Chapter Twenty-Two

Longing

Cullen placed the latest reports from the Inquisition's forces throughout Thedas in a pile beside him, the charcoal pencil he laid atop them worn down from the copious notes and scribbles on the page.

He leant his head back against the headboard, rubbing at his eyes, then his cheeks, trying to wipe away the exhaustion that clung to his face. He would not sleep tonight he knew, no matter how much his tired mind tried to drag him down into slumber.

He'd been a fidgety mess all day, his concentration torn between the piles of work on his desk, the recruits training under his command, and the runners that came so close, yet were so far. Every time he'd seen one pass, he'd wished – no, prayed – they would herald her return, but no such message came.

He glanced to his side, to the other pile of paper on the bed. He reached for it, picking up the top page, a smile on his lips as he read the short, scribbled note again and again.

See you soon, Amatus.

He'd clung to that hope for the last twenty-four hours, more now, he realised as he glanced up at the blackened sky through the hole in the roof, seeing stars shining between the soft clouds that drifted above. How much longer–

Cullen sat up when he heard a timid knock at his office, the door hinges creaking.

'It's just me, Jim, Ser,' the scout called from downstairs, 'I'm sorry to disturb you so late but you told me to let you know when the Inquisitor's caravan approached the fortress. It's been sighted, not a mile from here.'

Cullen threw the covers back, calling out his thanks as he scrambled for some clothes. He dressed, his armour left piled at the end of the bed in favour of a warm sweater. He laced his boots as fast as his fingers allowed, grabbing a cloak before he rushed down the ladder and out onto the battlements, almost tripping over the heavy fur-lined garment in his haste as he took the stairs two, even three at a time.

It was the coldest night for months, snow flurries sweeping over Skyhold and painting the fortress white, the soft moonlight that peeked through the clouds making the battlements glisten with a dreamlike serenity so at odds with the state of the world, but Cullen had no interest in appreciating the scenery. He clutched the cloak tighter around his shoulders as he raced towards the gate. The cold wind rushed through even the heavy fur lining. His breath misted in the air, his nose was so cold he could hardly feel it, and shivers wracked his body, but the moment he saw the torches flickering at the end of the walkway, he knew any discomfort he felt was worth it.

He stepped aside to allow the caravan to pass, absently acknowledging Malakar's and Dorian's greetings. His eyes scanned the backs of horses, passing over carts and scouts, over Iron Bull and Azyrth, the new agent, until he found her riding beside Cassandra at the end of the convoy.

Their eyes locked, his breath catching in his throat to see the smile that lit her face when she pulled her mask down. Already, she was swinging her leg over the horse, and the moment he came up beside her she slid off the steed's back and into his arms. He crushed her to his chest, her feet dangling above the ground.

'You should be in bed, Amatus, it's freezing,' she whispered against his ear between kisses that burned along his neck.

Cullen eased her to her feet, unwilling to relinquish her. 'I couldn't sleep, knowing you were coming,' he said, reaching to frame her face.

They met in a searing kiss, Cullen staking his claim upon her, and she upon him, uncaring of all the eyes upon them in that moment as he finally held her again. They parted, each panting from the sheer passion unleashed but still, they lingered so close together, noses touching, breaths mingling around them in the cold air.

'Come, we'll warm up with a bath,' he said, taking her hand, giving her scarcely a moment to catch her breath before he led them away from the caravan and the knowing smiles of their companions.

They hurried to the main bathing chambers, and the moment the door closed behind them all restraint, all caution fell away. They were soon stumbling past baths, through doors, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses that knocked over furniture and benches as they moved towards the officers' baths, cloaks falling in their wake.

The door slammed shut behind them and Cullen fumbled for the lock, a satisfied sound rumbling in his chest when he heard it click. He pulled back just enough to shove her heavy coat off her shoulders, a satisfying thud sounding on the damp floorboards as the leather fell, and then he was upon her again, hands trailing down to her thighs, lifting her with an ease that sent a thrill through her veins.

'I need you, Amatus.'

She locked her legs around his waist, trusting in his strength, her words igniting the longing for her that had curled low and tight in his soul while he'd been deprived of her touch, her embrace.

Her love.

Her hands seemed to be everywhere at once, cupping his cheeks in one moment to draw him closer, stripping his sweater the next, and reaching beneath his open-collared tunic to feel the heat of his skin. Maker, her touch was maddening after so many nights apart, his body afire for the soft caress of nimble fingers and the bite of her nails across his flesh.

He pressed her against the door, wedging her there. He expected her gasp, but the sound was sharp in her lungs, their kiss faltering. He found her serpentstone gaze, her eyes alight with her desire, but something about the sound was off.

'Valina?'

'It's nothing,' she whispered and she drew his lips back to hers, but the moment he moved to readjust his grip she gasped again, and this time he caught the grimace on her face.

'Clearly not,' he said as he turned, kneeling to set her down on the bench beside the bath, 'what aren't you telling me?'

Valina glanced away, her guards down as she sighed. 'You're going to see it anyway,' she said as she lifted the lower hem of her tunic.

Cullen dropped his gaze. Even in the soft candle light, he could see the purpled bruises that coloured most of her left side, reaching out over her hips, stomach, and ribs with angry blotches. He reached for her on instinct, trailing his fingers over the outline of the bruise.

'What happened?'

'The dragon.'

He snatched his hands back when she flinched beneath his touch, and he dragged his gaze back up. 'This wasn't in the Inquisitor's report.'

'Because he doesn't know. We were all injured in the fight. I wasn't going to make a fuss over some bruises, Cullen.'

'You're in pain.'

She cupped his cheeks, a smile tugging at her lips. 'It will pass.'

He covered her hands with his own, leaning into her touch. 'At least promise me you'll rest for a few days.' He knew it was a long shot – like asking a nug to be calm, or asking Varric not to write – but he had to try.

'As long as resting doesn't prohibit me from showing you just how much I've missed you,' she said, mischief in her bright gaze.

Cullen's eyes trailed down, settling on her lips, plump and soft from their kisses, and he leant closer, but he caught himself before he became lost in her passion again.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. 'Get in the bath, my love. I'll be back,' he said as he rose, and she caught his tunic, fingers curling in the fabric before he could step away.

'Where are you going?'

'To get you the largest pot of tea I can find in this fortress, and some elfroot balm for those bruises.'

'It can wait, Amatus…'

Her voice was breathless, a plea for him that he so desperately wanted to answer. He felt his knees trying to buckle, to answer the call of the name that rolled off her tongue, but he fought the urge and instead, he cupped her cheek, thumb tracing her bottom lip. His resolve nearly shattered at the need in her gaze. He felt it tug at him, his mind imagining drawing her into his embrace again, but he resisted the urges with all his might.

'My love, I've waited more than a week to have you in my arms again. I want nothing more than to make love to you right now, but if I–' He pursed his lips, a shuddered breath in his lungs. 'Valina, I fear… I will hurt you. Please, let me tend to your injuries first.'

She stared up at him, her lips parting for a moment on a word she could not catch. She could see the tension written on his face, flecks of molten gold dancing within his tawny gaze as his desires warred with distress to see her in pain. She knew she would react the same were the situation reversed.

'Hurry back, Amatus.'

A smile lit his lips and her heart swelled at the tenderness in his gaze.

'Always.'

For two days, Valina rested. Cullen tried his best to hide his worry, but she saw how it tugged at his brow, his lips pursing with every small flinch in her movement. She felt it in the way he held her, soft hands and softer touches that denied her the strong embrace she craved, her body singing for the caresses he would lay absently on her skin in slumber, the only time he could not control how tightly he held her.

On the second day, he suggested she seek a healer, but she waved the idea off; the mages were busy enough supporting the Inquisition's camps throughout Thedas without worrying about some impact injuries. Between the elfroot balm and strong herbal tea, the pain had lessened significantly, and the bruises, though still very purple in colour, were beginning to fade.

On the third day, she resumed her training duties, despite Cullen's insistence that she needed more time to recover. She was eager to see the recruits' progress, spending an hour with Varric going over the training regime that had been maintained in her absence. They had progressed well under Varric and Sera's instruction, many showing impressive skills with a bow, but she suspected the increased fluidity of the duel-dagger specialists came from another source. She made a mental note to ask Cole if he'd been whispering a few words of encouragement, and to thank him if her suspicions proved correct.

When she returned to their quarters that afternoon, she joined Cullen at his desk, perching on the table top to go through the reports with him. Skyhold was buzzing with activity and hope, the air electric with it. Rumours were whispered in every quarter, saying that the Inquisition was making its final preparations to take on Corypheus, and the missives flooding in seemed to confirm them.

Cullen and Valina looked up from the report they were reading when Jim burst through the centre door. It was surprising now, to see him enter without knocking, especially when he was well aware that Valina had returned.

His face was flushed, his breath heavy from running in the thickly layered scout clothes. 'The Inquisitor needs you at the war table,' he said, holding the door open, 'it's urgent.'

Cullen glanced at Valina, pushing up from his chair. 'I'll be back soon.'

Jim shook his head. 'Both of you, quickly.'

Valina slid off the desk, and the scout hurried off ahead of them.

'That can't be good,' Valina said as she fell into step beside Cullen.

Cullen took her hand, squeezing it tight, only releasing her when they entered the Great Hall. They weaved through the nobles that so often gathered there, passing through Josephine's office.

Cullen closed the war room door behind them, locking it to bar any interruptions. There was a strange weight hanging over the room, a coiling anticipation that Valina could feel like electricity on her skin as she followed Cullen to the opposite side of the table.

She was not the only addition.

Valina had had few opportunities to talk to Morrigan since their similarly timed arrival at Skyhold, but over the years, she'd heard plenty of stories about the Hero of Ferelden's companion and rumoured lover.

Malakar did not wait for anyone to settle, clearing his throat before he said, 'Corypheus has located an eluvian.'

'What? With an eluvian, Corypheus could cross into the fade in the flesh,' Leliana said, and the knowledge rippled through the room.

'Indeed,' Morrigan said with a slight nod, 'the Inquisitor can attest that these artifacts still work if one knows how to use them.'

'What happens when Corypheus enters the fade?'

'Why, Commander, he will gain his heart's desire and take the power of a god. Or – and this is more likely – the lunatic will unleash forces that would tear the world apart.'

'Neither option is particularly appealing,' Valina said, glancing around the sombre faces in the room.

Malakar shook his head. 'I won't allow it. I can't.'

'Indeed. Should Corypheus succeed, do not doubt you would be the first to feel his holy wrath, Inquisitor.'

'Pardon me, but…' Josephine worried her bottom lip as if unsure of how to say the words that rolled on her tongue. 'Does this mean everything's lost unless we reach the eluvian first?'

'Corypheus has a head start, no matter how quickly our army moves.'

'We should gather our allies before we march.'

'I don't think we can wait for them, Josie. We should send our spies ahead to the Arbour Wilds.'

'Without support from the soldiers? You'd lose half of them!'

'Then what should we do?'

'We overcome it. All of us, together,' Malakar said, his voice a whip crack that snapped the advisors' attention back to him, 'Josephine, get letters out to our allies in the area and have them send scouts to the Wilds. Leliana, we need your fastest agents to join them. The more feet we get on the ground early, the better; I want enough spies in the Wilds to slow down Corypheus' army until the soldiers arrive. Cullen, Valina, prepare the troops; we'll need manpower to push through the red Templars, and the recruits to take over guard duties at Skyhold when we leave. I want the forces ready to march at dawn in two days' time.'

'While I am impressed by your confidence, the Arbor Wilds are not so kind to visitors. Old Elven magic lingers in those woods.'

Ever the ambassador, Josephine stepped forward. 'We'd be remiss not to take advantage of your knowledge, Lady Morrigan. Please, lend us your expertise.'

'Well, 'tis why I came here, although it is good to see its value recognised.'

'Any further instructions, Inquisitor?'

Malakar looked around the room, meeting each of their gazes. 'The Inquisition began as a handful of soldiers. Thanks to you all, we're now a force that will topple a self-proclaimed god. I could ask for no finer council, and no better guidance.'

'I speak for all of us when I answer,' Cullen said, 'we could ask for no finer cause.'

Leliana nodded. 'We'll hound Corypheus in the Wilds before he can find the temple or this eluvian.'

There was a fierceness in the mage's gaze, his eyes burning with emotions locked deep inside him. He bore the weight of Thedas upon his shoulders, but he would not bend or falter beneath the burden.

'We can finally take the fight directly to him, and we can end this war. Let's finish it.'

Malakar took a marker, placing it over the Wilds.

The air around Skyhold seemed to change in that moment, heavy with a collective sense of nervous anticipation and hope, the news of a known location for Corypheus acting as a light at the end of the tunnel of the seemingly endless war.

The fortress descended into a flurry of activity so immense even the steady torrent of rain that washed away the snow from the days before did not slow them down. The scouts were sent out at dusk to march overnight, a full two-day head start. The recruits who would stay behind to guard Skyhold worked hours on end to prepare carts full of supplies and weaponry for the march, stopping only when they needed to rest. Malakar and Dorian organised the mages, while Cullen and Valina gathered the soldiers into their factions and assigned their duties.

Valina insisted on a final afternoon of training to prepare the newest recruits once the carts were packed, ensuring they would be battle ready should a move be made on Skyhold in the Inquisitor's absence. She could not fault them for their bravery; even as young and scared as they were – some were hardly into their twenties – they believed in the Inquisition, and they believed in the Inquisitor, the Herald.

Only when she was finally satisfied with their skills did she allow them to retire, and at dusk, she sent them off for dinner with a stern warning not to loiter in the tavern, for they would be woken before sunrise the next morning to report to their posts.

She was weary after the long days of preparation, her mind wound tight by anticipation and a longing she could not quench. Even when working together, the only moments she and Cullen had shared since the meeting in the war room were the brief minutes before sleep took their exhausted minds or when they woke in a tangle of limbs in the morning. She longed for a moment alone to lose herself in his embrace, to lose herself in him.

Valina entered their quarters, already shedding her daggers. As she approached his desk, she was surprised to see his surcoat hung over the back of the chair – he'd taken it off only to sleep lately, knowing that the striking attire had become famous among the soldiers, an inspiration for vigour and bravery that could boost morale in such a dire moment.

She sifted through the pile of reports left there during their absence, but it was the small note that caught her eye, scribbled in his hand.

In the war room.

–Love, C.

Valina hung her daggers and coat with his surcoat and headed for the ladder, eager for a change of clothes after a long day of training, and to find some elfroot to chew to sooth her lingering injuries.

His armour is here too?

It was unusual, but he had complained about a few tears in his undershirt that morning.

She chewed on some elfroot, ignoring the bitter taste as she rummaged around in the draws, swapping her training clothes for one of Cullen's sweaters. Even bare legged, she felt warmer, the heavy knitted garment brushing her skin mid-thigh.

She considered waiting for him but knew he would be hours in the war room if left to his own devices, and she had no plans to eat alone the last night before the march.

Valina grabbed a furred cloak, sliding down the ladder. She hurried across the rampart to the Great Hall, pulling the cloak over her head to shield her face from the heavy droplets of rain that had bombarded the fortress all day.

She shook water off the cloak as she entered the hallway at the end of the rampart. Solas waved absently as she passed, and to her relief, the Great Hall was empty, the nobles finding shelter away from the hall, famous for frigid drafts on stormy nights.

Josephine was absent from her office, so Valina hurried on to the war room. As she entered, Cullen looked up from the massive table, his eyes softening the moment they fell upon her.

He wore only a sweater and some warm, lined pants, and his hair was rain dampened, curling free from its normal confines. This was the Cullen she saw in the morning before he became a Commander, the Cullen she'd longed for these past days.

'My love, what are you doing here?'

'I saw your note,' she said as she came around the table, 'I didn't feel much like sitting around waiting for you.'

He wrapped an arm around her, drawing her tight against his side. 'I'm glad,' he said as he pressed a kiss to her temple. He held her close, leaning his head on hers, absently rubbing his stubbled cheek over her hair even as he stared down at the table.

'Are we ready?'

'I think so.'

'And yet you sigh as you say it?'

'I'm… worried. This is perhaps the biggest step we've made towards defeating Corypheus. The next week may determine the course of the war, but there are still so many variables.'

Valina could hear the doubt in his voice. She stepped between him and the table, resting her hands on his chest, forcing him to lift his gaze away from the map.

'Cullen, we have prepared for this as best as we can, and we've accounted for all the conceivable variables we can possibly dream up, and then a few inconceivable ones just in case. This is the first time the Inquisition has even been truly close to ending this, is it not?'

'Yes, but–'

She caught his face in her hands. 'In a few days, Malakar will either have defeated Corypheus, or the war will continue. We have done our best to ensure we control that result, and we will continue to do so,' she said, her voice quiet but firm, 'we leave in the morning to march, and we will only be stopping to sleep. Tonight is the last night we may have to ourselves for some time. Can we not spend it together?'

Cullen stared down into her serpentstone gaze, an unabashed plea lying within them. He could not deny her, not when he felt the same plea echo in his mind.

He sighed, drawing her into his embrace. 'Of course, we can,' he whispered, touching his forehead to hers. He inhaled the soothing notes in her scent, the sweet aroma or roses an anchor to the present that dragged him from his tumultuous thoughts. 'You're right. There's little more we can do until we reach the Wilds.'

She pressed a kiss to his nose, eliciting a soft chuckle from him. She coaxed him closer with teasing caresses along his jaw, deft fingers dancing over his skin to cup the back of his neck and draw him down to her lips. After days of fleeting kisses and interrupted moments, he could not deny her, could not deny how much he'd longed for the warmth of her embrace, for the sweet sounds she made as he claimed her mouth.

His kiss was slow, sensual, tempered by his lingering fears of hurting her even as his fingers wound into the fabric of her cloak. He tried to be gentle, but he grew more eager for her and he pressed closer, tipping her head back to deepen the kiss.

The cloak fell from her shoulders, pooling at her feet as he pushed her back against the war table, the high curve of her arse hitting the edge. She moaned at the slow slide of his tongue along her bottom lip, at the sharp contrast between the softness of his lips and the graze of his stubble as he urged her to open for him, and she did so willingly, surrendering to his possession of her mouth and the passion of his embrace, arching against him as his arms dropped to surround her until he was all she could feel.

'We should…' His words ended on a low groan, and he kissed her again, struggling to remember where they were, but he was drawn to the breathy sounds she made. He stole her moans and gasps and revelled in the sharp bite of her nails through his sweater as she clutched at his shoulders.

'Cullen, I can't wait any longer.'

Her words stoked the fire within him, the flames of his desire igniting, kiss becoming fervent as his hands trailed lower, over the hem of the sweater where bare skin waited.

Maker, has it truly been weeks since I've made love to you? he thought as he kissed her, as she arched against him, unashamed by her desire. They'd stoked their passions to burning point through the letters they had exchanged but once she'd returned, he'd been too afraid to act on them, too afraid of hurting her when she was already in pain.

He groaned against her lips as her hands danced between them, easily unlacing his trousers. She slipped from his grasp and he had to catch himself with a hand on the table as she dropped to her knees, dragging his pants past his hips with a harsh tug, and then her hands were upon him. He widened his stance, knowing he would need his balance for what she intended.

He trembled under her caress, his cock pulsing eagerly, swelling with the slow, coaxing stroke of her hand. His shaft grew heavy under her sure caress, and he stifled a broken cry with his hand when her hot breath fell upon the sensitive head, the sound turning to a groan as her tongue darted around the crown. She teased him with light licks first, before her hand soon surrounded him, the many scars that crisscrossed her palm only adding to the pleasure she gave with every stroke.

His hips jerked as the tip of her tongue darted back and forth over the slit and he wept for her, the moan that vibrated through her as she tasted him nearly sending him over the edge. He tried to pull her off his shaft, eager to bury himself within her heat, but she was relentless, her hand stroking the length of his member while she focused her mouth on the head, licking and sucking, moaning around him until his knees shook and his hands held the table with a white-knuckled grasp.

'Is there someone in here?'

Cullen pressed his stomach to the table edge, hunching over it as if intent on the map. He was thankful that the only source of light in the room was the few remaining candles because in that moment he suspected his whole face was beet red as Josephine lingered at the door.

'Oh, Commander. I'm sorry, I should have realised it was you.'

'It's fine, Josephine,' he managed, having to cut off any further reassurance lest it came out as a gasp when Valina took him further into her mouth, her hand abandoning his shaft to clutch at his thigh.

'Have you had dinner yet?' Josephine asked.

'No, but I'll be sure to head to the tavern soon.'

'I will see you there, then. Why are you in here anyway? I thought you'd be with Valina by now.'

'I just wanted to look over the strategy one more time before we depart in the morning,' he said, and he felt Valina grin around his girth at Josephine's statement, his hands clenching into fists as deft fingers tugged gently as his sack, her nails teasing the sensitive skin.

Josephine quirked an eyebrow at him. 'Are you all right, Cullen?'

He gave a curt nod. 'Quite. I'll finish up here soon.'

'Goodnight, then.'

Cullen started to breathe a sigh of relief, but quickly caught the sound in his throat when Josephine turned back, lifting papers from her ledger board.

'Oh, before I forget, I have some final reports for you. It seems silly to have a runner take them to you seeing as you're here.'

'Thank you,' he said, praying she would not look too closely as she placed the pile of missives on the table.

'Goodnight, Cullen.'

'Goodnight.'

The door shut behind her, and the breath he'd been holding shuddered from his lungs. He pushed back from the table, glaring down at Valina when she released him from her mouth with a wicked smirk. She rose from her knees, some mischievous words dancing on her tongue but he silenced her with his kiss, hands grasping the taut curve of her arse. He lifted her onto the table, calloused fingers finding the hem of the sweater, a growl rumbling in his chest as he wedged his hips between her thighs, the thick head of his cock meeting soft, dark curls.

Cullen pressed closer, cradled intimately by her heat when he rolled his hips to coat the thick head in her honey before he plunged into her needy cunt. Her silken walls enveloped him, clamping down upon his heavy shaft, a sharp cry tumbling from her lips at the sudden fullness. She clutched at his sweater, nails biting at his heated skin through the knitted fabric.

His grip on her thighs was almost bruising, but the pleasure he gave with every sharp roll of his hips overwhelmed all other sensations, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, her ankles locking at his back to draw him closer. She bounced on the war table each time he drove into her, the pins and markers shaking in earnest with every thrust.

Valina could feel his control slipping, his breath shuddering in his lungs, her name falling from his lips like a prayer. Her core pulsed around his cock as if in answer to the husky sound of his voice, tightening as she neared her orgasm and he tilted his hips, finding the angle which would take him deeper.

Pleasure coiled and crackled deep in her loins as he shifted his stance, but once he was repositioned he rolled his hips to stimulate her sensitive clit as he thrust. She whimpered at the slowed pace, at the overwhelming fullness inside of her as he buried himself to the hilt, and she felt heat pool like lava in her core, her nerves clenching in anticipation. With a final roll of his hips, her orgasm took hold, her toes curling with the intensity of her climax.

Cullen pressed her head to his shoulder, muffling her scream as her needy cunt tightened around his heavy shaft, clamping down, again and again, urging him to release. His back went rigid as he lost his final thread of control, and he buried his head in her neck, almost biting down on her shoulder in an attempt to mask his roar as he joined her in her climax, and for a moment his vision blurred at the intensity of the pleasure that seared through his veins.

He framed her face with shaking hands, their kisses breathless, and he could feel the smile on her lips. For a moment they remained there, relishing in the pleasure that danced over their skin, and the intimacy of their joining.

He released her reluctantly, allowing her to hop down from the table. He tucked his flagging – satisfied – member back into his pants, tying the laces loosely before he ducked to pick up her cloak. He hung it over her shoulders, pulling it around her before he turned her on her toes, sweeping her up into his arms.

She did not protest. Instead, she draped an arm around his shoulders and nuzzled into his neck, and he chuckled at her content sigh. He pressed a kiss to cheek, unable to hide his smirk as he said, 'you planned that.'

Valina hummed her satisfaction. 'Not intentionally, but I wasn't going to miss the opportunity once it arose, Amatus,' she whispered against his skin, gooseflesh rising on his shoulder where her soft breaths fell, 'nor will I deny that I've been thinking about you all day.'

'And I you, my love,' he said, taking a final kiss as they left the war room, walking along the corridor with unhurried steps, the moon lighting the path through the crumbled wall.

She lifted her head, a wicked smile dancing on her lips. 'Do you think Josie heard?'

'She was going down to the tavern,' he said, though he did ease the door open, peeking through before he continued on, 'let's go get cleaned up and we'll join them. I think it would be good for everyone to be together one last time before we head to the Wilds.'

She nodded, resting her head on his shoulder again. 'I hope Maryden plays something we can dance to.'

'Me too, my love,' he whispered, 'me too.'