A Winter Dream

Author's Note: This story is a spin off of Lyrium Dreams. It is set in the time when Elena is in Ostwick, but before Cullen is aware that she is engaged to Fabien. As with everything Lyrium Dreams related, I don't think you need to have read the main fic to enjoy this one, but it surely wouldn't hurt. Think of this as happening in that long stretch of three years between the events of Doom Upon All the World and Trespasser so it is in that time game-wise.

Cullen and Elena strolled politely along the ramparts, chatting after a delicious lunch in the main hall. Porteur and Reeves had been in rare form, Fabien and Erik had bounced joke after joke off one another, and Dorian had gotten some well-placed comments in, too. He looked down at Elena, shivering slightly in the cold air as the snow fell gently around them. It had been snowing off and on for days, so he was surprised that she had forgotten her cloak. She looked up at him, a smile pushing her flushed cheeks up into round apples beneath her sparkling blue eyes. Her breath puffing out as she said something about how she was pleased they all got along so well given everything that had happened. It felt good to know that she bore him no ill-will for ending things with her, in fact, after some time apart she had agreed with him. It had been the right thing to do. They were much happier as friends, but oh. How he longed to take it all back, to press his lips against hers again, to feel her silken hair slide through his fingers as he traced every line of her naked body from top to tail with his rough hands…

"Cullen?" She asked, "You all right?"

He blinked, startled. "Yes, I'm all right," He looked askance, over the mountainside spread below them. The camp was as large as it ever was, smoke streaming from tent tops and bonfires dotted cheerily between the white stretches of canvas and snow. "What about you? You must be freezing."

She wrapped her arms around herself, "Oh no. Not at all." She said between chattering teeth.

He rolled his eyes and wrapped her into his cloak, settling his arms around her shoulders, pulling her chest to chest with him. "A likely story, my lady." He groaned inwardly, why did he never seem to be able to think through his actions around her? Now, he could feel her slim body beneath his hands again he felt a primal response deep within his chest and loins beginning.

She shivered and her eyes took on a sultry glint. "Mmmm, very likely indeed." He swallowed hard, imagining kissing her. The feel of her soft, shell pink lips pressed against his mouth…his throat… his chest… they were close to his tower. How he longed to lure her back there, up the ladder to his bed, where he could finish the education he had so carefully begun those many months ago. She had been a virgin. He hadn't wanted to be too rough or too insistent with her, understanding that for women the first time was usually painful, and knowing that he was by no means a small man. He had been gentle and careful with her. When really, he had wanted to devour her, to leave hot trails of his desire burned into every inch of her skin with his mouth, his hands, his nails. He had wanted her calling his name like it was a prayer that only he could answer, but he had withheld. And now, in the crystalline depths of her aquamarine eyes, he could see the same desire flickering invitingly.

Suddenly, he realized they were at the foot of his bed, in their small clothes. She was giggling and coming towards him slowly, almost in a predatory fashion. Her eyes were dark, her movements smooth and serpentine. He swallowed, taking in the curves her body. She had once been hardened by battle, but time spent away from daily training exercises since her imprisonment by Samson had caused her to put on a few light pounds, her muscles to soften, her breasts to fill, her hips to become rounder, more voluptuous. Still, her body spoke of the power of a swordswoman and he found himself reaching for her as she came to his side. She pushed him back onto the bed so that they were both standing on their knees facing each other. Cullen took in her unblemished, fair skin, marveling at the blue veins showing beneath the translucent flesh of her chest and neck. He wanted to wash his face in their cooling depths.

And then they crashed together, hands roving any and everywhere. Their mouths were hot against each other, drinking the other in, tongues twisting together in a simulation of what was to come. She pulled away with a little gasp for air that made his cock harden almost painfully. As she gasped for air beneath him, he mouthed along her jaw, and down the glowing line of the vein in her neck, following it to the streams of vibrant blue tracing along the fair, silken skin of her chest, over the curves of her breasts, down between them and around her navel, until finally he reached the spot of his search. Her nails dragged pleasurably through his hair as she arched into his mouth. He tasted her for the first time and it was the same singing song as his first taste of lyrium. It rocketed through him, sending his mind and body into a frenzy that he couldn't quite control. She tasted truly divine and it was not without considerable effort that he removed himself from betwixt her thighs. He dragged his tongue up her body following the same path he had traced with his kisses moments before. His fingers danced along her folds and traced the point all women wish men to find. He had never had difficulty finding the spot, and he had always been baffled when other men had mentioned its elusiveness to him. Had they never looked at a woman before? They were all designed much the same with small variations that made them each uniquely exquisite.

Elena, though, Elena was a goddess, burning with the hot, blue-white glow sheen of lyrium across her skin. He bit at her shoulder a little too hard and heard her gasp followed by a laugh and a nip of her own. He drew back and looked into her luminous icy eyes. She moaned loudly and closed the gap between them, trailing her hands down his body until she took him in hand, her mouth opening and closing, her tongue darting and dancing in and around his. Their breathing fell in sync with each other as she stroked him expertly in her burning palm. He couldn't stand it and pulled away, sucking in great gulps of air desperately as he went back to kissing and sucking on her neck. He realized that he was drinking her in. The lyrium laced through him, causing him to shudder and shake against her. His hands and fingers moved in circles around her most secret parts.

"Cullen… oh Cullen, please. I need you." She whimpered against his ear piteously as he drove her to such distraction with his ministrations that she forgot all about pleasuring him. Never one to ignore a lover, Cullen grunted and shoved her back into the growing pool of vivid blue liquid around them. It practically wept from the nicks his teeth had inflicted on her shoulders, chest, and neck. He groaned as he fell upon her, mouth closing around the small wounds, he pushed into her. She shuddered beneath him, "Oh!" He rocked against her, feeling the heated depths of her close firmly and invitingly around him. She rocked in tandem with him, their bodies undulating. He pulled her face around to his and pushed their mouths together, shoving his tongue in between her teeth greedily, needing to taste every inch of her he could. Needing her to taste him, too. She moaned and he swallowed it, moving on to administer his attention to her heaving chest, swirling his tongue around her hard nipples, licking them clean of the tantalizing magic that seemed to pour from every inch of her. He couldn't get enough, he was breaking apart even as they reached the peaks of their passion. He thrust into her, picking up the rhythm to match the little grunts and huffs she let out as she clung to him, drawing his own red blood to mingle with her vivid blue. He groaned pleasurably at the introduction of this new sensation and met her enthusiasm with his own. He was sure they were both about the explode from the pent up pressure building between them. He was not going to finish before her if it killed him, and it very well might.

"Cullen, please!" She begged as if reading his thoughts. He needed no further encouragement. With a few quick, final thrusts, he let it all come loose. When he sat up he found that he was sitting waist deep in a pool of lyrium, Elena nowhere to be found.

"What in the seven Hells?" He lifted his hands and lyrium gushed through his fingers, hot, enticing, better than any lover. He was shaking painfully.

"Of course I'd find you here." Elena's cold voice floated over to him. He whipped his head around to find her looking down at him, the others all looming behind her, everyone's faces etched with utter disgust at the state he was in. Her steely blue eyes were as hard as diamonds as she tossed her hair over her shoulder, "Tck. Weak."

"Wait… Elena! It's not— I can explain." He stood and found the pool deepened to keep him immersed to the waist. He struggled to move through it, reaching for her. "No! I promise– I don't— I don't do this anymore! I've beaten it." Flaming blue hands snaked around his body, tugging him deeper into the pool even as he fought against them. "You have to believe me! Help me!"

Elena stepped backwards, joining the others, "You're such a liar. I can't believe I ever loved you." Fabien stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her from behind, leaning over her, his face turning wolfish and possessive as he leered around her shoulders at him. She leaned back into his embrace, letting him pull her further away from Cullen.

"No! I didn't lie! I've beaten it!" He pleaded desperately, fighting against the hands pulling him inexorably deeper and deeper into the welcome heat of the pool. He cried out, but his mouth filled with the lyrium and he choked, spluttering, gasping, swimming for the surface, kicking at the hands in vain. The others watched impassively as he was pulled deeper and deeper….

XXXXXXXX

"Elena!" He sat bolt upright in bed, the red sheets wound around him tightly absolutely drenched and soaked through in sweat. He shivered and shuddered. His whole body ached. He felt like he'd been run over by a whole herd of Druffalo. His head throbbed and he was too hot. His body aches were nothing compared to the emptiness yawning within him, threatening his grip on his self control. He extricated himself from his bed flailing about as the walls began to close in, dressing hurriedly, he had to get out. Everything was too close in here. He slid down the ladder clumsily leaping from it as he neared the bottom and stumbled through the door onto the bridge that connected his tower to the main keep. He threw himself against the side, pressing his heated body against the cold and unforgiving stones. The desire for lyrium gnawed at him, pulling on every fibre of every muscle, he shuddered, resisting the urge to go back to his tower, to open the little box, to perform the ritual, to give in… Don't do it! It's not worth it!

He leaned on the stone until he felt more human, less animal, less heated. He stood up then, watching the snow drift down around him in the dark, trying to find the good in the dream. There really hadn't been any. Even Elena had been wrong, missing her scars, bleeding lyrium into his mouth and bed until he quite literally drowned in it.

The snow landed on his flushed face. He imagined he could hear it hissing as it melted, leaving false tears in the tracks of his real ones. When had he started crying, much less stopped? It didn't matter. He sighed, watching his breath condense before him and float away into the night. Inside of his desk, next to the little box, was a sealed letter. He had penned it a few days after she left… He hadn't intended to send it, but maybe he should.

"Commander?"

Cullen jumped slightly and looked to his left. Dorian stood in front of him, a steaming mug clasped in one hand, the other wrapped across his chest. "What're you doing out here?" His voice was gentle, if a bit alarmed.

"D-D-Dorian?"

"You must be freezing." He reached out with the arm from across his chest, stepping so that it went behind Cullen's shoulders, "Come with me. Let's get you warmed up." Cullen let the mage take over, too exhausted to tend to his own needs, and frankly thankful for the kindness. He would handle the matter of the letter in the morning now that the lyrium pains had dissipated he found he was freezing… and exhausted… and still empty.

Author's Note: I don't normally write this kind of fic, but I felt inspired by one I read over on AO3 (Never Tear Us Apart by Trophy_Kill1991 - 20/10 would recommend) and thought I'd try my hand with my own pair of lovebirds. Plus, it adds to the angst I feel internally as I continue to pick away at the ending of Lyrium Dreams. I am actively working on it, but I am trying to do it just so hence why it is taking me so long. I've brought them this far, I don't want to ruin it now.

As always, thank you, dear reader, for reading. I appreciate your time and patience as I pursue my writing and video game hobbies. Happy holidays. - Danbamina