Moan
Cullen closed the door that led into his office, leaning upon it in a moment of self-pity. It hadn't been an overly tiring day and perhaps, that was the problem. A new faction had joined Skyhold and as its military advisor, Commander Cullen was tasked with familiarising the new archers and soldiers with the area, explaining the procedures and protocols that applied equally to all who shared Skyhold's space.
The Avvarians were not a difficult people. As part of their culture, permanence and strict conformity with rules was not an unfamiliar arena to the men and women that were to join the Inquisition. Grappling with them on their faith was a different matter altogether. Whilst Elodie had made alterations to Skyhold's heraldry to reflect Korth the Mountain-Father, an attempt to welcome the newcomers and suggest acceptance of their faith, Cullen had difficulty communicating with them. Each line of conversation he attempted led to questions of faith. It was as though each fibre of their existence was relevant to sacred beliefs. It had taken much consideration in each of his responses to ensure he would not offend.
Cullen groaned, remembering the many near misses and the times he had stumbled over his words, trying to find moderate responses that did not betray his own Andrastean beliefs. It was his professional opinion that the next time newcomers arrived to Skyhold, Josephine should be the one burdened with the actual conversation-making. He was, of course, content to be present but beyond pointing out the regulations of the militia, he was going to keep his mouth smartly shut.
It was then that Cullen realized his office looked different. The fizzled candles had been replaced with new red ones, elegantly rearranged on metal stands around his office. The wicks hissed contentedly against the draft that seeped from beneath the glass window pane, dancing along with the movement of air. His fingers touched his shelves behind his desk. Devoid of dust, the books that had been stacked sideways, messy and disorganized, now stood upright, restructured into an appropriate order according to topic then author names. The mountain of papers and reports that cluttered his desk were filed in separate folders, painstakingly piled with an outline of the types of documents scrawled on each front cover of the folder. The last change was the new pot-plant that sat in another corner of his office, directly in line with the morning sunlight that would shine through his window. The blossoms were blue with a hint of orange close to the stigma of the bloom. Harlot's Blush, Elodie's favourite flowers.
Cullen smiled at the homey touches and the fastidious habits of the woman, and looked out the window. Dinner was long over and it was too late in the night to bother her. In silence, Cullen reminded himself that both of them had duties despite their generously budding courtship these last months. Even in public, both did their best to appear impartial, though it was obvious all their closest friends and companions were aware of their growing intimacy. He had certainly caught a few conversations when Elodie's friends would tease her about their stiffness in public and how they needed to "work it out in private". Cullen always had to bite back the comment that they were doing just fine.
Better than fine, he reminisced, as he thought of her. Her smile, her laughter, the way her eyes gleamed, and when they were alone, how her voice would soften and her movements became less business-like and how she could sooth his troubled day just by sitting on his desk, listening to his complaints. And more recently, the newer discoveries of her habits and personality.
She hated peas but ate other types of greens. After the cook noticed that Elodie picked out her peas like a guilty infant, peas were no longer served to her at Skyhold. Then there was her love for gardening. Cullen chuckled as he remembered Vivienne's look of horror when she saw dirt underneath Elodie's fingernails. And there was the sympathy Elodie had towards all things small, no matter how potentially dangerous.
In her recent assignment against the Hessarians, Elodie had rescued a mabari pup from their marbari kennels. She had stayed in enemy territory longer than necessary so she could convince the tiny dog, barely a few months old, into becoming a pet. The ungrateful beast had hidden itself in a hole inside of a wall and bit her several times when she tried to extricate it gently instead of just demolishing the wall and taking the thing prisoner. She returned a few days later with it sleeping in her arms that were still healing from tiny gashes. When Elodie gifted the pup to Cullen as a reminder of his Ferelden roots, she named it Marbles and he gave up trying to change the name when it refused to respond to anything else.
There was also the fact that Elodie was... vocal... and she made her pleasures known audibly in many different manners that all made his blood simmer. Like this morning, Cullen remembered.
She had burst into his office in the morning as Cullen was readying himself to meet the Avvarians. Arriving with a plate of fresh scones and cream, she shoved an already buttered scone unceremoniously into his mouth without a morning greeting and sat at his desk like she belonged there, sorting out his papers whilst Marbles, sensing freedom, rushed out of the office without a backward look.
Elodie chuckled, the one she made when she was feeling at ease before randomly picking up an acquisition form Josephine had requested he complete several times over the last week. Picking up a quill, she made a few scribbles and then signed off at the bottom with a flourish.
"What are you doing?" he asked after swallowing a bite.
"You're entertaining Avvarians and given the pile of work you've got, I thought I'd help out," she said slowly, barely listening to him. Nibbling on the edge of doughy scone, her tongue flicked out to catch the cream caught on her upper lip. He felt his stomach clench in response and looked away, breathing out in an attempt to calm his nerves. He reminded himself wryly that he was no longer wearing comfortable Templar skirts before daring to look at her again.
She had scooped up her hair from her face, wearing a loose shirt with a ragged hem and uneven neckline. One shoulder peeked from underneath the neckline of her shirt, the other retaining its dignity from within its cotton cage. Under the dim sunlight, her skin seemed soft to touch and smooth. Unable to resist, he removed his gauntlets just so he could skim over her warmth and graze his lips over her neck. She tilted her head, giving him room to touch and then she sighed with a note of thorough wanting.
He whispered a goodbye into her skin but before he left her, she pulled him by the collars of his armour and brushed her fingers over the back of his neck, sinking into his hair. Her lips found his, already parted so he could slide his tongue between her teeth. The purr that emanated from her throat ran hot down his spine and he fused their lips closer so he could taste the sweet richness of cream and butter until he broke away, panting for breath. Satisfied, he noted how her eyes iced over in hunger and she keened from the loss of his touch. Then Elodie leaned up again and her tongue flicked over the ridge of his scar that dashed over his mouth before her teeth closed over his bottom lip, drawing it out.
Cullen walked around the whole day tasting her on his lips. No, he hadn't expected her passion, hadn't expected her moans but by the Maker, he would come to know them all for she had become as necessary as his next breath and the craving for her that had grown burned him wholly.
Swallowing hard, his body yearning for the press of her curves against him, Cullen berated himself. She was the Inquisitor, he told himself, and her time was meant to be fairly shared for all of Skyhold and with a brutal finality, secured the latches on the doors on either side of his office.
Then he cursed. Marbles.
Cullen had known something was wrong. It was too quiet. The normal yipping he was used to when he arrived to his quarters was not present. Panic settled into Cullen as he realized the little beast was either lost or still out chasing after pigeons. Whilst Marbles ran out of his office to explore the enormity of Skyhold every morning, the pup was always in his office by nightfall and slept under his desk. He called out for his dog but Marbles was not there.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he made towards the doors when he heard an answering yowl. From above his head. He calmed down immediately, before realizing that Marbles could not possibly climb the ladders to his bedroom. Wishful thinking made him clamber up the ladders anyway, just in case, only to find that Marbles was indeed in his bedroom.
Cuddled up to Elodie, the both of them were sleeping on his bed. She had tucked the dog underneath her arm, stretched out on her side over his mattress. Her boots were kicked off onto the floor exposing mismatched socks whilst Marbles finally sat up when he saw his master, its tiny tail thumping the bedspread, eyes glinting in reflection from the moonlight that strewn over the bed. Marbles barked up at him and hastily Cullen hushed the dog, impressing upon it the importance of not waking Elodie.
Leaving the safety of her arms, Marbles jumped down from the bed and circled Cullen's right leg once before running to a mound of pillows that had been stacked in a corner of the room that was obviously meant for the dog. Apparently, Cullen thought with exasperated fondness, Elodie had managed to rearrange his bedroom as well.
When they had arrived at Skyhold, Elodie had argued with Cullen over his choice of accommodations.
"What is wrong with you?" she had screeched, "There are holes in the roof! What man chooses to sleep in a room where he is at the mercy of nature?"
"I like it," Cullen had maintained calmly, "There might be rain but there's also sunlight."
"Yes, Skyhold is just devoid of windows in all bedrooms," she sneered sarcastically, "Nope, no sunlight to be found in this castle!"
Amused by the spark of irritation that was so rarely seen, Cullen had taunted lightly, "Well, it's my bedroom. What does it matter to you?"
Never one to leave without the last word, Elodie had retorted, "Fine! If you so like having birds excrete waste all over your bed, so be it!"
Cullen couldn't stop laughing when she stormed out of his office.
The stubborn woman just had to have her way, he thought as he found his ceiling repaired with a mixture of glass and wood so he would have the benefit of nature's light. The vines crawling over stone walls were trimmed and had been watered recently, Cullen realized as his fingers touched dampness, and directly opposite the dog's mountain of pillows was a new armour stand and a large chest next to it, its lid thrown open and containing some of the items Cullen had left on the floor.
Touched that Elodie had expended such effort to ensure his comfort, Cullen also felt a stab of guilt. What had he done recently, or ever, to show Elodie the full weight of his affections? His attention turned to the sleeping woman and his heart thudded. He should wake her out of propriety's sake but as he removed his armour and changed into clothes for sleep, he found the need to hold her in his arms was indelible, immovable and unchangeable.
Pulling the sheets from underneath her, she murmured, disturbed by him before she fell back into sleep, unable to fight the grip of fatigue. Cullen paused, his throat thick with an emotion he could barely name. When she made noises like that, he was transported to a place like home, where he had the luxury of living a life of contentment and family. He thought of intimate mornings, waking with her under the late morning sun that shone, and ached with the image that came too easily.
And when he finally slid into bed beside her, he pulled her body in so they touched. Elodie hummed questioningly and turned underneath the sheets so they faced one another, subconsciously searching. He tried to stay still so he wouldn't wake her but when she whispered his name even in sleep, desperation crossed his heart and with his eyes squeezed shut, he wrapped his arms around her slender form, not minding that he might wake up with pins and needles wracking his limbs.
Maker, he loved her.
The words came so easily that his eyes snapped open in wonderment. Cullen wondered when it had happened but he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment and he longer cared. His Templar heart was at the mercy of this mage now. With time, he would show her his love and learn every tiny thing about her. As the night lingered on and Cullen stirred occasionally, unused to having a partner in his bed, he learned the sound of her satisfied mewls as she shifted in her slumber so her body met his just so.
Cullen woke to a raspy wet tongue. Blearily, he cracked an eye open and found himself nose to nose with Marbles who danced a circle on the bed. Elodie was gone. Alarm fizzed inside of him as he sat up suddenly, the rush of blood dizzying. Was she upset that he'd slept beside her? Why didn't she wake him up? He threw the bedcovers off his body, sending a small sheet of paper flying off the bed. He reached for it, snatching it from the stone floor, fingers shaking as he opened it.
"Cullen,
You looked so tired, I didn't want to wake you. I hope you slept well, Maker knows you've needed it.
There's a new stack of documents that have been shoved, in an untactful manner, under your door. I've left it on your desk for your perusal. We also didn't have the chance to talk last night but if you go through the documents on your desk, I've managed to finish most of the paperwork. There's a folder marked 'for inspection' – you'll have to go through those.
I also have to leave Skyhold for a little while. I've promised Cass that we'd go back to the Emerald Graves to go look for clues in some of the Villas surrounding the area. That, and the librarian wants a few more of those weeds for research. I can't remember what they're called but I have a sketch so I know what it'll look like. I meant to tell you last night but I fell asleep before you got back.
I should be back in a few days time. Look after Skyhold for me. Try not to fight with Leliana when she pesters you about the party she's organizing and don't get too upset when Vivienne tries to make you wear something 'fashionable'.
Yours,
Elodie
PS - Oh, I also fixed your roof. You'll be satisfied that you still have plenty of light without being rained on.
PPS – Don't lose your Marbles and don't forget to feed him."
Elodie had kissed the paper, leaving a red lip print but she didn't even mention the fact that they'd spent the night together. Cullen couldn't decide if that was good or bad. As he flopped back onto the bed, he felt his body thrum with nervous energy. She wasn't upset, or else she wouldn't have left a note but she hadn't said anything either. Did that mean she didn't particularly enjoy it?
The combination of his doubt and her scent all over his sheets made him snarl in the face of sunlight. He wanted to find her before she could leave, grab her and kiss her senseless until she fell into his arms and cried out for him, leaving him with no more insecurities about her desires.
Still buckling his armour as he left his office, Cullen's face twisted with a frown, ready to find Elodie and lecture her about leaving a man to wake alone before she could depart from Skyhold. He stalked through the throne room and hid briefly behind Elodie's dragon skull throne as the servants milled about before dashing for the door that would lead to her quarters.
Leliana's voice piped out before his hand touched the knob, "She's already gone, she left for the Emerald Graves an hour ago."
Cullen's fists clenched and with a quiet curse, he turned around, "Good morning, Leliana."
The bangs in her red hair fell over her face as she considered the Commander. She murmured quietly, "You love her."
He visibly stiffened, to the point that his armour clanked. "This is not your con-"
"Of course it is," Leliana replied, "The Inquisitor is not just the Inquisitor to any of us who fight by her side each day. Elodie matters to us all, albeit in varying degrees."
Cullen looked around, uncomfortable by the amount of servants that were going about their business. Sensing his disquiet, Leliana motioned with her fingers, inviting him to walk with her. They strolled towards the Chantry gardens in silence until she broke it, "You should tell her."
Reluctantly, Cullen admitted, "I would have but she was asleep when I found her."
"So you have not consummated your relationship," Leliana surmised in front of the statue of Andraste, "and she left you to wake alone though it was the first night the two of you have shared together."
He grimaced, hating to be so transparent. Grousing, he asked, "How do you even know all this? Elodie would not –"
"No, she wouldn't," Leliana interrupted again, "but I am a woman. I see the things left unsaid. When she left your room this morning, her walk was feminine and she was singing to herself."
He forced himself to maintain the even cadence of his voice, though his heart quickened with hope, "She was not upset?"
"No, she was whole and I was reminded of the way Elissa, the Hero of Ferelden, was with King Alistair," she sighed, thinking of her youth, "I had forgotten how love could spring even in the most difficult of times." Her eyes turned critical, her stance otherwise graceful, "Are you frightened that you love a mage?"
Cullen stared up at the hands of Andraste, an outstretched promise of salvation. He breathed his answer, so soft Leliana nearly missed the words, "I was a Templar once but my old fears do not extend to Elodie in that regard."
She narrowed her eyes, her lack of satisfaction made known in her voice, "She is The Herald of Andraste."
His voice steeled against the accusation, "I am at the mercy of Elodie and even the mere thought that she does not return my love destroys me completely. I fear this only. Elodie's ability to destroy me is held in her capacity as a woman. She would have that power over me, mage or otherwise, and I would love her, Herald or otherwise." Cullen turned his face away, shuddering at the exposure of such a powerful truth. Admitting it seemed only increase Elodie's hold over his soul.
Leliana hand rested on his cool armoured arm, "When she comes home, you should tell her. She will need to hear the words and then, she will give them back to you tenfold."
With a deep breath, Cullen nodded, "Thank you for your counsel, Leliana." When he turned to look back at the face of Andraste, the sun making the statue glow ethereally, he sensed Leliana melt into the shadows, her presence gone. His knees buckled and his armoured shins thumped against the dirt at Andraste's feet. In the silence of the morning, he prayed that Elodie would return home safely and that, through some miracle, her mage heart could find love for this monster of a Templar.
Cullen scrabbled for sanity during the week and a half that Elodie was gone, unable to discourage the anxious dread that he and Elodie would be at odds after his admittedly less-than-respectful conduct the night before she left. He tried to argue with himself, that she would not have lay in his bed unless she was comfortable with the thought of sharing a bed, or that she would not whisper his name so yearningly in her sleep if she did not want him but nothing could dampen his anxiety.
When he'd learned that she had arrived to Skyhold whilst he was amidst training the soldiers, Cullen had left at the first moment he was able to see Elodie. When Josephine told him that she was meeting merchants who had recently arrived and expanded Skyhold's commercial trading, he felt just about ready to scream. Unhelpfully, Josephine proceeded to hand him a mixture of reports regarding some of the missions that had been headed jointly between her and Cullen. By the time his schedule aligned with Elodie's, it was already mid-afternoon.
Cullen practically panted with reprieve when he finally closed the door to Elodie's quarters and found her standing at her balcony, watching over the movements of Skyhold against the beginnings of the sun's descent. She was wearing bright aquamarine Orlesian silk held with a black sash that complemented the dark pants she wore, her hair left unbound and her feet bare. Heeled sandals lay in disregard on the carpet in front of her extensive wardrobe.
Thumbing the Harlot's Blush he'd trimmed off the pot-plants in his room, tied together with a red ribbon, he'd held the small bouquet in front of her, nuzzling into her hair. She simpered in delight as she took the bunch, lowering her nose to the blooms.
"They're beautiful, Cullen! What a lovely thought," she said when she turned to him with a bright smile. It eased the knot of worry that had only grown in his chest the last few days but when she kissed him, the disquiet only returned a hundredfold, a delicate sword piercing into his heart.
It was chaste, which he didn't mind, but there was reluctance and when she barely met his eyes, the blade twisted in his chest. He tried to calm his nerves, making conversation, "How did it go? The task, I mean."
Elodie wet her lips a moment before she answered, arranging the flowers this way and that, "The task itself was met with success. Cassandra is satisfied with the notes and memorandums we found after the bloody battling, Varric is doubly pleased by the loot found in the expensive Villas and Solas gained some interesting experience in relation to Fade runes."
But once again, something was wrong. Elodie had never returned unsuccessful in any task she had found or been given but there were occasional days when she came home a little broken. On those days, he kept the promise he made to her the day Leliana killed Felix. He leaned against the stone barricades of the balcony and watched her every hesitant step, only wringing more blood from his battered heart.
"I got worried," he said, "you were gone longer than first expected."
"We... hit a snag along the way. More rebel mages," Elodie said carefully before amending, "Technically, they were apostates, not rebels."
Cullen stood up to attention, "There are plenty of apostates in Thedas after the fall of the Circles. What happened?"
Her fingers grazed over the barricade as she wet her lips again. After a tap, she said, "They were a small group, ten or so. I knew most of them from the Ostwick Circle before it fell. Most of them joined us and now work for the Inquisition. Two of them, a young couple, asked to remain free. They did not wish to partake in the fighting."
Elodie paused, the corners of her lips pulling down. To prompt her story, Cullen nodded, "That's understandable."
"I told them to go where they wanted and to be safe. I do not believe they are blood mages, neither of them seemed to have that disposition but I was... reminded by Cassandra that all mages have a price and she accused me of allowing familiarity to cloud my judgment," she relayed.
Recognizing the dangerous territory, Cullen provided what he felt was a sensible response, "Cassandra's sensibilities are possibly affected by what she saw in Kirkwall. Anders, the mage responsible for the destruction of the Chantry in Kirkwall, killed many innocent people."
Elodie's bark of laughter was cold, completely unlike her. A fearful shudder fluttered down his spine. He decided to say nothing, knowing she would tell her story at the pace she needed. But as she turned her back on Cullen, strolling to the other side of the balcony, his palms began to sweat and the words he'd been keeping lodged in his heart the last two weeks lodged in his throat, strangling him. Out of fear she would reject his advances in her state of mind, he swallowed them down.
She murmured to the air, "We had a huge argument in the middle of the forest, I'm quite certain we've scared a portion of the animal life into extinction. She yelled at me, told me I was a fool for freeing them when mages should always be kept apart and supervised for the protection of mankind. Mages couldn't be trusted to lead independent lives."
Cullen inhaled sharply but she ignored his reaction. "I reminded her what I was. She wanted to argue, her mouth was open for it but she didn't. I saw her look at the mark on my hand, the one thing that curbed her tongue, before she holstered her sword and walked back to camp. I realized that she might have given anything for the Herald to be anything other than a mage."
He couldn't help but comfort her, "It isn't like that. Cassandra knows you can be trusted and so do the others. You are trusted here, Elodie. She's just afraid of what magic can do."
She scoffed, aloof and condescending, "Yes, I'm trusted. None of you have any choice in the matter." Cullen felt his jaw drop at her words but she only continued to speak, "I suppose I shouldn't have been so surprised by Cass. When she found me, she put a sword at my throat and said that I was the only threat she saw. She threw me in a prison because someone told her that I had affected The Breach somehow. Otherwise, she would have killed me where I stood. But now that we're standing here, I wonder what she was threatened by – a woman who walked out of the Fade or a mage?" The laughter bubbling from Elodie was dark and cynical and Cullen was beginning to wonder where this conversation was actually going. She wasn't just upset. Something signalled trouble, like a scream at the back of his head.
"Varric talked me down after the fight, he knew it affected me more than I was letting on. He told me not to overestimate the affection I was receiving from 'the Chantry types'," she relayed, fingers mimicking quotation marks.
Cullen visibly froze, fists clenched with growing resentment as he repeated slowly, "Chantry types." Making an impassive noise he didn't feel, he just knew that the reference was as much to him as Cassandra.
Elodie didn't seem to notice his borderline fury and explained conversationally, "Cass is a Seeker. As Varric says, Cass isn't exactly unreasonable but she toes the line of demarcation between right and wrong at times and she is not averse to the propaganda the Chantry runs about how terrible mages are. Varric told me to be careful because if push came to shove, Cass would have preferred a Herald without magic any day."
Cullen couldn't help the snide comment from bursting out, "Then he asked you why you entertained a relationship with a Templar."
Over her shoulder, Elodie threw him a look that teetered between amusement and disillusionment. "His exact words were 'The Knight Captain is a Templar through and through. Like any trade deal, you don't get too attached unless you know exactly what you're getting and how bad you can get screwed'." Cullen was too repulsed to speak a word, leaning with his elbows on the balcony to control the need to strangle the dwarf. "Then Varric told me how you said to the Champion of Kirkwall, who was ironically a mage, that mages were not people like you and he," Elodie finished almost on a note of idle curiosity.
"This isn't any of his business! Our relationship is not his concern!" he snarled out, slamming his bare hands on the stone. The sting was brutally satisfying but his heart still sank when Elodie defended the dwarf.
"Varric cares, that's all. He saw the damage Fenris, a friend of Varric's who had an aversion to magic, inflicted upon the Champion during their brief relationship before the Champion moved on with some pirate. Varric has seen the destruction that can happen when romance blossoms between a mage and a mage-hater," she said with a nod of conviction.
Cullen hissed out at the implication of his status and trembled, unsure whether it stemmed from fury or terror. "I am not a mage-hater and – Damn it, Elodie. Look at me!" he cried out, grabbing her by the arms so he could see her face.
She deigned to look upon him, her expression schooled and calm. "Do you deny what you said to the Champion?" she asked simply. The expression on her face told him she was spoiling for a fight, trying to rile some unforgivable reaction out of him to help her find peace over the discrepancies in their abilities. With a breath, he saw the pain Cassandra's callous words had caused her and found the knot in his chest lessening. She wouldn't be so upset if she didn't take what they shared seriously.
He dropped her hands, "No, I don't. What's more, I stand by what I said, especially given my more recent experiences." Elodie became rigid, a half-sob wrenching itself from her lips.
"Mages are not like me. You are not like me. That is not a comment on your humanity or a comparison of the goodness that exists between you and me," he said and Cullen watched as she quivered against each word he spoke. He refused to shy from revealing the truth and she needed to know him, to learn him as well. This was also too important a subject to brush aside. There were differences between them and they could no longer go unaddressed.
"It is a comment that mages, as a group in Thedas, are different because they wield magic. Give a lunatic a sword and he will cause death. Give a lunatic magic and he will cause devastation unlike anything the world has ever seen," Cullen told her.
He looked around, watching people putter around Skyhold. Further away, he could see Marbles inching closer to another mabari, a highly unusual behaviour as Marbles hated to be near the other war dogs. "When I made that statement to the Champion, I said so without the true understanding I have now. I thought my duty as a Templar was to protect the people from mages and to protect mages from themselves. I did not protect the mages from other Templars or other external threats and I know that I have never discharged my duty as a Templar properly," he admitted, at peace with his confession.
"Like everyone else, I feared mages and what they represented as though mage and magic were one and the same because so much hinged upon the character of the mage. Until the day Meredith succumbed to red lyrium and I saw the devastation of magic wielded by a non-mage first hand, I didn't see that corrupt mages were not evil by virtue of magic," he laughed in a self-deprecating manner. "The knowledge came too late but my statement to the Champion stands."
"Your words are true enough. Magic's influence is far more widespread than a mere sword," Elodie conceded.
"Look at The Breach. The magic contained in your mark closes the rift because magic is likely what tore it apart in the first place," he said as kindly as he could.
"So what are you doing with someone like me, Cullen?" Elodie asked, "If I were not the Herald, I would be dead. I should be grateful for my position. It has allowed us to enjoy our little diversion. If not for The Breach, I would be locked within the Ostwick Circle and you would be my jailor."
Jailor, mage-hater, Templar, Commander – were these the only titles that Elodie could apply to Cullen? He grit his jaw against the temptation of losing his temper but it did not stop the fractures, like the cracking of stone before it crumbled and he snapped at her, "I care not what you are and these hypothetical questions prove nothing. I could never be your jailor because I'd still be in Kirkwall if not for The Breach. If you're scared that when this is over, we'll be forced to separate, then know we will find a way."
"Simple words," Elodie said. "Too simple."
He groaned in frustration, "You and I both know the mages will never be content to live in any Circle and the Templars are ill fit to rule over them. If you want to fight for mage rights and create a balance of responsibility and freedom, so be it. What is a little politics after this mess we're going through? Josephine and the others will still be around to help and they would not leave you should you display even the slightest inclination to such a task. But this is not the issue and I see that. Deep down, you want to fight because you doubt that the love I feel for you would be strong enough to overcome such petty differences!"
She gasped, her eyes swinging violently to meet his, glassy from the revelation. Cullen glared at her, "Hear these words, Elodie and never forget them. No matter who we were, where we were, or what we were, so long as we were in a circumstance that allowed us to meet, all I would need is one single opportunity that aligned our paths. After that, I would create my own occasions to know you. Yes, you are Herald and that was the opportunity given to me in this set of circumstances. But in every other circumstance, in any other circumstance, I would still fall in love with the woman that you are, mage or otherwise."
Her mouth worked but no sound came out. Her throat tightened, all she could do was desperately mouth the words, "You love me?"
Cullen felt a burst of irritation. How could she not know, how could she question him? He closed the distance between them in two steps, both hands cupping her face, "Yes, I love you and I won't let Cassandra or Varric drive a wedge between us. If you think I'll let you walk away from me, you've got another thing coming." He took her mouth with uncontrollable urgency, pouring every emotion he'd locked in his chest into the kiss and held her with a force that could never allow escape.
When she clutched at him in return, a lone tear fell, singeing his cheeks until she could taste his inexplicable need for her. She parted from him, shaken by the sight of his tears. His voice rough with fervour, he told her, "I swore to you once that I would help you find hope and happiness on the days you returned to me feeling lost. You may not grant me a smile but the Maker, Andraste and the Herald Herself be my witness, I will wash your soul clean of the fears Varric's injected and eradicate the poisonous words Cassandra's planted in your heart."
Cullen grabbed her, jerking her body into his until he carried her, hands beneath her thighs and her legs tucked around his hips. Elodie gave a little cry of dazed surprise, shuddering when he filled his hands with the globes of her bottom. He walked into her room, leaving the afternoon sun behind them, and threw her onto her bed, its pristine plum silk sheets crinkling under her weight.
Her head thrashed from side to side, trying to find the words, "Cullen – wait, there's –"
He interrupted, announcing rather insistently, "No. Unless you have some objection, I am going to make love to you and for once, this Templar will discharge his duty and protect the mage he loves from the malevolent influences that cause doubt in her mind."
Elodie rolled her body up to him, adamant for his weight upon her, "The curtains, Cullen..."
"Leave it," he hissed as he crawled onto the bed, "There will be light so you can never deny what is between us."
She watched him with the eyes of prey locked within the sights of a lion, entirely too alert. He felt his emotions gentle and he touched his forehead against hers, brushing a butterfly's kiss over her mouth. "Elodie?" he asked, seeking her permission.
"Yes," she whispered, "I want you, Cullen."
Kissing her again, he invaded, licking into her mouth until he was rewarded with the moans he had so craved to hear. Fingers searching, her hands reached for his tunic and she growled in her throat, eager and aggressive when she felt Cullen's hand delicately unravel the satin belt around her waist. A flash of heat swarmed in his blood and he pushed her hands away, wanting to savour each movement of their dance.
Sitting back on his heels breathless, Cullen wound her sash around his fingers, trying to control his body's reaction. Stiff and aching beneath his trousers, even the sight of her rumpled was almost dizzyingly enough to bring him to the edge. A shy smile crossed Elodie's lips and her fingers found the hem of her blouse. The sash fluttered to the floor and he whispered, "Let me..." before his fingers found the fleshy curve of her waist and his lips grazed over the yielding surface of her stomach.
She made a choked sound, partway to laughter and he grinned as he kissed her flesh again, feeling her tummy dip away to avoid the ticklish sensation. Rolling the hem further up her body, he continually kissed each unhurried reveal of skin and listened to the sounds she made, increasingly impatient as the moments passed. Her palms slid over his shoulders, pulling him up to her but he resisted, continually caressing the skin over her ribs.
His fingers passed over a ridge, a small gash that sat perpendicular to the line of her ribs and asked, "Where did you get this?"
Elodie groaned, "No... it's embarrassing."
He raised an eyebrow at her, "I know where you're ticklish. It would be unwise to deny me."
She laughed, a burst of hilarity before she covered her eyes with her arm and said shortly, "We were studying eels at the Circle. My best friend dared me to jump into the tank with two eels in it. I did and they bit me."
Cullen scolded lightly, "Foolish."
Elodie replied, "I was eight," then added, "In case you're interested, this isn't the only scar the eels left me."
"Where else?" he asked.
"Don't you want to find out?" she countered, a challenging smirk crossing her mouth.
Narrowing his eyes at her, he obliged and pulled the blouse over her head. Then he just looked at her. She was wearing a nude breast band, plain, practical and without any frills. Yet in Cullen's opinion, he'd never seen anything quite so compelling. She reached for him again and he caught her hands, placing them above her head. She huffed at him.
"Stay still and just let me touch you. Please," he whispered. He stroked only with his fingertips, brushing over her collarbone where a deep white indent sat right atop the bone then tracing over the swell of her breasts. Cullen had known a woman's body before but not like this. Even with Elodie partially dressed, he couldn't remember a moment more intimate in his whole life.
He satisfied his curiosities, ignoring the arousal that beat in his blood, calling him to finish their primitive dance. Palms moulding over the muscles in her arms, he kissed every last inch of her neck and torso before returning to her breastband and sliding it off her body.
He felt himself tremble and with a groan, bent his head to lave his tongue over her left nipple, drawing the peak into his mouth. His hand cupped her other breast, testing and petting her until her nipples hardened. Her breath hitched and held, her body shivering until she finally exhaled, almost in exalted revelation. Patience fraying, Cullen's hands roamed downwards and he tucked a finger underneath the waistband of her pants, seeking.
"Cullen, please..." she whispered and he puffed against the valley between her breasts, nodding into her skin. Fingers biting into her hips, he no longer cared to see her small clothes and tore them down her legs until she was utterly naked. He drank in the sight of her, the flare of her hips and the shapely thighs that stretched into elegant legs before he looked upon the curls between her legs. There was a single impassive moment when his eyes met hers and he seemed almost indifferent before his lips curled into a snarl, his eyes burned with ferocity and he took her knees into his palms and spread her apart, teeth and lips dragging down the inside of her thigh.
Elodie's willingness to stay put ended just as abruptly and she reached for the collar of Cullen's tunic and dragged up, her nimble foot pushing up the hem of his soft shirt so she could rip his clothes away. Hungry, she feasted her eyes upon his muscular shoulders and rolled her hands over his sculpted back. There was a flurry of movement, in which Cullen wasn't entirely certain what happened, when Elodie dominated and her fingers scratched at the buckles of his trousers before roughly pulling them down his legs.
On his back, he watched nonplussed as she tossed his boots over her shoulder and flung his socks about. His trousers somehow slipped off the side of the bed and her hands swept down from shoulders to hips, then she touched his knees and swept up to his hips again. Elodie seemed to have the focus of a predator, watching him, surveying him as though remembering every plane and line of his body. Her fingers teased through sparse chest hair whilst her tongue traced the definition of his abdomen and almost involuntarily, Cullen bucked his hips for her touch, wanting her in his most intimate of places.
"My turn," she said, a single finger stroking down his column of flesh with deliberate appraisal. He had time enough to bite back an oath before she attacked, her tongue ravaging over his body. Fingers grasped, groping his flesh. Her hands slid underneath his body, bringing his hips up before he caught lascivious eyes staring at his flesh. She licked her lips, his only warning, before she wrapped her mouth around his erection, sucking deeply into her mouth. Heat streaked, pooling heavily in his loins, and he stifled the noise that threatened as though stopping it might keep him from coming into her mouth.
Surrounded by her soft and yielding tongue, Cullen almost unknowingly thrust his hips, his fingers gripped her hair. She moaned around him, the pleasure only making his flesh harder, jerking inside her mouth. It took every ounce of discipline to push her away and even then, she watched him with narrowed, smouldering eyes and he was given the sight of her pink tongue licking him from base to tip. This time, he didn't stop the vulgar curse that blurted out and she grinned, pursing her lips to take the tip of him into her mouth. When she pulled off abruptly, he realized she had done it deliberately, just so that loud obscene pop would echo between them.
He gripped himself harshly at the base of his erection, a single bead of white dropping off the side the way melted wax dripped off a candle. She smirked, wiping it off before she sucked it off her finger and gave an explicit moan.
"I like the way you taste," she said in a roughened voice, "Maybe you should come in my mouth just so I can find out how much I like it." Cullen squeezed himself harder before snatching her to him. Toppling her so he now lay above her, the thought briefly drifted that her moans were more than sounds but could be sentences capable of devastating his self-control.
She parted her legs for him, easy and automatic, and something masculine rumbled in satisfaction inside of himself. With a hand gripping her feminine hips, he guided himself until their most intimate places brushed together and he felt her sleek, wet heat drip over him. Habit took over and he muttered a prayer that he would not lose all control the moment he entered her. The words left his mind partway when she shifted suddenly, pushing herself onto the tip of his length. The tempting slickness luring him, Cullen sank and she keened, a long drawn out note of wanting. She pressed up to him, her pelvis rotating to a tempo that made him whisper her name. Then she pushed up off the bed and instinctively knowing her wishes, he pressed his palm into the small of her back, guiding her up until she straddled his hips, chest to chest, her lips pressing kisses over his face.
Seated fully, her heat cradling him, she paused and waited until he opened his eyes to meet her. The gingery setting sun burned a halo of radiance around her body and she stroked his cheeks, suddenly all too still and calm. Fingers curved into his hair before tracing his eyes and dipping to his jaw.
"Elodie..." he murmured.
"I love you, Cullen," she said before her lips claimed his in a deeply languid kiss whilst he groaned, deep from his chest, and pressed her back onto the mattress. His hips shifted rhythmically, feeling her feminine silk caress him over and over, and he watched as her eyebrows drew together, creasing a small pull of skin, until her breath stuttered and her nails drew down his back. He watched her climb and listened to the patterns of her cries. She hummed low in her throat when he withdrew but as his pace increased and he pressed into her repeatedly, her whimpers grew tremulous and pitchy.
She squeezed tight around him, meeting his every thrust and he knew he meant to take her slowly and build her pleasure into a frenzy but he continually buried himself into her with every other breath he took, the sounds of flesh meeting flesh echoing amidst her sharp cries and his chanting of her name.
Elodie tightened, her inner muscles contracting and fluttering as she writhed against the force of pleasure that wracked over her. He knew she was close and he could barely hold himself from the edge as climax slithered down his spine. Briefly, he wondered if he should remove himself but there was such a violent need to come inside of her, to spill his seed within her depth, marking the inner sanctum of her body as his.
And then it was too late to think and he thrust himself into her, as deep as he could take her body. Almost sobbing, he panted against her neck and both of them were stiff with the squall of orgasm. Elodie wailed, back arching until his fingers had the space to curl into a fist behind her back and he gritted his teeth, wordless in the ecstasy of his fall, ripped apart by rapture.
They collapsed in a heap of limbs, still joined together. She made a pouty moue and rolled them over so she was splayed over his body, her hair spreading over his chest. He combed fingers lethargically into the thick strands, feeling utterly complete. There were no more empty spaces lying in his heart that hadn't been filled by Elodie's presence.
Hazy, she lifted her head and kissed him, slow and a little sloppy. Cullen felt himself smile against her mouth and tucked strands of hair behind her ear. "I do love you, Elodie. Don't doubt what we have," he whispered tenderly.
"Never," she promised, "I'm sorry I even brought it up. Cass just... got to me." Elodie confided, "I was scared that my love wouldn't be enough for you, that one day, you'd mind that I was a mage."
Cullen repeated as she had, "Never." He shifted her so they lay side by side, facing one another. Idle hands continually caressed and he found a third scar on the inside of her upper arms, this time a ragged dash where teeth had dragged.
He suddenly blushed, "I should have asked before whether you'd ever... done this before."
Elodie returned the question, "Have you?"
"I have," he confessed, "but I am not as experienced as you may believe. A Templar is not allowed opportunities for such behaviour even if vows of chastity are not taken." Cullen's voice turned into wonder, "Being with you was... unlike anything I could have experienced. What of you?"
Her smile dimmed a little, "The Ostwick Circle wasn't really the place for true romance. There was plenty of sex and casual relationships but not the real thing. Ash, my best friend who dared me to jump into the eel tank, arrived at the Circle at the same time as I did. We were inseparable. When we realized we'd never have a family, we swore to create one of our own. We experimented together. He was my first and only before you."
Cullen's brows drew together, sensing sadness, "Then what happened?"
"The Ostwick Circle fell and so did he," she whispered, "I loved him, but I know now what he and I shared was nothing like true love."
Cullen consoled her, "He was a part of your life back then and you will always love him. It isn't the same as you and me, I know that."
"An ever gracious victor of my heart," Elodie commented with a smile.
"I have you, your present and your future. I'm not so greedy as to demand your past as well," Cullen replied before his fingers drew patterns over her collarbones. "That being said, I have a bone to pick with you."
"Oh?"
"You left me, whilst I was still sleeping," he accused, though his tone was half-hearted.
"Exactly! You were sleeping. Don't you think I was tempted?" Elodie asked, "I woke in your arms... and when I opened my eyes, I couldn't remember a moment more beautiful."
The little sweet-talker, Cullen thought, before he admitted that he was so touched by her words that he had forgiven her. "Well, I suppose I could forget about it if you promise to wake me up next time." Elodie said nothing in reply, her form shaking with laughter.
The silence fell over them and his fingers dropped accidentally to her breasts. Drawing circles over her breasts, he watched as Elodie smiled. He drew ever smaller circles until his thumb pressed down on her nipple and she shivered. It was then that Cullen thought darkly about their friends and about their many comments.
There was to be a meeting in the War Room tomorrow. It was routine, there was always a meeting the day after Elodie returned and vengefully, he felt that there was ample opportunity to rub their relationship into everyone's faces. Uncharacteristically, Cullen decided that he was going to give Elodie the wrong time for the meeting and ensure she come in late.
By then everyone would be there and they would be chatting like normal. Elodie would be flustered to find everyone waiting and she would take the first convenient spot, which Cullen decided would be right beside him. He would smile at her and as the din of conversation died down, he would whisper something explicit in her ear. Something that would make her blush. A compliment on her beauty or the reminder that he would make love to her the first moment he was able to get her alone. And when she finally spoke to the group, her voice would be hoarse so everyone knew exactly what was going on between the two of them.
Shrewdly, he narrowed his eyes on Elodie, thinking that it was just a matter of making her hoarse. He slid his body over hers, as though seeking simple intimacy, creeping into her blind side as she remained lax beneath him. Moving downwards, he rested his head on her stomach for a while. She was unaware of his plans, fingers stroking over his neck and she even managed a yawn before he shifted lower.
Elodie froze when his lips passed over her hip and she whispered his name. He just smiled into her thigh. Answering her silent question, he lifted her legs and pressed a kiss in the junction where her legs met her torso, scraping his teeth over tender flesh. She moaned immediately, knees bending to make room for him, nails scratching lightly into his scalp. Smirking at the wantonness he could elicit, he delved, tongue parting damp folds, tasting both of them within her. Hips lifting off the mattress, Elodie called out his name and he groaned, feeling the fresh flood of wetness greet his lips. Sipping ambrosia from the source, he traced Elodie's name into her before pulling the bundle of nerves into his mouth and sucking. She shrieked, fingers gripping vicelike over the back of his neck.
And as he continued to make love to her, Cullen thought with relish that out of the many sinful noises she made, there was one in particular, his favourite, that he was going to ensure he knew very well. The one that held both ardent satisfaction and the vicious sting of anticipation.
It was the raspy, unrestrained and lengthy moan she made just as he entered her.