My apologies for the unscheduled hiatus last week. I'm hoping to maintain my regular posting schedule through the summer, but there may be a few hiccups along the way, and I'll do my best to point those out in advance when I can. This chapter, I think you'll be pleased to know, is NSFW. Thanks to all of you for reading!


16 Wintersend, 9:42

Antonia paced the battlements restlessly. It was past sunset, and it was their first night back from Val Royeaux, so she had been looking forward to meeting Cullen all day. It was no overstatement to say that she ached for his touch.

She had heard at dinner about a small battle with Red Templars in an Orlesian outpost near Emprise-du-Lion, so she imagined dealing with that was what was keeping Cullen, and she felt no small amount of guilt that she hadn't yet managed to deal with the situation in Emprise better.

Still, there wasn't much to be done with the sun down; a relief expedition couldn't leave until daylight. The mountain roads were too dangerous to be attempted in the dark.

Antonia decided at last to go to Cullen's office and see what was keeping him. Anything was better than standing here in the cold wind. Someday, she kept hoping she would learn to curb her impatience, but it appeared today was not going to be that day.

She slipped in the side door, unnoticed among all the soldiers standing in the room, and leaned against the wall out of the way to avoid drawing attention to herself. It was rare that she got to see Cullen in action without being part of it herself, so she didn't mind watching for a few minutes.

"Rylen's men will monitor the situation," he was saying.

He took a dispatch from someone, looking it over quickly as one of the soldiers said, "Yes, ser. We'll begin preparations at once."

Cullen looked up from the dispatch. "In the meantime, we'll send men to ..." His eyes found Antonia standing there, and she couldn't help the little smile that came to her lips. It must have told him exactly what she was thinking, because his words faltered. He cleared his throat. "To, uh, monitor the situation. That will be all," he finished, a similar smile playing across his features as he shooed everyone out. He shut the door behind the soldiers, pressing it closed with both hands, then leaned against it, his shoulders slumping with weariness. "There's always something more, isn't there?"

"Wishing we were somewhere else?" Antonia asked.

He laughed a little. "Possibly. But I barely found time to get away before, and our little jaunt to Val Royeaux last week has left things ... chaotic." Cullen sighed, pushing himself off the door, crossing the room toward his desk. "This war won't last forever." He paused, looking at her thoughtfully. "When it started, I hadn't thought much beyond our survival. But things are different now."

Antonia pushed herself off the wall, moving toward him. "What do you mean?"

"I find myself wondering what will happen after. When this is over, I won't want to move on." He reached out, stroking her cheek. "Not from you." A shadow crossed his face, and his eyes fell. "But I—I don't know what you—That is, if you ... ah ..." He trailed off, turning away from her, bracing his hands on his desk and staring down at the dark wood, unable to complete the thought.

Antonia felt entirely the wrong sort of quiver in her stomach. It was the same one she had felt earlier today when she'd been arguing with the Revered Mother who wanted to take Leliana and Cassandra away to the new Conclave, and possibly to make one of them Divine. Everyone else seemed to see Halamshiral as a great victory, one that made them want to think of the future. Antonia, on the other hand, didn't see herself as having gotten any closer to a future after it—she saw herself as closer to the eventual showdown with Corypheus, yes, but that wasn't the same thing. Not to her.

But Cullen had censored himself so often in their time together that she could follow his thought processes and feel the fear in him, even now; he still wasn't sure that she felt what he felt. Antonia knew perfectly well that for him it wasn't as much about the actual future as it was about her intentions, about what she wanted. And there, at least, she had no qualms—she knew what she wanted, even if she didn't think she could have it. But that was a conversation for another day.

"Cullen," she said softly, sidling herself between him and the desk. "Do you really need to ask? Whatever future I have, I want it to be with you. Don't you know that?"

He smiled, his eyes lighting with relief. "I suppose I do. I just ... wanted to hear you say it." He bent over her. "Antonia. I want—"

As Antonia leaned back on his desk, her hand brushed a bottle, which fell off and smashed on the floor. She gasped, looking up at Cullen, ready to apologize, but his eyes were on hers with an intensity that had her heart pounding, the words frozen on her lips. He gave a single, decisive sweep of his arm, clearing the desk, unconcerned as to where things might fall.

As the flurry of papers settled around them, Antonia managed to control her breathing enough to say, "You're sure? Everything?"

For answer, his hands went to the buckles of his breastplate. It hit the floor, along with the fur-collared robe, and his shirt fluttered down on top of it, as Antonia hastily unlaced her boots and kicked them off. Then she was lying back on the desk and Cullen's weight was deliciously warm on top of her. She cupped his face in her hands, pulling his head down to kiss him.

What started off slow heated quickly, Cullen's hands going to the buttons of her jacket as their tongues touched and slid together. Antonia sat up to let him push the jacket off her shoulders. He tossed it somewhere, pushing her camisole up to lick and nip his way along her ribcage and abdomen. Antonia moaned at the heat that trailed wherever he touched, her fingers threading through his hair to hold him to her.

Cullen chuckled against her skin, the sound and the sensation exquisite. He pushed the camisole up further, slipping it off of her and unfastening her breastband at the same time. She sighed in pleasure, lying back on the desk again as first his hands and then his lips and tongue traveled over her breasts, teasing the nipples to aching hardness.

Reaching between them, Antonia found the buttons on one of their pants; she didn't care whose. She just wanted them off.

As it turned out, they were his, and he gave a strangled moan as her fingers dipped into the opening they made. Cullen pressed his face into the junction of her neck and shoulder, trembling as she stroked him through his smallclothes.

They broke apart briefly, scrambling to remove the last of their clothing, and then came back together, moaning into each other's mouths at the first contact of naked heat against naked heat.

Cullen held himself above her, and she could feel the trembling in his body. "Maker, love, I want you so badly," he whispered raggedly, his breath hot across her cheek.

Antonia realized that he was waiting for her; he was giving her this one last chance, despite the depth of his need, to say no if she wanted to. Reaching up, she stroked the side of his face. "Yes, Cullen, please." She was more than ready—had been ready for months, it felt like.

And then he was there, where she had dreamed of having him, buried deep inside her. After that first thrust their hands caressed each other's faces, mouths finding each other and mimicking what was happening elsewhere. At first slow, then speeding up as the long-delayed pleasure grew and mounted. Antonia wrapped her legs around his waist, changing the angle just enough, and then she could do nothing other than hold on to him, shaking, as the waves washed over and through her. Cullen followed her with a groan of pleasure.

Wrapped in each other's arms, they let their bodies cool, exchanging kisses and smiling at each other with a great deal of foolishness.