Lol just a little outlet for my anticipation for Dragon Age: Inquisition. I crave drama.
The sky roared.
They were standing on the praecipe of change. This was it, the part the Teller of Tales would call the Finale Battle. Trevelyan was standing in the middle of a battlefield, the green hue of the fade behind them casting eerie shadows on the ground, illuminating their targets that consisted out of demons and other undead monstrosities.
She was breathing hard beneath her helmet, her bladed staff heavy in her right hand as her left was burning a furious bright green. Like the Fade itself.
It hurt, but it fuelled her resolve. She looked around briefly. Her friends, her companions, were standing right next to her. Shoulder to shoulder, armed to the teeth and with her armies right behind them.
She spotted Iron Bull had a nasty cut across his face, Blackwall had his armour dented and saw that Sera was favouring her left leg, despite that she had her bow cocked with an arrow ready to fire. Trevelyan knew that she herself must not fare any better. Healing magic from Dorian had cured the major wounds for she was not experienced in it; she was more of an Elementalist. Maker how she wished that she had listened to that sassy mage.
"We are growing outnumbered, Inquisitor," a deep voice called behind her. Trevelyan turned around, only to spot that familiar metal lion-helmet. In the eyes of his helmet, she could see Cullen's amber eyes stare into her own, worry etched in them as well fatigue. His armour was bloodied, but he did not appear to have wounds himself.
"I know, but we can't falter. We can do it, Cullen. We have to do it," she whispered at the end.
Whether she was trying to encourage him, or herself, Trevelyan had no idea. Snatching a Lyrium bottle she downed half its contents –feeling instantly a bit more alive than she probably looked- and gave the remainder to her loyal general. Who mimicked her action after taking off his helmet. His hair stuck to his head in a sweaty mess, his face was flushed.
Cullen had been with her from the very beginning. Giving her advice on more levels than just military. Trevelyan had grown fond of him, more than she wanted to admit and more than it was advised in her position. They were at battle that was now trying to reorganize itself. They could both die at any moment.
"Cullen in case we-"
"Don't. We are going to make it, both of us. We are going to prevail," he growled almost angry at her and grasped one of her shoulders with the hand that was holding his helmet. His amber eyes blazed at her.
She could feel her heart pounding louder and louder in her ears at the screeches of the demons and undead closed in, yet she could not look away from those fiery depths.
"The next wave is coming. Prepare!" Blackwall called out, his deep gruff voice booming over the battlefield. His words were echoed by several officers throughout the army behind him.
With lightning fast reflexes, faster than she could even blink, Cullen removed her helmet and closed the distance between them. He did not care that they were not alone like they were all those times in Skyhold, picking shadowy corners on specific times where they were sure that no one walked the halls if her room was off-limits or would be too suspicious. He did not care a whole army, or even her companions could see them. And neither did she.
The kiss was sending Trevelyan ablaze from the top of her head to the very tip of her fingers and toes. So much love and passion was poured into her very being that she felt like she was about to burst. In that kiss she memorized everything that made Cullen tick. The feeling of slightly curled hair beneath her fingers, his eyes warming her with the slightest of glances, the smell of leather that he always seem to carry with him, how his body felt in her embrace and inside her. She memorized everything until her brain could no longer process it. Then they had to pull away, the moment always arriving to soon.
Her fade-marked hand traced her general's rough cheek, her thumb grazing the scar above his lip almost caressing, leaving green tendrils of the Fade in their wake that lingered a second before vaporizing into thin air, as their slightly laboured breaths mingled.
She wished so hard that they could stay this way, but the demons were almost upon them. Archers cocked they bows and were ready to fire as the creatures from the Abyss itself were almost in range. Her eyes bored into his own and a deep hearted promise erupted from her general's lips.
"I promise I will find you when I lose sight of you in battle. Never forget; you are never alone. I will always be near you, inside here," his gauntleted hand pressed against chest, where her heart was hammering against her ribcage.
"That promise goes for me too," Trevelyan yelled and pulled on her helmet that she picked off from the ground. Her grip on her staff tightened and she revelled in the feeling of how the Lyrium sang in her blood. A grin pulled at her face when she watched him pull on his own helmet and unsheathe his sword. The metal shimmering in the green light of her hand and the sky.
"And don't you dare have more kills than me, chantry boy!" She called before going into chant, hurling a fireball at the oncoming horde.
She was swimming in darkness. It was suffocating and thick like tar. It held her in place, submersed and with everything muted around her.
Trevelyan heard.. sounds, she thought? Either way it seemed to be coming from miles away, making them unable to identify them otherwise than a deep rumbling that varied in tones, as if she was underwater. She tried to open her eyes, but to no avail. Nothing seemed to work.. she was just so tired.
She feel something pull at her, but it was like a breeze of wind nothing note-worthy. Was this it? The end? Where was the part she was going back to Maker? What happened?
She was so tired.
Tired of fighting endless battles, settling never-ending disputes and the constant worry and impending doom of hanging above her head. She was tired of losing everything; her family, her home in Ostwick.. her friends.
Maker, she was tired.
There was another pull at her, this time more forceful and certainly note-worthy since it was followed by a strong push. It was as if something of incredible weight was bouncing up and down her chest. It was irritating. Then suddenly, a sharp pain pierced her chest. Almost making her burst from her little submersed and dark bubble. Okay, that definitely was worth noting.
Almost instantly Trevelyan noticed the haziness in her head began to clear a bit. The sounds were coming closer and sounded less muted than before, even though she heard the words; she somehow could not understand them. It sounded like gibberish, a foreign language.
The presses on her chest intensified and something warm covered her mouth. She had the urge to touch her lips, to feel that warmth, but discovered once again that she could not move herself. Then there was that spark again and instead of irritating and annoying, that fucking hurt.
The pain erupted from her chest and spread in rapid speed towards every pore she had on her body. It was mostly focused on her left hand, but that didn't mean that the rest was feeling sunshine and daisies. It was bad, no, one of the worst pains she had ever been in and it came again and again, pulsing rhythmically from the left side of her chest where her heart should be.
Again that warm sensation was on her mouth, but she did not know what it was or what to do. For she could not move. A panic rose inside of Trevelyan. Why did she not move? How come? What was happening?
Something then burned inside her, something screamed, but she did not know what it was. Only that it frightened her and made her head and throat hurt like mad. Then she felt something wet on her lips, seeping between them and onto her tongue, burning like fire. And the dark bubble bursted.
Trevelyan gasped. Sweet cool oxygen contained the fire instantly and filled her lungs. With each raspy intake of that sweetness her burning subsided but the pain stayed, making her flinch. Something then touch her forehead, something warm and calloused. Something that she had felt numerous of times in more ways that she could think of right now.
She willed her eyes to open despite the pain and the sickening throbbing inside her skull. Everything was blurry above her. There was a lot of grey and black, but also a golden colour that caught her eyes. Something wet pricked the skin of her cheeks. She expected it to stop, but it didn't. It only intensified and it did not only stop at her skin, but drops of water rained down over her entire body, soaking her robes.
Rain.
The cool air made the haziness in her head slowly part way for memories. She knew that golden colour above her. Her eyes strained to focus and she must be showing it for that golden colour approached a bit closer. They were a pair of eyes.
"C-cullen?"
Her voice was raw as if she had screamed until her throat bled. It hurt to speak but the words already left her lips before she could stop them. She was a mess.
Her lovely general smiled weakly. His face was upside down looking at her from above, that was when Trevelyan noticed that her head was lying on something firm but soft. His lap?
"See? I told you.. I found you."
His voice broke the same time his eyes did, but he did not cry. Not physically. 'Why would he?' Trevelyan wondered faintly.
"Cullen," her voice whispered again. Almost pleadingly. Two warm calloused hands cupped her face.
"Yes, I'm here. Everything will be alright, you just need to heal a bit.. that is all," his whispered frantically and his eyes tore away for a second to look at something she could not see. It made her gut curl.
"I'm scared," her words tore his golden gaze back on her. Her heart hammered against her chest, pulsing pain through her veins. It intensified when she tried to move her fingers. "It hurts when I move."
He hushed her, his thumbs stroking her cheeks soothingly. Slowly he leaned down and let his lips graze the tip of her slightly upturned nose. She could feel the stubble of his chin scratching her forehead. It was a familiar feeling that calmed her sensing just a bit, but that did not stop the worry etching into her.
"Your body is barely managing, it's was almost scorched to a crisp by the blast," he murmured against her skin and moved his lips up to her forehead, so that they kept staring at each other. "Thanks to Dorian.." his words failed and Trevelyan could see the sharp sting of sorrow in his eyes.
"If it weren't for Dorian, I would have died," she finished his sentence and remembered that feeling of being submersed and the darkness all too well.
She felt Cullen briefly nod by the way his lips moved on her skin. "You were lifeless when I found you. No heartbeat, not a sign that you were still in the world of the living. I feared the worst.." His voice threatened to break again, and despite the pain Trevelyan managed to lift up her right arm and touch on of the hands that still cupped her face. She pretended she did not see the mangled state it was in.
"But I am still here.. thanks to you, to everyone," she whispered to him. Soothing her general just like he soothed her mere moments again. "How is everyone?"
Cullen took a deep composing breath and glanced at her. "Tired, alive. The demon horde was easily dispatched when you took out that Elder One and closed the Breach."
"How about the Warden-Commander, and Hawke?"
"Organizing our troops and aiding the wounded. They are fine."
A sigh of relief washed over her, same as fatigue. But now the good kind. "Thank the Maker."
Cullen pulled away a few inches and stroked her face with his hands, gently massaging. "He certainly has a sense of humour. Now sleep, love. You need to recover your strength and heal," he whispered and his eyes turned warm and lovingly as if they already weren't.
Like it was a magic spell her eyes drooped and she deeply inhaled the scent that she came to love with all of her heart and beyond. "Will you be there when I wake?" Trevelyan managed to murmur as her consciousness slowly began to sink in to sweet oblivion, filled with everything she loved.
"Always."