Chapter 26: Joy and Joining

Evelyn woke to the feeling of Cullen's warm hand atop hers and the sound of his soft baritone murmuring a prayer. She held her breath and tried to lay as still as possible, lest her movement disturb his chant. Eyes closed, every muscle motionless, she wanted nothing more than to bask in the comfort of his voice and his touch.

She had thought that perhaps when the time came to look Cullen in the eye and be who she really was, she would regret the truth emerging and wish for things to be as they had been. It came as a shock to realize that the only thing she wanted to do was tell him everything. She should have done it long ago. Now she wished she could re-live their every moment together as her true self with no walls between them.

In her own words, she wanted, needed, to explain to him why she lied, share with him her struggles, and the fact that she might have gone on living as someone she wasn't if not for him. She destroyed a lifelong secret with a few seconds of magefire and a streak of lightning and she had no regrets. His presence gave her purpose, his affections gave her life and if she could only earn his love she knew that in it she could find freedom. Perhaps they could both find freedom.

Though he never said anything explicit when they spoke, she knew his life had been tainted by magic also, differently perhaps but no less than hers had. He was certain to have suffered the sting of a mage's touch at some point in his past, yet still he was here, holding her hand. She hoped he would share his own struggles with her and that they could begin to heal the scars they had both kept hidden from one another.

She felt so different now. She was changed. There were places inside her where doubt and hatred once lived, bitter silence and hopeless longing, festering, bleeding. After the events at South Reach, a dull numbness was all that remained and she felt empty. The hollow husk of her being ached to be filled. Stripped of its pretense, her soul was plaintively crying out its desire to feel again and feel something other than despondency. She needed Cullen to know that the only thing left of her old self that she wanted to keep, that she wanted to build on and move forward with, was her love for him.

But he already knows. He said it. You love a Templar and he loves you. Or did you imagine it? Was it another demon whisper? Another false temptation?

Her breathing that she'd been trying to keep quiet hitched. Fear crept into the void inside her. If she was alone in this, her truth, did she have it in her to cope? Could she move forward? She was so tired. Had she done nothing but exchange one lonely battle for a new one?

As if snapping to attention for the sole purpose of banishing the apprehension from her head, Cullen stopped chanting, squeezed her hand and spoke. It was a tender whisper, a hopeful one. She felt as if her heart stopped before his words carried through the air from his lips to her ears.

"Evelyn. Are you awake, love?"

Love.

She couldn't be awake. She couldn't possibly be awake and have this be real, have him here with her. With her. Knowing her. Loving her. This was every impossible dream of her youth that was beaten down and crushed beneath the weight of her old reality. The reality where she didn't deserve him, didn't deserve anyone, didn't deserve anything but silence and servitude to the Maker who'd cursed her. Evelyn closed her eyes tight. She wanted to open them and see his face, but she was terrified to do so.

Another moment passed with her heart paused in her chest, until she felt his other hand at her cheek. Eyes still closed, she instinctively turned her head to soak up more of his warmth where it contacted her skin.

"Maker be praised." Cullen sighed out in one long exhale. "It's been hours, please, open your eyes, how do feel?"

Happy.

She found her voice but it was tremulous, scared to rejoin the world outside of Cullen. "I'm...well. Uninjured. My wounds were healed." Those on the surface at least. She finally opened her eyes. "Are you alright? Your family…"

"Fine, everyone is fine. They have you to thank. I have you to thank." Cullen leaned down to touch his forehead to hers. "Evelyn, I need you to know...I...I've never felt anything like this before."

He seemed as if he wanted to continue, but then he groaned and sat back in his chair. "I've been thinking about how to say this all day." He sounded tired and conflicted.

Evelyn pushed herself up on her elbows. She wanted to erase the worried furrow on his brow and the lines of exhaustion on his handsome face. "Cullen you don't have to…"

He stopped her with a kiss. It was a bare brush of lips, as if opening a door but not walking through it. She walked through. She pressed her lips to his even as tears fell from her eyes wetting both their faces. Her action was so swift, so eager, so without hesitation as to shock them both, but not enough to pull away. Instead they exhaled into each other, hot breath, relief, bewilderment, uncertainty all evident in their cautious, timid touches, learning each other again after the dramatic exposure of her magic to the world.

Cullen lifted his hands to cup her cheeks and she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck, but then she caught sight of the green glow on her bare hand flaring with her heated emotion. It was then that she jerked back abruptly, pulling away from him.

The effort of concealing her abilities had gone slack while she slept. It was difficult bringing herself back into focus after her exertions on the battlefield. The taste of freedom she'd had wielding her power was proving hard to reign back into silence. The song inside her seemed to have a mind of its own and letting it be heard out loud for even such a short time only served to weaken her dominance over it that she'd crafted over a lifetime. She didn't want to impose its cacophony upon him, not in these first few tentative steps. Not when she wanted him to see her and not her magic.

You are your magic. Are you not yet done denying it?

She pushed aside the errant thought and pushed down her magic. "I'm sorry, Cullen."

Evelyn covered her face with her hands and shook her head. So many opposing instincts each trying to come to the forefront, were difficult to interpret and impossible to rationalize.

Love isn't rational.

Had Dorian told her that? She believed it now, in all its terrifying truth. "I'm sorry for everything, Cullen. I'm so sorry…"

But he stopped her again. "Please?" He asked, holding out his hand and reaching for hers. She tentatively placed her marked palm on top of his. Letting him pull her closer, she watched him close his eyes, as if concentrating. He lowered his head and squeezed her hand. They were both quiet. The only sounds in the room were a drafty whistle at the windowpane and their soft breathing, hers quicker, anxious, and his deep, steady.

After several minutes, Evelyn finally relaxed back onto the bed. The thin sheet covering her didn't provide much warmth against the chill of a Fereldan night, but sitting so close to Cullen was like cozying up to a fire. His body radiated physical heat but even without that, simply being near him, touching him, made her own blood run hot with hungers she had tried so hard to keep in check, never letting herself fully succumb to them when she was still struggling beneath her lies.

It's different now. Enjoy this. Enjoy it while it lasts…

So she did. Her attention turned to their joined hands. His fingers and palm were rough against hers, his grip firm. Searching past the simple tactile sensation, she felt the solidity of his aura. He had a Templar's defenses, built with years of dedication, a backbone of faith against the profane, and the faintest echo of the lyrium song that must have once roared inside him. She could lose herself in his strength, his calming foundation, well-constructed, well-forged, well-formed and unbroken by the storm of living.

Lulled and nestled inside his quietly imposing presence, she failed to notice him looking down at her. The honey gold in his eyes had gone dark in the shadows of the room with only specks of brightness flickering along with the candlelight in the corner. She stared back up at him, sure that she could look into those eyes forever and be content but unsure of what to say and how to say it. She opened her mouth, but he spoke instead.

"You healed me, didn't you?"

xxxx

Cullen's shaky whisper came with a visible puff of frosty breath. The room was getting colder as the night descended. He didn't need her to answer his question. He knew. Touching her now, feeling her magic, he knew. He would never have survived the avalanche at Haven if not for her.

Evelyn bit her lip, eyes still welled with tears. She nodded in confirmation. "I'm sorry. It was without your permission. I just couldn't let…"

Again with the apologies, so many apologies. Had the girl only ever lived thinking she was to blame for everything?

"Stop, Evelyn." He put his fingertips to her lips. "Stop apologizing. It's enough now. Never, ever, apologize for who you are. Not anymore, not to me."

Cullen let his hand fall back down on top of hers. He inhaled the chill air and it soothed him. He needed to say this. He needed to say it right.

"Evelyn, I'm grateful that you healed me. Once, in my past, I would not have been, but that day, I knew I wanted nothing more than to continue living so that I could be by your side. I won't lie to you though, not after what it cost you to be honest with me. Until recently, I…" He stopped himself and sighed. There was just so much to say.

Say it. Say it all.

"Until recently, I would not have been able to accept this." He clutched her hand harder. "But you've given me perspective, distance from my old life, my old ways, old assumptions. You're so different from what I'd come to believe could exist and I...I love you…" He wanted to look away from her, to put his walls back up, to defend the last sliver of his heart that hadn't hardened that he was now giving to her. He forced himself to focus on her dark eyes. Reaching up to touch her face, he finished what he had to say.

"I don't give a damn what you are. I can love you. I do love you."

If he said the words to convince himself, he found he didn't need to. The truth of how he felt resonated in him more than the call of lyrium ever had. There would always be chains tethering him to his past, to the Order. He would always be a Templar. He could accept it now though, when before, he kept trying to hack away at the chains, as she had all along as well, trying to deny her magic. There would always be chains, unbreakable, rusted into place too thick and stubborn to rot away, but from this point forward, they would help each other carry them.

If he said the words to convince her, then he hoped it worked.

xxxx

She wanted to kiss the words from his lips. So she did. He could love her, he did love her and she kissed him, tasting him, tasting the salt of her own tears and he held her close. The sheet that covered her slipped away but she didn't notice until her skin contacted the cold metal of his armor. When she gasped and withdrew, he picked the sheet back up and wrapped it around her.

But that wasn't what she wanted. She knew his lips, she knew his touch, the feel of his hands and mouth and arms. She knew him in corners and abandoned towers at Skyhold and she knew the feeling he stirred in her with his confidence, his thirst. Always in control of himself, but always seeming to fight his desires to take more. He stopped himself from pushing forward, from forging a deeper bond or creating a greater intimacy. She had obvious reasons to hesitate before, despite her certainty that she would love nothing more than to join with him. As to his hesitancy, she decided it was time she tested it.

This was not a night to leave things undone. She did not want either one of them to leave this room with reservations. She would have him know her, all of her, have her, hold her, she would lay herself bare before him as she had laid her magic bare before the world and she would move forward a new person. If not as a new person, she wasn't sure she could move forward at all.

A self-loathing apostate and an embittered ex-Templar were not the stuff of fantasy. Heroes and kings and childhood tales of true love was not this. A first time on a wedding night with the prettily perfect trappings of nobility all around was not what she would have. It was not what she was ever meant to have and it was not at all what she wanted.

She wanted this. Now. It had to happen now with an ache still in their hearts, a world still to be righted and tears still drying at the corners of her eyes. It had to happen now because once they were linked, once their bodies had meshed and their souls were bound together, there would be no separating them, she knew. She knew this for certain. They would face their trials, carry their chains, and move forward, stronger together than apart.

Evelyn sat up on her knees, tilting her shoulders so the sheet he had carefully placed back on her slid down to the bed. She took his hands in hers and guided them to the many bandages swathed around her. She helped him release her from her bindings, revealing healed skin unmarred but still tender from her injuries. She felt a heated flush rise to her cheeks when she was completely naked under his gaze and just before she lowered her eyes nervously she would swear she saw color rise into his as well.

She stared down at his hands. They were clenched into fists and if she would have worked up the nerve to look at his face again, she would have seen his jaw in a similar state of stress. He slowly relaxed one of his hands and brought his fingers forward to graze the top of her thigh. She held her breath as the calloused digits traveled upward, caressing her hip, and then turning so the backs of them brushed her abdomen and up further until his thumb traced lightly underneath the swell of her breast.

She'd been cold. It felt like she'd known nothing but cold since Redcliffe until this moment. She burned beneath his touch, feeling flames lick at her from their point of contact to every other corner of her being. Daring to lift her eyes to his was dangerous, but she did it anyway. Wide pupils looked back at her, the force of desire behind them overwhelming. He was holding himself in check as he always had when they were together, but this was different. She knew he felt the same as she did and that his restraint wouldn't last long.

Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls. From these emerald waters doth life begin anew. Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you. In my arms lies Eternity.

They were ready and willing to dive into the abyss together.

When she arched her back to meet his exploring hand, his discipline faltered. His mouth found hers with a powerful determination. Her body melted against his and this time she didn't even notice the cold steel of his breastplate pressed into her chest.

His strong hands were on her back, in her hair, at her shoulders and she was dizzy with the feeling of being exposed so completely. When her magic sparked and rose up inside her she stiffened trying to battle it back down without pulling herself from the wicked delight of his touch. He sensed her tense under his hands and gently pulled away leaving one last chaste kiss on her lips before pushing back his chair and standing.

With the faintest of smiles on his face, he never broke eye contact with her as he slowly removed his armor and undressed, carefully placing each adornment on the floor beside the bed.

To see a Templar in his armor was a common thing. To see one remove it was mesmerizing. The practiced motions of his fingers at each of the ties and buckles, the flex of his muscles moving and shifting and lifting out of its protective encasement made her heartbeat quicken and her mouth run dry. Almost every inch of him was hard planes and scarred skin and it was beautiful.

Fascinated and entranced by his form, she reached out to touch him as he had touched her, but the sight of her hand again brought her magic back into her conscious awareness and again she tried to pull back. This time he didn't let her retreat. He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm. His unshaven stubble scratched at her, sending tickles of curiosity through her.

What would that feel like grazing her stomach, her neck, her thighs?

She wanted to know. She wanted to know every part of him, every hair on his head, every scar and muscle, including those scars she had found within him and tried to heal when he lay unconscious in her lap in the aftermath of the destruction of Haven.

But could she reciprocate? Could she really willfully expose him to her magic and allow him to know all of her? She wondered if she would even have a choice. They'd barely touched and yet each advancement brought with it a flare of mana fueled energy. What if she couldn't hold it back?

"Shhh." Though she'd not voiced her concerns, Cullen hushed her thoughts. He brought her hand to his chest, over his heartbeat. His skin was hot and her lips were jealous of where her fingers now lay wanting to taste the heat of his body. He stepped to the edge of the bed and climbed in to kneel beside her. The mattress dipped with his weight and she brought her other hand up to his chest to steady herself against him. They were so close now, her body sharing his warmth. He covered her hands with his where they rested on him.

"No hiding." He ordered. "I won't have you pull away from me." Then his voice softened. "You won't hurt me Evelyn, I promise. Let it go. Show me."

xxxx

He kissed her again, still pressing her hands to his chest.

Maker, she felt wonderful. She was cool softness and innocent indecision. It was impossible to stop himself from claiming her lips with a passion that only she could draw from him. He could taste her magic on her tongue. Where the Chant of Light usually reigned, now he stole her voice, clear words turned to muffled moans and he swallowed them down as he kissed her.

He'd ordered her to show him her magic, to let go and let him in but he could tell she was still wary. He pushed past her reluctance, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close. Leaning forward, cradling her, he laid them down. She relaxed back and he settled in atop her. She parted her legs to accommodate him and he nearly shuddered at the slide of her thighs against his and heat of her core open to him, welcoming him. He shifted his pelvis determined to be patient but the response he got tested his every last ounce of control. She arched her back and tilted her hips up to him, spreading her legs further, releasing a long moan into his mouth. He saw her control was waning as well.

He moved his lips to her neck, inhaling the scent of her and then suckling at her pulse point along time with the beat of her heart. Her chin tilted up to expose more of her body to him and he chanced another shift of his pelvis, unable to hold back his own pained and needy groan at the feeling of her slickness.

He knew immediately when she surrendered. A long sigh that was almost a whine escaped her and she wrapped her arms around him. Her fingers grasped at his shoulder blades and her short nails dug into his back. The intensity of her grip, the sharp sweetness of how she embraced him was unimaginable in its intensity and in its desire, its lust, and its love. This was all new for her. She didn't have to tell him. Desire, lust and love. He'd known his share of all of them and was jaded by the lot until this very moment when her wonder and her willingness to experience all of this with him made everything new for him again as well.

That's when he felt it. The first soft notes of her song reaching out to him, the first tingle of her magic at the edges of his senses. He held her closer, tighter wanting her to know he felt it and that he wanted it, encouraging her to open herself up more. He ran his nose through her hair and pressed kisses against the shell of her ear. He let his hands roam, caressing soft curves and kneading at tight knots of tense muscle. When he swiped the pad of his thumb against one pebbled nipple she cried out and he felt the light inside her shine. She shocked herself with it, but it was too late, waves of invisible energy crackled between them, sparking along her skin and trying to soak into his Templar flesh, hardened as it was against magic. He could take it all, he wanted it all, to feel her, to be buried inside her, to claim her and drive into her as she learned how to be herself through him.

Urged on by the waves of her magic and her legs that were now riding high and wanton on his hips he repositioned himself, pushing up on his elbows so he could look down at her face. He needed to see her, and she needed to see him. He couldn't help but smile as he took in the sight of her, eyes heavy lidded with lust and lips swollen and parted for him, quivering with her softly panting breath. He leaned down and touched their foreheads, forcing his eyes to stay open as he slowly moved to slide into her. Taking himself in hand, he guided his throbbing tip to her center and ran it up and down the length of her. She shivered and tried to close her eyes and throw back her head, but he took his other hand and grasped at the back of her neck, tangling his fingers in her hair.

"Don't look away." He begged. He didn't mean for it to sound that way, but a needy plea it was. He had to see her. She opened her eyes and he found such longing there, such desperation that he couldn't bear to deny her any longer. He pushed through her, into her, slow, deliberate, watching her face the whole time. He saw shock, then fleeting pain pass behind the dark pools of her eyes before the craving settled back in. Her breathing quickened and she bit at her bottom lip, not even blinking.

She felt amazing. It was ecstasy, the feeling of her surrounding him, the tight wet slide of entering her with her legs tremulous and locked around his waist. He forced himself to be steady and slow, waiting for the swell of her magic at his intrusion to calm back down into flowing waves.

When it did, he started moving, again painfully slow. All he wanted to do was drive her into the bed, but he kept his pace languid and he kept his eyes on her. She exhaled and whimpered each time he seated himself deep inside her, grinding his pelvis into the spot that he knew would bring her the most pleasure.

Soon it was all he could do maintain his measured thrusts. He was sweating and the sight of her panting and writhing underneath him, spreading herself wide to take in more of him was rapture personified. When she started lifting herself to meet him on each stroke, he gave in. Smothering her in a kiss, he finally shut his eyes and started racing, hard and fast, pulling her towards her climax. He felt her magic go wild, crashing into him and he absorbed all of it lest she frighten herself with her loss of control.

He felt his own peak stir and build with each of her urgent cries for release. She cried out his name and the Maker's, and a beautiful litany of pleases and yeses and other incoherent words of wanting. He growled into her shoulder when he felt himself harden even more, readying to come inside her. With sharp quick thrusts, not letting her recover or even breathe between them, he brought her over to the other side.

She stiffened then went limp, letting him carry her through the rush. She shouted his name again and again, chanted it in her bliss and it was a prayer he wanted to hear as often as he could until the end of his days. Her core clenched around him over and over as she rode out her peak and with the feeling of that alone, he was done. He buried himself to the hilt with one last thrust and spilled himself while surrounded by her touch, her scent and her magic.

They clung to each other, still quaking, vibrating, ears ringing in exhaustion. He grunted when he finally slipped himself from her and she exhaled deeply nuzzling her face into his chest. Without allowing any air to pass between their bodies, he held her close and rolled over so she could rest atop him.

Neither of them spoke. Cullen listed to the wind gusting outside, the in and out of her slowing breaths and her magic still humming all around them. Eventually, she slept, but he remained awake, reluctant to release her. Time passed and his eyes grew heavy. Sleep tugged at his thoughts. He didn't want to succumb to the Fade's pull but it was for a different reason than usual. He wanted to be awake, holding her and knowing, knowing that this was where he belonged, knowing that he had somewhere to belong and it was with her. Here or anywhere as long as he was with her, he belonged.

Outside there was doubt. Outside there was grief, a war and shadows at every turn. Inside there was clarity. Inside their pocket of love and magic set apart from the world, at least for the moment, there were dreams of the future, soothing comfort and light. Outside there was pain. Inside, with her, there was joy.

A/N: As promised, Cullen got some lovin' for the holidays. I hope all of you enjoyed it as much as he did ;)

As always, thank you all from the bottom of my heart for reading. I hope to see you again soon because Cullen and Evelyn have a lot of shit to deal with when they get back to Skyhold. They'll probably need lots more sex to get them through all the stress :D Happy Holidays!