NSFW towards the end!
"Marcus! Is that how you perform a shield bash?"
"I—n-no, Commander!"
"Then do it properly!"
Maker's breath.
This is ridiculous.
"New recruits?"
I look up to see Alistair approaching me in the sparring ground, the sun reflecting against his Silverite armour almost blinding me in its brilliance.
"Yes," I nod, turning my attention back to the trainees. "We're practically receiving them on a daily basis now."
"That's good," Alistair folds his arms across his chest, his amber eyes surveying the troops. "You've done a good job with them, Cullen. Your men fought valiantly at Adamant."
I shoot him a momentary side-glance before I nod curtly.
"Thank you," I reply.
He's... changed since I last saw him in the Ferelden Circle. And I don't just mean physically—we were but young men back then, barely out of our teenage years, so a considerable physical change is only natural.
It is his character that I am referring to.
Even in the Circle, when we were surrounded by death and chaos, I distinctly recall being quite infuriated by how... easily he seemed to be taking things. Nothing seemed to phase him. He was witty and snarky, constantly making light of such a terrible situation.
I now understand that that was his own way of dealing with the horrors that he constantly faced during the blight.
And, I must admit that part of the bitterness I felt towards him was caused by some jealousy on my part; there I was, enraged and broken by the demons and abominations, and there he was, acting as though it was just another day in the life, dealing with the situation as best he could.
I wished I was as strong as him.
And I envied him for it.
But now...
"How are you feeling?" I ask.
His eyes flit away from the recruits towards me.
"The Calling isn't going crazy anymore, if that's what you're asking," he replies dryly. Snarky as his response was, the exhaustion in his voice overshadows it, reflecting the weariness that seems to be permanently etched onto his features. "We take our victories where we can, I suppose."
I feel a smile tug at the corner of my lips.
"Yourself?" he asks after a brief silence. "I heard you've been off lyrium for a while. I'm amazed you're still alive, quite frankly."
I let out a dark laugh.
"You and I both," I say. I pause as a thought occurs to me. "You were a Templar as well, weren't you? Before you became a Warden?"
"Not exactly," he responds, his eyes moving back to the sparring. "I trained as a Templar, but I never actually took my vows. Duncan—the senior Grey Warden in Ferelden at the time- recruited me before that."
"Oh," I nod once. "That's... quite fortunate."
"Oh, I wouldn't go that far," he sneers at me. "Having darkspawn blood slowly poison you to death does have its drawbacks."
I blink at him, feeling incredibly stupid.
"Forgive me," I quickly respond. "I hadn't considered-"
"It's all right," he smiles, but only briefly before a dark expression settles on his face. "I've seen what lyrium withdrawal does to the Templars. In a way, it isn't that different to what the taint does to us towards the end."
I stare at him as he continues to watch the troops, and my thoughts instantly jump to the Hero of Ferelden.
His wife now, I've heard.
It truly is incredible how small the world is.
"How's...ah..."
Maker's breath, how do I refer to her?
Amell?
Except, she isn't an Amell anymore, is she? She's a Theirin now.
The Hero of Ferelden?
Simply 'the Hero'?
"Solona?" Alistair asks with raised brows.
Solona.
It's been years since I've heard that name said out loud.
How she would haunt my thoughts as a young man...
"Yes," I reply awkwardly. "How—how is she?"
The darkness in his expression is immediately replaced by a soft wistfulness.
"She... she left before all this began," he murmurs with an incredible tenderness. "Like I said, we Wardens... we don't live that long. After defeating the archdemon, however, we discovered that not everything is as set in stone as we thought. So, she's searching for a way to end the curse. For us both. Maybe for us all."
He pauses, the faint hint of a small, melancholy smile spreading across his lips as he thinks of her.
"She was going to stay to help," he continues. "But we had a lead that couldn't wait. One of us had to go."
He stares off into the distance, and the longing I see in his face makes me feel guilty for bringing her up.
The love this man so evidently has for her...
I have never felt so much admiration and respect for Alistair as I do now. And I mean that in a personal sense; I have always respected his accomplishments and abilities as a Grey Warden, of course.
The Warden is an incredible woman. She always has been, even back in the Circle. And if anyone is worthy of her and her love, it is the man standing beside me.
"Has it been long since you last heard from her?" I ask.
He blinks and looks at me, my question rousing him from his reverie.
"The Inquisitor passed on a note when she received a letter from her last week," he responds. "She might be onto something. There's danger, of course, but there's always danger." He takes a deep breath, and when he continues, his voice breaks with emotion. "Hearing from her again... Maker's breath, but I do miss that woman."
He clears his throat and swallows, rapidly blinking his eyes as he looks away from me.
"You're a lucky man," I tell him with a small smile.
"Indeed I am," he replies. He looks at me, amusement playing in his kind, yet weary eyes. "As are you."
I raise my brow, instantly feeling flustered.
"Your Inquisitor... she's quite a woman, isn't she?" he smiles.
"I- yes," I reply, smiling fondly as her face swims before my mind's eye. "She certainly is."
"You there!" one of my lieutenants shouts at a recruit and directs our attention towards him. "Watch where you're pointing that weapon! You'll poke someone's eye out!"
A brief silence ensues as we watch the continued sparring, which I am pleased to say has already improved significantly since earlier this morning.
"You knew her, didn't you?" Alistair suddenly asks.
"Pardon?"
"Solona... you were a Templar at Ferelden's Circle," he clarifies. "She spoke of you the day we stopped Uldred. She was... concerned."
My features harden as the memory of that dark time crosses my mind.
"I would be dead or mad if not for her," I murmur. I close my eyes and shake my head as I remember the inexcusable way I spoke to her that day. "I was in a sorry state when you found me," I lament. "The things I said were... unkind. Untoward. I regret them now. I...I wish she knew that."
I look up when I feel Alistair gently place his hand on my shoulder.
"She does," he tells me gravely. "She knew you were not yourself that day. How could you be, with all the horror you'd been through? She always spoke highly of you, Cullen. Even after what happened. I doubt she would have expressed concern over you if she felt otherwise."
I gaze at him, a wave of relief washing over me.
"Thank you," I reply gratefully. "That... that means more to me than you know."
He smiles and nods.
"Is it lunch time yet?" he asks in a lighthearted manner, looking up at the fortress. "I have such a hankering for some cheese!"
I chuckle as I look back at my troops, my spirits feeling considerably higher. So high, in fact, that I almost forget to chastise a recruit for dropping his shield (again).
Almost.
"I'm sorry."
I look up and meet Leliana's sad gaze, my grip tightening around the elaborately designed silver scroll holder she has just handed to me.
"As am I," I murmur.
She sighs, her gaze lingering on the scroll holder in my gloved hand. Then, after a solemn nod, she gracefully slips through the door, leaving me alone in my dimly lit office.
I let out a long breath, looking back down at the scroll holder. Hesitantly, I open it and pull out the rolled scroll housed within it, my hands slightly trembling. My throat constricts and my jaw tenses as my eyes slowly take in the names of every member of the Inquisition who has lost their life in the siege of Adamant.
I stare at the names for the longest time, numb in my grief, uncertain of whether a minute or an hour had passed. I only look up when the sound of my office door slowly creaking open rouses me.
"I thought you'd still be awake," Evelyn smiles as she softly shuts the door behind her.
I smile weakly and set down the scroll as she approaches me. I push my chair back to give her enough space to take her usual seat on my lap, instantly wrapping my arms around her and burying my face in her hair before our lips meet in a kiss.
"What were you reading?" she asks, her fingers gently gliding through my curls.
I sigh and close my eyes, allowing her soothing touch to relax me.
"The names of those we lost in Adamant," I reply morosely.
I feel her shift as she leans over to take the scroll in her hands. She is silent for a quite a while as her eyes slowly scan the list, and I open my eyes just in time to see the tears brimming in her own.
"So many lives..." she whispers, staring blankly at the scroll. I gently take the scroll from her hand and set it back on the desk before placing my fingers beneath her chin and tilting her face towards me.
"They did not die in vain, Evelyn," I tell her.
She closes her eyes and rests her forehead against mine, taking in a deep, long breath.
"I know," she replies curtly. "Corypheus will pay for what he's done."
I place my hands on either side of her face and kiss her forehead.
"I just came back from a drink with Varric," she says quietly. "He told me he wrote to Fenris, Hawke's lover. You know him, don't you?"
"I do," I nod. "Our paths regularly crossed in Kirkwall. He and Hawke were incredibly close, from what I recall."
"From what Varric and Hawke told me about him..." she looks down at my chest plate, her lips pressed into a grim line. "Varric doesn't think he'll make it."
"What do you mean?"
She looks back up at me, her expression pained.
"When Varric first introduced us, Hawke told me something that really... struck me."
"What is it?" I brush the hair away from her eyes.
She silently observes my face for a moment before responding.
"When I asked Hawke why she was alone, she told me that she didn't want to risk bringing Fenris along. Because... because she believed he would kill himself to save her. And I know that that is something lovers regularly say, but after what Varric told me this evening... Hawke meant it quite literally. She was everything to Fenris. He literally had nothing—nothing- before he met her. And now..." her voice breaks as the tears roll down her cheeks. "He lost her. The one person who ever mattered to him... is gone."
She does not break down like in the Chantry. The tears are silent this time. I stare at her, watching her fight against the fresh tears that are threatening to spill from her eyes before I hold her against me in a tight embrace.
"It made me realise how easily we can lose the ones we love," she continues in a whisper. "It made me realise that I want to spend every living moment with you, Cullen. While I still can."
A strange, strangled sound escapes my throat, akin to a stifled sob, and I close my eyes tight, holding her even closer against me. She shifts in my embrace to look at me, and I cradle her face in my hands and kiss her with an overwhelming urgency.
"I love you." The words fall out of my lips instinctively, without any forethought. She stands up and takes my hand in hers, guiding me to the ladder leading up to my quarters. As soon as we reach the landing, our hands impatiently start to undress one another, our mouths colliding in a ravenous kiss.
Once free of all clothing, I carry her in my arms and gently lay her down on my bed, my lips immediately moving across her skin, kissing and tasting every inch of her. I plant a trail of kisses down her stomach, burying my face between her legs. I cover her with my mouth and glide my tongue against her, my eyes intently fixed on her face as I hold on to her even when she screams and bucks beneath me.
Still trembling from her rapture, she impatiently pulls me up, and I allow her to take over, handing her complete control. She thrusts me onto my back and kisses beneath my jaw, making me whimper as I feel her tongue against my skin. She glides her tongue down my body, and I let out a loud gasp when she takes me in her hot mouth, my fingers grasping desperately at the bed sheets beneath me.
I lift my head up to look at her, my groaning intensifying as I watch her slowly and deliberately slide her tongue along my length, her eyes fixed on mine.
"Maker..." I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my lip, my body trembling.
She slides her mouth away when she senses the tension building up in me, and I sit up as she crawls up and straddles me, swiftly covering her breasts with my mouth. She runs her fingers through my hair, clutching it tightly when she feels me slowly slide into her, a long, shuddering moan escaping her as I fill her completely.
There is an urgency to our love making that is foreign to us both. Tonight, more than ever, we insist on holding each others gaze, desperately holding on to one another, almost as though one of us is in danger of disappearing if either of us dared to let go. Breathless, I tell her that I love her, over and over again, even as she clenches around me and yells out my name, until ecstasy overpowers my senses and robs me of the ability to speak.
I fall back onto my pillow, panting, my arms shaking as they curl around her when she slumps over me. She rests her forehead against mine, her breath cool against the heat of my face. I kiss her softly before she slides off me and rests on her back, staring up at the star-speckled night sky peeking at us through the broken roof beams.
"You know," she says as she studies the stars. "I used to think the Anchor was a curse. But lately, I've started seeing it as a blessing, and not just because it is the key to stopping Corypheus."
I shift to my side and face her, bringing my hand to her hair.
"Why, then?" I ask, running my fingers through her dark locks.
She smiles and turns her gaze away from the starts to meet mine.
"Because it led me to you."
And once again, I am struck speechless by her. I respond by shifting my face closer to her and kissing her, slowly and gently, relishing the feel and taste of her lips against mine.
But as she sighs and nestles her head against my chest, a troubling thought latches itself into my mind, depriving me of the bliss that normally elates me in her presence.
She could have easily been the one to stay behind in the fade, forever lost to me.
As Hawke is now forever lost to Fenris.
But, whether it is through luck or a direct blessing from the Maker himself, she is right here, held in my arms, her warm body draped around mine.
Alive.
And I know that it is selfish, I know that it is untoward and wrong, but I cannot help but thank the Maker with all the fervor I can muster that she was the one he chose to spare that day.
Note: to all those who despise female Amell's default first name, my apologies! i just had to use it in the interest of keeping the story easy to relate to by you guys, since we all obviously don't have the same first names for our wardens. same deal with 'Evelyn'. that isn't actually the name i used in-game. it's just weird, using a custom first name in fanfics. or maybe it's just me?