Abrasions across the back and most of the shoulder, a gash into the thigh near a major artery which - by the grace of the Maker - didn't nick it, and a swollen eye. Lana pushed what had to be the final drops of her mana into the wounded man. The eye and the abrasion could heal on their own with time, but she was concerned about the gash. Infection was a practical guarantee at this point, and harlequins loved their little bottles of poison. Probably hemlock knowing her luck.
Her patient sat upon one of the marble benches lining the room with another injured soldier's feet stretched across his lap. On occasion, he'd lightly rub the soldier's legs but the woman was numb to the world for another eight hours. "There," Lana pronounced, pulling her hands away from the man's leg. "It will be best if you rest, and in the morning I'll check the eye. Someone will check the eye."
He nodded, his one good eye scrutinizing her as she kneeled before him. They hadn't said much about the not technically Inquisition mage administering healing, but everyone was wary. Given what happened with the Venatori tonight it was understandable. Lana tipped her head and slid away, when the man grabbed onto her tending fingers and gave them a soft shake. Then he returned to his fellow slumbering soldier and shifted her legs so she'd be more comfortable. What had once been the cloak room was overstuffed with wounded scattered across every available surface. The worst were given benches and tables. One rested his head upon what was supposed to be a cake, the blue frosting mashed into his hair. But it cushioned his head from a neck wound and stemmed the bleeding from his nose.
The rest were upon the floor in such a haphazard manner it was almost impossible to cross it without treading upon a finger or toe. Lana fell to her knees to tend to the wounded, inching along by her hands and feet to knit back together bones and close off skin. Another three non-mage healers moved among her, applying bandages and calling out if any magical assistance was needed. After what felt like an hour, the final wound was stitched and she could settle back for a break. The muscles just below the skin of her fingers ached like she'd frozen them into a block of ice. Too much magic snapped back at her from beyond the veil, the mana growing wilder with each dip back in. She bunched her fists up to try and return blood flow, but she knew she wasn't going to be doing anymore magic for awhile. Not without risking a few angry energy bolts across her body, anyway.
Every muscle in her body begged to be cut free - for Lana to collapse into a heap on the floor next to those she tended, but the corset wouldn't allow it. She was pinned and sewn in so tight, sitting was impossible. The best she could do was take her weight off her knees and put it upon her hands. Laying her hands out upon the floor like she was mimicking a mabari, Lana redistributed her weight. She was beyond the realm of exhaustion and into the almost euphoric state of giddiness that follows right before total collapse. And under it all, her side ached. No blood pooled below the corset or onto her skirts, which would just add to the mess she already made of the dress, but the throbbing warned her that it needed attention. Which would require rising and finding somewhere private to get out of the damn dress.
"What's the situation with the wounded?"
Lana glanced up from her hands into the commander's weary face. He still carried his sword as if he feared another attack from the shadows, the blade extended downward. After the Inquisitor arrived in the ballroom informing the Empress about her would-be assassin's death, it was all speeches and drinks, then more dancing and merriment. While the big swords played the game of acting as if everything was under control, the rest of the soldiers gathered up the wounded or carted off the surviving harlequins for a later trial. Lana had no idea who was in charge of removing bodies or scrubbing up blood, but judging by the unperturbed expression on the servants faces, they'd probably seen worse.
"All done up," Lieutenant Andrea rose from her position. She'd been nursing a few of her people, telling 'em stories and keeping them distracted while Lana reset bones. "Least, I think so," she turned to the mage still resting upon her knees.
Lana nodded, rising up to the closest she could approximate a respectable stance, and wiped her hands, "As well as I could. Some of them will require tending through the night, and that man there might lose a..." The world washed to a pastel pink as a ringing resounded in her ears. Lana grabbed onto her forehead to steady herself before she fainted dead to the ground. "Sorry," she shook her head casting the ringing away. Taking in a few breaths, she glanced up at Cullen with a doleful smile, "Been a long night."
He skirted around the people stretched upon the floor to reach Lana. The wounded groaned from pain, but the woes were background now, no sharp cries from fresh agony. Placing the sword down on the bench, he slipped both hands under her elbows and helped her to rise to her feet. She'd lost her shoes somewhere between running to get to Cullen and slaughtering clowns. If they were ever to be found again, she suspected there'd be some fairy story invented to explain them involving a chronically late princess who murdered clowns. The frozen stone nipped at her exhausted toes, but it felt good to be back up, her knees especially grateful. Cullen didn't release his hold on her arm, his amber eyes staring into hers.
"You should rest," he said.
Lana tipped her head back and forth, "In time."
He sighed at her obstinance then turned to Andrea, "Lieutenant, can you handle things here?"
"Oh, sure. No problem. Antim there's thinking about starting a round of Wicked Grace," she gestured to the man with the black eye.
"We don't have any cards," Antim pointed out.
"We'll fake it, no problem," Andrea shrugged it off. She twisted her braid back around to her other shoulder and wiped at the sweat staining her brow and the sides of her face. Behind, she left a blood swipe reminiscent of Hawke's. It'd been a long night for everyone.
"Warden?" Cullen gestured to the door, his other arm still around hers.
"You win," she mouthed. With Cullen propping her up, she padded around people barely aware of her existence and moved out of the door. Once in the hall away from prying soldiers, he slipped an arm around her back and pulled her closer. Grabbing onto his shoulder for support, Lana followed on his trail.
"Shouldn't you be back with the Inquisitor reveling in the toasts and accolades?"
Cullen shrugged, "I'm certain Josephine can handle it. She has a knack for laurels." He led them both down the well lit hallway and through a set of Orlesian glass door. Pushing on the handle with his free hand, the doors opened upon the back gardens. Lana sucked in a breath from the crystal beauty of this hidden treasure. Inlaid sapphires coated every statue around the garden giving them an ethereal glow in the moonlight. They almost appeared like the spirits of the fade, hovering through the garden to watch over the blue bonnets, crystal grace, and other similar shaded flowers overfilling crystal pots. A lone fountain sprayed water in a circle through a hole in a massive blue crystal at the top spire, which scattered water droplets onto the flowers and anyone who drew too close. The chill of the night combined with the fountain created a creeping fog obscuring the path. It gave the illusion they were walking upon clouds through some magical sky garden.
"This is magnificent," she breathed. "And...you had no idea it was here," Lana snickered from the same awe on his face.
"No," Cullen admitted, "I'd thought it was merely a shortcut."
"To where?" Lana turned in his grasp. He wrapped his arms tighter around her shoulders to try and protect her from the cold.
"Anywhere away from there," Cullen said. Pulling her even tighter to himself, he placed a kiss against the top of her head. Lana snuggled against his chest, the rise of his breath, the thump of his heartbeat calling to her. This was a strange serenity; blood clotting on her hands and smoke ravaging her throat, but in this crisp oasis while wrapped up in his arms she felt peace.
"I'm surprised you're not dancing in there, Commander. You're a big hero and all," she smiled. "Saved an Empress. Very impressive. You're likely to get a medal made of tin and some scrap of land with half a mule on it."
Cullen chuckled from her assessment of royalty's temperamental gratitude. "I'm not dancing because it seems someone convinced the nobility I possess two left feet and cannot be trusted anywhere near a ballroom. For which I am eternally grateful," he whispered the last sentence into her ear. The intimacy revived her wilting form and something other than pain stirred in her stomach. "You were as much a hero as I in saving the Empress," he continued. "Shouldn't you be fending off attention from nobles left and right?"
Lana laughed at the idea. "Ha, a strapping man with a strong sword arm and..." she leaned back in his arms so her fingers could skirt along the cut above his lip, "tempting scars is a far better prize than the same in a woman. They see the marks displayed upon my shoulders and are terrified of what I could do."
His fingers pushed aside some of her fallen hair to gently trace the path of one of her old wounds. There were so many carved against her collar bones, her shoulders, her arms it was a wonder she could remember their source at all. "You were formidable long before you got those scars," Cullen muttered. His touch radiated across her skin as he rubbed up and down her arms to keep her warm. Other men would have tried to smoothly counter her by saying she was pretty because of her scars or that she couldn't see her own beauty within, but not him. He found her attractive because of the force that drove her to get the scars in the first place.
"Those women have no idea what they're missing out on," Lana sighed. Her fingers threaded through his hair, the waves soft as silk.
"Trodden toes and snapped ankles, you mean?" he joked.
"You were doing fine until I...interceded."
He pushed back her hair and drew his fingers across her cheek, "I was terrified I'd injure you. I know my limits when it comes to dancing."
Lana smirked, "Really? Were there lots of templar dances while the mages slept?"
Cullen's shoulders shook in a soft laugh, "Could you imagine? It'd be a massacre without a single blade drawn. No, my sister. Sisters, actually. They were always trying to teach my brother and me, bully my brother and me. Being the eldest, Branson managed to wiggle out every moment he could, but I..."
"You couldn't say no." She snuggled her arms around him and ever so slightly swayed with his body. It wasn't the kind of dance to win anyone attention on a floor, but her heart beat in a rhythm quickly matching his. She hoped this dance wouldn't end.
"I am a pushover when it comes to Mia," Cullen said. He plucked another kiss against Lana's head then asked, "Do you have any siblings?"
She swallowed and nuzzled her cheek against his chest. For once there was no metal to impede her, only the wool of the uniform and then his muscle flexing from holding her tightly. "I...don't remember much. Before the tower, I mean. But I had a brother, older by a few years. He was what you'd expect in older brothers. Ornery, loved to hide dirt clods in my shoes. He'd also sneak me treats when our mother's back was turned. Said I was the perfect height to slip over his shoulders and reach apples on the trees."
Cullen's fingers drifted down her shoulders to circle around her upper back, quietly waiting for more. The soft memory drifted away as reality rose back. It was a very old wound, one she was glad to have closed years ago. Lana frowned and looked up at him. "They were not rich, nowhere near the connections Hawke's Amell line had. So, they...turned their focus on the child without magic. The not Maker-cursed child. I never heard from any of them after I was...found."
She knew she was lucky in the end. So many other mage children upon the first sign of their powers were castigated, tossed into the world with nothing to their name, some killed outright. And who knew how many were out there right now alone and terrified with nowhere to go, nowhere safe to harbor them. The circles may not have been the solution but they were at least something in a world full of nothing. Cullen's eyes hovered in hers as he searched for anything to say. "Lana, I'm..."
"No one ever called me by my full name. I was always Lanny or Lana, or Lamby from my father. He said I reminded him of the little lambs in spring. My hair was rather poofy as a child. Solona was too long of a name for such a tiny girl. I'd never even heard it until I'd..." she blinked against the burning in her eyes, "templars appeared at the house. I remember it was summer because there shouldn't have been ice under my bed, frost climbing the trees. Two of them filled the doorway in their gleaming armor insisting Solona Amell come with them. I've hated that name ever since." Cullen's thumb wiped her cheeks, catching the few disobeying tears that dared to escape. She shrugged her scarred shoulders and swallowed. "I...don't think I've ever told anyone that before."
"Do you," Cullen's voice cracked in the cold of the night, "is there ever a time you wonder what your life would be like without magic?"
Twisting her fist around, Lana brought forth a small portion of mana, just enough to light an orb upon her finger. She watched it dance across each finger spinning like the ladies in the ballroom she'd spent half of her life banished from ever seeing. "Sometimes. If I hadn't been taken to the tower, if I hadn't been recruited into the wardens..."
"No one would have ended the blight," Cullen breathed, his warm voice coating her cheek.
"Oh, I'm certain Duncan would have found another warden to light the beacon with Alistair. I was in the wrong place at the right time, a place another could have easily stumbled into. After that it was just fixing all the problems in thedas, recruiting an army, stopping a civil war, and ending the darkspawn scourge. Rather easy." She passed her exploits off as little more than excursions because it was easier than facing how close she nearly came to death and ruin in that year.
Cullen gripped tighter to her, his face burrowing into her neck. It wasn't until he squeezed his hands into her arms that she remembered her path as a warden wasn't as nonchalant for him as she played it. Raising that army took her back into his life at perhaps both their lowest points. She'd never cried harder than that night after exiting Kinnloch. Far from camp, curled up in a stand of ferns for the hope no one would see or hear her, she bawled for every friend she'd ever had then lost and the horror of finding them again. It was her home, her family, and they weren't just killed, they were mutilated beyond recognition. Alistair found her a few hours later, her fingers raw from the carving blade slipping across her staff. She'd gotten only a quarter of the names in, but she couldn't do anymore. He'd sat in the bush beside her, didn't care about the prickers in it, just plopped down and patted her leg until dawn. Neither said a word, but both shared in the survivor's guilt they'd bear for the rest of their lives.
Lana shook off the old memories and slapped on a smile, "Besides, if I hadn't been touched by magic I'd probably be bored out of my mind and married off with four or five kids in the way."
Cullen spoke into her neck, "Married, huh?"
"Most likely to maintain the family business. That's what marriage is, right? Monetary ties and contractual obligations to keep names in order? I'd probably work it to be tied off to a traveling merchant so I'd never have to see him." She spoke the flippant words as if they were a death sentence. In truth, she rarely played the what if game with her own life. If she regretted every decision she ever made, she'd never rise from bed. "What of you? What would your life be like if you'd never joined the templars?"
Cullen pulled back from her neck and rose, his lips turned in thought. "I...I suppose I'd be in Honnleath farming. Or..." He shook his head from a sour taste. "No, I was Maker awful at it even as a child." His head dipped low and he eyed up her shoulder to whisper, "Perhaps I'd be a traveling merchant with a wife grateful she'd never have to see me."
"Oh no," Lana placed her hand against his cheek and lifted those mournful eyes. "Any wife of yours would be certain to travel forever at your side." His lips lifted in a grateful smile, and Lana leaned forward to pluck a sweet kiss against them. As she broke away, she smirked, "And she'd probably come armed to keep the competition at bay."
Cullen chuckled from her fair assessment. "This has been a trying night in many respects."
Clinging tighter to him, Lana shook off another bout of pain throbbing from her stomach. She thought he missed it, but Cullen arched an eyebrow from her wan smile. "I need to..." Lana sucked in a breath from another round, "inspect my wound, but I'll have to find a servant or handmaiden to help me out of this dress. They sewed me into this thing before pushing me out the door."
Cullen's fingers drifted around her ribs just above the bruising from the wound, "I could cut you out. I might know my way around a sword."
"It's all right, I..." Lana tipped her head back from a new wave of pain and she shook it wildly, "Nope, I'm liking your idea more. My room is...somewhere on the other side of the palace. I think." She pointed towards a black spec surrounded by another dozen dark windows in the far distance. There hadn't been much time to settle in before everyone was dashing around readying for the ball. It seemed unlikely she'd even find the right one on the first go.
Cullen caught her hand and cupped his fingers around it. "Mine is much closer. Here," He slipped his arm under hers and lifted her up. Together, they limped through the lit but mostly empty halls of the second floor. A few servants flitted through and the occasional party guest raced to get back to the festivities now that most of the murdering was done. No one paid them any attention, they weren't important.
After opening up his door, Lana inched her way into the room. Someone took the time to stoke the fire, the hearth large enough to hang a cauldron upon. A woman with pinched cheeks and slits for eyebrows glowered down upon them from a painting over the fire. Cherubs in gold leaf circled the four poster bed, each one aiming to shoot the one in front of it in the ass. All in all, it was the kind of room to induce nightmares in anyone, though the wainscoting was very nice.
Lana gripped onto the bedpost while Cullen closed his door. "You're alone in here? This place is palatial," she sighed with jealousy. "I have to share mine with three other women from...I want to say Jader." She tried to stretch out her side, willing the knot of pain away but it wasn't going to bow to her whims again. It was probably the last clown that pushed it.
"Here," Cullen placed a hand on her hip to steady himself as he attempted to find a way into her dress. "Let me try and...uh," a dagger glinted in his hands. He frilled up her burnt skirts, his fingers caressing her exposed thigh. "I'm uncertain where to begin."
Lana chuckled, "There are two pins in the back along both sides, yank those out first. And for the Maker's sake, be careful!"
"Why?" he asked even while cautiously removing the left pin. The side of her corset expanded offering a bit of wiggle room, but not enough yet. "It's not as if you haven't already destroyed the skirts."
"Because," Lana sucked a full breath into her lungs as he undid the second pin. She'd missed that feeling most of all while fighting. "This dress is either Josephine's or Leliana's. I'm uncertain which." Her fingers pushed up the now gaping bodice as Cullen moved around to face her.
"Andraste! Well, um, perhaps the charred skirts give it character. A realistic turn to the fire."
"Battle scarring to a dress?" Lana chuckled, "It'll be the next great trend in Orlais, I'm certain."
Cullen smiled in response, then raised his dagger up for attention. "Now what?"
"There's a long thread running directly through the back half. Cutting it should let out the last of the slack," Lana explained.
With more finesse than before he knew whose dress it was, Cullen's fingers parted through every scale on the back. The warm leather caressed her skin from his exploring, stirring that hungry part of her she'd thought exhaustion tamed.
"I believe I've found it," he crowed.
"Good," Lana nodded her head. "But before you cut it..."
Her thought leapt off a cliff as the eager man nipped the thread apart. In one swoop, the dress opened up from the back exposing her skin. The corset slipped from her fingers, dragging the fire skirts with it to land in a leather and silk lump below her bare feet. She felt Cullen's fingers settled upon her naked back, shock catching him by surprise. Then he yanked his hand away as if her skin was blistering.
Lana spun around and folded her arms across her chest, "I was going to say to warn me because the dress would fall apart, but..."
Gulping, he bored into her eyes while his fingers fiddled with his dagger. He was too terrified to let his vision drift any lower than her chin. "I'm, I didn't mean to, or know that."
Leaning forward on her toes, Lana pressed a kiss to his apologizing lips. Cullen's stammer froze along with the rest of his limbs. She heard the dagger tumble to the floor and she opened an eye to see it had missed the dress. Caressing his cheek once more, Lana smiled. He gulped back his embarrassment from her touch, the pair of them taking a moment. Then she pushed back her breast to inspect the wound on her stomach. The skin was pocked in yellow and green from internal bruising, and where the dagger bit a jagged strip of red remained, but there didn't seem to be any pus oozing free.
"Does it look infected to you?" she asked, her eyes darting from the wound up to Cullen's.
"I..."
"You can see better than I can," she said.
He bobbed his head like a ship adrift on the sea, "Right, of course." Slowly, he descended to a single knee. His eyes bored into her skin while, with a whisper touch, he pushed upon her wound. Pain chewed through her side, but it was duller than the sharp knot she'd felt earlier. Maybe it was the lack of mana in her system that did her in.
"I'm not seeing anything immediate, though a salve would assist in...in, uh," Cullen glanced up from her stomach right into her naked breast. From Lana's viewpoint his face was eclipsed by her nipple which made her chuckle as his face turned the same shade of red as his coat.
She placed her hand against her side, drawing forth what healing power she could manage while Cullen slid back to his feet. He kept his eyes drilled into the floor even as she sighed from relief flooding her veins. She forgot how nice not being in constant pain was, even if the feeling was fleeting. Floating from exhaustion and the balm, Lana wrapped her arms around Cullen and nuzzled close to his chest.
For a moment, his arms remained stationary at his side. "This isn't how I anticipated tonight going," he gulped. "I'm...you are so tempting but..."
"Cullen," Lana slid back from him and smiled, "after so many clowns all I want to do is crawl into bed and fall fast asleep."
Relief flooded his face and he bobbed his head. "Right, of course. I shouldn't have- Wait a moment." His fingers rose to unknot the multitude of buttons along his finery, trembling slightly from the nearly naked mage watching. After a time, he managed them all, the jacket dangling free. He slipped it off his arms and placed it upon the chair, then yanked his undershirt off over his head ruffling up his hair more than battle managed. "You could wear this to sleep in," he said extending the tan tunic to Lana, but she was the dumbstruck one now.
Four years and she still remembered the curve of those taut pecs atop his rib line. That firm stomach that trailed down to his narrow hips prodding above his trousers. The v was softer than she remembered, age catching up, but she wanted to grab the padding even more. Knead it through her fingers. To slip her hands around to his backside and pull him down on top of her. His skin was so pale it radiated in the firelight. Most of his scars were the same ones she remembered from the deep roads, but there was one along the left side of his chest that caught her. The cut was in a c shape, curving across where Lana wanted to lay her head. It wasn't as faded to white as the others, the scar still a stinging pink. Her fingers drifted across his skin, and Maker his warmth washed over her.
Still holding onto the tunic, Cullen wrapped his arm around the small of her back. He watched her stroke his own scar for a minute longer before explaining, "Haven. I was struck by debris when we were fleeing Corypheus."
Lana nodded her head. She tossed back her hair and touched a scar running the length of her shoulder, "Haven, from the dragon worshiping cult. The dragon herself broke my arm in two places." His strong fingers caressed her own scar, the shared intimacy curling her bare toes. He dipped down to kiss her lips, this one as slow as a summer's afternoon floating on the river. The warmth wrapped up through her toes as his lips kicked up more fluttering butterflies in her stomach. She sighed in the back of her throat from a rare moment of perfection. Then a cursed yawn broke through their festivities, dragging away the bliss and replacing it with exhaustion.
"I don't know if I can last another minute," she admitted.
"Here." With his help, Lana snuggled into his undershirt, the same one he'd been wearing all through the night. It smelled of every inch of him, his earthy musk more powerful than it ever was on the grey warden tunic, but there was also a spicy cologne layered over top. When she smelled it, she smiled slyly at him. Cologne, changing his hair, just when she thought she had Cullen figured out...
"Without a dress, it'd probably be best if you spend the night here," Cullen said pointing to the bed. "I can rest in this chair, you take the bed. You, put in far too much tonight already."
Lana caught his pointing hand, "Cullen, don't be silly." Without any resistance, she pulled him to the bed. Lana hopped up and slid over the top of the blanket. "There's plenty of room for both of us."
He fluffed up the back of his hair and sighed, his chest expanding in an instant distraction as he flexed his biceps. "Are you certain? I wouldn't want to impose upon your...decisions of honor."
Yanking back the cover, Lana was partway under it when she stopped and rolled her eyes. She patted the other side of the bed. "Sleep beside me."
Unable to offer up another excuse, Cullen collapsed to the bed. He wiggled off his boots, tossing them to the door as a cheap alarm, and curled up under the blanket. The bed was narrow for two people, so Lana flipped onto her side. Cullen followed suit, his hand sliding below her neck while the other cupped her stomach. It was much the same way he'd spent a few hours speaking to her in Skyhold before she fell asleep and he slipped away. And now, she could spend the whole night with him curled up around her.
Lana sighed, sleep mushing her brain to goo. With barely a whisper she said, "Later, we'll figure out sleeping with me."
