Author's Notes:
Last two chapters inc. Can't believe it's finally finished. A little more fluff and romance, and another fun expose along the way. Then... off to the sequel!
"Your thoughts are very loud this morning."
Cullen stirred and turned his head. Lucretia lay motionless by his side, the rise and fall of her chest imperceptible under the thick bronto throw that covered them. Her eyes were shut, but a barely-there smile creased her lips.
It was dawn. A muddy light filled the room, illuminating the dark corners of Cullen's bailey bedchambers; the green honeysuckle like toxic spider webs over grey, uneven walls. Outside, a few birds sang their morning report, twittering excitedly in the gloom to herald a new day.
Cullen whispered an apology and lurched into a sitting position, back against the headboard. The throw slipped from his chest, exposing his skin to Skyhold's winter cold. The faint scratches on his flank flared in gentle reminder.
"It's too early for you to be scowling," Lucretia mumbled, eyes still shut. A hand snaked out from under the covers to rest on his stomach. He took it, massaging her fingers with absentminded touches. With an appreciative grin he unfurrowed his brow, softening the muscles in his arms and face — muscles he hadn't realised he had been tensing.
"I had hoped last night's excursions would distract you for more than a handful of hours."
Cullen inhaled sharply and searched Lucretia's face for signs of disappointment. In the gloom, her features were scarcely visible. "Last night was incredible—I mean, that wasn't meant to come out so desperate. It was just—"
Lucretia's throaty chuckle nudged Cullen's stammering to a halt. He was smiling despite his embarrassment.
"Maker, you do delight in toying with me."
"You say that as if you don't enjoy it. You seemed to last night."
Cullen blushed at the memory and thanked the Maker for the hour, hoping the dark concealed his bashfulness. Not that it mattered — Lucretia knew how her words and gestures affected him.
To his surprise, she veered away from her goading. "Out with it then," she sighed and edged closer, her matted fringe tickling his arm. "What's set the cogs in motion so early in the day?"
Cullen clenched his jaw. He could not complain about last night's activities, nevertheless, they left little room for conversation. Despite his hopeful heart and sated loins, Cullen could not ignore the anxious sweat that coated his palms and beaded his brow. Even now, as they basked in each other's arms, Cullen's thoughts were jumbled, his apprehension palpable. There was still so much to talk about.
"You're worried about them? Alistair and the Hero of Ferelden?"
He grunted. "Of course."
"Did they make amends last night?"
Cullen pictured their embrace, their hushed whispers a faded drone. "I think so."
"Then my advice is you're probably overthinking it," she warbled through a yawn. The soft susurrus of sheets alerted Cullen to the fact she was wriggling her feet together beneath the furs. The Inquisitor was still tired.
"Perhaps."
Cullen breathed and attempted to voice his concerns, but thought better of it. It was no use rousing her with uninformed anxieties.
He cleared his throat and began anew.
"I've been writing to Mia. My younger sister is to be married this spring, or summer. Can't remember now, come to think of it." He scratched his forehead with his thumb before placing it on the jut of his lower lip. "She asked if we would be attending."
For the first time that morning, Lucretia opened her eyes. "We?"
"Of course." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her fingers, peering down at her. The dim light had burgeoning into an orange glow. In it, could he discern the colour of her eyes and their unbridled joy.
"I'll finally meet the rest of the Rutherfords," she said, more to herself than anyone else. She nestled secretively into the covers, shrugging her shoulders under the throw. Her face turned plaintive. "I wonder what they'll think of me."
"They'll adore you. I'll have to fight for your attention if I'm to have any time with you at all I imagine." His thoughts gambolled briefly to his brother and darkened. It made him restless.
"I'm going to check in, make sure everything is in order."
"For the King and the Royal Court Enchantress, you mean?"
Cullen scoffed. "Yes, make sure the tapestries are beaten, the red carpet rolled out, that sort of thing." He glanced down at her sheepishly. "I think I might have left my breeches in the Main Hall," he whispered. The two of them shared a nervous giggle. "That or it got lost somewhere along the way here."
"You better hope Sera's not found them. She'll hang them on a flagpole."
Cullen's nervous giggle was quickly flecked with genuine concern. "She wouldn't do that" he retorted as he rummaged for clean clothing. The colour drain from his face nonetheless.
