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Author's Note: I figured you guys would appreciate a longer chapter for this one. Please enjoy.
Interlocking
Chapter Thirty Two: Only
"'But it comes from a place of fear, you know? Because you mean something. Because you fucking mean something, Lace,' he breathes harshly, his fingers reaching for her shoulders." - Krem and Harding find each other in a world torn apart. A story told in brief glimpses.
Harding is seated atop the lower ledge of one of Skyhold's many parapets around the walls when Krem finds her not far from the tavern. She sits along the stone, her feet dangling just above the ground, her back leaning against the higher wall behind her, broken at many points by embrasures, gaps wide enough for her to peer out into the snow and mountains. Everything is dark and still with the night. A couple rampart guards pass her and nod their greeting. She pulls a steady breath in and turns her head to gaze out past the keep's walls, her arms wrapping around herself to ward off the cold. She pulls the thin fur of her coat tighter around her cotton tunic, missing the usual warmth of her leather armor.
She turns her gaze from the wall and finds Krem standing several feet in front of her.
He watches her silently, his chest rising evenly as though from recent running, panting his breath out in visible puffs along the cold air. He hadn't even grabbed a coat. He stands before her in his burgundy tinted sleeveless tunic, untucked from the dark tan of his cotton pants, his brown boots splattered with snow and dirt.
She moves her lips to speak but stops herself, swallows tightly, digs her fingers into the warmth of her coat.
Krem strides toward her, fists clenched tight at his sides, his eyes hard and determined.
Harding has only a moment to catch her breath, unable to even hop down from her perch along the stone before Krem has both hands planted on either side of her face against the wall behind her. His breath is heated and frantic against her cheeks as he stares her down.
Her lips part in surprise, her eyes wide.
"Here's the thing," he starts, swallowing thickly before continuing, his eyes roving her face. He can feel the heat of her from here. "I'm not good at having things."
Harding's brows knit together at the words.
He clears his throat. "At having good things. Things I can keep. Things that want me." He glances to the stone behind her, because he cannot form words with her eyes intent and searching on his. "I don't know how to do this. This…this thing between us, without being absolutely terrified of what it means. I don't…Maker, I'm fucking this up." He tears his gaze away, looks down the empty walkway coming from the tavern. The smarting cold is sobering. He focuses his mind on what he's trying to tell her. The warm haze of ale is insignificant compared.
Harding clears her throat softly, pulling his eyes back to hers. "I'm not asking you not to be scared. I'm scared too." She stops, shifting in her seat, her cold fingers still gripping tightly to her coat. "I'm asking that you let me go even still. That you trust me to come back to you."
"I do trust you," he growls before he realizes it. He blinks heatedly at her.
She can smell the ale on his breath. She turns her eyes from his, one hand moving to push against his shoulder. "You've been drinking."
"No, I – " He stops, but does not move from his lean over her even as she places a hand against him. "Okay, yes, I've been drinking but I'm not drunk. And we need to talk about this."
She pushes harder. "Tomorrow. When you're sober."
"I am sober! I'm -," he halts his words along his tongue, his breath raking through his throat harshly. "I know exactly what I'm saying. I just need you to let me say it." He leans even further toward her, his teeth ground tight.
Harding huffs and pulls her hand back, her brows furrowing together in anger. "You're not making this any easier, Krem."
"It's not supposed to be easy." He can see her freckles from here, can see the steady question in her eyes, bright and guarded and hesitant. He can see the slight tremble along her lips as she exhales shakily. His eyes cannot move from her mouth. He licks his own lips in anticipation, something churning and desperate in his chest, something impatient. His whole body is tight and poised. He lets his gaze trail down her throat and to the bundle of her furred coat covering her chest, where her skin disappears from his view.
"Krem." It is a low whisper.
He tries to steady himself. Curls his fingers along the stone where he leans and pulls a slow, aching breath in. He pushes from the wall and turns from her, stepping away a moment, his hands raking through his hair before returning stiffly to his sides. "It's not that I think I'm invincible. Or unstoppable. Or anything like that." He turns only slightly, so that he can glance her out of the corner of his eye, but he still stands apart from her. "It's not that when I leave for the frontlines I'm not thinking of you."
Harding lets her eyes fall to the floor as she slips off her perch on the wall. Her boots thump softly on the stone. Her hands are still stiff and hesitant against the wall behind her.
Krem curls his fingers into fists and feels the harsh sting of the mountain air against his skin. "The only thing that keeps me fighting, that keeps me sure and focused, is you. The thought that you're waiting for me. And suddenly, it's like I can't fail. Like I can't die out there. Because I have you to come back to. Because…" His voice breaks before he can stop it. He turns his gaze from her, the words lodged heavy in his throat.
Harding cannot speak. She simply watches him. Simply pulls the air, cold and stinging, into her aching lungs.
Her skin is alight with a tremble she cannot control.
Krem finally turns fully to her. There is something unapologetic in his features. He is certain and steadfast. He looks like warmth and heart and constancy. Like the steady light in the snow. Everything else is cold and dark.
His smile is crooked and earnest when he speaks, his whole face a promise of what lies blossoming beneath the surface. "I wouldn't be the man I am today if you weren't the woman I came home to."
Harding's fingers unfurl from their grip along the wall, her arms sliding slowly back to her sides, her face a silent wonder. Her lips part at his words, her voice dying and lost inside her. She swallows tightly, her brows pulling together, her eyes wet with unbidden tears. "Don't…" she whispers, her voice catching. She shakes her head. "Don't do that." She looks to the floor, her words ending on a choke, her chest rising heavy with a ragged sigh.
Krem watches her, silent and still, his eyes narrowed in confusion.
She sniffs loudly, wiping a hand along her nose, her eyes still to the floor. "Don't make me forget my anger so easily. It's not fair."
Krem's eyes soften and he steps closer to her. "I'm sorry," he breathes lowly, softly, his voice carried on the wind so that she wonders if he even said it. "I'm sorry," he repeats. "I know – I know that this can't be easy for you. That you're feeling just as scared and just as desperate as I am." He takes another step toward her, so that he could touch her if he only tried, if he only reached for her. "But it comes from a place of fear, you know? Because you mean something. Because you fucking mean something, Lace," he breathes harshly, his fingers reaching for her shoulders. "I know who you are. I know your strength. And your courage. And your endurance. I know your heart." He takes a breath, tries to steady the raging inside him, the desperate, violent lash of emotion that quakes within. Tries to keep himself from gathering her in his arms and never facing the world again. Tries to form words his heart has always known.
Harding's hand moves to his along her shoulder.
He releases a soft breath. It catches in his throat as he watches her. "It's how I fell in love with you in the first place."
Harding is shaking before him, and it has nothing to do with the cold. She does not speak. Her hand grips reflexively at Krem's along her shoulder. Her eyes are wide and unblinking on his. Everything in her is still and screaming and needful. Everything in her is reaching for him. She opens her mouth to speak and she is lost. "Love?" The word itself is a hesitant breath along her tongue, the disbelieving tremble of her words, the quiet, desperate hope that sings to her in her sleep.
Krem's eyes soften at her look, his whole face falling into quiet anticipation as he leans down toward her. "Maker, you couldn't tell?" he chuckles on a breathless exhale. There is fear and hesitance in his face, but it is lined with a familiar gentleness. He swallows the anxiety back quickly, his face leaning toward her, the tender hope lighting along his features, the sure and purposeful gaze of his eyes. He moves his hands from her shoulders to clasp hers between them. His smirk tells of longing and patience. "Yes," he breathes quietly. He bends to his knees so that he is eye to eye with her.
She sucks in a breath at the proximity, feeling the roughness of his knuckles beneath her palms, the warmth of his hands in her hold.
He smiles at her. And nothing has ever felt so right. "I'm in love with you, Lace."
She does not answer for several moments, her face crumbling with the warm, unbidden tears, her shaky smile faltering and catching with her breath. She tries to steady herself and look at him.
He laughs. The sound is filling. Soothing. It lights a searing exhilaration within her. She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it. She swallows tightly, her brows furrowing. Something sparks within her. "You know, those aren't magic words. You don't get to say them and just –" her words are caught by his lips.
He kisses her.
She sighs into the kiss without meaning to, her hands moving to his face as his own wrap around her to pull her frame to his. She is pressed to him instantly, his chest warm and firm against her own, his hands wound tight in her hair. He tastes like ale and pears. Like longing.
They break apart only a moment, their lips still a breath's distance away.
Krem is sighing into her mouth. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he breathes against her lips, his words desperate and uncontrollable, one hand sliding down her side and wrapping possessively around her, the other braced against the back of her neck.
Her eyes flutter closed at the contact, the cold from the mountain air forgotten. There is only his warmth and his touch and his breath. Her body sags into him, leaning against him without reserve. "That's not fair," she whispers into his mouth before he claims her lips once more. She is silenced for many breathless moments. And it is only her trembling moan that makes him pull from her, her fingers curled tight into the thin cotton of his tunic.
"Why?" he pants against her lips, his mouth moving to her neck where he finds purchase along the smooth paleness of her skin.
One of Harding's hands moves to grip the back of his head. "Because I love you, too."
Krem's lips stop in their motion along her throat. It is only a moment. Only a beat in time when he holds her to him and hears the words. Only the whisper of a second when he realizes the fullness of his life. The richness. The unwanting. The unneeding. The simple, easy thought of completion.
Whole. That is what Krem feels.
He never knew it had a name until now.
He swallows back the tightness in his throat and plants a soft, slow kiss along her neck, his hands clenching tightly in their hold on her. "I knew it," he chuckles into her skin.
He feels the swat of her hand against his shoulder. "Don't get cocky," she laughs.
He holds her tighter.
They simply stay there for long moments, holding each other. Breathing together. Smiling into each other's arms. The steady stillness of the cold night is unnoticeable to them. There is only each other.
Only Krem.
And only Harding.
Only this moment.
Only 'I love you'.