"I knew an Amell once. She was a special woman. Never met her like again."
"Solana, stop." Cullen bends to put his hands on his knees so he can catch his breath. "Just. Hold. On." He looks up at her with a grin, watches as she steps back towards him with smile as wide as his. His chest tightens and it's not just that he's winded, he's fallen.
She bends down and reaches a hand out for one of his, slender fingers with tiny cuts from turning too many pages, wrap over his. "Have you had enough then?"
He nods and gulps down air before lifting himself back up, his back aches and he knows it shouldn't, but it just doesn't feel right without his armor. There's a lightness in his shoulders that means moving is more free, and still strange and uncomfortable and twin slivers of pain slide down his arms. He slides his hand so that he can lace his fingers with hers. He pulls her close, his other hand finding its way to her jaw, rough fingertips over soft skin. Solana lets out a soft gasp as he leans in, her other hand against his chest where he knows she must feel the racing beat of his heart. With an exhale of the breath he's been recovering, he kisses her.
His fingers wind into the tumble of curls at the base of her neck as she presses into him and for a moment- the space of so many breaths he cannot count and does not miss- he wants to stay that way forever. There's warm sunlight on his back, a sensation that only fades in his mind as their kiss holds, and is forgotten when their lips part.
"Don't think you can convince me so easily, Ser." She's smiling, but he knows the thread that weaves through her words. It's a threat, just as much as her arched brow and the lilt in her voice tells him that she's trying to to keep the mood light. "I won't go back because of a kiss, you know."
"I know," he says. "What about for two?" It's like a game that they are playing to forget the dangers and ignore what lies ahead of them, when the time for kisses and sunshine is over. He leans in all the same and kisses her again, pretends like she must also, that they have all the time in the world for kisses and games and the gentle caress of wandering fingers.
"Not even for two," she murmurs into his lips. She kisses him the third time their lips meet and it's ever as needy as his, and when it's his turn to pull away, he nearly wishes for the feel of cool armor against his skin for all the heat coursing through him.
Cullen unweaves his hand from hair and slides it over her shoulders and arm. He pulls her hand from his chest and matches his hand to hers, fingertip to fingertip and palm to palm, as well as her hand can be mirrored by his. "Is there anything I can do? What will convince you?"
Solana's face is thoughtful, a twist of lips into a crooked and playful smile, brown eyes skyward as though she asks the Maker for words of wisdom. Ever pulled into her orbit, his blue eyes follow her gaze to the heavens. While she pretends to think, he watches a singular cloud drift through a blue sky. He waits, patient and content with the feel of the sun on his face and her hands in his.
There's an eternity in the waiting, not that he minds but the ache in his back is too much for the standing and when he shifts his feet, she senses it. She lets out a soft chuckle and moments later, they are tangled arms and legs on cool grass and staring at the sky once more. She scoots in close and lays her head on his chest and with arm wrapped over her, he lets her have her silent thoughts. Solona sighs and as the cloud drifts over their heads and out of sight, he lets his eyes close.
"This trick again? I know what you are. It won't work. I will stay strong..."
He sighs, but then there's a pain in his legs and flash of light he can see even through his eyelids. His chest tightens, and he's struggling for air again. Cullen opens his eyes and while it's not an empty field or a blue sky that he finds on the other side of the darkness, Solona is there.
But then again, she's always there. Always.
His armor is heavy and it's not just his back that aches, it's everything. From somewhere, a small reserve that he wasn't even sure he had left, he gathers enough strength to stand. There's a prayer on his lips and though to his own ears it sounds like little more than muffled nonsense he knows the words are right. The Maker, if no one else, will know what he's asking for.
Prayers aren't enough for the demon, she shows herself again and again with Solona's face. So much, that he cannot remember where she is or why she is gone in the first place. If he knows little else, he knows that his happiness is not real; that the Solona he sees when he closes his eyes and feels the warmth of something that must be like love beneath his ribs, is merely magic. He sweats and aches beneath the armor and it feels as though the Fade has crept over every inch of his skin. If he could remove his armor he would scratch at his skin, if only to peel away the grime left in the darkness when the demon gives him moments where there are only stone walls in every direction.
At least, he is still at the tower. He knows Kinloch like he knows himself and he trusts neither of them until he sees it in darkness with only the faint glow of magic to tell him that he's still trapped. Somehow the demon knows that too, that he uses the despair of the tower to ground himself in reality, and soon enough it has taken that away too. Just like it took his templar brethren. Just like he knows it will take him when Uldred has corrupted the last of the mages.
"Freedom then," she whispers and the feel of her breath on his skin should not send feel like a tender kiss, but it wears her face already.
He cannot help but smile when he sees her return. Her hair is lighter and he wonders if it's from all the time she must spend in the sun now that her days are not restricted to tower walls. The blue and the gray of the Wardens suits her and he eyes her appreciatively, though he knows he should not. What is on offer is a life outside of the walls, not just one where they must return to it. A life where he might be able to keep both his orders and the woman that smiles at him while flames dance between her palms.
It should be the most ridiculous thing that the demon has offered him, but she finds him in the tower and it's not just a trick played out behind closed eyes. Her hand is in his and somehow nothing is as he remembers it. He passes templars in the hall who merely salute and mages in the library with their heads buried in books, and his aches are gone as though none of it happened at all.
Maybe it never did.
"Draw your last breath, my friends, Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky.
Rest at the Maker's right hand, And be Forgiven."
The Chant of Light, Canticle of Trials 1:16
"Knight Commander Greagoir wrote to me about what happened in the Ferelden Circle. You are to be commended, Ser Cullen." The Knight Commander rises from her chair with a nod to the tranquil woman in the corner of her office. He steps out of the woman's path as she makes her way to the office door behind him, the door closes and while he doesn't hear her footsteps, it's clear the tranquil has left the office.
"Thank you, Knight Commander."
"Don't thank me," she says and her blue eyes are fierce in a way that he cannot describe, but are still a clear enough indication that Kirkwall will be different. "Your fortitude and conviction are to be commended. That is all. What happened in that tower was nothing short of a disaster and I am determined to make sure it is a mistake not to be repeated here in Kirkwall."
He nods even though he can feel the heat of shame on his face. It seems that Greagoir's disappointment did not find it's way into the man's letters and Cullen is not sure whether to be relieved or not. Surely, were he not able to serve, the Knight Commander would not be offering him the open Knight Captain position. But the stamp has already been put to parchment and he begins in the morning.
Meredith turns sharply at the corners of his desk and her approach is predatory. Cullen is rooted to the stone beneath his feet and is grateful he cannot move for fear of showing that he is unfit for the order altogether, let alone his newly minted position. He holds his tongue and watches as his new Knight Commander settles herself against the desk and folds her arms across her chest.
She lets her steady gaze rise from his unpolished boots to the stubble over his chin and the loose curls that have gathered around his neck in the weeks it's taken him to get from Ferelden to Kirkwall. The woman doesn't smile but her lips twitch and he cannot tell if it's disapproval, or amusement that greets him.
"If you ask me," she says, though he's asked nothing at all, "the whole of Ferelden is in trouble. A Blight? Wardens?" She scoffs. "They didn't stand a chance once the demons marched on Denerim. Their pretty queen is going to have a fine time cleaning up that mess. Not too mention the Wardens I hear are moving in from Orlais."
His feet are free enough then and he shifts uncomfortably. He can feel the muscles in his jaw clench as he lets his gaze slip past Meredith to the walls of stone behind her. There was never time or words enough, and something a little like sadness churns in his stomach. He nods absently and then a noticeable silence brings him back and he finds a way to snap his focus back to the woman in front of him whose blue eyes are not the ones he remembers.
Cullen clears his throat and asks, "Knight Commander?"
She raises a brow and pushes herself away from the desk. "Go get settled in Knight Captain," she answers and he knows dismissal when he hears it.
Her back is still turned when he pivots to leave. The tranquil woman is standing on the other side of the door when he opens it and she shuffles into the office. Meredith's voice calls out as the door starts to close behind him. "You'll be spending your days out in the courtyard Knight Captain. It's a sight different than tower walls I can assure you."
THE END