Cullen woke with a smile on his face, a lovely lethargy slowly giving way to a peaceful wakefulness. He opened his eyes to see the little cabin room in bright sunlight, the normal creak and groan of the ship sounding comforting and delightful. Everything was perfect this morning; he knew that there would be trouble days ahead, that he still had a critical job to complete. He had to deliver the message to the Commander and to find the traitor, dangerous tasks for any man. But today, there was only happiness.

He turned his head and looked down at the reason why. Elya was curled into his side, one hand resting on his stomach, the other wrapped loosely around his arm, her legs entwined with his. She was still deeply asleep, her hair a tangled mess from their lovemaking. She was so utterly lovely that he couldn't breathe. Maybe he was a fool in love, but no one could be more beautiful than his bride.

Needing to touch her, Cullen rolled to his side and slid his hand up her bare back, pulling her in to kiss her temple. She made a sleepy, happy sound, sending electric tingles up his spine. "Cullen," she mumbled, and he had the utter pleasure of watching her wake. The way her dark lashes slowly blinked open and closed a few times, her proud nose scrunch as she yawned mightily, her body arching as she stretched, pressing against him. It started a fire in his gut, reacting instinctively to the primal pulse he knew they created between them, but he firmly pushed it away. Next time they made love, it would be as husband and wife.

"Good morning," he smiled down at her warmly, "How are you feeling?" He felt a touch of concern, worry that she might be sore after last night. He had been rather… lost in it.

But the fear was banished after her slow, brilliant smile. "Wonderful," she raised her lips, and Cullen obligingly kissed her, lightly and quickly. The kiss of a couple, secure in each other's feelings. He didn't tempt fate by lingering over her lips while they were both naked and pressed together.

"Good." Cullen repeated the little kiss, then said, "Now, let us go talk to the Captain!" So saying, he waggled his brows mischievously, and whisked himself from bed, already hunting for clothes.

Elya laughed and sat up, the sheets dropping away from her breasts enough to stop him while he was in the middle of pulling his trousers on. "Cullen!" She laughed, shaking her head, "She might not even be awake yet!"

Forcing his attention back to the task and he shrugged, "So we will wake her." He spied one of the shifts that Elya was borrowing, grabbed it up and playfully tossed it to her. "But I suspect she is already up. I think it is later than either of us intended to sleep in."

His energy seemed to rub off on her, and she quickly drew the shift over her head, stepping from the tangled sheets to the water basin to begin her morning routine. With his simpler clothing, Cullen was done sooner than she was, and so he sat on the bed, watching as she deftly twisted her hair into a softer style than she normally wore. Elya glanced at him, her lips gently curved as she asked, "Why are you smiling?"

He hadn't realized that he had been, but it made perfect sense. He shrugged and said simply, truthfully, "I am happy."

She stilled, another of those beautiful smiles rising to her lips, her dark eyes sparkling. A flush rose to her cheeks and she answered "Me too." Which of course meant it was time for the longer kiss that he had held off on bestowing earlier.

A sharp little bark at their door made them break away from each other, and Cullen chuckled as he crossed the room. He had never expected a dog to play at being a chaperon, but he had never expected Elya either.

The Mabari limped inside, looking haughtily at the two of them and sat very stiffly on his makeshift bed. Cullen laughed, dropping down to give the big dog apologetic pettings. "Sorry we locked you out last night, buddy. You seemed to be having fun with Dog. Plus, Elya and I needed some time to talk about things." Cullen swore that the indignant look faded some, to be replaced by a sideway look filled with curiosity. "You see, Elya and I are going to be married today." The Mabari chuffed and tilted his head, as if to say, 'Well, Finally.' Then a huge tongue streaked wet lightning all up one side of his face and the Mabari was dancing over to Elya to lavish the same attention on her hands.

Cullen laughed and pressed himself to standing. "I think we have his blessing." A few happy barks echoed through the room, agreeing with him. Elya washed her hands, passing him a damp towel so he could do the same with his face. He grinned at her, delighting in her open expressions. Before last night, Elya had always tried to keep her composure in place, at least a part of herself locked away. She had been afraid of his rejection, relied on the training that a 'proper young lady' would receive. But now, now she knew she didn't hide from him, and she glowed.

With a courtly bow, Cullen held out his elbow to Elya, "Shall we find Captain Isabela?"

"Oh yes," Elya readily agreed, linking her arm with his. A sudden shyness had her lowering her eyes, and she quietly said, "I… I hope that this is not too sudden for you?"

Startled, Cullen made her look him in the eye. "Elya, I love you. I want to be married to you. This instant. Last night. Since you bullied me into remaining inactive, confined to bed." The tentative look disappeared, the shadows lifting and easing and an amused smile chased away her doubts. He lifted her hand to his lips for a kiss, speaking against her knuckles, "I would ask the same question of you, Elya. This is not happening too quickly?"

She instantly shook her head. "No, Cullen. I am happy and I love you. I want to be with you."

Cullen lifted his head, a roguish twinkle in his eye, and he playfully pulled her to the door, tugging her in his hurry. "Then let's go!"

"Well," Isabela looked between her fellow Rivaini countrywoman and the man holding her hand, "You two certainly surprised me. And I am not one who is easy to surprise." She sat back and crossed her arms, shaking her head with an amused smirk. "I was sure you two were married already. Newly married, of course. Cullen was trying too hard to impress you, and Elya, you were too conscious of him. But definitely married."

Elya swallowed, nervous over what the Captain would say, tightly clutching Cullen's hand. What if she refused to marry them? Elya would follow Cullen; she had decided that before he had proposed. They could be married in Ferelden of course, but his family would surely feel much better if they were traveling together as a married couple. And Society would not have another reason to think poorly of the match Cullen would make.

The Captain slapped her hands to her trouser covered thighs, making Elya jump. Isabela stood, Hawke following her example while Merrill blinked wide-eyed at the couple before her. Automatically, both Elya and Cullen rose; she could feel the tension in his body, an oddly reassuring fact. He was just as nervous of Isabela's refusal as Elya was.

Isabela came up to Cullen and turned him smartly towards the door. "Okay, time for you to leave now!"

Cullen sputtered, their fingers slipping from each other and he cast a wild look back to Elya. Both Hawke and Isabela were not letting him turn or stop, ushering him out of their cabin. "Wait, but- hold on!"

"We can't do anything about your sorry state," Hawke raked her gaze down the worn and ill-fitting clothes Cullen wore, "but we can certainly give Elya a gown befitting a bride. So shoo! We have work to do!"

Elya sucked in a breath, dazzled. "So you will?" Beneath her starry excitement, Elya almost laughed at the breathless way she was speaking.

"Of course," Isabela said, so matter-of-factly Elya felt tears well. She sought Cullen's gaze, and the stunned but excited grin mirrored her own. Their eyes lock, and Elya felt like she might faint from the surge of happiness and love that filled her. Just before the door was shut on him, Cullen winked at her, and then she was alone with the three women.

"Now," Merrill cried, linking arms with Elya. "Let us see what we have that could be a wedding dress!" She raced to one of the closets, throwing open the doors and immediately started rooting through the colors hanging. "White, if we can manage it. A bride should wear white if she can, but it is more important Elya look beautiful."

"Agreed," Hawke plucked a dress out, lying it across a small pile Merrill had already started. "Where are our dresses?" Hawke turned and frowned at Isabela, and Elya was pleased to see a bright pink flush making her crystal blue eyes sparkle excitedly. She had gotten a very serious impression from Hawke, but there beat the heart of a romantic in her breast it appeared.

The Captain snapped her fingers, then dashed to a trunk tucked beside the bed. "I packed them away after we had the broken window. I didn't want them to be ruined." She knelt and lifted the lid, carefully sorting through the contents before reverently lifting a large bundle from depths. With a triumphant air she placed it on the bed and called Elya over. "These are our wedding dresses. Maybe one of them would work for you."

The girls left their position by the wardrobe, rushing over to watch with excitement the unveiling of such precious memories. "Oh," Merrill sighed happily as the waterproof cloth was peeled away to reveal the first dress. "I do love it still." She lifted it and gently shook, the folds of white cotton dropping down to show the delicate embroidery stitched along the round neckline and bottom hem. Little vines and leaves were threaded around each other, a rainbow of flowers peeking through. Pretty and delicate, bright and happy, the dress reflected Merrill's personality well.

"Here is mine," Isabela lifted the shimmering gown and held it to her front, her lips curling in one of the purest smiles Elya had ever seen her wear. The bodice was cut low, far lower than Elya would feel comfortable wearing, but the design was simple and gorgeous. A crossed v neckline with long, off-the-shoulder sleeves, the only ornamentation on the dress were what looked to be real diamonds scattered around the waist in a bursting pattern. With the silken material used, the dress was gorgeously sophisticated and sensual, just stunning. Instinctively, Elya reached out to touch one of the gems, marveling at the sparkle of it.

Quietly, Hawke lifted the final dress, her expression suffused with soft warmth. She didn't speak, a tender smile doing all the talking for her. For a moment Elya was captured by the gentleness the woman exuded. Hawke was a warrior, as Cullen was, and she probably didn't show this side of herself very often. It was lovely to see, made the piercing blue of her eyes soften with love as she looked between Merrill and Isabela. The three of them seemed lost in each other for a moment, clearly reminiscing on their own special day. Elya felt as if she were intruding, about to take a step away to give them privacy, when her eyes fell onto Hawke's gown and she gasped.

Lace adorned the capped sleeves and the sweetheart neckline, a delicate pattern of intricate work. The skirt fell from the high waist in soft sheer folds, chiffon floating around the ivory sheath to lengthen slightly longer in the back into a small train. It was understated and light and Elya loved it from the moment she saw it.

"So, this one, huh?" Isabela's voice wasn't enough to tear Elya's gaze away, still transfixed.

"Elya," Hawke's voice finally brought her eyes up. "Would you like to try it on?"

Once more she felt slightly out of place, that she would be stealing the woman's wedding gown from her. "Oh, I am sure it wouldn't fit," she hedged. Indeed, Hawke was taller than her, although not by much, but she was more in shape. Her warrior's body was leaner and stronger, while Elya's lifestyle had not precluded her to laboring. She was softer, rounder, and probably wouldn't be able to make the dress lay on her body well.

"I would be honored if you would wear it," Hawke spoke again with that softness not normally apparent. She held out the gown and Elya's fingers brushed against the delicate silk, the layers of sheer material delicious beneath her fingers and fluttering as they slid against each other.

"And you never know if you don't try!" Merrill pipped up, setting aside her dress to bounce over and link an arm around Elya's waist. "It is dress up time!"

Elya laughed, letting herself be lead to where a mirror was attached to the inside of one of the closets. "Oh very well, you have convinced me."

"I think some champagne is in order," Isabela contributed to the merriness of the atmosphere. In no time at all there was the sound of a pop, then Elya held a glass filled with the bubbling liquid, laughing with the others as her day dress was slipped from her body. "Here is to Elya and Cullen," Isabela cried out, the other two women echoing the sentiment loudly, and she laughed as she clinked her glass with them. The bubbles tickled her nose, reflected the delight of the women.

Maker, had Elya had never expected to feel as she did right now. On her wedding day. She couldn't stop the wide smile, the giggles that sprang so easily to her lips. When she had been a young woman ready for her come out, she had thought of her wedding. Like any of her friends, she had wanted to find a handsome gentleman to whisk her off her feet, but she had been more enthralled with the idea of marrying a titled and rich lord than of truly falling in love. She would have settled for a good match for her own comfort that for holding out for the real happiness of a loving partner. In many ways she had been an utter fool. And after Kirkwall and the loss of her parents, she had never thought to marry, burying the hopes away and had never really looked back at such mercenary ideas. She had matured, grown, and had seen what true happiness was worth.

There was nothing avaricious in marrying Cullen, though. She knew their life ahead would have hardships. Cullen was a soldier, and they would have to reckon with her reputation. There would be no grand riches and dazzling titles. But they had each other, and between the two of them their life would be wonderful. A secret smile played over her lips, dreams of the future giving her such joy she couldn't contain the sheen of tears that rose to her eyes.

"None of that now," Hawke laughed, arranging the dress to lift over Elya's head. "You will have plenty of reason to cry in a short while. Just wait till you see him waiting for you."

That of course, just made her tear up a little more, but she laughed and blinked it away. "I probably will," she set down her glass and prepared to have the dress placed over her. Isabela turned her so she couldn't see herself in the mirror, and then Hawke settled the dress over her.

The chiffon wafted and trembled as the skirt tumbled to the floor, playing around her feet. Elya slipped her arms through the little sleeves, exclaiming with delight over the beautiful lace, tracing her fingers along the lower edge of it, down to lift the skirt and feel the airy movement. Hawke went to work lacing the back together, and within just a few minutes she was done.

"Turn! Turn!" Merrill beamed, and Elya did just that.

"Oh," she gasped in wonder, stunned at the view. The sheath of the skirt clung to her legs, the lighter sheer material dancing to the floor. It fit far better than she expected, the bodice tight and lifting her breasts, but not indecently, the sleeves caressing the edge of her collar bones and fitting nicely over her shoulders. She turned, looking down the draping of the back, the way it fell so elegantly to the train. She sighed as she spun the other way, the luxurious movement so compelling she couldn't take her eyes from it. "This is the most beautiful dress I have ever worn," she breathed, astonished and awed.

"You look beautiful," Hawke said lowly, and Elya turned, and impulsively gathered her into a strong hug.

"Thank you," she whispered fiercely, more tears catching in her throat. "I will remember this always."

Hawke sniffed wetly and patted her on the back. "So will I." They broke apart, brown eyes and blue shimmering. "Now," Hawke said with a stronger voice. "On to the rest!"

The next hour was filled with more champagne, good natured teasing and wedded advice. The girls quickly changed into more formal garments, quietly passing instructions Elya couldn't hear to people outside the cabin, assumedly making arrangements. Merrill took down Elya's hair and brushed it till it shone, then arranged it into an elegant knot high on the back of her head. Isabela worked light make-up over her features, highlighting her cheekbones and eyelashes, gliding something over her lips so that they gleamed. Hawke was sitting at Elya's feet, competently and swiftly placing stitches along the front of the hem to shorten it.

Elya's chest was full, so happy. Could this day get any better?

As if in answer, there came a rapping knock at the door to the cabin, a pattern so familiar. Elya jumped to her feet, heart in her throat, and she raced across the room and flung the door open.

There was Cole, the spirit just as pale and mysterious as the only time she had seen him before. But his head was tilted back, broad hat showing a huge smile on his youthful features, and his arms were full. "Every bride should have flowers," he said simply, so pleased as he held up the colorful collection of blooms.

"Cole," she choked up, and then her arms were around him, the flowers somehow safely caught in Merrill's arms so they wouldn't be crushed by the strong hug she wrapped the boy up in. She was crying once more, unable to stop herself, and Cole patted her gently on the back. "Did you know?" Elya asked into his shoulder, "Did you know what would happen?"

Cole squeezed her tightly, knowing exactly what she was asking. "He needed you. And I thought maybe you needed him."

She laughed, "I do. We do." She pulled back with a sniff and met his eyes. "Thank you. From both of us. Thank you from the bottom of my heart."

Cole beamed once more and patted her cheek. "I'm glad I could help."

She linked her arm with his and pulled him into the room, the girls instantly descending in a happy flurry. Isabela was scolding her gently, dabbing at the tears beneath her eyes and touching up the make-up she had smudged. Hawke got back to work on the hem, asking Cole questions about how he and Elya had become friends. Merrill, Cole, and Elya created a bouquet from the myriad of flowers Cole had brought. Darkened yellow dahlias became the centerpiece, the color so similar to Cullen's eyes. With that they added little sprays of white lilac and the glossy green of salal leaves.

Merrill found a white ribbon, and they bundled up the flowers with a pretty bow. "Wait!" Merrill sorted through the flowers again, "One last touch." She swiftly made a little rosette of a single amber and honey dahlia, a white lilac arching down, and a green sprig tucked behind them, and carefully pinned it in Elya's hair.

Her four friends stepped back and looked Elya over, standing in her wedding gown and holding her bouquet, huge smiles on all their faces. "You are glowing. Perfect." Cole stated, and the others immediately agreed.

"We will be waiting for you," Isabela winked and slipped out the door. To go to Cullen.

Merrill fluffed the skirts behind Elya, arranging it so the train flared behind her. "Are you ready?"

Elya felt as if she could fly with the excitement and joy filling her. This was happening. She would see Cullen in just a moment. Be married to him so soon. "Absolutely," she said eagerly, and her friends opened the doors to her future.