A Kiss and A Promise
InquisitorAllandra
Disclaimer: Don't own any cannon Bioware characters, nor Dragon Age. Referencing the cutscene before you fight Corypheus.
Summary: A little more in-depth of the cutscene with Cullen before the final fight with Corypheus.
She'd come upon the Commander in the small, secluded chapel, with nothing but his fervent prayers for company. The Inquisitor stood back at the threshold and leaned against the doorway, arms crossed beneath her breasts, trying not to disturb the Commander in this rare moment of quiet. As quiet as Cullen was in murmuring his prayers to the silent statue before him, Allandra's keener hearing could still make out the words of the Chant.
"Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Makers Light and nothing he has wrought shall be lost—" the former templar's chant cut short, twisting to catch sight of the presence invading the small room that served as a prayer room.
"A prayer for you, vhenan?" Allandra pushed herself away from the doorway, footfalls echoing on the stone as she made her way into the small room, towards Cullen. The ancient door behind her creaked as it slid shut. Allandra's brows knit together in worry, lips tugging downward to a frown when Cullen bowed his head with a tired sigh.
"For those we have lost," he answered at last, "…and for those I am afraid to lose." The elvhen Inquisitor barely heard the last part of the statement, it was so quiet of a whisper.
Allandra tilted her head, dark reddish-brown hair brushing across her shoulders, ice blue eyes widening a bit at the confession. "You…you're afraid?" She stood just next to Cullen now, who had risen from his kneeling position to tower over the elf. By now, the Inquisitor had seen Cullen at his worst points in fighting the lyrium; she had seen him lead their army into battle on several occasions, but…while logically, she understood and knew that he could have fear, at the same time, it seemed such an unlikely thing.
Cullen blinked his amber brown eyes in confusion, hand going to the back of his neck. "Of course I am – it is only a matter of time before Corypheus retaliates. We must draw strength from wherever we can." The Commander's whole face darkened, dragging his eyes away from his lover, even as she moved towards him, concern and worry and love filling her gaze. Allandra reached out, taking his hand into hers.
"Cullen—"
"When the time comes," Again, there was that whisper to his voice, this time full of dread, a loathing for what he cannot keep from happening, "Maker…you will be thrown into his path again. Andraste preserve me, I will must to send you to him." He had not pulled away from her but had managed to turn away from the Inquisitor.
If she were honest with herself, she was not sure which idea she hated more – the idea of facing Corypheus again, which she knew was an inevitable point of her fate, or that she could very possibly not walk away from that fight. There was just…something in Cullen's voice that broke her heart at the thought of leaving him behind and alone.
The lady Inquisitor just managed to put on a small, warm smile, callused hand reaching up to caress his cheek. "Hey," Allandra was proud of herself that her voice wasn't cracking, "don't worry about me. I've got luck on my side, remember?"
A low, bitter laugh graced the elf's ears as Cullen turned again to face her. "That's…less comforting than I'd hoped."
Closing the small gap between them, Allandra buried her face into the crook of his neck, squeezing her eyes tight against the tears that suddenly threatened to fall. Cullen's arms wrapped around her small frame, holding her tightly.
"You -will- come back," he murmured in her ear. "You will. Maker knows, the thought of losing you... I can't—"
Allandra didn't reply right away, her mind filling in the unspoken words. She didn't want to imagine life without Cullen now; she couldn't bear the thought of him being alone again. Being without her after Corypheus was defeated.
She wanted to reassure him; tell him she would come back, that it would be okay. She wanted to tell him she could pull off one more miracle.
Allandra just held her dear commander tighter.
"I'll do my best." She paused, the silence nearly deafening. "I promise. One way or the other." Allandra tilted her head up, eyes beginning to brim with hints of unshed tears to meet Cullen's gaze. The Commander bowed his head just enough to press his lips softly to hers.
The battle was long, and grueling. How long had they been fighting Corypheus now? Allandra knelt on a floating chunk of what had once been the Temple, taking deep swallows of air to catch her breath. Green flashed all above and around, lightning tearing at the sky around the Breach.
Above, Corypheus looked just as haggard as Allandra and her companions – the ancient Magister howled something that was carried away by the wind.
The dalish elf took one last deep breath, launching herself from her perch towards the magister, daggers raised high in offensive and defensive angles. Behind her, she could hear her companions resuming their own attacks.
The battle raged on.
Back and Skyhold, Cullen paced the war room restlessly. How could he rest, knowing Allandra was at the Temple, fighting for her life – and the fate of the world – and he was here, useless and waiting for her to return.
She WILL return, he thought. He had to insist it to himself, had to believe it. There could be no other outcome. She will return to me. He could not bear to think of any other possibility, though the thoughts often crept into his mind, and his dreams.
The dreams were the worst. The companions return, sometimes. Some of them, at least; most often with the Inquisitor's…body. Bloody and broken – the images brought Cullen back to reality nearly screaming in horror.
His eyes darted around the room, only to find himself alone.
Cullen took one last look out the window, towards the green-lit sky before quickly striding out of the room, going to do the only thing he could think of doing at this time that might bring some measure of comfort.
He would pray.
It was done.
Allandra fell to her knees, the orb Corypheus used shattered before her. The winds were dying down, the lightning had ceased.
The sound of footfalls behind her alerted the elf to the presence of the others, all miraculously still alive.
By Mythal, SHE was still alive. How had she managed that?
A hand to her shoulder snapped the Inquisitor out of her thoughts. Lyora, her sister, stood next to her; Cassandra flanked Allandra's left.
"We did it."
The hour was late when the Inquisitor and her companions, war-torn and weary, finally returned to Skyhold. The lights of the Keep beckoned to them, drawing them like moths to a flame.
As Allandra, with Lyora, Cassandra, and Varric at her heels, the others not far behind, began to enter, the cheers went up in a roar. The group stopped only momentarily in surprise – of all the welcomes they could have gotten, this was not -quite- what they expected. They did not linger at the entrance long; the weary group smiled to the onlookers as they entered the courtyard.
Allandra looked up, relief washing over her when she laid eyes on her advisors. The Inquisitor stopped at the stairs, turning to look behind her at the others.
"What are you waiting for? Go!" Lyora, eyes sparkling with a smile, gestured her little sister onward. Allandra smiled in return as the rest nodded.
Varric piped up, "Go, before Curly jumps the stairs to make sure you're still standing."
So up she went. It felt as if she were climbing a thousand stairs, not the paltry few dozen it took her to reach the platform. In minutes, she had reached her destination, though Allandra would have sworn it was longer than that. The cheering followed her the whole way, growing distant as she finally came face to face with the three that had helped guide her to this point.
The three paused a few steps from her once she had taken a second to stop, Josephine dipping a perfect curtsey as Leliana and Cullen bowed the waist. The moment didn't last long before Cullen stepped forward, arms out. Allandra wasted no time closing the gap between them, arms going up and around his neck, burying her face against his chest and just breathing him in. She could feel his head against hers, the stubble of his beard tickling at the back of her head.
She came back. She kept her promise – she was here, and Cullen was here. They were all here, except Solas. Where he had gone, no one knew; but he was a somewhat distant thought in her head at just that moment.
They had won the day; the night was theirs to celebrate. And celebrate they would.
At some point during the night, Cullen and Allandra had slipped away from the party, and up to the Inquisitor's room. Allandra, laughing, led an equally happy Cullen up the final flight of stairs.
"Maker's breath woman, you'll pull my arm off!" The pair came to a halt at the top of the stairs, Allandra turning to press herself against Cullen's chest. With a chuckle, the former templar wrapped one arm around his elven lover, the other tipping her chin upward so he could press his lips to hers in a kiss. Gentle at first, then pressing for more.
Allandra was more than happy to respond in kind, fingers finding their way up to Cullen's golden hair. Carefully, she tugged his arm, indicating he should move with her before taking careful steps backwards towards the bed.
Clothes and armor were shed quickly, a dance the pair had become quite practiced at. Murmured words turned to gasps and cries of pleasure that lasted long into the night before the two succumbed to sleep.
Morning came, the light filtering through the large glass doors of the balcony, hitting Allandra square in the face. With a groan, the elf rolls over, snuggling in further to the bed and against her human lover, who made a grunt as he draped his arm across her waist.
"Good morning," he mumbled, shifting to accommodate Allandra and still be comfortable, lightly kissing the elf on the forehead.
"Mmm, good morning," she mumbled back, voice muffled against Cullen's bare chest. She snaked her own arm over his waist, fingers and nails dragging lazily across skin. Her reward was a pleased hum and Cullen repeating the motion on her back. Sleep tugged at the elf, lulling her back into a comfortable haze.
Neither seemed in a terrible rush to get up; neither had a reason to. For the first time in a long time that either could remember, they had no pressing duties to tend to.