept them tethered, some problem that they'd have to solve. At least now they could do it together.

  "Ah, right," Varric yanked out a small book and pressed it into Lana's hand, "A wedding present from Rivaini. Said she's been working on it for some time. Had to get the 'dimensions' just right."

  "Rivaini?" Cullen asked.

  "Isabela," Lana interpreted for him. The book was bound in nug skin, a blushing pink with no title emblazoned on the front. She spun it around in her hands and absently flipped open a random page to read, 'Distraught, the templar hurled a vase beside the king's head. Barely flinching, Alistair - his naked, oiled chest muscles rippling - yanked onto Cullen's hair to capture his meaty lips in a scorching kiss...' Lana slammed the book shut, aware of the blush burning up her cheeks. "Oh! It's that kind of a, uh, story. Give Isabela my thanks, I think, I uh, um..."

  Cullen's hand cupped under hers, but she pulled the book away as far from his grasp as she could. He gave her a questioning look and Lana gulped, "I'll tell you later. Probably much later."

  Chuckling under his breath, Varric whispered, "She asked me to proofread it. Girl loves her adverbs, but you've got to admire her tenacity."

  "It, uh, I'm certain," Lana struggled to shove the book deep into her apron's pocket far from any virginal eyes, which knowing Isabela would be everyone here. "Varric, how are politics in Kirkwall and other distracting things?"

  "Boring, and Bran's always on my case to sign this, answer that, solve whatever," the Viscount waved her misdirection away. Did the dwarf expect her to hold a reading at that very moment?

  "Shit!" Hawke suddenly snapped her fingers.

  "What?" Cullen rose up, his eyes hunting through the shadows as if he feared an invasion.

  Hawke cracked a huge grin, then slugged Varric in the back, "We forgot Bran at the last rest stop."

  "How about that," Varric grinned, as sly as the fox in the hen house. "Anyway, we should let the two love birds here get all shaky and terrified alone, Hawke. I heard talk of there being an entire keg somewhere..."

  "It's in the back of the kitchen. You'll spot a king, a princess, an Arl, and a Sister there," Lana answered.

  Varric began to turn away with Hawke and got a few steps before shouting, "I once lost with that very hand at Wicked Grace."

  "Maker's breath," Lana sighed as the two vanished, her hands digging across her cheeks. She cracked a smile and peered through her spread fingers at Cullen, "Welcome to the family."

  He parted his lips and glanced towards the kitchen door thrown open wide by Hawke. A word formed in his mouth when a massive shriek echoed from the kitchen. Both mage and templar snapped into battle mode, when Sister Kelsa's more lubricated voice shouted, "Are you the Champion of Kirkwall?!" Some muffled response came, and Kelsa renewed her cries, "And the Viscount?!"

  Sharing a look, Cullen and Lana brought their foreheads together, trying to will strength from one to the other as if they weren't in the same sinking ship together. "Poor Sister Kelsa," Lana snorted.

  "Under the illusion it would be a simple country wedding, with only a handful of attendants and a few ill templars," Cullen answered with.

  "She never could have anticipated the draw of our friends or..." Lana shrugged, "family." It felt strange to say that word. Cullen asked once if she wished to extend an invitation to her parents, but given that Lady Amell perished four years ago, it didn't seem prudent to raise the question. Besides... Lana smiled, gazing into the warm glow of the kitchen rising in raucous laughter -- the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. They were her family, and often just as trying as the kind born into.

  Cullen pressed a kiss to her forehead, his comforting hands smoothing down her shoulders. "Speaking of family..." he began.

  "Oh, how are yours? They came early, right? With the planting finished I thought..."

  "Yes, yes," he ruffled his fingers through her short hair, the curls bunched tight against her scalp. "We had supper with them last night, remember? All of them. You and Mia got into a discussion about goats for some reason."

  "Maker, that was last night?" Her day'd been so long it felt weeks ago. Cullen's siblings would often stop by for a few weeks, usually during the dark winter or summer high months. Or Lana and Cullen would take time during harvest and planting season to help. Well, she'd sit and supervise while Cullen, shirtless and glistening in the sun, dug hands deep into the fertile ground. Nowhere near as fast as his siblings, he gave his all and Lana savored every long moment she spent scrubbing the dirt from his body after.

  "Lana," Cullen interrupted her musing, "I realized that I could not in good conscious pick one of my siblings above the others for my witness."

  "All right?" she nodded, uncertain why he wrapped her hands in his and kep
t staring daggers at them.

  "So, I asked, inquired if, um, Cassandra would be willing?"

  "Oh no," Lana giggled, her eyes darting back to where the Sister's shrieks ran out. "Do you realize what this means?"

  "It seemed the most prudent choice given..." Cullen paused in his well reasoned explanation and turned towards her, "N-no?"

  "We'll have the Left and Right Hand standing at the left and right hand of us," she couldn't stop snorting at the pun so terrible it had to be formed by the Maker.

  "That," he didn't find it quite so humorous as Lana, but his dour frown twitched up for a moment, "that's true, and..."

  A brash voice echoed from the second level of the abbey, loud enough to cover over the stamp of horses, "No, these will not do." Cassandra, still in armor, stomped out of one of the healing rooms turned into lodging for the wedding's duration. She waved a bundle of stems in her fist while a woman followed behind. Despite being much smaller in stature and breadth to the Seeker, the woman wasn't about to back down.

  "Daisies are perfectly acceptable in a bouquet, and they're overabundant here." It was Mia, the clear leader of family Rutherford whose opinions were often taken as fact because arguing with her was unwise. Lana's eyes glanced over to Cullen's and both gulped. Cassandra versus Mia was the proverbial rock meeting its hard place. No one was walking away from that.

  "For a proper wedding bouquet you need a red chrysanthemum for love," Cassandra paused on the stairs, rolling up each of her armored fingers to enunciate her facts, "edelweiss for purity, a magnolia for nobility, and a sprig of elfroot for health."

  Lana gripped onto Cullen's shoulder to inch close to his ear, "Maker's breath, the woman is passionate."

  He shook his head slowly, "I had no idea she was so invested. I'd only thought, you know..."

  "Tradition, and strong sword arm," Lana agreed. The witnesses were mostly ceremonial unless one was the only heir to a noble house who snuck out with the stable boy, then it got a bit dicier -- sometimes literally.

  Mia snorted, which caused Cullen to involuntarily rear back. Even Lana cowered a moment, having never fully faced down Mia's wrath, but bearing witness a few times. But the Seeker didn't even finch as the short woman jabbed a finger at her, "All of which is complete and utter bollocks. We have daisies, which are pretty. They will do."