AN: "The Last Straw" is fantastic, from beginning to end. So much in there gives me chills, really. When analyzing the events, I realized that there was one man who was responsible some of the most dramatic moments. I decided to give him a little fanfic love. (And it's about time he got something from Hawke other than aggravation and headaches!)
Dreary gray snowflakes tumbled from the dimming sky. Hawke watched them melt on the dirt path that curved beneath her second-story window, rubbing her arms for warmth. The small village was quiet, and the owner of the local tavern had been kind enough to not ask too many questions when she requested a room for several nights. She was unsure of its precise location, though she was certain that it couldn't be anything more than a speck on the map of Thedas. All she knew was that she was somewhere north of Kirkwall. All that mattered was the distance between her and the ruined city.
A knock at the door startled her. She was tempted to ignore it, but the banging grew louder. Drawing the small dagger that she always kept on her belt, she tiptoed towards the door and slowly turned the knob.
Standing on the other side was Knight-Captain Cullen. Though she recognized him immediately, she didn't lower her blade. He glanced down at the brandished weapon before returning his gaze to her face. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
Hawke's stance was unwavering. "I'm not telling you where Anders is. Or Bethany. Or any of the others."
"That's not why I'm here."
"Then I suppose you've come to arrest me? To drag me back to Kirkwall in chains and force me to answer for all I've done?"
"I thought you'd moved past immediately assuming the worst of every templar you meet."
She stared at him for one more tension-filled moment. Anger was an easy emotion to handle, but it was drowned out by a sudden, strange sadness. She sheathed the dagger, and closed her eyes. "I just never know who to trust anymore," she whispered.
Cullen didn't answer right away. She moved aside to let him enter, shutting the door behind him. Though he was dressed in his usual regalia, a quick examination showed he was unarmed. "I'm not going to arrest you," he said. "I let you go, remember?"
"I know."
"But you weren't entirely incorrect in your assumptions." He stepped closer to her, mere inches separating their bodies. "I've been trying to find you for weeks. I came to ask you to return to Kirkwall."
Hawke shook her head vigorously. "I can't do that. I don't think I can ever go back."
"Why not? The city needs you. They always looked up to their Champion, and they need a leader now more than ever."
"They do. It just can't be me." She saw he was about to argue with her, and she put a finger up to silence him. "When Anders…did what he did, I didn't call for his execution, or even denounce his actions. I stood by him and convinced others to fight to free the mages. Regardless of Meredith's descent into paranoia and madness, I'm sure there are plenty of people in the city who wouldn't be as forgiving as you. Some won't be willing to forget how I supported the uprising."
"I had a feeling you might say that."
"Then why did you come here?"
He lifted his hand, hesitantly at first, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I came to say good-bye."
He cupped the side of her face, following the line of her cheekbone with his thumb in a feathery caress. Hawke closed her eyes again, trying to remember the last time she had been touched in a tender gesture rather than a violent attack. It had been months since she'd last sought solace in Cullen's embrace, to let herself forget the turmoil and chaos that seemed to define her life, just for a few hours.
She hadn't thought much of him one way or the other at their first meeting, she recalled. When he showed up at her uncle's house to arrest Bethany and bring her to the Circle, she had damn near killed him for causing her sister's worst fears to materialize. It had been during her visits to Bethany at the Gallows that she had gotten to know the Knight-Captain better. As time passed, she saw that not only was Bethany content at the Circle, Cullen believed in the fair treatment of mages who had proven themselves to not be a threat to those around them.
Courteous greetings had paved the way for friendly conversations. The more personal interactions evolved into intimate encounters. Once their mutual attraction had been realized, they took mischievous pleasure in disappearing into Cullen's office, or his bedchambers, or even simply a darkened, isolated hallway to give in to their lust.
There had been no consistency to the intervals between their meetings. Hawke wouldn't have labeled their connection as a romantic relationship, but as she felt his fingertips skate across her delicate skin, she realized how much she had cared for him. With one simple movement, he had weakened her resolve and finally broken through the façade of strength she had crafted for herself since the events that led to her departure from Kirkwall. She nuzzled against the palm of his hand, relenting and taking comfort in his touch. "I'm glad you're here," she murmured.
His other hand mirrored the motion on the opposite side of her face, drawing her closer. Hawke tilted her head upwards, anticipating the brush of his lips against hers, the very nearness of the only man to whom she'd given herself in the past ten years. His gentle kiss did not disappoint, though it was short-lived. She pulled away, only to wrap her arms around his waist and rest her head on his chest. The templar uniform he wore made the gesture rather stiff and awkward, but she didn't care. "I didn't get a chance to thank you for saving my life," she said.
"I don't care what happened in Kirkwall. I never would have let her hurt you."
"You took a risk. You disobeyed the chain of command, defied her authority."
"She brought it on herself when she threatened you. I meant it when I said if she wanted you dead, she would have to go through me."
Hawke looked up at him. For the first time in many weeks, a small smile appeared on her face. "Do you think she knew about us? Ever suspected?"
Cullen laughed, a pleasant rumble emanating from deep within his chest. "I think she was focused on other things. Besides, it doesn't matter now."
She wanted to laugh with him. A melancholy sigh escaped instead. "Everything is different now. So much has changed…."
He took a step backwards to gaze directly into her eyes, resuming his affectionate stroke of her hair. "Some things haven't changed at all."
His head ducked back down towards hers. Their lips met again, parting to allow the sweet mingling of tongues. He tasted familiar, warm, inviting, but Hawke still felt the undying surge of excitement in his kiss. She let him cover her mouth with a promise of his enduring feelings, and he probed into her, erasing any lingering doubts she had.
They had shared many kisses over the years. There had been flirtatious, secretive kisses, impassioned, intimate kisses, and kisses given in a quick, chaste farewell at the end of their furtive trysts. This one was different. As she wove her tongue around his, Hawke knew this was the last time they would be together.
Her nimble fingers found the clasps on his armor, their location committed to her memory. In a swift motion she had performed countless times before, she pushed the metal plates aside, ignoring the noisy clanks they made as they hit the wooden floorboards. Cullen, in turn, unfastened any closures that held her clothing in place. He rid her body of the simple shirt and trousers, and she flung his robes clear across the room once she had worked them loose. Their final obstacle of smallclothes showed no resistance as they set out to complete their quest.
Naked and exposed, they were also stripped of all their burdens. He was no longer one of the highest-ranked templars. She relinquished the mantle of the fallen hero. They were nothing but a man and a woman, two people who had kindled a spark within each other. Now they would consummate their bond one final time.
Hawke sat on the edge of the bed and waited for him to join her. The smoldering embers in the fireplace cast a golden glow across the room, creating the perfect balance of light and shadow. In the past, everything had been frantic and rushed. Tonight, they had the opportunity to study each other in full.
They were both scraped, bruised, and scarred from the battles they had faced. Cullen grazed his fingers over a jagged line of raised flesh that ran from the left side of her ribcage down to the top of her hip. She blushed and looked away from him. "You know how things are," she said, trying to make light of the situation. "Some darkspawn here, blood mages there…."
His hand cupped the fleshy swell of her curves at the end of the reddened path. He captured her mouth in another kiss, pulling her closer to him. "You're beautiful," he whispered against her lips.
Wrapping her arms around his well-muscled torso, she dragged him down to a reclined position. He abandoned her mouth in favor of her neck, nipping and licking a trail down to her heaving chest. Burying his face in the ample mounds, he sucked a hardened nipple between his teeth. Her back arched involuntarily, and she clutched at him, running her fingers through the coarse curls of his hair.
The pleasurable sensations trickled through her body. There was nothing more she wanted than to succumb to the bliss, to escape the many troubles that had plagued her. "I didn't want any of this to happen," she confessed in a choked sob, still writhing beneath him. "I'm so tired of all the fighting, all the running…."
Cullen stopped what he was doing to stare up at her. "It may have been inevitable, but none of us wanted it," he said. He pushed some errant strands of hair away from her eyes and offered her a smile, tinged with a melancholy sadness though it was. "Let's try to forget, if only for a couple hours."
It would be the greatest gift anyone had even given her. As his lips descended upon hers once more, she tried to erase all the memories of death and destruction that seemed to follow her around everywhere she went. His hands traversed her bare skin, picking up where his mouth had left off. Experienced fingers sought out every sensitive spot, massaging and manipulating as they meandered lower and lower.
His movements became maddeningly slow as he caressed her inner thigh. As if drawn to a magnet, her hips jerked towards him. When one strong finger finally slipped inside her, she had to break the kiss to catch her breath. "More," she whimpered in his ear.
He obliged her, and a second finger joined the first. It had the odd effect of simultaneously relaxing her and filling every muscle in her body with a yearning tension. His hand worked in steady, measured strokes, gliding in and out of her with ease, and his thumb rubbed concise circles around the bundle of nerves that sent currents of electricity streaking throughout her with his every touch.
Hawke kept one arm draped around his shoulders, unwilling to let him go. Her other hand groped around frantically for anything to hold on to as he fulfilled his promise to bring her gratification, not pain. She twisted the bed sheets in her fist before toying with her own moistened nipples, only to end up roaming over her lover's bared skin, culminating in digging her fingertips into the firmness of his ass. The pace of her breathing increased, and she could no longer see clearly as she struggled for air.
He reclaimed her mouth, plunging his tongue inside as he drove his fingers deeper. The pressure of his thumb was too much too bear and she convulsed in a series of violent spasms. Any screams or moans were consumed by him. He never ceased his ministrations until her wild shakes calmed to a docile tremble.
Cullen withdrew his hand and enveloped Hawke in his sturdy arms. Her breasts pushed up against his chest, and the added contact along the line of their bodies was impossible to ignore. She reached down and encircled his bulging erection in a fervent grip of her own. He twitched in her hand, and she stroked up and down its solid length, all while guiding it towards the dripping opening he had just left. Without either of them saying another word, he slid on top of her.
Hawke needed him that night, in more ways than one. The weight of him pinning her to the mattress was both soothing and exhilarating; that he appeared to know just what she wanted without having to ask only made it more enjoyable. He positioned himself at her slickened entrance, lubricating the bulbous head with all he had coaxed forth from her. Never taking his gaze off hers, he eased forward.
She didn't even try to stifle the moan that resulted from the penetration. Meeting him with every thrust, she wrapped her legs around his waist, her hips rising off the bed as she sought to maximize his depth. With a knowing smile, he halted just long enough to unhook her left leg from its stronghold, maneuvering it over his shoulder. He took the time to kiss the silky calf and run his hand along the outside back down past her thigh to the curve of her ass before ramming into her. Hard.
Nothing could muffle Hawke's scream as every last bit of him disappeared inside her. With her legs spread wide, she lost herself to the rhythmic momentum. He impaled her over and over, seeming to forge deeper than he ever had before. The onslaught of a second orgasm simmered beneath her skin, all the roiling emotions of the past several weeks swept up in a hurricane that could no longer be contained.
Through the haze of her delirium, she remembered from their past sexual encounters the part she liked best. It wouldn't be long before the calm, composed templar lost control and succumbed to his more primal urges. Seeing his carnal desires darken his eyes was her favorite of their well-kept secrets. They may not have been the closest of companions, but she took special delight in knowing there was a part of him he reserved solely for her.
Reminding herself to keep her eyes open, she let his crushing power surge through her and waited for the telltale signs that he was close. The muscles in his neck tightened, cords straining down to his broad shoulders. His tempo quickened, and Hawke felt her pulse race to match. She snaked her hand behind his head, ensuring that some of his focus would still be on her lust-filled stare. "Come for me," she demanded between anguished pants. "Let me feel you inside me."
Cullen acquiesced to the Champion's wishes once more. With one final slam, he groaned loudly, embedding himself to the hilt. His blazing hot climax spreading throughout her was enough to tip her over the edge into the world of ecstasy once more. She writhed uncontrollably, his name on her lips, and clenched around him. His last bit of energy having been milked from him, he collapsed on top of her.
They lay unmoving, the only sound in the room the contented synchronization of their breathing. Hawke was accustomed to brushing his lips with a coquettish kiss and making a quick exit, but tonight, there was nowhere to go. She waited for him to slide off her, though he kept her in his arms and rested his head beside hers on the pillow. The flickering flames in the fireplace had shortened and dimmed, further emphasizing the moonless night that settled around them. "It got dark outside," Cullen mumbled drowsily.
"So it did."
An uncomfortable silence elapsed. "I could just stay in here," he eventually offered.
She turned away from him to face the window. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be," she said, hints of regret seeping into her voice.
He wouldn't let her go so easily. With the tip of his finger, he gently tilted her head back towards him so she was unable to escape his intent look. "It's just one night. Once I leave, I don't know when I'll see you again." A sly smile spread across his lips. "And I believe you owe me a favor. As you said, I did save your life," he teased.
Hawke laughed in spite of herself. "Fine. I won't kick you out of bed. But just for tonight."
She settled back into his awaiting embrace, leaning her head on his chest. Neither one slept. The fire lost its ongoing battle, and she pulled the blankets around their entwined forms, not wanting to leave his side now that she had made the decision to let him stay. "I'm sorry I never invited you over to my family's estate," she said abruptly, shattering the silence.
"Don't be. I'm not sure if I would have been allowed to accept."
"I know. I always worried about what would happen if we got caught. Despite everything I fought to accomplish, part of me always thought that it would be seen as…improper if the Knight-Captain was seen flitting about with the former refugee and smuggler who had managed to claw her way into the higher class."
"I didn't have you pegged as someone who placed a lot of emphasis on what's deemed 'proper'."
"I don't. But you had a position to maintain."
Cullen chuckled. "This is true. But I'll argue that we did plenty of things that weren't 'proper' behind closed doors at the Gallows."
She smiled against him. "I did always like making you laugh." Languidly stretching out her limbs, she adjusted her position so she could see his face while still maintaining their close contact. "Perhaps we should have just said damn it all, and let people talk."
"Perhaps we should have." The mischievous smirk made its appearance again. "Maker knows there were always plenty of rumors and stories about you circulating around the city at any given time."
"Lies. All of them. Except for the ones about my breathtaking beauty and charming wit," she said, starting to feel more like herself for the first time in months.
"Of course. But that I already knew firsthand."
Hawke snuggled against him. "Any particularly juicy ones I should know about?"
"As far as who you could have been entertaining at your estate, I might not have even been the most fascinating choice. There were whispers about you and the apostate, the elf, even that dwarf companion of yours."
"That dwarf companion probably started at least half those rumors." She grinned. "He would be furious with me if he knew what I'd been hiding from him for all these years."
"You may be right."
She paused to choose her next words carefully. "Did it ever bother you? Hearing those things about me, I mean?"
"Never," Cullen said without any hesitation. "Even if they were true, I knew what was between us. I also knew what was and was not possible when it came to you and me."
His words hung heavy in the still, dark air. She turned them over in her mind, contemplating all that had happened and all that could have been. "How did we get here?" she asked, exhaling noisily. "What happened to Kirkwall? What happened to us?"
"I thought we weren't going to talk about that tonight."
"You're right. So what should we talk about?"
"Anything you'd like."
Lying awake in the shadowed room, clinging to each other to ward off the chill, they tried to fit a lifetime of memories and personal histories into the span of a small number of hours that passed far too quickly. They spoke of their time in Ferelden, and the battles they had fought. Victories and accomplishments trickled back to tales of early successes and childhood dreams. They had led different lives, but the people they had become exhibited more similarities than Hawke would have expected.
The harsh reality of dawn encroached upon the safe cocoon they had constructed. Streaks of sunlight splayed across their bodies, and she knew their time together was coming to a close. As if reading her thoughts, he quietly vocalized the lingering question. "If I asked you one more time, would your answer change?"
She understood his meaning, and his offer was tempting. Still, she knew she had to refuse. "I can't. I can't go back to Kirkwall."
"I could protect you. I'd keep you safe."
"I know you would." He spoke the truth, and she knew it. As encouraging as his statement was, it wasn't the right course of action. "You're a good man, Cullen. I'm proud to know you, and I'm glad for the time I've been able to spend with you. But there are a lot of people who need you much more than I do."
"I still think that we could help them together."
She shifted upwards so their faces were level on the pillow. "With everything else I destroyed, I removed any power I might have once had there. You may have let me go, but the fact that your men followed your orders just shows how much they respect you. I won't undermine that." With one finger, she traced lazy circles around the muscled lines of his shoulders and chest. "It doesn't matter what your title is. You could be Knight-Commander Cullen, or even Viscount Cullen. What matters is who you are. If Kirkwall has any hope of being saved from total ruin, that hope is you. That's where your concentration should be."
The look in his eyes showed that he knew he'd lost. "I only hope your faith in me is not misplaced."
"Even if you didn't always trust me in the past, trust me now."
"I do."
He sat up, and she joined him. The covers dropped off her, and she shivered in the chilly room. She was instantly surrounded by warmth again as he folded his arms around her, his body chasing away the cold, unfriendly morning.
The heat that emanated from his skin stoked the embers within her that had never fully subsided overnight. Through the window, the sun bathed him in light, giving her a clear look at his rumpled curls, the scratchy stubble on his cheeks, and the brilliant eyes that gazed upon her. It was a wonderful sight. Hawke knew she would have to give him up soon, but she wasn't willing to surrender him to the day just yet. For once, she would be selfish. She would indulge herself with what she wanted before returning to the isolation of her exile.
She kissed him, slowly at first. He accepted the invitation, swirling his tongue around hers in a relaxed spiral. The knowledge that she would be alone again soon enough spurned her forward, and she pressed her lips against him with an aching hunger.
Cullen slid backwards, propping himself up against the pillows and the headboard. She straddled him, with one knee on either side of his lap, and leaned into him. His hands traversed the length of her spine before one tangled itself in her messy hair. Every way he touched her awakened her further. She reciprocated his deft explorations, and was rewarded by the stiff erection that sprung to life beneath her.
Adjusting her position, she lowered herself down on him. He resumed their final kiss. While their actions of the previous night had been driven by a carnal frenzy, it had been replaced by a slower, simpler enjoyment of one another. They breathed together as she rocked her hips back and forth, memorizing the feeling of him inside her.
Patience, like many other qualities of their relationship, wouldn't last forever. All remnants of the morning's chill upon her disappeared. Fever pulsed through her veins and made her dizzy with lust. Hawke broke the kiss and arched her back, gasping for air as he thrust into her with impetus. Her chest, flushed with pink, rose to meet him, and he muffled his groans in the crevasse between her breasts. His teeth sunk into her flesh, and she screamed. The jolt of pain enhanced her pleasure, and she ground against him harder.
Her thighs trembled with the tension of being spread around him. There was no stopping the force with which she thrashed about, and she anticipated his matched reaction. Cullen's hands slid to her hips and he held her in place as he pitched up once more. The resulting explosion ripped another drawn-out moan from her throat. She shuddered as he throbbed inside her, reveling in the sensations of being…full.
Hawke rested against the chiseled planes of his chest, never wanting to move, but knowing she had to. "I won't keep you here any longer," she whispered in his ear.
He kissed her forehead before extracting himself from her grasp. She curled up on the bed and watched him dress, smallclothes first, followed by the heavy robes. The armored plates were the last addition, and Cullen had been transformed back into the stoic templar all of Kirkwall knew.
She fidgeted under the scrutiny of his gaze. All the other times, it had been her prancing out of the Gallows, usually with a clever quip or halfhearted promise. Today, he was leaving her, never to return. It stung.
Plucking her own shirt off the floor, Hawke pulled it over her head and stood up. She prayed that he wouldn't ask her to accompany him back to the ill-fated city again, for she didn't know what her answer would be. She walked him to the door, ignoring the rest of her clothing that was strewn about, and waited to see what sort of farewell he would proffer.
"There aren't many women in the world like you," he said softly. "I know you say you won't come with me, and I shall respect your wishes." He took her hand and raised it to his lips, giving it a small squeeze as he did so. "But I can't help but think that we'll meet again. I don't know where or when, but I'm certain our story isn't over yet."
She was reluctant to let go of the fingers that were entwined in hers. "Kirkwall wasn't our homeland, but it was our home for many years. Do well by it. For both of us."
"Any time you wish to return, you'll be welcome there as long as I'm around."
"I'll keep that in mind." She resisted the urge to pack up her meager belongings and follow him. "Good-bye, Cullen. Stay safe."
"You too, Champion." With a nod of his head, he was out the door.
Hawke closed it behind him and slumped against the wall. "Maker help me," she grumbled. Her sighs echoed in the empty room. "I could have loved him. All too easily."