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After All

Summary:

Shortly after the arrival of The Herald, Cullen is surprised to find among the recruits a young woman he grew up with. As they renew their friendship, he begins to understand that his feelings went far deeper than he’d ever imagined.

Notes:

There are elements of vaguely referenced r*pe & sexual abuse in the story, as well as physical abuse, but I will do my best to label the chapters and post a warning beforehand. Also, the “underage” references an adult remembering their past, not adult/child, but it is of a sexual nature.

(SCM)= sexual childhood memories
(A/R)= abuse/r*pe
(GB/V) =graphic blood/violence
*- smut or mild smut

Chapter 1: A Pleasant Surprise (SCM)

Chapter Text

He remembered her only as that pretty girl that he used to find by the lake all of the time, digging in the mud and always missing her shoes. Not that there weren’t plenty of other things about her. She liked reading, for example, and she’d learned to shoot a bow when she was three, making her the best shot in Honnleath- not that most of the boys would admit it. He’d always admired her for it, though, the same way he liked the curls in her hair and the bells of her laughter.

He’d been a foolish boy, all those years ago, so wrapped up in the honor of becoming a Templar that he’d ignored the feeling growing inside of him. The way, when he was eight and she’d wrestled him to the ground on a dare, he’d looked up at her straddled across his chest, grinning, and gotten this odd warmth in his stomach. He thought about it for days afterward, weeks, even, wondering why the weight of her across his chest had made him feel so strange.

When he was nine, she’d told him that she had a secret fort down in the woods beside the lake, and she asked him if he wanted to come see it. He’d agreed, and she’d laced her fingers in his, dragging him along. She’d been giggling and chatting constantly, her excitement spilling into every word, but all he could think about was the warmth of her hand in his. As they squeezed into her “fort”- really just some bent branches covered in vines- he remembered feeling guilty, like being so close to her, alone, was something he shouldn’t be doing. Still, he followed her each time she asked, sitting with her in that cramped space, and never telling a soul about it.

The Templars at the Chantry began training him in earnest when he was ten, taking up hours of time that had once been spent roaming the woods. He rarely saw her then, just glances as she snuck away to spend her time by the lake alone. He missed her, and told her once as they’d crossed paths on the way home. The next day, she showed up by the Chantry, leaning against the wall with a book that she left open on her lap, but rarely looked at. Instead, she watched him, smiling when he was complimented, and clapping in admiration when he’d finished for the day. The Templars he’d been working with smiled at each other knowingly, making comments he paid no attention to at all. He was too busy smirking, his chest swelled with pride. That small round of applause kept him going for weeks.

By the time he was eleven, training had begun to shape his body, broadening his shoulders and toning the muscles of his arms and legs. He had much more control over his body than most of the other boys, who were all limbs and feet, tripping over themselves when they moved. When they had free time, the girls often gathered to watch the boys at their rough games, playing at war and conquest. Sometimes the games got carried too far, and someone got hurt, but it was always worth it if the girl of their choice came to fuss over them, wiping their bloodied noses and putting cool cloths against their scrapes.

Cullen never participated in these games. He didn’t have to. He was training for real battles, ones that would pit him against archdemons and abominations. Often, he was teased for his focus on training, but he wouldn’t waver, and he didn’t care.

Soon enough, the village girls began taking notice of his new form, the grace of his movements and the honor in his words. They began lining up beside the Chantry to watch him, abandoning the other boys. Jealousy had those boys teasing him every day as he walked home, trying to goad him into fights they would never win. He refused to take the bait, which only infuriated them further, until, finally, they surrounded him one afternoon, intent on beating him and trying to make him look the fool. Still, he refused to fight back, letting them do as they wished while he only tried to protect himself from harm.

An arrow whizzed by the ringleader’s head, then another, tearing a hole in the arm of his tunic. When he looked up, there was the figure of a small, barefoot girl, her feet muddy, her face that of a vengeful goddess. She growled her anger at them, chastising them for their cowardice, and promised that if she ever saw it again she wouldn’t miss. They ran home, never telling a soul, because their fathers and brothers would laugh at them for running from a girl. Once they were gone, she kneeled beside Cullen, tending his bruises with her soft hands, and he understood for the first time why the others were so willing to accept defeat at each other’s hands. The next day, the boys were gone, and so were the girls, replaced by a lone figure with muddy feet and a bow.

The summer he was twelve was the hottest any could remember, at times too hot for the Templars to train him. These days he spent in the cool shadows of the woods, or beside the lake, away from his siblings. When he found her there, it was no longer the easy play it had once been. Instead, he found himself stealing glances at the way her tunic strained against her new form, tight in places that made his throat dry and his stomach flutter in warm ripples that trailed downward between his legs. She’d return his glances beneath her dark, lush eyelashes, her lips bitten pink, and smile in a way that made him feel suddenly as if he couldn’t breathe.

The afternoon he’d caught her swimming in an abandoned offshoot of the lake, he’d wondered for a few moments if he might actually die. She’d stripped down to her thin linen top and pants, nearly sheer when soaking wet, and clinging to every inch of her skin. A hot blush crept up his neck, but he couldn’t make himself look away. He knew it was wrong to be so focused on her, taking in the curve of her thighs and the dark buds at the center of her breasts, but, Maker above, nothing had ever held his attention this way before.

When she called for him to join her, he did so partially to hide the awkwardness making itself known between his legs, terrified of how she’d react if she knew. The strangest urges were overtaking him, confusing, yet somehow thrilling all the same. He wanted the silk of her skin against his, the warmth of her arms. To know if the swell of her newly arrived breasts were as soft as they looked, and if her mouth would taste sweet or salty against his.

That night, he dreamed the answers to his questions, and woke panting, his pants full of a damp stickiness that filled him with shame. It wasn’t the last time it happened, and despite the embarrassment that followed, he couldn’t help but enjoy the satisfaction they brought. Before long, he was intentionally imagining the scenarios his dreams often depicted as he lay in the dark, shamefully wishing the dreams would come. Often, for days afterward, he’d find himself unable to look her in the eyes, blushing furiously at the memories of his fantasies. Yet when she came to watch him practice, he stood taller, fought harder. The Templars still whispered among themselves, but now he understood their references to his infatuation, his showing off. They spoke of fated couplings and future marriage, breeding a strange resentment within him, yet he still looked to her with a fondness in his heart, wondering if they spoke truth.

He left at thirteen, his parents finally giving their permission for him to join the order. Though he looked forward to finally fulfilling what he genuinely believed to be his purpose in life, it was tempered with the sadness of knowing she was left behind. She had no interest in joining the order, and, even if she had, she couldn’t. She was the only child her parents had, and they couldn’t risk her death, not with no one left to help with the household duties.

As the day of his departure approached, uneasiness grew within him. He knew well what happened when the older boys left girls behind as they went to seek their fortunes. Quiet evenings were spent together, alone in the darkness with soft sighs and promises of love. Tokens were often exchanged, an item of clothing or lock of hair, and letters would be exchanged for the future. When they were gone, letters came home, and were sent back. On occasion, those quiet nights alone left behind a permanent reminder, growing larger by the day, until he returned home for the wedding he hadn’t been entirely sure he wanted.

But those were older boys, ahead of him by years, and their example didn’t seem to fit his relationship with her. They were far too young for tokens of love and promises of marriage, yet he’d come to know, particularly over the last year, that she was more to him than he’d wanted to admit. The joy of becoming a Templar at last was tempered with the bitter sadness of losing something he’d only just realized was important.

The day before he left, he’d reported to the Chantry to train, as usual, and saw her waiting against the same wall she often watched him from. Her knees were pulled tight to her chest, and she looked as if she’d been crying. His heart ached for her, already missing her even though she was right near him. The two Templars looked between themselves, then at him, and the older of the two dismissed him, pushing him towards her. He ran towards her eagerly, and as soon as she saw, she stood to take his hand, leading him into the woods. They spent the entire day reliving their various adventures, smiling and teasing one another without a care in the world.

So often during that day, he would look at her, balancing on a log in her bare feet, sun streaming gold behind her, and suddenly his heart would feel full, overwhelmed with emotion. He wanted, in those moments, to pull her to him, pressing his lips to hers, but he didn’t dare. He was too afraid of ruining the last few moments they had.

As the last few hours of the day dimmed into the gold of twilight, she stopped suddenly, right in the midst of her laughter. A sadness crept into her eyes, and her hands grasped his tightly. The next thing he knew, she’d thrown herself into his arms, sobbing. She was terrified, she said, that once he left she would never see him again. It was dangerous to be a Templar, after all, and he was so brave . . . .

All he could do was hold her, wishing he was braver still, brave enough to tell her he would miss her as much as she would miss him, brave enough to ask if he could write to her. He wanted to do what the older boys did, to kiss her, to ask if she would wait for him, but he didn’t dare. It seemed far too bold. Instead, he walked her home, letting her take his arm even though he knew she didn’t need it. When he said goodbye, she hugged him one more time, tightly, and he let himself have the pleasure of burying his face in her neck, feeling her body tight against his. When she pulled away, for a moment, her face lingered near his, and the desire to kiss her was almost overwhelming. He could feel the warmth of her breath against his lips, and the way her body trembled in his arms. But he couldn’t seem to find the courage he needed, and then the moment was over, and she’d disappeared inside her home.

He thought of her every day for a long time. Whenever things went badly, he imagined her smile, and in times of loneliness, he remembered the warmth of her arms. But he never wrote to her. He couldn’t possibly have put into words the things he felt for her, nor the way the image of her face warmed him. Besides, as time went on, he was certain she would find someone else to be her partner, someone who wasn’t miles away. She’d probably forgotten about him. But he’d always remembered her. In his darkest, most fearful moments, she was the only light he could find, and, although he was certain he wasn’t even in her memories anymore, she remained in his.

Now here he was, back in Ferelden, no longer a Templar. He still thought of her, from time to time, though no longer as often as he once had. The passing years had clouded her face in his mind, but the memory of his feelings remained sharp, and he often wondered what might have happened if he had been honest with her. Useless, of course. Or so he’d thought.

After the events at the Conclave, recruits began flocking to the Inquisition in greater numbers, until what had once been a slow trickle had turned into a steady flow. Some were former Templars, like him, some soldiers, and some simply farmers who wanted to help bring peace. Men and women alike joined, and he welcomed them without second thought, making sure they were outfitted and fed.

And then one day, as he’d been busy going through reports, he’d heard a voice behind him.

“Maker above, look who’s in charge here!”

He stopped, absolutely certain it wasn’t the voice he thought it was. After all these years, it wasn’t possible, least of all here, now. He’d been thinking of her only moments ago, so it had to be some trick of his mind. Those were happening more often now. But then it came again, along with a tap to his elbow.

“Hello, Cullen.”

He risked a glance, expecting there to be only emptiness, but there she was. Long hair braided and thrown over her shoulder, in a green tunic and brown leather trousers. She looked every bit as vibrant as he remembered her.

“Amicia Tattersol.”

Her smile spread like wings, lifting the soft plums of her cheeks and wrinkling the corners of her eyes. He felt the corner of his own mouth twitching up in response, his arms reaching out as she stretched up to hug him. It was fierce, bracing hug, with more strength in it than he would have believed possible for her stature. Before she let go of him completely, she gave a swift ruffle to his hair.

“I thought I must be out of my mind when they told me who the Commander was, but I’d know this hair anywhere. Though I’ve no idea why you’ve given to styling it.”

“I do not style my hair.”

She raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Yes, of course. And I’m the Empress of Orlais.” Her face switched back to giddiness again in a flash. “You’re not a Templar anymore! What happened? Are you alright?”

“It’s . . . rather a long story, Micia.”

“That’s alright, Cul. You’ll have plenty of time to explain it to me.”

Chapter 2: Old Times (A/R)

Notes:

Trigger Warning- mentions of child abuse

Chapter Text

“So how have things been, Amicia?” Cullen asked.

He’d explained the situation to Cassandra, who’d agreed to oversee training for a little while so that they could get reacquainted. Now they walked aimlessly around the frozen lake, Cullen’s mind a whirlwind of confusion. Seeing Amicia again, after all these years, had thrown him completely off balance.

She shrugged. “Sometimes good, sometimes not.”

There was a look on her face that made him nervous, and he stopped walking to turn towards her.

“What happened?”

She shook her head in refusal, shrugging again, and tried to change the subject, but he wouldn’t budge. Gently but firmly, he placed a hand on her shoulder, and asked again in a quiet voice.

“Amicia, tell me what happened. Please.”

She bit her lip for a moment, then took a deep breath to steady herself.

“The year you left, Mum died. I don’t know what happened . . ,” she paused. “Well, maybe I do. I . . . you know that Da wasn’t always the kindest man. Mostly he stayed drunk enough he was harmless, so it was just me and mum to do the work. Then, when she died, it was just me.”

She sighed, then started walking again, and Cullen fell in step beside her.

“It wouldn’t have been so bad, you know, being just the two of us. All I’d ever have to do was make sure he ate something, and maybe toss a bucket of water over him from time to time.” Cullen chuckled alongside her, but it was clear something unpleasant was coming. “But I found out soon he wasn’t as harmless as I thought he was.”

A long silence stretched between them, her hands clutching into fists by her sides. He’d brought up bad memories, and he hated himself for it, but he wanted to know. No- he NEEDED to know.

“It wasn’t bad at first. He didn’t like the food I made, so he’d toss the plate to the floor, or into the fireplace. I’d clean it up, and things would move on. Then the screaming started. I was too stupid to cook, I didn’t keep things clean enough, I was never where I should be. The next time I put a plate in front of him he didn’t like, it was me he threw it at. Thank the Maker it had gotten cold by then. But that became the routine.”

Cullen frowned as she took a deep, cleansing breath. He’d certainly known her father was a drunk, and a little too quick to yell if he was disturbed, but he’d never have guessed this. Then she kept talking, and it only got worse.

“At fifteen, the beatings started. Slaps to the face, hitting me with whatever was at hand as I tried to walk by out of his reach. If I was too far away, he’d throw everything he could reach until I disappeared from sight or he fell over, then he’d scream at me for that, too. He started keeping a belt nearby, to hit me or fling it out to tangle in my legs and trip me up. Then, when I was on the floor, he just . . . .”

She choked up, shaking her head, and he rubbed a soothing hand across her back.

“By the breath of Andraste . . . Micia, if I had known-“

“You wouldn’t have been able to do anything. Do you think no one noticed the bruises? Everyone in the village knew. The only thing that ever happened was that Mia offered to have me come live with them, and I refused. He would have chased me down, and it would have turned into something far bigger than it needed to be.”

Cullen replied in a voice tinged with anger. “Mia knew? She knew this was going on, and she never told me?”

“Cullen, I begged her not to tell you. I didn’t know what you would do-“

“I’d have returned home to teach him something! I’d have . . . taken you away, or-“

“Given up on your dream. I wouldn’t do that to you. Besides,” she added sadly, “you never wrote to me. I didn’t know if you’d even care, and I couldn’t bear it if you didn’t.”

“Amicia, I’m so sorry . . . .”

With a shake of her head, she continued. “It’s fine. I got away. Eventually.”

“Maker, how did you-“

“I won’t talk about it.”

Her jaw was set hard, mouth pulled into a frown as she turned away. He wanted to press her on it, but he had his own secrets to keep, and it would hardly be fair. Instead, he turned towards the more recent past, hoping it would be happier.

“So . . . how did you end up with the Inquisition?”

She turned towards him with a smile. “I heard you wanted peace. Thought it was a good cause, and maybe you’d need archers. I have to admit, I never expected to see you, though.”

“Cassandra recruited me, in Kirkwall. I agreed with the cause, so when she offered me a position, I took it happily. That was before the Conclave, though.”

“Are you still glad you joined?”

“Of course.”

They walked side by side in pleasant silence for a while, enjoying the quiet of the frozen day. He stole the occasional glance at her, only to see that, most of the time, she was already looking at him, smiling.

“How’s your family, Cullen? I haven’t heard anything of them since I left, just before the blight.”

“We moved to South Reach. Unfortunately, my parents didn’t survive.”

“I’m sorry, Cullen.”

“It’s been a long time.” He took a breath. “Everyone else is well, as far as I know. I’m afraid I don’t write to them as often as I really should. But you know Mia- she can track me down anywhere.”

“Yes, I remember that well. No matter how you tried to hide, she always found you, usually giving you an earful for keeping her worried. She always acted more like your mother than your sister. I trust that hasn’t changed?”

“Not at all. When I transferred to Kirkwall, I received three full pages, all admonishing me for not letting her know. I suspect if I were to die in battle, she’d cross over herself, just to hold me accountable for not letting her know.”

Amicia laughed. “You’re probably right. But, hopefully, that won’t happen. It would be a shame to lose you when I only just found you again.”

Later that night, Cullen sat down with a quill and parchment in his tent.

 

“Mia,

Yes, I am aware I should have written to you sooner. However, I wish you would acknowledge the reality that there are times when it is simply not possible. There is a great deal that keeps me busy in day to day life, and when I have a few moments to rest, I would prefer to spend that time actually resting. I’ve written to you because I have news, and a great many questions for you to answer.

Among our newest recruits, I was astounded to find one Amicia Tattersol. I know that you must remember her, because she and I were very close before I left for Templar training. We spent hours together by the lake- where you and the others often found us. While discussing what became of our lives after I left, she confessed to me the brutality that often occurred at her fathers hand.

All of the letters you wrote to me when I was away, and you didn’t see fit even ONCE to mention that she was being abused? You invited her to live in our HOME, Mia- you could have told me as much. I realize that she extracted promises that you wouldn’t tell me, but I believe this is one situation where breaking those promises would have been the correct line of action. You no longer have the right to complain that I don’t inform you of the things I should. It is beyond infuriating that you would keep such a thing from me.

Cullen”

When he had finished writing, he debated tearing it up and tossing it into the fire. There were a thousand reasons he shouldn’t send it. To begin with, Amicia had told him herself that she begged he not be told, and she’d had good reasons for it. At least to her. To him, they didn’t seem quite so convincing.

She’d said it started when she was fifteen, but it probably wouldn’t have devolved into the worst until she’d hit around sixteen. By then he was already one of the best warriors at his station. It was also around the time he’d begun truly wondering how things might have been different if he’d had the courage to tell her the way he’d felt. She was right- he absolutely would have come to take care of things, even if it meant leaving the order for good. To have had that second chance . . . .

But he hadn’t, not then. It was no good torturing himself with what might have happened if things had been different, because they were how they were.

Yet she was here, now. It seemed foolish to believe it was some sort of second chance. They were both different people than they’d once been. And, he remembered in a sobering moment, it wasn’t as if she’d ever had a crush on him, as he’d had on her. It was easy to look backwards and pretend the situation had been ideal, but in reality, life had been much more complicated. Certainly they had been good friends, but to pretend as if he could have charged in like some sort of hero to marry her and give her a different life was expecting a bit too much.

With a sigh, he ran his hand over his hair. He should have confessed, he should have written to her. That much was clear. But he hadn’t, and there was no changing that. But he WAS grateful to see her again. It had been like a breath of fresh air after being cooped up inside for far too long.

It was the same when he spoke to her the next day, and the day after that. Her presence was comforting, like balm to a wound. She was the same perfect shot as ever, amusing the recruits by performing seemingly impossible shots, and giving them tips when training. Before long, Cullen found himself making excuses to spend time with her, whether it was aiding her in picking elfroot for the medicines she made, or training her in swordsmanship “just in case”.

When Mia wrote back to him, it was short and sweet.

“Cullen,

Of course I remember Amicia. Half the village was convinced the two of you would marry, you spent so much time together.

Yes, I knew she was being abused. You have no idea how difficult it was not to give over and tell you anyway. I knew how you cared about her- I think I may have understood that far better than you did. I never told you of her situation because Amicia didn’t just make me promise not to tell, she threatened to run away if I did, and that would put her in a far worse situation. She said she would not interfere with the life you’d worked so hard to make for yourself.

I know that it makes little difference now, but I always worried that I did the wrong thing in hiding it. However, I am glad to hear that she’s with you in Haven. She always had a way of getting to you in ways none of the rest of us could. Just promise me you won’t be an idiot this time.

Mia”

The letter left him with a sense of unease deep in the pit of his stomach, like there was something he should be seeing that he couldn’t quite make out. He read it a few more times before folding it and slipping it among his things, so that he could return to it later. Then he laid back on his cot, folding his hands beneath his head.

Amicia.

Looking back as an adult, it was easy to understand the feelings that had confused him so much as a child. A budding crush, attraction building towards someone he’d known as a friend, yet not really understanding that he’d wanted more than just friendship. The desire to impress her, to prove to her that he was someone worth spending time with. Then, in later years, the urges of early pubescence, sexual desires he’d been too young to really understand. All he’d known, all he’d understood, was that no one else had ever raised the same feelings inside of him.

He’d certainly had crushes from time to time, and, as he’d grown closer to manhood, he’d given more attention to the desires rising within him than he probably should have. But there had never been anyone like Micia. He’d always assumed that the years had sharpened his fondness, making her seem more perfect, his feelings stronger.

But it still thrilled him to stand beside her, and her smile still made his insides squirm. Being with her felt like standing next to a storm, beautiful and dangerous, but knowing it will never actually hurt you. It was like being lost at sea, then finally coming upon a familiar port. He felt like, after years of uncertainty and confusion, there was something to hold onto again.

He stopped himself, trying to see things rationally. He’d had an enormous crush on her in his childhood, and the years in between had given him time to twist it into something that maybe never was. He’d been through tragedy and uncertainty, and she was something familiar, from a part of his life before he’d been so ruined. It was entirely possible that he wasn’t feeling what he thought he was feeling. The smart thing to do was to give it time, see if things changed. If he still felt the same way later . . . well, he could face it then.

Still, as he drifted to sleep, his mind was on her, and he smiled.

Chapter 3: Resentment *

Chapter Text

Amicia stomped through the grounds, mouth drawn tight in her fury. As she approached the training grounds, she drew a deep breath in.

“Cullen!” She stormed towards him. “Cullen Stanton Rutherford!”

At the sound of his full name, he rushed towards her, trying to quiet her, but she pushed his hands away roughly.

“No. No I will NOT be quiet! What is the MEANING of this, Cullen? You know damn well that I’m the best shot here, but you put me on HEALING duty?”

“Micia-“

“NO! Don’t ‘Micia’ me! I didn’t come here to bandage wounds, I came to fight! I’m perfectly capable, Cullen. You KNOW this!”

“I do know it!”

He grabbed her shoulders, turning her and pushing her into the nearby tent. While she crossed her arms, fuming silently, he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to find the right words to explain it. At first, his mouth only opened and closed, like a fish out of water. Then, finally, he put his hands at her elbows.

“Amicia! Stop fighting me and LISTEN for a moment.” When she stilled, he took a deep breath. “Without a doubt, you are absolutely the best archer here. And I know you’re capable of fighting and defending yourself- and others as well,” he smirked, softening her face slightly. “But I also know you’ve got skill with healing. You’ve always made your poultices and salves, fixing up anyone who needed it. And right now, we need healers more than we need archers. Especially ones as skilled as you are.”

“You could have at least warned me, Cullen.”

He chuckled as she pouted up at him. “And give you an early start on yelling at me?”

She playfully slapped at his chest, leaning into him as her eyes met his. Her sudden smile made his heart pound, fingers trembling to hold her, lips aching to touch hers. Yet he remained frozen, unsure. This was still so new, despite the years of their past, and he wanted nothing to ruin it. Better to still himself, to hold out until he could be certain.

It was just as well, because that’s when Cassandra came in, summoning him to the war room. She bid him goodbye with a broad smile, and he returned it with a nod and wry smirk. After walking for a few moments, she cleared her throat.

“The two of you were friends in your youth?”

“Oh, uhm . . . yes.”

“Only friends?” She emphasized the “only”, as if she suspected more.

“Mostly, yes. I’m afraid I had a bit of a youthful infatuation with her, for a time. Before I joined the order. She used to come and watch me training.”

“But you were only friends?”

Cullen stopped, turning towards her.

“If there’s something you wish to say, Cassandra, please state it plainly.”

“Fine. I see the way you look at her, and I notice that you are brighter when you are around her. I also note that you are not as . . . awkward around her as you often are with women.”

“I am not awkward!”

“Cullen, the Herald asked you if Templars take vows of chastity and you could barely speak.”

He couldn’t exactly argue her point.

“What I mean to say, Cullen, is that I see you are at ease around her, and if there is something there . . . I encourage you to pursue it. You deserve happiness, just as anyone does.”

He sighed. “I don’t know. I’m glad to have her around again, but as for anything else . . . I’m not sure I can tell what I really feel and what’s left from the past. And I’ve learned things . . . I’m just not sure. I don’t want to rush anything.”

“I understand. But also . . ,” she paused to take a breath, and smiled, “do not think I haven’t noticed that you put our best archer on healing duty. I realize you say she has talent there . . . but not so much that we need her there. You wanted to keep her safe.”

He watched Cassandra walk past him and into the war room, rubbing the back of his neck. So he wanted to keep her safe? Why was that a problem? It wasn’t like they couldn’t use the extra help. Adan had been complaining about not enough hands or supplies, anyway. Still, he felt a bit bad about it, and later that afternoon, he sought Amicia out.

He found her at the edge of the woods, shooting arrows at a target she’d set up. Her face was a mask of rigid concentration as she aimed, each arrow hitting the center, or very near it. He cleared his throat, and when she turned to see him standing there, she lowered her bow.

“Cullen? Is everything okay?”

The way she tilted her head to the side had him smiling to himself as he nodded.

“Everything’s fine. Well, nearly.” He let out a huff of breath. “Amicia, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I shouldn’t have had you put in healing. I should have you with the archers, just as you said.”

“I’m okay with it, really. I’ll admit it did upset me to start with, but I’ve talked to Adan, and he’s grateful for the help. But . . . if you don’t mind me asking- why did you? And why apologize now?”

“I don’t know. It was foolish. I just wanted to see that you were safe. I’ve only just started getting to know you again, and . . . .” He looked up to see her grinning at him. “You’re about to make fun of me, aren’t you?”

“No . . . I think it’s rather sweet, actually. I’m flattered that I mean enough to you to merit that sort of thought. After the way things went when you left . . . I wasn’t sure you’d even be happy to see me.”

“Blessed Andraste, Micia, seeing you again has been the most wonderful thing that’s happened to me in ages!”

She started laughing softly,and he realized how terribly eager he’d sounded. His face flushed pink, and she bumped her shoulder hard against his.

“Well if it’s so wonderful to see me, why didn’t you write? I spent months hoping for a letter from you. Never a word. I figured you’d forgotten about me, or replaced me with someone else.”

“I could never have replaced you,” he breathed softly. “I was terrified to write you. I didn’t know what to say, and I’d never asked you if it would be alright. I didn’t want you to think I believed there was more to our relationship than there actually was.”

“Coward.” She smiled at him. “You were the only real friend I had. I didn’t even have siblings, as you did. It hurt terribly to think you’d forgotten about me. My poor heart was shattered.”

“I’m sorry. I know I should have written. I always regretted it that I didn’t. But I never stopped thinking about you.”

He glanced at her face, the incredulous smile spreading across it sending flutters through his stomach.

“I always thought of you, too. At least Mia let me know you weren’t dead, for as long as she could. Then, when everything . . . .”

“Micia, what? What is it?”

Her face turned suddenly cold and hard.

“I’ve told you. I won’t talk about it.”

“I wish you would,” he whispered softly. “I’d like to know.”

Her face softened again, and she touched his cheek, the tip of her thumb running over his scar. He flinched slightly, but she only smiled.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, Cullen. I just . . . I don’t want to talk about it. There are some conversations I just can’t face. Maybe some other time.” She inhaled deeply, forcing herself into a bright smile. “Have you some time? Do you want to walk? I’ve found a nice little place, an old logging stand, well away from people.”

“Unfortunately, I have to prepare some reports for the Herald. She’s decided to approach the Templars to ask for help in sealing the breach, and she needs as much information as I can give her.”

She frowned sadly, and he found himself speaking hurriedly to ease her mind, inviting her to join him in his tent while he worked.

“It’s nothing terribly exciting, but I would appreciate the company, if you’d be willing.”

She agreed readily, chatting animatedly as they walked. Cassandra saw them head into his tent, and gave Cullen a soft smile and approving nod. In reality, he had no idea why he’d suggested it. He just didn’t want to see her disappointed. Besides, it would be nice to spend some quiet time with her, away from others.

Once they got inside, Cullen quickly realized that he wasn’t exactly set for company. All he had was his desk and chair, which he needed to work, and his cot. He was about to apologize and offer to find something else, but when he turned around, she’d settled herself cross legged on his cot, her boots dumped to the floor. She looked oddly content, sitting there, and the thought had him grinning from ear to ear.

They spoke little as he worked, just snippets here and there as she asked him about the things he was writing, until the afternoon had given way to evening. A chill began to creep into the air, and Amicia pulled his blanket up and around herself, until only her head poked out of the top. He chuckled at her, and was about to comment, when she pulled it up around her face, inhaling deeply. After that, she smiled, a happy sigh leaving her.

“It smells like you, Cullen. Just like I remember.”

A crooked smile twisted his lips.

“You remember what I smelled like?”

“Yes, always. It’s my favorite smell in the world. It reminds me of days in the woods by the lake, cramped together in that fort, or swimming. Especially swimming, when we would climb out afterwards and dry together laying on the pier. The way the light fell on your face, catching in your curly hair . . . I loved watching you like that.”

He whispered, half to himself, “I never knew that.”

“Well, it was one of the few times you seemed at peace, like you were genuinely happy, without worrying about anything.”

“I was. It always seemed I had nothing to worry about, when I was with you.”

The realization of what he’d said hit him, and he threw himself furiously back into his work to hide the flush in his cheeks. When he risked a glance at her a few minutes later, her mouth was fixed in a dreamy smile, one soon reflected on his own lips. As they shared a glance, Cullen felt his heart tremble in his chest, full of hope.

By the time he’d finished his reports, stretching out into a great yawn, he looked over to see Amicia curled in his blanket, deep in sleep. She looked beautifully delicate, her thick eyelashes curled against her cheeks, chest rising and falling in the slow rhythm of her breathing. As he kneeled beside her, he noticed her lips were parted, just slightly, and felt a sharp jolt in his stomach. Never before had anything looked so inviting. For a moment, he fantasized about leaning forward, kissing her. Maybe she would wake, surprised, but melt into the kiss eagerly, her hands tangling in his hair as she opened her mouth to him. The kiss he felt he’d waited his whole life for.

Foolish, of course. He’d never presume to take such liberties, but that didn’t stop him from wishing.

Of course, he wasn’t about to wake her from such a peaceful slumber, so he made himself as comfortable as he could in his chair, leaning back with his feet on his desk. Not ideal, but he’d slept in far worse conditions before. Eventually, he drifted off into sleep.

He stood in the midst of a forest, the smell of fresh green leaves and damp earth surrounding him. He wore little, just a light tunic and pants of linen, but he didn’t feel vulnerable at all, as he would have expected. Instead, he felt safe, comfortable.

A flash of movement to his left caught his eye, and he turned suddenly, catching only the barest glimpse of white. Then, a soft giggling, and a voice calling his name. Amicia.

He gave chase immediately, following the rustling of leaves and flashes of white fabric. When he lost track, he would call to her, and she would answer, a playful lilt in her voice. At times, he knew he was close, close enough to smell the honey sweetness of her skin, and then she would slip away, leading him further into the forest.

He found her at last by a stream, dressed in a thin white gown and smiling back at him. She reached out, urging him forward, but as he stepped towards her, she moved backwards, wading deeper into the stream. It’s rippling current saturated her dress until it clung against her ankles, her calves, her thighs- and still she moved deeper. It wasn’t until she was submerged to her ribs that she stopped moving, the current carrying her train behind her as if it were trying to disrobe her. Slowly, the moisture seeped upward, until the entirety of her bodice was soaked, making it nearly transparent before him.

With her arms outstretched, she beckoned him to her, and he reached for her eagerly. His hands slipped around her waist, drawing her against his chest as she laughed in great rolling peals that dimmed the melody of the stream itself. Maker above, nothing in his life could have ever compared with her beauty, the light in her eyes and the bells of her voice. Her skin shone bright in the sun, sparkling with droplets of water like silver beads across her chest, and he wanted to taste them.

He leaned downward, lifting her body easily in the water, and brought his mouth to her chest. As his tongue traced the line of her bodice, she tangled her hands in his hair, gripping it tightly. Soft sighs of pleasure escaped her as he traced further down, dipping between her breasts, his teeth nipping gently at her tender flesh. Her legs wrapped around him firmly, pressing her hips hard against him as her sighs turned to moans, bare and wanton. He could hear the need in her voice, and the heat of it matched his own.

He wished for all the world that he had the strength to rip the dress from her body, wasting no time with the tediousness of undressing. He would have let the current carry it away, leaving her before him beautiful and bare, ready for his touch. Since he could not, he made do with reaching downward, trying to collect the whole of her skirt in his hands to lift it, exposing her bottom half to him. When that too proved too difficult, she lowered herself from his grip, lifting it herself to drift away behind her. He tore furiously at his trousers, trying to free himself, knowing already that he was far too eager for his own good. His laces tangled, knotted, and were snapped in his hurry, until, at last, he was ready.

She threw her arms around his neck, lifting herself again, trying to line herself with him, but skirts and trousers made difficult work of it. They were continuously tangling around their limbs, gathering between them to block every effort, until Cullen thought he might explode with frustration, with the absolute unfairness of it all. Here she was, with him, wanting, ready, and still he couldn’t reach.

She whined his name, rocking her hips against him desperately, her mouth drawing marks against his throat as he struggled, yet still he could not find what he needed. He began growling in frustration, urgently searching, calling her name . . . .

He woke with a start, nearly falling out of his chair, her name dying on his lips.

“Maker’s breath . . ,” he muttered to himself, feeling unsteady with the heat and frustration his mind had conjured. A quick glance to the side told him Amicia was still curled comfortably, asleep on his cot. “If I ever have a dream like that again-“

“Like what?”

He jerked his head around to see her stretching, leaned back, with the blanket bunched around her waist. He shook his head quickly.

“Nothing, Micia. Go back to sleep.”

Looking around, she gasped. “Maker, Cullen! I’ve taken your cot!”

He walked towards her, gently petting her head. “It’s alright. I’ve slept in my chair before.”

“No.” She tugged on his arm, pulling him towards her. “At least share with me. Here.” She patted the space beside her.

“You don’t have to-“

“Shut up and sit down, stubborn ass.”

He did as he was told, chuckling at her sleepy insistence. Once he’d settled beside her, she threw the covers over both of them, wrapping her arm around his and laying her head on his shoulder. The soft warmth of her body beside his, coupled with her contented sigh, soon pulled him back into an easy sleep.

Chapter 4: New Normal

Chapter Text

Amicia sighed, kicking her legs against the rough stone wall. With more than half of the Inquisition gone, there wasn’t much for her to do. No one was getting injured, aside from a few minor cuts and sprains, and little training was going on. They were fully stocked on potions, salves, and poultices, as well as the ingredients to make more, and she’d already shot so many arrows into her target there wasn’t much left of it.

“You miss Cullen, don’t you?”

She jumped at the sound of Cassandra’s voice, nearly losing her balance.

“Oh . . ,” she sighed. “Well, yes, actually. I’d forgotten how nice it was to be around him, it’s been so long. Now I’ve gone and gotten used to it again, and he leaves.” She shook her head.

“You and Cullen knew each other well?”

Amicia nodded. “Most of our lives, until he left to become a Templar. We used to run away from his siblings and hide together in the woods, or swim in the lake. I think we probably spent every free minute we had together. Even when he started training, I would come to watch him, hoping he’d get done early.”

“It sounds like the two of you were very close.”

“Nearly inseparable. Of course, it still wasn’t as close as I would have liked.”

“Oh?”

“I had the most massive crush on him, from the time I was old enough to learn about such things. It probably didn’t help that since we spent so much time together, everyone used to say we’d get married one day. When he left, I’d hoped he would ask me for a token, and see if he could write to me. I was utterly heartbroken when he didn’t. A silly thing, I know, but when you’re thirteen everything is a tragedy.”

“It’s not silly. But you say he never wrote to you?”

“Not even once! I had to learn how he was doing from his sister.”

“That’s very strange.”

“It’s not that strange, Cassandra.”

“No, I mean . . ,” she sighed. “I probably shouldn’t speak of it. All I will say is that it surprises me that he did not write to you. Perhaps you should talk to him about this when he returns.”

On that rather cryptic note, Cassandra took her leave.

Cullen returned a week later, clearly frustrated. He stomped through camp, face pulled deep into a frown, until Amicia found him, pacing in his tent. He was a bit startled to turn and see her there, but glad of it, letting his face relax a bit. She wasn’t fooled, though.

“Cullen, what is it? You’re stalking about like a cat.”

“Nothing. Just . . . frustrated, is all.”

She pushed him to sit in his chair, while she perched on the edge of his desk, facing him.

“Tell me.”

It wasn’t a question, it was an order.

“At Therinfal Redoubt, we found out that a large portion of the order had been tainted with red lyrium. Mostly the officers, which means that there’s no one left to be in charge. Especially since it turned out that demon had been running the show for quite some time. A lot of good men were lost, many of whom I knew, through reputation if not by acquaintance. And the ones left- they were made to carry out orders that were deplorable, or they were disobeying their superiors. No one should be forced to make a choice like that. I-“ he stopped short, standing and beginning to pace again, but she captured his shoulders and steered him back to his chair. When he’d settled, he put his hand to his eyes. “It’s not right.”

“What’s happening with the remaining Templars? Will they be joining?”

He nodded. “Yes. As allies of the Inquisition. Some of the veterans will be arriving within the next few days, to aid in sealing the breach. The rest will arrive shortly thereafter.”

“So- there’s that, at least. And I know you wanted her to choose the Templars over the Mages. I realize there must have been a reason you left, but clearly you still respect them, so it seems that you’ll be able to have a hand in the way they shape themselves from here. That counts for something, too. I know it doesn’t make up for the losses, but surely it helps you feel a bit better?”

“Of course it does. It’s just . . . .”

“Still trying to carry the weight of the world?”

A silence fell as she looked at him with her eyebrow raised, and then she chuckled softly. As she cupped his face, forcing him to look up at her, he sighed.

“You’ve always wanted to save everyone, Cullen. That’s why you became a Templar, and I know it’s why you joined the Inquisition. It’s probably why we became friends in the first place. But maybe, sometimes, you have to save yourself. It’s not what you want,” she put her forehead against his, “but it’s what you need. You can’t save the world if you spend all your time worried about it. You need to relax.”

He scoffed. “I’m not sure I know how.”

“Then let me help.”

Her fingers trailed against the line of his jaw, raising goosebumps across his skin. Something about her touch, her voice, raised dark, sinful thoughts within him, ones that made him blush hot and hide his face in shame.

“Will you take off your armor? You’re going to have to before you sleep, anyway.”

Reluctantly, he agreed, storing it to the side where it was easy to get to. She turned his chair around, so that she could sit on the desk behind him, and gestured for him to take a seat. Once he did, she placed her hands atop his shoulders, squeezing gently. Immediately, he groaned, the pressure on his tense muscles both painful and relieving.

“Sweet Andraste, Cullen, do you EVER relax?”

“Not really, no.”

She could hear the smirk on his lips, though she knew he was probably telling the truth. He certainly FELT like he never relaxed. His shoulders were a mass of tense knots, and she was intent on working them out of him. For ages, it seemed, she sat there squeezing, stroking the length of his muscles to coax them into relaxation. At first, he often grunted in pain as she hit the worst parts, but before long, he had closed his eyes, melting into the warm comfort of her touch.

By the time she’d worked her way up to his neck, he was visibly relaxed, his arms hanging loose at his sides and his head tilted forward. From time to time she would hit a spot that made him flinch, then he would moan softly as it loosened beneath her fingers.

“Maker’s breath, Amicia, I had no idea you were so good at this. I feel incredibly at ease.”

“Good. If you keep walking around frowning like you have, I might have to make it a habit.”

“If you’ll make it a habit, I shall always walk around frowning.”

She laughed for a moment before slipping her arms around his neck in a brief hug.

“That reminds me, Cullen. Cassandra said I should talk to you about why it was strange that you never wrote to me.”

The tension returned to his shoulders.

“You were talking to Cassandra about that?”

“Well, yes. I was telling her that I missed having you around, and she asked about how long we knew each other and how close we were. When I told her I was heartbroken that you’d never written because I’d always had a massive crush on you, she said it was strange that you never wrote to me. When I asked her why, she said that I should ask you.”

Cullen felt his heart rise into his throat.

“You had a crush on me?”

“Oh, Maker, yes! I’m sorry, you’re probably mortified.”

He blushed, glad that he was facing away from her.

“Not at all. In fact,” he took a trembling breath inward, “I had a rather large crush on you, myself.”

Her hands stopped moving against his neck, and she walked around to face him. As his eyes met hers, his mouth felt suddenly dry. Inside of his head, he was thirteen again, watching her move and wishing he had the courage to touch her.

“Are you serious, Cullen?”

“Well . . . yes.” He tried to look down, but she grasped his chin and wouldn’t let him. “I wanted to ask to write to you, to gain your promise to wait for me. It felt foolish. We were so young . . . .”

As he spoke, she’d leaned towards him, her forearms resting against his shoulders as her fingers slipped into his hair. Now her face was nearly against his, the soft brush of her breath against his lips sending heat coiling in his stomach. He could nearly feel the flick of her tongue as she licked her lips, nervousness tensing her body.

He wanted her. He wanted her touch, her skin, her lips. He wanted to grasp her hips and pull her roughly across his lap, thrusting his tongue hungrily against hers, fulfilling every fantasy about her he’d ever had.

But he didn’t move.

Instead, the flaps of his tent were thrown open, causing her to jump away and him to nearly fall backwards with the chair.

“Commander? Ambassador Montilyet wanted your input about the amount of lyrium the Templars will need.”

She gave him a subtle smile, slipping out behind the recruit as he stood to talk with them. As he watched her disappear into the moonlit night, he couldn’t help but silently curse the interruption. Perhaps nothing would have come of it, and she had meant nothing by her movement. But obviously, he’d never know now.

Amicia lay awake, thinking of what Cullen had said, before their interruption.

He had wanted to ask if he could write to her.

He’d had a “rather large” crush on her, just as she’d had on him.

And, most of all:

He had wanted her to wait for him.

Thoughts twisted and swirled inside of her head. He’d cared for her, all those years ago, and she’d never known. And he’d never known she felt the same. Their lives could have been so much different, if they’d just been braver.

But here they were, with the lives they’d had, and every day that went by, Amicia was more and more certain that she still had feelings for him. He was comfortable to her in a way she’d never known. From the moment she’d laid eyes on him at Haven, it was just the same as it had been before. As if it had been days that had passed, not years, and they were the same silly children, hiding from the rest of the world.

Only now, they weren’t children, and the feelings she’d had back then had grown up, just as the rest of her. She wanted more, larger, louder, drowning out all other thoughts when she looked at him. When he smiled at her, the world swayed beneath her feet, and when he let her close, she wanted to stay there always, keeping him to herself. Everything was beauty and chaos, bliss and heartbreak, and she wanted it all, no matter how foolish.

Love makes fools of us all.

She’d intended to seek him out the next morning, to see how he was doing, but instead she’d gotten roped into preparing accommodations for the Templars. The ones needed to close the breach would be arriving by the next afternoon, and they needed not only shelter, but a place to practice as well. It was exhausting, tedious work, but it was better than sitting around with nothing to do. Still, it kept her busy all day, until she only had the barest chance to speak to Cullen as she was heading to bed, he to consult further with Josephine, Leliana, and the Herald.

It was much the same the following day, with more of a rush involved. The veteran Templars would be arriving, and there as still much work to do. Cullen and Amicia were both so busy that they managed little more than distant smiles until the evening, well after the Templars had showed.

She found him by the training yard, deep in conversation with a Templar he’d known from before. As soon as he saw her, he waved her over, smiling broadly. The Templar turned, and his eyes grew wide as he muttered a soft curse under his breath. Cullen held his hand out to Amicia, gently touching her shoulder as she approached.

“Amicia, I’d like to introduce you to Ser Delrin Barris.”

The man bowed low, glancing up at her with striking green eyes.

“It’s an honor, Lady Amicia.”

“There’s no need to call me ‘lady’ anything. Just Amicia is fine.”

“As you wish.”

He stood, his gaze fixed on her even as Cullen explained how he and Barris knew each other and listed several of Barris’ accomplishments. Clearly, Cullen thought highly of the man, and the feeling was returned. Barris had been the one to contact Cullen, asking to meet with the Herald, and allowing for the alliance in the first place.

“Then I should thank you, Ser Barris. Cullen wanted the cooperation of the Templars more than anything.”

“I assure you, Lady Amicia, I was only doing my duty.”

She rolled here eyes at his insistence on using the title, but opted not to press it further. She knew too well that Templars were, above all, gentlemen, and to insist might cause his head to explode, for all she knew.

They chatted for a while longer, until Cullen finally offered to walk Amicia to her tent. She accepted gratefully, and told Barris goodbye politely, surprised when he took her hand to place a soft kiss upon her knuckles.

“It was a delight to meet you, Lady Amicia. I hope to see more of you in the future.”

She couldn’t help the crooked smile that played across her lips at his formality, not noticing the way Cullen frowned. Barris, however, did notice, releasing her hand quickly and straightening his back. As they walked away, he sighed deeply, noticing the way Cullen smiled down at her and offered his arm, which she took.

He hadn’t properly introduced Amicia to Barris, and perhaps that had been a mistake. He’d been so caught up in talking to him, then explaining to Amicia how they knew each other that he’d only introduced her by her name, leaving any details about how they knew each other ambiguous. But then, what did it mean that they’d been friends in childhood? It didn’t give him any sort of claim on her. She’d said she USED to have feelings for him- no mention that she still did.

“Are you alright, Cullen?”

Amicia’s voice snapped him back to reality.

“Oh, yes. I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”

“Then go get rest. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

“Yes . . . of course.”

He wandered back towards his tent feeling more confused than ever. He wasn’t sure if he genuinely had feelings for Amicia, or if it was just the familiarity of his past, a lifeline to cling to. Barris must have felt SOMETHING for her, and that made HIM feel . . . something, but he wasn’t sure if it was jealousy or just concern for his friend. And Maker only knew what Amicia was feeling about it all.

Maker’s breath, this was going to drive him crazy.

Chapter 5: Unwelcome Company

Chapter Text

She was sitting on the wall, watching training practice when Barris approach her, his head bowed in greeting, his manner formal.

“Lady Amicia, how are you today?”

“I’m well, Ser Barris. And you?”

“As well as can be expected. I am eager to approach the breach.”

“I’m sure it will be soon. All of this training isn’t for nothing.” She glanced up to Steve Cullen stopped, staring at the two of them. “Are you not helping Cullen with training today?”

He smiled softly. “I only wished to greet you, my lady.” He turned to look at Cullen, who immediately went back to work. “The Commander works tirelessly. As his friend, do you not wish him to take breaks more often?”

“I do, but I’ve known him long enough to know he enjoys pushing himself. He wouldn’t be the same man if he didn’t. When he’s ready to fall over, then I’ll push him into a chair.”

“You take care of him.”

“Someone has to . . . he’s certainly not going to.”

Barris chuckled softly. “He’s lucky, to have someone like you in his life.”

“I’m not sure he would agree. I can get pretty pushy, when necessary.”

“If it’s only when necessary, I’m not sure it counts as ‘pushing’.”

Cullen strode up beside them. “Hello Amicia. Barris.”

He gave Barris a stiff nod, and it was returned just as stiffly. Before long, he was dragging Amicia away, intent on “briefing her on upcoming events”, as he put it. She turned to wave goodbye to Barris, who called out to her.

“Take care of yourself, Lady Amicia. The world would be a poorer place without you in it.”

Cullen’s hand was tight on her arm, almost bruising in his rush to move her away. When he finally had her alone in his tent, he growled in frustration, throwing himself into his chair. Amicia sat in her usual spot on the corner of his desk.

“Maker, Cullen. What’s got you so uptight?”

“I . . . .”

He thought for a moment about telling her the truth. Seeing her with Barris, who was so clearly attracted to her, made him furious. But he wasn’t sure exactly why it made him feel that way, or what difference it would make if he did. She was a grown woman, she belonged to herself, and she had the right to choose who she wanted to spend time with. Whatever that meant. Irrational jealousy wasn’t exactly a gentlemanly behavior, which probably proved that he wasn’t good enough for her, anyway.

“I don’t know, really,” he lied. “I suppose I’m just tense from all of this waiting. I’ll be glad to see the breach closed.”

“Barris said the same thing.”

There it was again, that white flash of jealousy burning through his center.

“You like Barris, I take it?”

She frowned slightly. “I suppose. He’s certainly a Templar through and through. I’ve told him to use my first name more than once, and he insists instead on calling me ‘Lady Amicia’, which feels utterly wrong. You know me, I’ve never been a lady in my life.”

“Perhaps he wishes to maintain a professional distance?” Cullen uttered, hopefully.

“There’s hardly a need. If anything, since I’m a recruit, technically speaking, he outranks me, which means he’s giving me far more respect than I’m due. YOU don’t call me ‘Lady Amicia’.”

Perhaps he should start. Would she think better of him, if he did? Consider him more of a gentleman?

“I’ve known you since we were children. It would feel odd, to speak to you you so formally.”

“It would be strange to hear it. Now,” she crossed her legs, folding her hands together in her lap. “What are these upcoming events that I need so desperately to be briefed on?”

He hadn’t really thought that far ahead. Instead, he gave her a basic rundown of the next few days, and the final preparations they were making before attempting to close the breach. Obviously he would be there, to lead the charge if the worst should happen and the Herald were turned, or demons were to come flowing from the breach again.

“Will you need archers?”

Her eyes gleamed with eagerness. She wanted so desperately to be a part of things, to stand against the breach and whatever evil it might represent. The truth was, they likely would have archers, but he wanted her as far from the danger as she could be.

“We may . . . but we’ll need healers waiting here as well.”

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Left behind. Cullen, do you think I’m incapable? Or fragile?”

“Of course not, Micia!”

“Don’t ‘Micia’ me! You are always sticking me away, putting me with healers instead of archers. I want to fight, just as you do! It’s not my fault I haven’t had your fancy Templar training, or faced the wars and demons you’ve faced!”

“It’s not my place to make that decision, Amicia.”

“Then who’s is it, Cullen? Are you not the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces? Did you not assign me to healing in the first place? Pull me out of it! Let me fight!”

“Amicia . . . .”

He reached to grab her arm as she stood, but she jerked away.

“It’s not fair, Cullen! Everyone else decides where to serve, everyone else gets to fight if they wish, but not me! You push me aside like some fragile doll, some worthless thing-“

“It’s not-“

“It is! You don’t care for my feelings, for my wishes, only what you think is ‘right’. You’re not the Maker, Cullen, you’re not Andraste, and you don’t get to decide my life for me!”

She stormed out of his tent, leaving him standing alone and confused. Stunned, he flopped backwards into his chair. He couldn’t possibly explain things to her, largely because he wasn’t even sure himself what was going on. Everything inside of him twisted when she was around, and things that used to seem clear as day became muddled. He . . . he wanted her SAFE. Couldn’t she see that? Couldn’t she understand? No, she had to accuse him of being, well, an ass. Which, admittedly, he was kind of acting like.

Putting his hands over his eyes, he sighed. Things had never seemed this difficult when they were younger. They spent time together whenever,however they could. She watched him train, when he was old enough. He’d always been proud of how well she could fight, and her prowess with a bow- even when it was him she fought with. But now it just wasn’t the same thing. These weren’t local bullies, they were demons, Templars, and Mages. If she made a mistake, if she lost- he couldn’t bear thinking about it.

Cassandra stepped out from behind Amicia, coming to stand beside where she rested against a tree.

“Fight with Cullen?”

Amicia jerked her head towards her, startled, then began scrubbing furiously at her eyes.

“I suppose we weren’t exactly quiet, were we?”

“No.” She paused for a minute, then sighed. “Cullen is a stubborn ass.”

Amicia snorted in laughter. “Always has been. I just wish he’d let me fight. I’m not helpless. He puts himself in danger without a second thought. He’s brave, and he’s selfless, and I want to be able to stand beside him! Even if not literally, I want to know I’m taking the same risks he is, I’m fighting the same battles. I want . . . I don’t know. Something.”

“I don’t think selflessness is what’s motivating him right now. I think he’s being stubborn and selfish. Mostly because he will not even admit to himself what it is that he wants, and until he does, he will remain confused.”

“And what does he want, Cassandra?”

She smiled. “You, of course. Though I am not certain he is even sure how yet.”

“He hates it when Barris talks to me.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed. Because, unlike him, Barris admits what he wants, and he has no fear in chasing it. I have heard him talking about how lovely you are. He wishes to court you, but wants to prove to you he is a good man, first.”

“Andraste preserve me. This is ridiculous. I just came here to help bring peace.”

“Maybe, at least, you can bring some peace to Cullen.”

“Maker willing,” she muttered.

She’d had the feeling that was what had been going on. There was nothing wrong with Barris. He was kind and polite, and certainly nothing bad to look at. But it’s not like she’d joined the Inquisition to look for a husband, or had felt some uncontrollable spark when they’d met.

She sighed heavily. Sooner or later she was going to have to admit that she was still hung up on Cullen. Cassandra telling her that he wanted her wasn’t exactly easing her mind, either. Not when she didn’t know how. And wasn’t it foolish to not even give Barris a chance, just because she still had feelings for an old friend? Of course she didn’t have the same feelings for him as she did for Cullen- she hadn’t even known him a week!

She was still beside the tree when Cullen found her later, now curled at its roots with her knees held against her chest. At first, he thought she hadn’t heard him approach. She didn’t so much as flinch when he stepped up next to her, nor when he kneeled down to sit at her side. Then she spoke.

“Hello, Cullen.”

He grimaced at the chill in her voice.

“Hello, Amicia.”

Silence.

“Look, Amicia, I’m sorry. I know you’re not helpless, far from it. It’s just . . . .”

“Just what?” She snapped.

“I don’t want to see you hurt. It’s selfish of me, I know, but I’ve only just gotten you back in my life again, and I don’t want to lose you.”

“You don’t think I feel the same way?”

Cullen stopped, slowly looking up to meet her gaze. For the first time, he saw that she’d been crying, making guilt twist hot in his stomach.

“I . . . I suppose I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“Well do! Because that’s EXACTLY what I feel like. You’ll go out and risk your life, you’ll stand beneath the breach, and I’ll have NO IDEA what’s going on with you. I don’t know if you’ll come home healthy, or injured, or if you’ll be wrapped in a sheet, and it terrifies me! At least, if I’m there, there won’t be waiting. I’ll know, because I’ll see you fall, or I’ll see you succeed, and I can take it as it comes. It also means I can be there protect you. Like I was before.”

A fond smile twisted his lips. “As a Templar, I’m supposed to be the one protecting you.”

“Former Templar, Cullen. Which means you’re out of luck.”

He chuckled, bumping his shoulder against hers.

“I suppose I am.”

They sat side by side, watching the sky change colors around the sickly green of the breach. It was a precious few moments of peace for both of them, time to simply enjoy being together, like they had in the past. And when the sun had settled itself below the horizon, Cullen stood, offering his hand to Amicia to help her up, and they walked back towards Haven’s gates.

In the blue glow of twilight, Cullen paused, turning to take Amicia in. She seemed both familiar and foreign, like putting a cup of water to your lips, and finding wine instead. He knew her profile, the slope of her nose and the curves of her lips, yet he felt as if this were the first time he’d ever really seen her. Her braid, loose curls at her temple. The way her cheeks curved in a soft smile as she turned towards him. And- Maker above. Her eyes, the way they caught the firelight, they looked like the warm windows of home when you’ve been away too long.

When he was thirteen, deeply in love with her, he’d have sworn that she could never get more beautiful. She was perfection, after all, and perfection can’t be improved. Now he knew how wrong he was. Everything and nothing about her had changed, as if the years had only polished her, bringing everything that made her lovely into sharper focus.

He was a fool. A great stupid fool who had let her slip between his fingers. But would he feel the same, if they hadn’t spent these years apart?

Amicia laughed suddenly, waving her hand in front of his eyes.

“Cullen? Are you in there?”

“What? Oh- yes, I’m sorry.”

“You were staring at me. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, of course it is. I was just-“

“Lady Amicia?”

Barris’ voice cut through his statement, and the man himself followed. He approached cautiously, giving a Cullen a nod in greeting before turning to ask Amicia for a walk. When she agreed, Cullen bid them a polite farewell, despite the sadness and frustration washing through his veins. It seemed that he would always have the wrong timing, no matter how he tried.

In the dark silence of his tent, Cullen felt more alone than he ever had before. If Barris wanted her, he couldn’t possibly stand a chance. Not when Barris was still a Templar, a true, kind gentleman, without the darkness in his heart that plagued him. No scars, literal or figurative, to distract, no hot and cold mood swings or irrational fears. He was GOOD, and he would be good for her. If he were a truly good friend, he’d be happy for her, even encourage her to pursue it. Yet all he could do was selfishly wish things were different.

He’d realized that, after all these years, he still cared for her more than he could possibly have guessed. And, just as he had, another man had come to fill the space he wanted to stand in. It would be best, by far, for him to take those feelings, box them away, and pretend they never existed in the first place. The love he felt was a silly dream, impossibly unattainable. He was not meant for such things, he never was.

But it didn’t mean he didn’t want it. Whatever was left inside him that was pure, and kind, and good- he wanted it to belong to her, just as he always had. It DID belong to her, already, even if he could never tell her.

Closing the breach was at hand, whatever else that meant. When that was done, perhaps the order would leave again, and Barris with them. He would forget her, rededicate himself, and leave Cullen to find his way into her heart. But probably not. More likely, the order would stay, to help pick up the pieces of Thedas, and Barris would continue to prove he was the better man. He would have to stand by and watch as he gave Amicia everything she needed, everything she wanted. And pretend to be happy for her, while inside his heart was shattering into a thousand pieces as he watched the only thing in his life that he’d ever wanted selfishly slip between his fingers.

Chapter 6: Rupture

Chapter Text

She waited, unhappy.

No archers. No soldiers. Only the Herald, the Templars, and the inner circle allowed at the breach. It was safer that way. Besides, if the worst happened, they’d need as many as possible to defend Haven.

And so she waited.

Cullen had left that morning to travel the short distance, barely saying goodbye. Barris had stopped to kiss her hand and tell her he’d be thinking of her, he hoped she would be okay. When Cullen saw, he turned away quickly, and left, not even giving her a chance to say more. It felt like the night before he’d left for training all over again. All she could do was look to the sky, at the breach, and wait.

Cassandra had gone too, and Sera, and Varric, so the only person she had left to talk to was Flissa, and that didn’t last long. She was too busy readying for the the victory celebration she was sure would come in a few short hours. Amicia wished she could be as certain.

Then, suddenly, the breach was gone, winking out like a snuffed candle. There were no explosions, no sound of fighting. And, soon enough, the Templars were seen in the distance, marching forward, with the Herald at their head. Cheers abounded through the camp, echoing off the stones, but Amicia still held her breath. He was coming, he had to be, but she still hadn’t seen him.

Barris found her first, leading her away for a drink and to tell her the tale of how it had happened. It was something he’d always remember, he told her, and something he was proud to be a part of. She humored him as best she could, but her mind stayed on Cullen. Something felt wrong about the day, and she knew she couldn’t rest until she’d seen him. Yet he seemed stubbornly out of sight, no matter where her eyes fell.

When Barris asked her for a dance, she used the opportunity to slip away, telling him she had something to check on. It wasn’t a lie, not really. She’d simply failed to divulge that the “something” was Cullen.

Eventually, she found him lying down in his tent, the flaps closed against the noise and chaos of the celebration. His arm was thrown across his eyes, so he didn’t notice when she slipped inside, drawing close to his cot, and dropped to her knees beside him. She lifted one cool hand to his forehead, making him jump as she wiped the thin sheen of sweat from his brow.

“Maker’s breath, Amicia! You startled me!”

She didn’t make time for pleasantries, diving straight into her concern. Her mouth pulled into a deep frown.

“Cullen, what’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, really-“

“No, you’re not. Now tell me what’s wrong. And I don’t mean the symptoms, I know there’s something bigger here than a headache. So tell me.”

He pushed to a sitting position, letting his head hang down as she peered up into his eyes.

“I don’t want to worry you,” he whispered.

“I’m plenty worried now, Cullen. Please. I want to know. If there’s anything I can do . . . .”

“There’s nothing you can do, Amicia.” He stood, crossing to lean an elbow against one of the posts. “It’s just something I have to deal with.”

“What’s something you have to deal with? Cullen . . . I need to know. I want to know. Why won’t you tell me?”

A heavy sigh tumbled from his lips. “Alright.” He turned to face her. “You remember I told you about lyrium? What gives the Templars their abilities?”

“Yes, of course. You needed a supply for the Templars when they first came.”

“Yes. But . . . prolonged use, eventually- it can cause memory loss, paranoia. You forget what’s real and what’s not. But it’s an addiction, once you start using it. Your body becomes used to it. The Chantry- they use that. A way to control the Templars, keep them loyal. When I left the order . . . .”

His eyes met hers, and for a moment he could swear she felt the pain inside of him as acutely as he felt it. She ran to him, throwing her arms about his chest and squeezing him tightly.

“And without it, Cullen? What then? What now?”

“Headaches mostly, for now. I’m also often thirsty, and my hands get quite cold. But soon . . . weakness. Forgetfulness. And it will all get worse. Most who try to stop go insane- you’ll do anything for more. Some die. But I couldn’t . . . I can’t.” He sighed. “I didn’t want that life for me.”

He looked down at her, smoothing her hair as she buried her face in his chest. When she met his gaze, her eyes had that hard, determined look she got, whenever she wanted to do something she knew no one would approve of.

“You’re going to get through it. I’ll help. You know I will. What can I do? Anything right now?”

She was so close to him, her face tilted up towards his, and he couldn’t stop himself from thinking how wonderful it would be to kiss her. With her soft lips pressed to his, their arms around one another, how could he still feel poorly? She was a wonder, and he loved her, and, he knew in that moment that he could never love anyone else that fiercely, that fully. He could pour his soul into her hands and know it would always be safe.

He wanted to ask her to stay, to keep him company and let him hold her, but the words died on his tongue. She would give of herself until there was nothing left to give, if it would help him, he was certain of that, and that was exactly why he couldn’t ask. She deserved her own life, happy, free, not bound to the whims of a pathetic ex-Templar going through lyrium withdrawal.

“I . . . no. No, Amicia, I’ll be alright. I just need some rest.”

If he thought she’d leave at that, he was wrong. Instead, she pulled him to the cot, sitting down and instructing him to lay his head in her lap. Any attempt at refusing her was met with the stubborn insistence he knew so well, so he gave in.

Her lap was soft, smelling of the leather of her leggings and the patchouli she wore, and her hands were cool and comforting as they stroked his forehead. They worked around to cup his face, stroking his cheeks, and then up to run through his hair. As her fingers tugged gently through the curls, their eyes met, locked by thoughts of how wonderful this tenderness was, how intimate, despite neither knowing the other felt the same.

Cullen thought only of how he could lay there forever, surrounded by her softness and her smell. The touch of her hands sent chills that ran deep, straight to the core of his body to rouse desire that he’d buried long ago.

‘A lifetime,’ he thought to himself, ‘to spend with her. To keep her safe. To take her tenderness within me and return it to her a thousand times over again. To kiss her good morning. To hold her close. To spend nights tangled together in sheets, kissing the breadth of her thighs, the curve of her breasts. To bury myself inside of her and lose myself, to let her lose herself in me. Love. A child, a family.’

His hand traced over hers, fingers slipping into the spaces between. As she gently stroked the side of his face, she cleared her throat.

“Cullen? What do you think of Barris?”

He felt as if a knife had been plunged into his heart, cold and agonizing. What was he supposed to do, lie? No, she deserved more than that.

“Barris is a good man, a good soldier.”

“Cassandra says he speaks of me.”

“He does.”

Cullen’s voice was small and quiet. How many times had he listened to Barris wax poetic about her beauty, her quiet strength? Every one had sent the same cold pain through his system, and it never lessened. As her friend, he should be happy for her.

“He would be a good partner for you.”

Silence stretched like a gulf between them. Cullen watched as she chewed her lip nervously, then moved to sit up.

“Is that really how you feel, Cullen?”

“Yes,” he lied. “Barris would suit you well. He’s kind and honorable, a credit to the Templars.”

He hated each word as it burned across his lips, cursing himself for not being honest, then again for being unable to let her go. She deserved a man like Barris, someone who could give her all of himself. Not him. Not some lost man, bitter and broken, full of wounds that would never fully heal.

So why was she looking at him with such sadness in her eyes?

“Amicia,” he breathed as he cupped her face in his hands, “you deserve the world. Perfection.” He did his best to swallow the lump forming in his throat. “I wish the best for you, always.”

She pulled away as the tears began to burn in her eyes, not wanting him to see. All these years, all the waiting, and he didn’t even want her. Not only that, but he was trying to set her up with someone else. His praise for Barris was only salt in the wound. She stood, rushing to leave, but before she did, she choked out a few words.

“I wish the same for you.”

She made it to the edge of the woods before collapsing into a sobbing heap. It seemed to her as if life weren’t anything worth living, just then, no matter how much she wanted to go on. Of course she would remain his friend, she would always be his friend, but right now? Maker, how it hurt.

Cullen threw the nearest thing to him across the tent with a growl, sending ink running down the waxy surface of its wall. Why? Why did it have to be like this? He, broken, twisted, everything inside of him wrong, yet loving her so much he could barely breathe at times. He wanted her to have what was best, but he wanted that to be HIM. Which, of course, only proved that he was too selfish to deserve her. And that just made him angrier.

What would have happened if he’d kissed her that night, before he left, and asked her to wait for him? Would she have done it? Would she have been the strength, the solidity he needed to resist what he’d been through, or to leave the life of the Templars earlier? Perhaps they would be settled quietly somewhere in Ferelden, blissfully unaware of the dangers at hand. Or, knowing it, they would have come here together, to stand against the threat side by side.

It was too late for that now.

Barris found Amicia just as the sun was beginning to set, coming to squat beside her. When he noticed her tears, he stiffened slightly.

“Lady Amicia, what’s wrong?”

She sniffed, wiping her eyes.

“Oh, nothing. I’m fine, Barris.”

He put a comforting hand on her shoulder, then wiped a tear away with his thumb.

“A woman as lovely as you should never have reason to shed tears.”

She laughed dryly. “I’ve had plenty through the years. What’s one more?”

“I would undo it all, if I could. You should be happy, Amicia.”

With a crooked smile, she noted that he’d called her by only her first name, without “lady” attached. Did it take her tears to make him drop that formality?

They sat side by side in silence, watching the sun sink low and the now breachless sky set aflame with color. It was pleasant enough, but Amicia couldn’t help but think it would have been much nicer with Cullen. She could rest her head against his shoulder, slipping her arm through his, and he’d rest his cheek on the top of her head. So much for that. Barris probably wouldn’t object, if she tried, but she wasn’t familiar enough with him to feel comfortable with that.

“Amicia?”

She hummed in response.

“I . . . I’d like to talk to you about something.”

He situated himself to face her, and she returned the gesture, looking into his eyes. His breathing was unsteady, his heart racing, and she was pretty sure she knew what was about to happen.

“As I’m sure you’ve guessed by now, I care for you. A great deal.” He swallowed hard, glancing down before forcing himself to meet her eyes again. “I’d like to court you, if you’d allow. Formally. I’d like the opportunity to show you that I’m the sort of man you can depend on, who won’t leave you in tears at the end of the day.”

Was that an insult towards Cullen? Had he guessed the situation, or just used her tears as an opportunity?

“I’m not sure what to say, Barris . . . .”

“You don’t have to say anything, at least not right now. But I’d like you to think about it.” He took her hands in his, looking deeply into her eyes. “I want to make you happy, Amicia. You deserve that. That, and so much more.”

He raised himself to his feet, intending to walk away, but just then alarms were sounded. Both of them took off running towards the gates, meeting with the inner circle just as Cullen was briefing them.

“An enormous force, headed our way, the bulk of them over the mountain.”

“Under what banner?” Josephine demanded.

“None.”

Chapter 7: Safety

Chapter Text

A sudden knocking at the door had them all jump, and a muffled voice could be heard through the door.

“If someone could let me in, I’d appreciate it.”

When the gates were thrown open, a stylishly dressed mage was kneeling amidst dead bodies. As Cullen rushed to help him up, he stumbled, then righted himself. He explained that he was someone called Dorian Pavus, and that the forces they’d spotted were the rebel mages, now lead by someone called Calpernia, and in the service of some “elder one”. A stunned silence fell as they looked to each other, then the Herald approached Cullen.

“Give me a plan. Something, anything!”

“Haven is no fortress. If we are to survive, we must control the battle.”

Orders were given, the Herald heading out with several of her companions toward the trebuchets. Barris had already left to join with the other Templars, guarding the gates, while Cullen was trying to keep a good view, shouting for adjustments as needed.

Immediately, Amicia ran for her bow. Once it was in hand, she climbed to a vantage point near the gates, firing several shots to take out some of the early arrivals. Unfortunately, that meant she was spotted. Several bolts headed towards her, one exploding the gate just before her and knocking her to her back. As she righted herself, rough hands grabbed her, shaking her shoulders.

“Amicia!” Cullen’s face swallowed her field of vision. “Amicia, are you alright?”

She nodded hurriedly, pushing his hands away, but he gripped one shoulder tightly.

“Get everyone to the Chantry.”

“No! I can help here!”

“Amicia, please! This isn’t about that. I need someone to keep them safe. We don’t know how quickly the enemy might get through, and someone has to see that they’re protected.”

With her mouth in a hard line, she nodded.

“But I’m coming back.”

He grinned. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She ran through Haven, checking buildings and ushering everyone she found towards the Chantry. Most were headed there on their own, but a few had been caught by collapsing buildings, hit by distant attacks from the Mages. Then, she helped Adan gather as many medical supplies as she could, throwing them into a bag and carrying them with him to the doorway. Once that was done, she turned on her heel and ran as fast as she could towards the gates.

She’d gotten about halfway there, bow at the ready, when an earth-shattering roar rang out through the valley. A great thunderous shadow covered the earth, and from above her came the rasp of leathery wings.

Dragon.

A sharp explosion came from somewhere just beyond the gates, and Amicia ran harder. By the time she reached them, Cullen was ushering the Herald through. She helped him slam the gates closed as he screamed for everyone and anyone left to head to the Chantry. His eyes met hers, a subtle sadness tinting them, despite the hard look on his face.

“At this point, just make them work for it.”

She ran alongside him towards the Chantry, parting at the doorway to help see to the wounded while he headed to convene with the other advisors. When the Herald came through minutes later, he approached her.

“Our position is . . . not good. The dragon stole back any time you might have earned us. They’ve made no demands, only sent advance after advance.”

Dorian pushed through, carrying a Chantry cleric. Once he’d settled him down, Amicia went to work seeing what she could do to help him. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much. All she could do was make him as comfortable as possible until it was over. While she worked, Dorian spoke with the Herald and advisors.

“I gathered at Redcliffe that this “elder one” only wants the Herald. Unfortunately, I don’t think he particularly cares who might get in the way. If trebuchets remained an option, we might have a chance, but . . . .”

“They are,” spoke Cullen, “if we turn the rest of them to the mountains above us.”

There were a few moments of pause as what he said sunk in. Then the Herald spoke.

“To hit them hard enough, we’d bury Haven.”

Cullen nodded, and, as he spoke, Amicia felt her fists clenched in fury.

“This isn’t survivable now. Our only choice is how spitefully we might end this.”

“I didn’t run all this way to have you drop rocks all over me!”

Cullen turned to Dorian. “Should we submit? Let him kill us?”

“Dying should be a LAST resort, not a first! For a Templar-“

Amicia shushed them as the cleric shifted restlessly, trying to speak.

“There . . . there is a path.” His voice was weak, barely audible. “The people can escape. You would not-“ pain stopped him, and he shifted again. “You would not know it was there unless you had made the summer pilgrimage. The path is overgrown, I had not even meant to find it.”

He struggled to breath, chest rattling as the blood slowly filled his lungs. Amicia braced him carefully, and he continued, leaning against her and closing his eyes.

“She must have shown me,” he gasped. “Andraste must have shown me so I could help you.”

The Herald turned to Cullen, question in her eyes. With a nod, Cullen turned, ordering the others to follow the cleric through the Chantry. Amicia grabbed her bow, heading to follow the others out towards the dragon, but Cullen quickly grabbed her wrist. His eyes begged her to follow him.

“I can help the Herald. I can do more.”

He tightened his grip, almost painfully so, before he slipped his hand down into hers.

“No,” he whispered. “Please. I . . . I need you here.”

With a squeeze of his hand, she nodded, then followed him behind the others.

The path was long and winding, made more for meditation than escape, and so tucked away that none could see what was happening at Haven. It took them some time to reach the safety of the tree line, but as soon as they did, the signal was sent. As a great crashing echoed below them, they moved on, trudging through the snow and ice. It only became more difficult as they continued, the incline growing steeper, the snow thicker, and the ice more slippery. None spoke- what could they say?

By the time they decided to camp, their pace had slowed to a crawl. Any able-bodied individuals were either carrying or popping up someone, including both Cullen and Amicia. Once camp was set, Cullen met with the others to decide their best course of action, while Amicia made rounds, trying to deal with the sick, injured, and scared. With little supplies and less food, they wouldn’t last long, but no one wanted to point that out.

When both of them were finished, Amicia sought out Cullen to find out what had been decided. He lead her some distance away before he spoke.

“We have no plan. None of us expected this to happen. Honestly, we’re not even sure where we are.”

“How are you feeling?” She raised an eyebrow to indicate it was more than just a general question, and he nodded.

“I’m alright, for now. A small headache, nothing more.”

He stood silently for a few seconds before reaching to take her hand, then pull her into a hug.

“Thank you. For following me. I know you wanted to help . . . .”

“Frankly, I think I’m more use here.” She leaned back slightly, reaching to touch the side of his face. “Besides- I couldn’t leave you here defenseless.”

They shared a smirk before she leaned into his arms again, holding him tightly around his waist. Leaning his cheek against the top of her head, he breathed in deeply, taking in the soft sweetness of her smell, and stroked her back gently. If he had his way, he’d remain there forever, in her arms. It was the closest thing to home he’d known since he left for training.

Eventually though, it had to end, and he pulled away.

“I . . . I suppose we’d better help set up camp.”

With a smile, she replied. “Of course.”

Cullen was poring over every map he could find when Barris strode over, asking to speak with him privately. With a nod, he gestured for Barris to come stand beside him. At first, he said nothing, then he took a deep breath.

“I’ll get straight to the point, Cullen. Although you’ve probably heard already, I’m interested in Amicia. Romantically. However, I’ve gathered that the two of you have some sort of history together. I have great respect for you, and I would never want to step on your toes. If you’re interested in her as well, I’ll back off.”

Cullen’s eyebrows lifted as he considered what Barris had said. He didn’t doubt he meant it completely. Here he was, handing Cullen both the opportunity and the permission to get him to stop pursuing Amicia. It was a tempting offer, that was certain, but Cullen wasn’t a fool. Even if he did, that didn’t guarantee he’d gain her affections. It was highly likely that she’d still never see him as more than a friend.

With a dark sigh, Cullen answered.

“That’s not necessary, Barris.”

Barris frowned. “Are you certain, Cullen? I . . . I’ll be honest- I’ve seen you together, and you’re extremely affectionate with each other. And I’ve seen the way you look at her, and the way she looks at you.”

It would be nice to believe it was real, but Barris clearly had it wrong.

“We’re good friends, Barris. I’ve known her since we were young. There’s nothing else to it.”

He forced a smile, gesturing that he needed to return to his work, and Barris left. Once he was gone, he pressed his hand to his eyes, taking a deep breath.

Why did it seem like life had a way of changing the things he wanted into the things he could never have? For so many years, he’d wanted to be a Templar, he’d devoted himself to it entirely. Then . . . everything . . . had happened, and he’d become so damaged, not able to take on the responsibilities he’d hoped. He moved on to something different, a last hope within the order, and that had failed him as well.

Now, Amicia. He’d cared so deeply for her for so long, even when he thought he would never see her again. Then she’d shown up . . . right when he was at his most broken, unable to be the person she deserved. It was only right to step out of the way, whatever his personal feelings were.

He glanced to where she sat, resting after she’d finished tending to the wounded. He wanted to be there for her, as her friend if nothing else, but each time he tried his feelings overwhelmed him. Like before, in the Chantry, when he’d been unable to stop himself from begging her, holding her hand. As if he had that right.

As they continued moving through the mountains, Cullen did his best to distance himself. Instead of checking on her as he wanted, he let Barris take his place, and watched from a distance. When she came to see if he was doing alright, he spoke as briefly as he could, then excused himself to work. Everyone was tense, after all, with the Herald still missing. Her companions had caught up with them by the second day, but they brought no word of her. To top it all off, they still had found no sign of shelter.

The third day, however, things changed. It was late in the afternoon, and patience had worn thin enough it was snapping. Cullen could hardly stop pacing, Cassandra having taken his place over the maps, and stress was beginning to worsen his withdrawal. There had been rumors going around that they were lost, and everyone would die, never to be found again.

When the scout called for them, the entire inner circle ran towards him, peering out into the snow. Someone was out there, weak, floundering, but alive. When word got around that it was the Herald, the tide began to change. Hope started in small whispers, rumors that Andraste had saved her once again. By that evening, she’d awakened. She consulted briefly with Solas, and then, suddenly, they had a destination.

Skyhold.

Amicia walked with Barris the rest of the journey, though she would have preferred to be in Cullen’s company. He, however, kept busy with the Herald and her companions. A pang of jealousy washed through her. Was that why he’d kept his distance these last few days? Why he’d been pushing her off onto Barris?

Of course. Why bother with her, when he could have the Herald of Andraste? Nearly divine, after all, to hear most tell it. Beautiful, certainly, far more than her. And he was her “Commander”, probably in more ways than one.

The bitterness in her heart at the thought made her want to spit. It was hardly right, she knew. Just because she’d cared for him for so long didn’t give her a right to his affections. He deserved happiness, goodness.

And she had no interest in being a consolation prize.

At least Barris actually cared for her, as much as he knew her. He might have had a tendency to treat her a little too delicately for her preference, but at least he cared enough to think about her, ask after her. Cullen hadn’t spoken to her since the first day they’d left Haven. Watching as Barris spoke to her didn’t count.

Still, a part of her felt terrible about it. She didn’t KNOW Barris well enough to care for him, she reminded herself, but it didn’t alleviate the guilt. She didn’t want to be Cullen’s second choice, but she was using Barris as hers. Every time she tried to tamp down on that feeling, to remind herself that she might grow to feel genuine warmth towards him, her brain kept feeding her a list of the reasons she didn’t think it could happen. Or of all the reasons she preferred Cullen, which only made her angry. Her own mind ought to have the decency to do as she wanted it to.

By the time they reached the crumbling castle, she’d cursed herself out at least three times, and was about to head into a fourth. Only the work that needed doing saved her, as she helped Adan set up an infirmary area and the recruits began setting up quarters for everyone. Barris and Cullen were discussing the training areas, and Cassandra was speaking with the Herald.

Whatever else happened, at least they were safe now, hopefully.

Chapter 8: Skyhold

Chapter Text

The Herald had officially become the Inquisitor, Amicia had agreed to join the healers permanently, and Cullen was still not speaking to her. Barris wasn’t exactly hounding her about whether or not he was allowed to court her, but he was definitely insinuating he’d like an answer soon. She still had no idea.

It was when she saw Cullen and the Inquisitor at the board together, playing the same game she’d played with him a thousand times, that Amicia really got angry. If the two of them were playing at being a couple, she wanted to know outright. Then maybe she could find it in herself to give Barris a definitive answer and end all of this torturing of herself.

Since Cullen had an office now, she knew he’d have to end up there eventually, which was why she perched herself at his desk, waiting. Though she wasn’t sure exactly how she was going to broach the subject, she knew for certain she wasn’t going to leave until she was confident she’d gotten everything out of him. Either they’d be friends again or she’d lose him forever, but that was the way it had to be. She wasn’t going to agonize over this any more.

He was clearly startled to see her sitting there when he came in, but he made no move to leave, which she considered a positive sign. He moved from one area to another around her, not speaking, only gathering books and papers, placing them on the desk, and putting others back. Finally, he stopped beside the chair, sighing in resignation.

“What is it Amicia?”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Have I annoyed you?”

“No, only I have a great deal of work to get through, and you are sitting at my desk.”

“At least you can’t ignore me here.”

Guilt flashed across his face.

“What’s going on, Cullen?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”

“I know the face you make when you’re lying. Now, tell me.”

He turned from her, pretending to shuffle papers on the corner of the desk.

“If you’re in love with the Inquisitor, you can just tell me.”

His head jerked up as he turned to face her, stunned.

She stood. “I’m assuming that’s why you won’t talk to me, why you’re avoiding me. What, is she jealous? You aren’t supposed to have female friends? Is that why you’ve been pushing me off on Barris?”

He grabbed her shoulders, looking into her eyes. “Amicia, I’m not in love with the Inquisitor.”

“You could’ve fooled me. You’ve spent all your time with her since she returned, ignoring me. Like we don’t even know each other. Before that, talking to me about how great Barris is, telling me what a good partner he’d be for me- well, what about you?”

“What?”

“You think you’d be such a bad partner for me? I know you inside out, just like you know me. Why not you instead?”

“Amicia . . . .”

His heart thundered in his chest as she spoke. Surely she wasn’t saying what he thought. It was just some joke, a hypothetical situation.

She paced around his office, gesticulating wildly.

“I’m serious! If I need a partner, why wouldn’t you pick the man I’ve known most of my life, who understands me? The one who’s been trying to keep me safe since he laid eyes on me? I mean, it’s not like I haven’t been in love with you most of my life or anything!”

He stepped behind her, grabbing her shoulders and turning her to face him.

“Say that again.”

Her eyes cast down as she chewed her lip.

“Sorry. I just . . ,” she looked back up at him. “I love you, Cullen. Have forever. You didn’t have to ask me to wait for you- I did it anyway.”

He tucked a stray hair behind her ear, trailing his finger along her jawline.

“I can hardly believe-“

Suddenly the door opened, a recruit with papers in his hand stepping through. Cullen’s eyes narrowed.

“Out.”

“I . . . I’m sorry?” The recruit stammered.

“OUT! I don’t care what you have, just drop it and leave, now. NOW!”

The papers fluttered down across the floor, carried by the gust of wind from the slammed door. As Cullen pulled her into his arms, Amicia laughed.

“Those papers are-“

She was cut off by his mouth pressed hard against hers, his teeth catching her bottom lip between them. Though she tensed for a moment, caught off guard, her body quickly melted against his. Her hands slipped into his hair as her lips parted, inviting the warmth of his tongue. Hot breaths brushed across skin, lips soft and sweet against the lingering taste of salt. Maker, how he’d dreamed of this moment, again and again, never coming close to the wonder of reality. He couldn’t get close enough, not even as he lifted her to the edge of his desk, her arms and legs both pulling him tightly against her. She could drown in his kisses, in the warmth of his body, and still need more.

When the kiss ended, they leaned against each other heavily, gasping for stolen breath. Amicia found she couldn’t stop touching him, running her hands down the length of his arms, across the breadth of his chest, like he couldn’t possibly be real. Cullen, on the other hand, just couldn’t stop grinning.

“Maker’s breath, Amicia. That was . . . “

“ . . . REALLY nice,” she finished, laughing against his chest. “We waited too long.”

“We did,” he chuckled, cupping her face in his hands. “I love you, Amicia Tattersoll. I have for most of my life, and I don’t intend to stop.”

“Perfect,” she whispered. “Because I feel the same.”

His hands rested on her hips as he touched his forehead to hers, closing his eyes. A content sigh left him, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“I just can’t believe . . . .”

He sighed her name, and she kissed him again, then again, and again, catching his face in her hands. Though it was silly, she knew, she wanted to kiss every last inch of his skin, and enough to make up for all of the time they had lost.

“All of the years,” she said between kisses, “all of the years I could have been kissing you, been kissed by you . . . .”

“I’m here now. And I promise you, I will never let you go again.”

By the time they’d managed to stop kissing each other, both of them had completely lost track of time. Cullen had forgotten almost everything he was supposed to take care of that day, but he figured the Inquisitor would forgive him, considering the situation. It’s not every day you get together with the person you’ve loved since you were a child.

“Cullen?” She asked him, as they walked hand in hand down to the courtyard. “Why did you keep pushing me towards Barris if you loved me all this time?”

He sighed. “Because I didn’t think you loved me back. Because I know he is a good man, and I thought you deserved someone . . . better, honestly. Than me. I’m withdrawing from lyrium, I left the Templars . . . I’ve been through a great many things that have damaged me. I thought you deserved someone whole.”

She squeezed his hand tightly, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“You’re not the only one that’s been through things, remember? I’ve had my share of damage. Maybe one day, when we’re less hurt, we can talk about it.”

He stopped, turning to look at her. “You want to hear about it?”

“Of course I do, Cullen. It’s part of what’s made you who you are. I want to know everything, if you’re willing to tell me.”

“I’m so glad I have you in my life, Amicia.”

She smiled broadly, slipping her arms around his waist.

“Well, that’s good, because I have NO intention of leaving it, ever again.

Cullen looked up to see Barris standing across the courtyard, staring at them. There was a slightly confused look on his face, one that made guilt burn through Cullen’s heart. He’d pushed her towards him, he’d encouraged her to give him a chance- he’d even told Barris that there was nothing between them. Yet here he stood, her arms wrapped around him and his around her, the two of them smiling happily at each other. Yet, as Barris glanced between them, he smiled, giving Cullen a subtle bow and turning away.

Cullen sought him out later, to apologize.

“I assure you, Barris, when you asked me, I had no intention . . . that is, I’d genuinely thought there was no possibility of us getting together. I knew that I cared for her, of course, but I’d never entertained the idea that she might feel the same.”

“Cullen, I told you- it’s alright. I’d seen the way you two looked at one another, how you spoke to each other. Why do you think I asked in the first place? Whether you wanted to admit it or not, you clearly had feelings for her.”

With a smile, Cullen shook his head. “I suppose I should have known. I’ve never been very good at hiding my feelings.”

“I’m happy for you,” said Barris as he clapped him on the shoulder. “Though I admit a bit of jealousy.”

“For what it’s worth, I still think you’d have made a better partner.”

“Clearly she doesn’t see it that way.”

Barris returned to training, while Cullen made his way to his office. He was . . . not exactly surprised, but certainly pleased that Barris held no ill will towards him. Although if the truth were told, it wouldn’t have changed his actions. He loved Amicia, just as much now as he ever had, and knowing that she loved him back brought him tremendous joy. Even now, when she freely stopped by to check on him, or have lunch, or, sometimes, just for the sake of kissing him, he wasn’t sure it was real. Every night he went to sleep, he was slightly terrified that the whole thing was some sort of hallucination caused by his withdrawal, and he’d wake to find out she’d never showed up at all. The one time he’d told her that, she’d offered to spend the night to prove to him it was no illusion, and he’d blushed so hard he’d given himself a headache.

Not that he didn’t have those sorts of thoughts about her- he most certainly did. Very few days went by that he didn’t wonder what her skin would feel like against his, or wasn’t tempted to let his hands roam further across the surface of her body. But, despite how long they’d known each other, they were only just barely a couple, and he didn’t want to rush anything. He was also unbelievably nervous.

The truth was that he’d never been with ANYBODY before. In the order, though plenty of the boys visited brothels and picked up women in taverns, doing so was considered inappropriate behavior, unworthy of a true Templar. Many of the older members had tried to assuage the guilt, assuring the boys that there was nothing wrong with exploring their natural urges, but Cullen had wanted to be a model Templar. As such, he’d shunned those activities in favor of more study and training. By the time he’d decided it might not be so bad, he’d gone through his . . . ordeal. That had been followed almost immediately by things in Kirkwall, and all of the confusion and trauma involved, then his decision to leave the order and quit lyrium.

He had no idea what Amicia’s life had been like. She’d said that she’d waited for him, but what did that extend to? Had she simply avoided serious relationships, or all relationships? Even then, it wasn’t like sex required a commitment, beyond the time it took. She might be incredibly experienced, an idea that almost terrified him. It wasn’t that he felt she should’ve remained untouched, not at all. She was a grown woman, capable of making her own choices. The problem, for him, was the potential for that experience to meet his inexperience. Though he understood things, conceptually, it wasn’t the sort of thing he felt you could learn on your own. What if they slept together, and he turned out to be terrible, incapable of satisfying her?

A part of him remembered that, first of all, she loved him, and she would accept him for whoever he was and whatever he could give. Skill could be learned, just as he’d learned to use a sword. Besides, instinct would likely take over, guiding him as much as she would.

The rest of him wondered if the libraries might have any information on the subject.

Even if she were as inexperienced as he was, he wanted her to enjoy being with him. He’d overheard too many conversations between unsatisfied wives, claiming the unfairness that sex was nearly always enjoyable for men, while women had to have special attention, and he didn’t want her to feel that way. He wanted to make her happy, in every possible way. He just wasn’t sure how. He didn’t even know how to approach the subject with her! It seemed wrong to wait, and wrong to talk to her now.

Chapter 9: Lyrium (A/R, *)

Notes:

TW- r*pe, abuse memories, including assault (both from parent)
Smut included, but ends in trauma references

Chapter Text

“Are you doing alright, Cullen?”

Amicia was here to check on him again, just like always. Unlike usual, though, it wasn’t a perfunctory task, answered quickly and letting her go about her business. One of the scouts had come to her earlier, letting her know the Commander had seemed a bit off. She thanked her, then headed immediately over.

“No, actually. I . . ,” he wobbled a bit as he moved to stand, with Amicia only barely catching him to help him lean against his desk. “I’m having a bit of a difficult day. I think the withdrawal is beginning to hit its peak.”

She ran her hand along his forehead, wiping away the sweat that had collected there.

“Have you told the Inquisitor yet?”

He shook his head. “No. I wanted to wait until it was bad enough it might interfere. I didn’t see the point in worrying her.”

“I think it might be time.” Taking his hands in hers, she sighed. “You’re shaking, Cullen.”

“I know. I have been since I woke. The nightmares didn’t help, I’m certain.”

“They’re getting worse?”

“Much. I’m surprised you haven’t heard me screaming.”

She placed herself between his knees, taking his face in her hands.

“I don’t like that one bit. Maybe I should move in here with you.”

Despite the weakness and shakiness in his limbs, he felt his heart start pounding at the thought, a fierce blush running into his cheeks.

“I don’t want to trouble you, Amicia.”

With a wry smile, she rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, so much trouble, to spend more time around the man I love. Andraste preserve me, whatever will I do?” She stuck her tongue out at him, drawing a chuckle. “It’s not like we’ve never shared a bed, Cullen Rutherford.”

“Well, yes, but we were children. And that was before . . . “

Before he’d realized he loved her. Before he’d spent dozens of nights imagining the softness of her skin and the taste of her lips. And definitely before knowing either of them would ever be a realistic possibility. Since they’d become a couple, he’d already woke up several times groaning, her name on his lips and his sheets tented. Maker’s breath- what if that happened and she was laying right there beside him? He might actually die of embarrassment.

“If you’re having nightmares, I want to be there to comfort you,” she pouted, and he had to admit the sight was more than a little adorable.

“Alright. We’ll talk about it.”

With a sigh, he rubbed his forehead. His headache was getting worse, and the shaking would soon be beyond his control. If he were going to talk to the Inquisitor, it had better be soon.

“Micia, would you do me the favor of letting the Inquisitor know I need to speak with her?”

“Yes. And then I’m gathering some things and, as soon as she’s gone, I’m getting you into bed to recover. You need to sleep this off, at least until the headache passes.”

“I never said I had a headache, Amicia.”

“No,” she said as she disappeared through the doorway, “but you keep rubbing your forehead, and you’re frowning like I’ve just insulted the Templars.”

She smiled at him as she slipped out, leaving him chuckling despite the withdrawal symptoms. She knew him, alright, inside and out, probably better than he even knew himself.

Later, after he’d spoke to the Inquisitor and excused himself from his duties for the afternoon, Amicia returned, a bag of supplies over her shoulder. She fairly pushed him up the ladder to his bed, and once they’d ascended, she commanded him to strip down to his linens. He obeyed rather sheepishly, somehow embarrassed by her sudden attention. As he settled on the bed, she handed him a small vial filled with a cloudy pinkish liquid.

“Drink this. It tastes terrible, but it’ll help the headache.”

Since his head felt as if it might burst at any moment, he did as asked. It was terribly bitter, and made his tongue feel slightly odd, but the water she gave him afterward took most of that away. Then, she passed him what looked like a cup of tepid tea, but smelled like mint and flowers, which is exactly what it was.

“To help your nerves, and soothe your stomach. Drink it slow, don’t gulp it down. The process of drinking it is almost as helpful as the tea itself.”

While he sipped, she slipped off her shoes and crawled onto the bed behind him, massaging his shoulders the same way she had that evening in Haven. This time, however, more of her focus was on his neck and scalp, with some emphasis on the sore spots at his temples. By the time he’d finished his tea, his headache had eased tremendously, and he felt only semi-conscious. He had no doubt that, once he laid down, he’d drift off in no time, despite the early hour. He turned, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her down into bed beside him.

“Stay with me, ‘Micia.” He nuzzled into her throat, part of him wondering exactly what it was he was doing. “Just curl up here beside me, please?”

He looked up to see her smiling down at him softly before she planted a kiss on his forehead.

“Do you have a spare tunic?”

He did, somewhere. The problem was that his head was getting fuzzy, and he wasn’t really sure exactly where he kept them. The next thing he knew, he was peeling the one from his own body, handing it over as he collapsed into the pillow. He remained conscious just long enough to see her stand, turning her back to him as she pulled off her own, much smaller tunic. Her breast band dropped to the floor just afterward, and for a moment, the smooth expanse of her back was on display. Then it disappeared beneath the linen of his shirt as she tugged off her leggings below, giving him a short flash of her thighs. Something inside of him responded, gently nudging his sleepy brain as if to try to prod him into the waking world again, but it was no use. The last thing he felt was her arms around his shoulders, pulling him to lay against her chest.

When he woke, it was dark, clouds covering even the sliver of moon that hung in the sky. His mouth was dry, so he sat on the edge of the bed, pouring from the pitcher he kept nearby and guzzling the entire cup at once. His head didn’t feel nearly as bad as he thought it should have. Usually, when he was forced to bed by his symptoms, he woke with his brain feeling fuzzy, but he felt remarkably clear-headed.

A quiet groan from behind startled him, and then he heard a soft voice, full of concern, call his name.

Amicia.

He’d been so exhausted that he’d completely forgotten he’d asked her to stay with him, and the memory made his cheeks burn bright. Still, when he felt her hand brush across the bare skin of his back, he rolled towards her. His hand found her hip in the darkness, pulling her closer.

“I’m here. I’m alright.”

As she pressed her body flush against his, the now familiar pounding of his heart began. Slowly, he laid down, her head moving to rest on his arm as she curled closer. His breath caught in his chest as she threw her leg across his hip, and the warmth between her legs rested firmly against him.

Maker’s breath.

He was fully conscious now, his mind reeling. Her breath was slow and steady against his chest, the sweet scent of her hair thick in his nostrils. Everything about her suddenly seemed so much MORE. Perhaps it was because he’d never had the opportunity to sense it in this quiet stillness.

Andraste preserve him.

She was asleep, peaceful and unaware, yet flashes of dreams and past fantasies drifted through his head, and the urge to have her grew stronger. Oh, sweet Maker, how he wanted her.

Then, in the still darkness, she whispered his name.

Her mouth found his, lips soft and pliant as she tasted the warmth of his kiss. Every movement, every touch contained a gentle tenderness, as if both were scared the other would run away. Hands roamed soft skin as panting breaths grew louder, faster. With his heart thundering in his chest, Cullen rolled himself on top of her.

Her hands rested atop his shoulders, one leg moving to wrap around his, as his lips moved against her throat. Kiss after kiss poured from his mouth, teeth grazing against the tender skin. This was ecstasy, everything he’d ever wanted, her mewling gasps and nails biting into his skin causing the flame of his passion to roar ever higher. Maker, glorious Maker, she was utter perfection.

He was stunned to silence when his hands slid beneath the tunic she wore to find her bare, warm curves open to his touch. Hesitating for only a moment, he pushed it upward, kissing his way down her body to the heat of her thighs. As she opened them to him, he glanced upward, and felt as if the wind had been knocked from his body. She stared at him, naked, utterly trusting herself to him, and he felt far from worthy of the gift.

“I love you,” he murmured against her thighs, and found himself kissing them, his mouth moving higher as her hips moved beneath him. The heat of her core called to him, a siren song, a sweet musk he knew he needed to taste.

The moment her honeyed nectar hit his tongue, he was hooked. This was better than anything he’d ever had before, better than wine, better than even the lyrium his body craved, and made all the sweeter by her sounds. He traced every inch of her, relishing her sighs, her moans, even the way her hands grasped his hair, tightly, pulling, her thighs shaking as he lapped and sucked against her.

His cock grew thick, dripping, aching with the need for attention, but he could scarcely care, not with this lusciousness filling his senses. Her moans grew louder as he moved faster against her, until she was calling his name, begging. His fingers would leave deep bruises in her thighs, across her hips, as he drew her closer, chasing her pleasure for all he was worth.

She was dripping against his chin, slick and sweet, too much for his tongue to catch, and so his fingers began their slow journey towards her opening. If sex was pleasurable, his cock inside of her, surely this would be too, an added sensation to send her tumbling forth into the rapture she deserved. He traced, slowly, the wet heat, feeling her body tense, and then began slipping his finger inside.

To his surprise, she jumped back, scrambling towards the head of the bed and curling in on herself.

“No. No, no, no, stop, please- I’m sorry.”

It came tumbling out of her mouth in a rush, tears beginning to fall, and Cullen cursed his idiocy. He should have told her he had no experience with these things, he should have warned her, and now he’d made a terrible mistake.

“No, no, Amicia, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-“

She shook her head furiously.

“No, it’s not that, it’s not you, Cullen. It’s me. I’m sorry. I should have told you, I know. I was just ashamed . . . .”

In the darkness, Cullen frowned.

Ashamed? Amicia, you’ve done nothing to be ashamed of.”

“It’s not anything I did. It’s . . . .”

She began sobbing in great, breathless hiccups, until Cullen moved to hold her against his chest. He helped her slip the tunic on again, then traced soothing circles on her back as she cried in his arms. Eventually, he stroked the back of her hair, kissing her forehead.

“Amicia,” he whispered, “you can tell me anything. I won’t judge you, I won’t get angry. If I’ve hurt you, I want to know.”

He paused, taking a deep breath.

“The truth is, I’ve never done this sort of thing before. Any of it. I suppose it’s ridiculous, a man my age-“

“It’s not ridiculous. Sometimes, things don’t work out, and you can’t have the only person you want.” Her eyes met his, and he held his breath. “Sometimes, you want someone so badly, you don’t even care about being with anyone, until you meet him again.”

“You’re . . . ? Are you serious?”

“I told you I waited for you. I meant it. In every way.”

He breathed her name, pulling her close against him to stroke the back of her head. She seemed more precious to him now than ever, knowing that her circumstances were the same as his, that when they were together, neither of them would ever have been with anyone else. He alone would know her taste, her touch, and he would give his only to her.

She leaned up to touch the side of his face, giving him a gentle kiss.

“I have to tell you something else, Cullen. About . . . about what happened when I left.” She took a deep breath, her voice shaking as she started again. “You know I told you about Da, how he treated me?”

Cullen nodded.

“The night I left, he’d been worse than I’d ever seen him. Incoherent, raging, screaming about how I should have died instead of mum. He beat me mercilessly that night, until I was so bloodied and bruised I was unrecognizable. But, finally, he stopped. I didn’t dare move, not until I heard him snoring. Then, I began to pack my things. I knew I couldn’t live there any more. Your family had moved, I had no one, but I didn’t care.”

Cullen was already seething inside at the thought of anyone harming her, especially someone who was supposed to care for her. But he hadn’t heard it all.

“He woke just as I was leaving. I don’t know if he knew, somehow,nor if I made some kind of noise . . . all I knew was that his hands were on me, turning me around and throwing me onto the table. He started screaming something about me going off to be some ‘rich man’s whore’, and how I owed him my life. He backhanded me more times than I could count. Then . . . then . . ,” she tried hard to choke back the tears, but they couldn’t be held in. “He ripped at my pants. He pulled them down, started shoving his fingers into me. It hurt so badly, and he was screaming, and I was desperate. I-“ she swallowed hard. “I grabbed the nearest thing I could find, and I hit him. I just kept hitting him, even when he went limp across me, I couldn’t stop. I felt so scared, and angry . . . I didn’t even realize it at first. But I killed him, Cullen. I killed my own Da.”

She buried her face in his chest, letting him squeeze her tightly before he spoke.

“I think . . ,” he sighed. “I know it’s not nice of me- but I think he deserved it. You were defending yourself.”

“Does that really matter, if I’ve spilled the blood of my family?”

He placed his fingers under her chin, gently tilting it up.

“I think it does. I think he gave up the right to be your father the moment he laid a hand on you.”

He kissed her tenderly before cupping her face in his hand.

“I can promise you, if the man weren’t dead already, I would certainly set out to kill him. Only I would be cruel, and I would probably enjoy it, just because of the pain he put you through.”

Nuzzling against his chest, she sighed.

“Now you know my dark secret, what I said I would never talk about. And that’s why I couldn’t stand for you to touch me that way. It brought back all the feelings of that night, all of the guilt I’ve carried.”

“I’m glad you told me. But you don’t have to carry that burden of guilt anymore. You’re here, and I love you, and I will never let you be treated that way again.”

She laughed through her tears. “And you think you’re not worthy of me?“

He knew he wasn’t, but she didn’t know the things he’d done, the person he’d been while they’d been apart. He had more to atone for, with less reason. He wanted to confess, to tell her everything, but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he held her close, kissing the top of her head again, again, and again. He wanted more than anything to be the man she deserved to have, and he promised himself he’d do everything he could to become such. He’d confess to her, eventually. There was no way around it, no future in which it could remain secret and not plague him with guilt.

But not today.

Chapter 10: A Rose in Winter

Chapter Text

“I don’t like it, Cullen. You’ll be gone for so long! Plus, every unattached female in attendance will be drooling all over the you- and possibly a lot of males and non-single people, too!”

“Then it’s a good thing you’ll be there with me.”

Cullen smiled widely at Amicia’s look of delight, catching her easily as she leapt into his arms. She beamed up at him.

“Do you mean it? I’m allowed to come?”

“Everyone’s bringing a partner. Of course, Josephine is bringing Blackwall, the Inquisitor has Sera, and Dorian and Bull are going together. Leliana, however, is bringing one of her old friends, and I have permission to bring you. Provided you don’t interfere in the investigation, of course.”

He looked down at her in mock sternness, and was rewarded with a playful slap across his chest.

“Josephine has arranged for someone to measure everyone, then bring an arrangement of appropriate clothing. As someone attending in an official capacity, I have no say in what I’ll be wearing. You, however, will have a few options.”

“Be honest, Cullen,” she raised her eyebrows. “Are you glad I get to come?”

As he rolled his eyes, Cullen sighed, “Maker’s breath, Amicia. Of course I am.” He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist. “For what might be the first time in our lives, I’ll get to see you dressed up formally, in a nice dress, with your hair done- everything. I adore you in anything, but, I must admit, it will be a nice change.”

“You might not enjoy it as much as you think. I don’t wear dresses often for a reason. I’m not exactly ladylike.”

“I’m sure Josephine will correct that,” he chuckled. “And I happen to think you’re perfect. You’ll look lovely, whatever you wear.”

With a heavy sigh, she rested her head against his chest.

“I’m sorry. I can’t help but worry. I’ve waited so long to be with you, I’m afraid that even the smallest thing will make you change your mind. It’s ridiculous.”

“No, it’s not. I do the same thing. But there’s nothing that will change the way I feel about you.” He tucked some hair behind her ear as she stared up at him. “If nearly twenty years apart couldn’t change it, why would anything else?”

The clothing didn’t arrive until the day before they were to leave for Orlais, and there was little time for each of them to get their clothing. Amicia had told the woman who measured her only that she rarely wore dresses, so she’d prefer the simplest thing that was appropriate, and she liked the colors of nature and the woodlands best. When she was presented with the three dresses brought for her, she put them in order of which she liked best, then tried them on. In the end, the one she thought she’d liked least was the one she picked, which showed how little she knew about ball gowns.

She refused to let Cullen see her dress at all. If this were going to be one of the few times he’d see her dressed formally, she wanted to make sure he remembered it. Josephine helped her pick some suitable jewelry, and agreed to let her keep her hair in a version of the long braid she normally wore, provided she added a few details. All and all, she was satisfied, especially when she found a pair of soft, flat boots that matched her dress perfectly.

It was at her insistence that she and Cullen would be sharing a room at the Winter Palace, though she suspected he didn’t mind. He did, however, object to her going to get dressed with Josephine and Leliana. It didn’t matter how many times she reminded him that she wanted to surprise him, he practically begged to be the one to help her. In the end, she’d had to make an excuse of needing their help with her hair.

As soon as she saw him in the courtyard, she knew she’d made the right decision. Despite his claim that it was the ugliest outfit he’d ever seen, he looked incredibly handsome in the dark velvet jacket and slim fitting trousers. It accented the width of his shoulders and thick muscles of his legs, and, she noted as he bent forward slightly to brush something from his knee, it made his bottom look even more perfect than usual.

As he caught sight of her, his heart began to flutter wildly in his chest. It didn’t matter in the slightest that she wore the simplest dress there. In fact, Cullen thought that may have been exactly why she was so incredibly breathtaking. Of all the women in attendance, she was one of the few who wore no mask, the bright shine of her eyes open for all to see. Below it, her pinked cheeks and reddened lips coupled with the white simplicity of her dress to give her an air of youthful innocence. This, however, was betrayed by the neckline, a deep v that plunged almost to her cinched waist, inviting sin upon sin. Cullen committed most of them in his mind before she ever reached him, standing before him with a wide smile as his mouth tried to recall how to speak.

“Amicia . . . .”

“Do you like it?”

She looked down shyly as he tried to form words, but none came. He could only stand in stunned silence as Bull came up behind him with Dorian, both men’s eyes widened.

“Hot damn,” Bull supplied.

“Indeed,” Dorian replied, a wry smirk on his lips. “It seems as if the Commander has lost all capacity for speech.”

As Dorian elbowed him sharply in the ribs, Cullen jumped, his tongue working at last.

“Maker’s breath, Amicia. You look stunning.”

He bent low to take her hand, bringing it carefully to his lips. He moved to look up at her, and a fierce blush rose in his cheeks as realized that his face was nearly between her breasts. Jerking back up to a standing position, he offered her his arm, and tried his best to ignore the laughter from Dorian and Bull.

She wasn’t important enough to be presented to the court, so she stood in the ballroom watching those who were. As Cullen was introduced, she smiled down at him, admiring his poise and grace. He was a long way from the chubby little boy she’d known all those years ago. He’d always had an air of stern seriousness about him, but now he seemed so much more controlled, sure of himself, and his adorable charm had deepened to a handsomeness that took her breath away. As he walked across the floor, he paused for a moment to look up, nodding briefly to the Empress, and then to her, much to her delight, before disappearing up the staircase.

It was some time before she managed to find him again, as she busied herself making conversation with the other companions and, occasionally, an interested Orlesian. She was fairly certain most of the women were attempting to subtly make fun of her for her simple clothing, but that may have been, in part, because so many of the men who spoke to her seemed entirely focused on her chest. Several older noblemen and a few brave soldiers had already asked her for a dance, and she’d politely declined.

She was in conversation with one such attendee when a crowd on the edge of the room caught her attention. A thick group of men and women seemed to be crowded around one individual, practically keeping whoever it was captive at the center. A subtle shift in the bodies, and she saw, at the center of the throng, none other than Cullen.

The gentleman who’d been engaging her in conversation bent to kiss her hand just in time for her to catch Cullen’s eye. She chuckled to herself, shaking her head at his panicked look, before glancing back at her suitor as he attempted, once again, to ask her for a dance. When she looked up again, Cullen was pushing his way through the crowd as politely as he could. The amusement on her face turned to shock as he headed towards her. He tapped the gentleman vying for her attention on the shoulder, politely but firmly, and then spoke.

“Do forgive me for interrupting,” he spoke in silken tones, giving only the barest glance to the shocked noble, “but I couldn’t help but notice you from my post across the room, and I wondered if you might dance with me?”

Stifling her laughter, she nodded, giving both men a small curtsy before she took Cullen’s arm to be lead to the floor.

“Should you really be away from your position, Cullen?” She asked as soon as they were out of hearing range.

“No, but, quite frankly, I wasn’t able to watch properly with all of those people surrounding me anyway. Besides,” he whispered as he swept her into his arms to dance, “I couldn’t stand the thought of another man putting his hands on you, nor his lips to your fingers.”

“Cullen,” she breathed, laying her head against his shoulder as they moved around the room, “you know I belong only to you.”

A soft chuckle rose in his chest. “And I you, my dearest Amicia. Always.”

It seemed as though their dance was over in an instant, far too short for their preference. As they parted, he bowed low before her, then leaned to whisper in her ear.

“Meet me on the third balcony there, in ten minutes?”

He tilted his head to indicate the direction he meant, and she nodded once, watching him trail away and disappear into the crowd.

It was agony to wait, especially when he’d had such a look of mischief in his eyes. He’d never been one for surprises, remaining too orderly and planned, so she was beyond excited to see what what awaited her. When the minutes were up, she did her best to move through the crowd slowly and naturally, so she attracted no attention. When she reached the door, she opened it only slightly, then slipped through and closed it behind her.

She turned to see Cullen leaned against the railing, his back turned to her. He glanced over his shoulder with a soft smile.

“Close your eyes, Amicia. And don’t open them until I tell you to.”

Dutifully, she did as asked, her ears pricked for any sound that might give the game away. All she heard was the soft grit of his shoes against he stone as he stepped closer to her, and the rhythm of his breath next to her ear. He kissed her there once, tenderly, and then the sweet scent of roses filled her nostrils. The next thing she knew, velvet petals brushed across her lips, then down, across her chin. It trailed further, descending from her throat across her chest and between her breasts, tracing their curves and raising goosebumps along her skin. Cullen then followed the same path with his lips, dragging them delicately over her sternum before sucking lightly at the soft swell to either side.

At her quiet moan, he cupped the side of her face and pressed his lips to hers firmly before leaning to whisper in her ear.

“Open them, Amicia.”

He stood before her, his face flushed, with a single rose held before him. It was a deep crimson, so dark it was almost black, in perfect bloom, and at least as large as her palm. Stepping forward, he placed his palm on the small of her back and pulled her towards him, slipping the rose into her hand.

“For the most beautiful woman here,” he offered as he kissed the side of her face. “From the luckiest man.”

With a smile, she slid her free hand up his chest.

“I never took you for a romantic, Cullen.”

“Perhaps I never had a need, before now.” He wrapped his arms around her, touching his forehead to hers. “Amicia, I want to give you everything. I want you to know, without a doubt, how much I care for you. You are the first thing I think of each morning, my last thought each night. There is nothing in this world I would not do to bring you happiness.”

Slipping her hand into his hair, she pulled him down for a long, deep kiss.

“Just be you, Cullen. That’s all I need.”

They relished their small bit of time alone, until Cullen had to return to his post. Though she saw him only a few moments throughout the rest of the night, it mattered little. Each time she missed him, she looked at the rose in her hand and smiled, her heart filled with love. It didn’t matter that the nobles gossiped about “that plain girl who’d caught the Commander’s eye”, nor that Josephine and Leliana both gave her knowing smiles as she passed them by. At the end of the evening, after the murder, after the scandals and the intrigue, she and Cullen would be together again.

As soon as he was able, he slipped away from the rest of the Inquisition forces to find Amicia seated on the staircase leading to the guest quarters. With a faint smile, he noticed she still carried the rose, holding it reverently to her lips. Even as exhausted as she clearly was, she was a vision.

“Ready to turn in?”

She looked up at him with a tender smile on her lips.

“Yes, I suppose. Are you free?”

“As I can be. I’ve done the work I was meant to for this evening. Tomorrow there will be more to take care of, before we can head home.”

“Good,” she replied as she got to her feet. “Because my feet hurt from all of the standing around.”

“That’s not a problem.”

He leaned forward, sweeping her off of her feet and into his arms in one swift motion. Though she gasped and protested, her giggles gave away her delight as he carried her swiftly to the room they shared. Though he’d intended to deposit her onto the bed, he thought better of it at the last minute, placing her instead on her feet at the foot of it. Things between them, physically, had moved forward very little after that night she’d stayed with him, and he was afraid the sight of her spread out on the bed would be more than he could resist. He was quite determined not to push or rush things, and besides that, he’d prefer to be in his own bed with her when the time came.

She swayed slightly as she stood there giving away the true extent of her fatigue, then began slowly taking off the simple jewelry she wore while Cullen began removing his jacket. He kept finding himself distracted watching her, the way she moved as she took down her hair, the curve of her calves as she took off her boots. A sudden thrill ran through him as he had the realization-

This could be the rest of his life.

The two of them, readying for bed together, removing the clothes they’d worn for the day. Her, changing her hair to the looser, less restrictive braid she wore to bed. Her, wordlessly asking for his help with her fastenings, as she was doing now. Small things, simple, but unutterably beautiful in his mind.

He stepped behind her, trailing his fingertips along the slope of her shoulder after he’d loosened her ties, then leaning to kiss it. As he saw their reflection in the mirror before him, once again he felt the quavering within his heart, the absolute incredulity. That she cared for him seemed no small miracle, but something only the Maker himself could have arranged.

“I need my tunic, Cullen. Unless you’d rather I sleep without it?”

He groaned into her neck. “Maker, no. I mean-“ he sighed. “I would prefer it, if we were home. But I fear I couldn’t possibly resist the temptation you’d provide.”

The corner of her mouth twitched up as she leaned her head against his chest.

“I’d rather you not resist- but I agree, it would be better if we were at home.”

He turned to grab her tunic, handing it to her before she disappeared behind the screen to change. While she was there, he did the same, pushing off the tight trousers and exchanging them for his loose linen pants. As he sat on the edge of the bed, she emerged, smiling.

“So does this mean,” she asked, climbing into bed beside him, “that once we’re home, I’m welcome in your bed?”

With a warm chuckle, he wrapped his arms around her.

“You are always welcome in my bed, Amicia.”

“Yes,” she said, curling her body against his. “But I mean without clothes.”

For a moment Cullen was a a complete loss. Certainly he’d thought about it, even hoped for it. But he’d also thought it was likely a long way off. After what had happened before, he was terrified he’d do the wrong thing again, touch her the wrong way and ruin things.

“I . . . you want that?”

“I do.”

He paused for a moment.

“Forgive me, but, after the last time, I was afraid of hurting you, or doing the wrong thing. I don’t want you to push yourself and do something you aren’t comfortable with for my sake. I’m perfectly happy to-“

“I’m not. If you wanted to, really wanted to, I would, of course. But I want to be with you. I understand your hesitation, but I think that if we can avoid that particular touch, or work our way up to it, I’ll be fine.“

“Alright,” he said, trying not to let his voice shake with his nervousness, “when we get back home, we’ll . . . we’ll try again.”

The trip home was going to be very, very long.

Chapter 11: Open Doors

Notes:

*smut*

(also references to Cullen’s past actions)

Chapter Text

He had to tell her.

That was the thought that kept running through his mind after the Winter Palace. They’d been home for a few days now, and time hadn’t quite allowed them the time they’d hoped for. Cullen had been busy with all sorts of reports from the business with Empress Celene, resulting in him working long into the night most nights, and when he wasn’t, he was so exhausted that Amicia insisted they do no more than sleep. He can’t say he wasn’t grateful for that, honestly.

He had to tell her.

She’d shared her greatest secret with him, her hidden shame, and he still loved her. In fact, he was proud of her for the strength it had taken to resist the man, and for the compassion in her that had made her feel guilty for killing him. But his sins, he felt, were so much greater.

When she arrived that evening to bring him dinner as he worked, she was surprised to see that all his paperwork was done at last, and he was resting in his chair. Still, there was a haunted look about him, one that made her nervous.

“Lock the door behind you, please.”

She would have made a joke, but the tone in his voice was too serious to allow it. Instead, she did exactly as she was asked, and double-checked it afterwards. Once she’d put the plate down on the side of his desk, he shifted in his seat, holding his arms out to beckon her towards him. Once she’d settled in his lap, he pressed his face into her neck, taking a deep breath before looking up at her.

“Amicia, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“I trust you’re not married already?”

He let out a huff of laughter before his face fell back into seriousness, then reached up to stroke the side of her face.

“No, I am not. But- it is something rather important.” He sighed. “You told me your darkest secret, laid it bare before me without shame or hesitation. Now it’s time that I do the same.”

He looked down, swallowing hard before she put her hand underneath his chin, forcing him to look into her eyes.

“Cullen, it’s okay. Tell me.”

And so he told her. Everything. About Kinloch Hold, and the abominations therein, how they’d tortured him, asked him questions and broken his mind. How they’d torn him apart, and how afterward, when he thought he’d managed to put himself back together, he’d gone too far, out of fear. He told her about Knight-Commander Meredith, and the way she’d played into those fears at Kirkwall, promoting him, manipulating him, and using him to do her dirty work. And how, in the end, he’d wanted all of the Mages there put to death, to get rid of them completely, and he’d thought it completely rational, and hadn’t even questioned it until years later.

“So you see, I’ve done things that cannot be forgiven. No matter how much I might wish to atone for them, no matter how I pray, or how hard I try to make myself a better man, I will always be that cowardly boy, somewhere inside.”

He rested his head against her chest for a moment, holding her close for what he was certain was the last time. Then he looked up at her. And he waited, as she looked down at him, her face pulled tight with worry, fear, or disappointment, and he didn’t know which it was.

Her fingers moved slowly across his skin as she took his face in her hands, bringing her own so close their noses touched. Tilting her head, she leaned forward, brushing her lips against his tenderly, her breath a soft caress on his skin. Without moving away, so that he felt her words as much as he heard them, she whispered to him.

“I forgive you.”

Then her tongue slipped past his lips to sweep against his own, honeyed velvet to clear away the bitterness of his words. With her hands in his hair, her body warm across his lap, he felt his heart suddenly swell with love for her, so tight in his chest he thought it might burst. His arms tightened around her as he clung to her, as she clung to him, wound together so tightly they could scarcely tell where one ended and the other began.

When they broke apart, both gasping desperately for air, he grasped her face tightly.

“Amicia, I am unworthy of the love you give me. I will always be unworthy of it. But, Maker above me, I am beyond grateful to have you in my life.”

With a gentle smile, she stood, taking his hands and pulling him towards the ladder that lead to his bedroom. For a moment, at the foot, he hesitated, putting a hand on her waist.

“Are you certain?”

Her only response was to turn and begin the climb to his room. He followed, his heart fluttering inside him at the thought of what was to come. A lifetime had lead them to this point, filled with heartbreak and sorrow, then the joy of reunion. Without a doubt, it was what he wanted- SHE was what he wanted. But there was no going back from here, not for either of them.

As they stood beside his bed, he placed his trembling hands upon her hips, kissing her forehead softly. Her hands traced the edge of his cloak, up to his neck, then back down. It seemed she was nervous as well, her hands shaking as she took a deep breath. In a shuddering whisper, she spoke.

“Take these off?”

He moved to the corner of his room, shedding his armor and placing it gently, almost reverently, in its usual spot. He was trying not to rush, though a part of him wanted to simply toss it aside and sweep her into his arms. If this was happening, really happening, he wanted to remember every moment.

When he returned, he found she’d taken off her minimal leather armor as well, leaving them both in their leather breeches and linen tunic. The golden rays of the setting sun beamed through his unpatched roof, falling across her shoulders and making her look to him like a divine being. Tentatively, he reached to touch her face, letting his fingers ghost across her lips, and her sweet sigh sent a warm ache low in his stomach. He cupped her face gently, taking it in both of his hands.

“I love you.”

Her warm smile eased his worries as he felt the silk of her hands beneath his tunic. As she pushed it upward for him to remove, her fingers trailed along the ridged muscles of his stomach, making him shiver beneath a wave of dim lust. The touch didn’t end as his chest was bared to her, his tunic tossed to the side. Instead, her hands roamed the surface of his skin, slowly, tenderly, as if she were utterly fascinated at his mere existence. Soon, her lips joined in, dropping kisses against his chest, leaning to place them on his stomach. When they brushed across his nipple lightly, he couldn’t contain the soft gasp it drew, nor stop the way his stomach tensed in nervous anticipation as her kisses fell lower, reaching the waistband of his trousers.

With a trembling sigh, he took her hips in hand, sliding up her tunic in the same way she’d done his. He could scarcely believe how soft her skin was, how warm and velvet beneath his fingers. Once the tunic was gone, he couldn’t help but stop, staring dumbfounded at the beauty before him. Even with her breast band still on, he’d never seen anything so enticing. The last time they were together, it had been deep into a moonless night, only the barest shapes visible. Now, though the sun was sinking, it’s glow shone bright on every curve. How, in all his years, he’d lived without this sight, he didn’t know. He only knew it would be burned into his brain forever, the moment he’d seen perfection.

Her hands shook only slightly as she reached for his, drawing them around her waist as she leaned into his chest. As he traced the edge of her breast band, his mouth found hers, warm, sweet, and open to him, a monumental reward for his years of waiting. He stepped towards her, gently maneuvering her towards the bed as her band was loosened, then fell to the floor as he lowered her to her back. A low moan escaped him as he felt the softness of her breasts beneath him, and the warmth of her arms around him.

She breathed his name as he kissed his way slowly down her throat, her fingers tangling in his hair. There would be marks tomorrow, she knew, but she could hardly care, not when the nip of his teeth on her collarbones elicited such pleasure, or his rough palms against her breasts rose that wet heat between her thighs. She could feel his hardness, the way he pressed against her, his hips pulsing against hers in a steady, subtle rhythm.

“Maker forgive me,” he murmured against her ear. “I should not want you the way I do, to possess you so completely, yet I cannot help myself.” His hand slid down her side to tug at the ties of her leggings. “Your body calls to me, I am helpless before you. Andraste . . ,” he groaned as her legs hooked around his and her hips began grinding back against him, “ . . . Andraste preserve me.” Another groan tore from his lips. “I want you, I want only you.”

Her mouth crashed roughly against his as they tore at the laces of each other’s pants, breathlessly gasping in frustration that their hands were not steadier, that they would not move faster. When hers finally came free, Cullen backed away to loosen his own, shoving them quickly to the floor before kneeling in front of her. He slid her leggings down slowly, with a quiet reverence, his lips traveling the length of her thighs as they were revealed to him.

He looked up from between her legs, mesmerized at the sight before him. The planes of her body, every curve, every swell, all of it tantalized him, dizzying in its perfection. As she raised herself on her elbows to stare down at him, he pressed one cheek to the inside of her thigh, letting her caress the other. There was a tender smile on her lips as she touched him, both humbling and emboldening. He edged his face further, closer to her mound, letting one thumb trace against her center.

“I . . ,” he hesitated for a moment. “Amicia, I’d like to . . . but, I won’t . . ,” he sighed, looking into her eyes. “Is it alright . . . ?”

“Yes,” she sighed, spreading her legs open to him. “Oh, yes.”

Carefully he slipped his thumbs down the inside of her thighs, using them to spread her wide before him. His tongue traced her lines, slowly, languidly, his eyes fixed on her as her head fell back. A long, low moan echoed from deep within her, and he continued his tracing, his tongue sweeping her length before circling the deliciously swollen bud of her clit. He began making delicate patterns there, soft circles and gentle flicks against her that made her moan his name again and again, each with greater urgency than the last.

As she began to crest, her hands slid into his hair, grasping it hard. He moved faster against her, holding her shaking thighs to his face as he sucked and lapped, every cry, every moan driving him harder. Oh, how he wanted to give her everything, to pour the passion inside of him against her body and drown her in pleasure. In his hands, her hips jerked hard against him, faster, chasing all he had to give and more. And when the dam finally broke, it was with a sharp cry, his name wrapped in moans as she pulled his head away.

She collapsed across his shoulders, panting, as he caressed her skin, kissing any he could reach. This, he felt, was love. Pure, passionate, and shared only between the two of them. His own arousal, though it burned bright within him, was momentarily forgotten amid her bliss.

As she recovered her senses, she grasped his face, tilting it towards her to kiss him hard. She tasted herself on his tongue, sweet and earthy, and couldn’t help but feel blessed for having found him again. He was everything she needed, everything she wanted, and he belonged to her, utterly, completely, just as she belonged to him.

She whispered his name as she stretched back across the bed, reaching to pull him on top of her. As she nestled against the pillows, she saw him frown slightly above her.

“What’s wrong?”

“I . . . I don’t want to hurt you.”

She chuckled. “You won’t.”

Still, he hesitated.

“Let me,” she whispered.

She rolled him to his back, carefully straddling his hips as he held his hands nervously in the air. Giggling at his obvious discomfiture, she placed them on her hips instead, then leaned to kiss him. It was a long, slow kiss, his hands roaming the surface of her skin hungrily. As he reached the soft curve of her ass, he squeezed hard, making her gasp against his mouth. A cocky smirk twitched at the corner of his lips, pride surging through him at regaining the upper hand.

Then she sat up, raising herself on her knees.

His head dropped back as she took him in her hand, eyes closing at the simple ecstasy of her touch. Her hand was soft, warm around him as she gently squeezed, then stroked his length. He groaned, immersed completely in her touch, so much so that he didn’t realize what was happening until he felt his tip nudging at the wet heat between her legs.

Her hips rocked gently as she lowered herself onto him. For Cullen, it was a torturously drawn out process, feeling her silken flesh envelop him slightly, then be withdrawn, only to do it again. It was all he could do to resist grabbing her, jerking his hips up and plunging himself into her completely, but he held, fingers twisting tightly into the sheets. He risked opening his eyes, and a sound something between a moan and a gasp left him. The sight before him was utterly enchanting, more than he could stand- her, legs spread wide across his hips, head thrown back as she moaned in pleasure at the way his cock filled her up, and still only halfway inside.

His hands found her thighs, stroking gently, murmuring soft words of encouragement as she sunk slowly onto him. Maker, she was tight around him, every inch meeting a gentle resistance, then shyly opening to him. Little by little, her body welcomed him.

“Amicia . . ,” he whispered, “Amicia . . . I have never seen a sight more beautiful than the one before me now.”

He reached to cup her face in his hand, and she placed hers over it, turning to kiss his palm. As she did, she tilted her hips slightly, rocking forward. Both of their eyes widened, gasping, as he slipped inside of her. With a deep moan, she leaned forward, bracing herself against his chest as she began moving. Cullen’s fingers dug into her thighs at the velvet sensation of her wrapped around him, gliding slick along his length. This was ecstasy. Moaning her name again and again, hearing her mewls and whimpering pleasure- no one, no one else would have this, ever. These were his alone.

Urgency grew within him, until her steady rhythm above him wasn’t enough. He craved more, needed to plunge himself deep inside of her, to watch her beneath him as he fed the fire within. At once, he grabbed her wrists, pulling her down against his chest. His mouth met hers with hungry kisses as he rolled on top of her, his hips pumped hard against hers. The gasping cries that came from her only served to spur him on, as she bit against his neck, her back arching, her nails carving red streaks down his back.

He only just caught himself, drawing out of her as he came in long, hot streaks across her stomach, her name on his lips, repeated like a prayer. As he fell beside her, the gentleman that he was, he immediately began apologizing for his mess. She only shushed him, a finger to his lips, and grabbed her tunic to cleanse her skin. With that done, she rolled to face him. Neither spoke, only stared at each other, smiling in adoration and wonder. It seemed nothing short of a miracle, that they were there together, able to share the bliss they had, yet neither could imagine their life being otherwise.

Chapter 12: The Morning After

Notes:

*smut*

Chapter Text

Cullen woke with the warmth of Amicia’s skin against his, a feeling of pleasant looseness in his body. Memories of the night before flooded his mind, and he found himself smiling sleepily. Without a doubt, it had been the most wonderful experience of his life, and he had shared it with the person he cared most about in the world.

He looked at her sleeping form, nestled tightly in front of his body, and felt a wave of emotion heavy in his chest. This gorgeous, incredible woman, who he’d known since childhood, was in love with him, and she’d let him know her in the most intimate way possible. Even after he’d confessed his failures, she’d accepted him. It was more than he’d ever dared dream about. To have her beside him- he genuinely considered himself the luckiest man in the world.

She rolled to face him, humming happily as her hand slid across his chest, and he pulled her closer. As he began peppering her face with soft kisses, she giggled, then pulled him into a proper kiss, not letting him go until he moaned in pleasure as his hand slipped up her back. He breathed her name quietly, eyes closed.

“G’morning, Cul.”

As her fingers traced his jawline, he reached to caress her thigh.

“A VERY good morning,” he replied. “How are you feeling?”

Closing her eyes for a moment, she sighed.

“Perfect. I don’t think I’ve ever felt better in my life.”

She rolled to her back, arching into a stretch with a deep groan. Before she knew what was happening, Cullen had crawled on top of her, pinning her beneath his weight as he nipped against her throat. Though he was being playful, she couldn’t deny the heat that rose within her at the feel of his body on hers. It seemed she wasn’t the only one, either. A hard line was beginning to press against her leg, his hips rocking subtly against her.

“Good. To be honest, I was a bit worried I might have hurt you, and it would be a while before we could try that again.”

“Mmm. Don’t get me wrong, I am a bit sore, but in a wonderful way. It reminds me you’ve been there.”

“So does that mean we might . . . ?”

Throwing her arms around his neck, she breathed, “Oh . . . yes. Yes, Cullen, yes.”

He moaned happily as she wrapped her arms around him, letting him nestle once again between her legs. Their kisses were slow and tender, as if they had the entire day together, to spend as they chose.

Obviously, this wasn’t the case.

He’d just begun pushing inside of her as the sound of a knock drew their attention. After a moment’s pause, Cullen began kissing her neck and throat once again.

“Just ignore it,” he murmured, starting a leisurely rhythm. “It can’t be that pressing.”

She gasped once, then bit back a moan as the knock came again, louder and more insistent. He stopped, resting his forehead on her shoulder. Waiting, he prayed that whoever it was would take the hint and leave. Instead, another knock, louder, and a voice.

“Commander Cullen? The Inquisitor needs to speak with you.”

Cullen’s eyes met Amicia’s, and he whispered softly “He didn’t say it was urgent.”

“It’s most imperative that she see you, right away.”

He collapsed across her, groaning into her neck.

“Maker preserve me,” he muttered to himself, then looked at Amicia once more. “As soon we possibly can, we’re going to take some time away. I’d rather like to spend time in bed with you without such interruptions.”

She laughed, kissing his cheek.

“Go on, Cullen. You’ve got important work to do.”

Cullen dressed hurriedly, calling down to the messenger that he would be there soon. As soon as he’d opened the door, she heard him chastising the man on the other side.

“If I do not answer my door, it generally means that I do not wish to be interrupted. From now on, I would prefer it if you remembered that . . . .”

The door closed, and Amicia rolled over in the bed, pressing her face into the spot Cullen had laid in. The scent of him was warm and comforting, familiar in a way thrilled her heart. She made no hurry of getting up, knowing well that she’d hardly be needed for healing that day. Instead, she drifted back into sleep, dreaming of Cullen’s arms.

By the time she dressed for the day, Cullen had already started training exercises, so she headed to see if she could help anywhere around the keep. She spent the morning working in the laundry, scrubbing sheets and hanging linens in the bright sunlight. While they worked, gossip spilled, and Amicia heard rumors about some of the members of the Inquisition that made her gasp aloud. Then, as she’d thought it might, the talk turned to Cullen. It was well known to her that he had many admirers throughout the staff, and not a few had made advances that were either ignored or rebuffed. But now, they had HER, and they could satisfy at least some of their curiosity. A bright, red haired girl who couldn’t have been more than twenty turned to her.

“Is it true you grew up with the Commander?”

“It is,” Amicia smiled. “I knew him when he was still a chubby boy who wanted sweets more than swords.”

One of the older ladies laughed. “Oh, he still has a sweet tooth, alright. Last time there were cookies he kept sneaking by and sliding them into his pockets. As if we wouldn’t just give them to him!”

“Probably wants to keep up appearances,” the red haired girl, called Lynn, added. “You know he wants to play the stern Commander.” Then she turned to Amicia again. “So what was he like, as a boy? Besides chubby, I mean.”

“He was as you’d expect, mostly. Playing in the dirt, fighting with his siblings. If they got to be too much, we’d run away to a nearby lake to hide. It wasn’t until he was around eight that he decided he wanted to be a Templar. And then he became all serious and stiff- not unlike he is now.”

“Ah, but you make him smile,” another woman, plump and middle aged, pointed out. “When his eyes are on you, he’s a different person.” She winked in emphasis, making Amicia blush slightly.

“No, I think he’s more himself,” she murmured. “He’s not stern inside, not really. He’s soft, and kind, and sweet. He’s really a romantic, you know.”

All eyes turned to her, and she bit her lip, wishing she hadn’t said anything. Cullen had a reputation to uphold, and she hardly wanted to be the one to damage it. But when they asked her about him, how could she not talk about the things that made her love him?

There was sudden cackling from a dark-haired, scrawny woman seated in the corner.

“Romantic, eh? He recite poetry while he’s got you bent over the desk?”

“Imogene!” Lynn gasped. “Don’t be so crude!”

The wizened woman who’d talked about his sweet tooth earlier chimed in again, making a dismissive, moderately disgusted noise.

“Psh! It’s a fact of life, people have sex. Ain’t no sense denying it. Still, never had a serving girl come to me with her belly full, telling me it’s his. And I seen him turn down a fair share of girls, so maybe he’s got some honor about him. But I’ll wager he’s got a furnace bellowing beneath all that propriety. Mark my words, girl, you’ll be in for it.”

They shared a good laugh, then moved on to talk about other things, to Amicia’s relief. If they’d pressed her on the subject, she’d have been only too happy to admit how right the last comment had been.

All the rest of the day, Amicia couldn’t stop thinking about the night before. As she moved from one place to another, lending a hand, her mind kept returning to him, the feel of his body on hers, the taste of his skin, the warmth of his arms. By the time she saw him again that evening, she was feeling more than a little desperate.

She stood leaning against the stone wall, watching Cullen as he spoke with Cassandra, Barris, and a few other upper level Templars. Though he tried to focus, his eyes kept flicking over to where Amicia stood, her arms held demurely behind her back, eyelids fluttering, the perfect picture of temptation. He couldn’t deny that his thoughts had often wandered back to the previous night, her quiet moans in his ear, and to that morning’s interrupted pleasures. Maker, he wanted her so much he could scarcely think.

Eventually, Cassandra gave up completely, pushing him towards Amicia with a disgusted groan, but her smile gave away her amusement. He didn’t know if she’d guessed what had happened between them, but he wasn’t going to trouble himself with thinking about it, either. Instead, he strode confidently, and a little hurriedly, toward Amicia. She closed the distance between them quickly, slipping her hand in his as he leaned down to kiss her, hand at the small of her back. Before he stood completely, he whispered in her ear.

“Bring your things to my room? You won’t be going back tonight.”

“Yes, Commander,” she purred, “any other instructions for me?”

Her words stoked the fire within him to a roaring flame, tempting him to forgo all pretense of innocence and simply carry her directly to his room. Instead, he slid his hand down to gently squeeze her bottom, growling in a low, sensuous voice.

“Only that you should hurry, lest my impatience get the better of me. It would hardly be appropriate for me to come take you in the middle of the courtyard. But should you make me wait . . . .”

He left the threat hanging in the air, watching as she scurried away. She threw a single glance over her shoulder, grinning, as she disappeared into the worker’s quarters, and he turned to head to his room. Once there, he wasted no time in removing his armor, his thoughts already fixed on the glory of her form, and on all the ways he wanted to please her. By the time he got down to his linens, he was already stiff and aching, ready for her to show.

She arrived some time later, surprised to see him already naked and in bed, his back resting against the headboard. Placing her things on the dresser, she turned to him with mischief in her eyes.

“So eager, Cullen?”

“Can you blame me?” He smirked. “When I have such a lovely partner, it’s difficult to contain myself.”

With a smile, she turned, then went about the room blowing out every candle but the single one he kept at his bedside. All the while, Cullen watched, his fists clenched tight at his sides to force himself to be patient. He was rewarded well when she finally stepped to his side, then slowly and seductively removed her clothes before him. The dim light of the candle gave the affair an air of secrecy and tension, heightening his arousal even more. Slowly, she climbed onto the bed, straddling his lap and placing her hands on his shoulders. Between them, the tented sheet was both obvious and ignored, her hands ghosting over the planes of his chest, then up to cup the back of his head.

“I love you Cullen,” she whispered against his neck, her lips finding the tender spot at his jaw. “I want to know every part of you.”

Kisses cascaded across his skin as his hands found the velvet curves of her hips, pulling her closer. Already he was panting at her touch, the silken way her hands moved over his body. As her tongue trailed lazily up the column of his throat, he cursed into the heavy air.

“I want to memorize your body, to know it as I know my own,” she breathed, her mouth now working down his chest, peppering kisses that grew hotter as she reached the rigid planes of his abdomen. “I want to give you everything.”

She paused to graze her teeth across his hipbones, the muscles of his stomach tensing as she pulled back the sheet. He could have almost spilled just watching her, the way her eyes held his, the fire within them, the way the flickering shadows played across her curves as she leaned over him, her lips parted eagerly as she lowered her head. Maker, it was perfect, she was perfect, and he felt nothing could have been more inviting to him than she was in that moment.

Then, suddenly, her tongue darted out, licking a slow stripe from the base of his cock to his tip, and his head fell backwards with a deep groan. It was tortuous, the slow, deliberate way she took him into her mouth, a few inches at a time, then out, then an inch or two more, all while watching his response. And he couldn’t look away, not for more than a moment. Watching himself disappear into her mouth was almost as good as the way it felt. The way her cheeks hollowed, lips plump and pink around him, as she moved up and down his length while he moaned her name.

“Andraste . . . I’m going to spill if you keep this up,” he gasped, fingers tightening in her hair.

In response, she hummed around him, making his hips buck involuntarily into her mouth, then brushed her lips across his sensitive slit. She ended with a soft kiss at his tip, then crawled across his lap once more.

“Would that be so bad?”

She’d started kissing his neck again, and it was everything Cullen could do not to grab her hips and plunge himself deep inside of her. A part of him wanted desperately to finish what she’d started, to chase the end she’d brought him so close to, but he knew if he did, he’d regret it. Later, when things were more certain and familiar, he might risk it. But now? He wanted every moment he could get.

“It is when I’ve been dreaming of this all day.”

With that, he pulled her towards him, sliding inside. His hips worked beneath her, taking the greater share of the burden, until she was gripping the headboard behind him, her moans ringing sweet in his ear with each thrust.

“Amicia . . ,” he breathed, hands sliding across the curve of her hips, “Amicia, I have never wanted anything like I want this . . . like I want you.”

She kissed him deeply, holding his face in her hands.

“Me either, Cullen. I . . ,” she gasped suddenly, moving faster atop him as his fingers dug into her flesh. “I . . . want only you. Always.”

“You will have me. My darling Amicia, I’m yours forever.”

Chapter 13: Siege and Storm (GB/V)

Notes:

*Graphic descriptions of blood, injury, and violence*

Chapter Text

As much as he hated to ruin the beautiful moment they’d just shared, Cullen knew it would do no good to wait. He shifted slightly to look at Amicia where she lay nestled beneath his arm, and cleared his throat.

“Amicia?”

She hummed in response, nuzzling against his chest.

“We had news today. About the Grey Wardens.”

Her body stiffened as her eyes flew open, and she propped herself up on her elbow.

“What about the Wardens, Cullen? You’ve found them?”

“Yes. But . . ,” he sighed. “They are at Adamant fortress. We’ll have to attack to get anywhere, and it won’t be easy. It will be bloody, and we’ll need every soldier we can get. Including you.”

“You’ll be leading, I trust?”

“Yes. And you will be with the archers.”

Again he sighed, frowning slightly as he drew her against his chest. For a moment, he only held her, committing it all to memory. The thought of what might happen cut a deep, icy hole inside of him, an ache nothing but getting past it all would cure.

“I don’t like it, I’ll say that now. We won’t be able to see each other until everything’s over. But I’d rather we be near each other than separated by a long march, as you said. At least this way, we’ll be able to find each other in the aftermath.”

He left out the “if we survive” part, knowing she was as aware of that as he was, and it would do no good to remind either of them. He’d gone over the schematics dozens of times, plotted every possible outcome in his head. There was no way to avoid a massive loss of life. It seemed too much to hope that neither of them would be among them, yet he felt it would be too cruel of a twist for them to finally get together only to lose one another. The wait for her had been worth it, so much that he’d do it twice over to finally have her this way. He couldn’t bear to lose her again.

Amicia tucked herself against his shoulder once more, silently tracing patterns against the bare skin of his chest. He knew her well enough to know that something was weighing on her mind. After a few moments, she pursed her lips, then sighed before cautiously speaking.

“When this is over, all of it, what kind of life do you see for yourself?”

He faced her, running a finger along her cheek.

“To begin with, it won’t be a life only for myself. It will be a life for us. Together.”

With a faint smile, she pressed her face into his chest before looking up at him again.

“Mean it? Really mean it?”

“Maker’s breath,” he sighed, rolling to pull her into his arms. “What life would I have, without you? I’ve already spent more years than I care to think about alone. Now that I have you, I won’t let you go so easily, not when you’re the only person in my life who’s ever really understood me, who’s cared for me and accepted even the worst of me without a second thought.”

“Loving you is the most natural thing in the world to me. I never even tried, it was always just there, waiting, no matter where I went.”

He laughed, despite the darkness and fear at the corners of his heart, and kissed her soundly on the lips. She made everything brighter, and he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he would love her for the rest of his life. Whatever came, he belonged to her completely.

The journey to Adamant was tense. No matter how they tried to avoid thinking about the inevitable future, it loomed in the distance like a dark cloud, watching, waiting. Anyone who counted was kind enough not to mention the way the Commander doted on a lone archer, staying close and checking on her constantly when he could not. And if they shared a tent at night, well, stranger things had happened, and one took comfort where they could in times like these. Besides, most knew of the situation between them anyway, and not a few prayers were said in their honor, hoping the two would find happiness instead of sorrow.

As they neared the fortress, each member of the inner circle pulled Cullen aside to let him know they would understand in he chose to keep her out of the fight, or if he needed a few moments alone with her before the siege. He thanked them, of course, but explained that she’d chosen to be there, and that he would not keep her from any danger she chose to face. They were equals, and, while he accepted the offer of some time with her, she would fight alongside him, in spirit if not literally.

In the pause before the final stretch of the march, Cullen abandoned all thoughts of improper favoritism, finding Amicia among the archers and calling her to his side. Lacing his fingers with hers, he pressed their foreheads together, the amber of his eyes on fire with a thousand things he wanted to say. But he could find no words. None would express the strange mingling of terror and devotion, hope and fear, that he carried in his heart. Instead, he cupped her face tenderly with his free hand, drawing in a deep trembling breath, and kissed her. Without caution, without care, in front of Maker only knew how many soldiers, he spilled his passion for her. Their tongues mingled, drawing from each other the courage and strength they needed to face the battle ahead. And when, finally, they parted, he stared into her eyes, and voiced the thought that had burned in his mind since this had all begun.

“I swear to you, Amicia, when all of this is over, when we have fought our battles and we have won, I intend to make you my bride, if you will have me. However long it takes. I want no other, for no one could make me feel as you do, as if the sun itself is in my grasp. You hold my heart and soul in your hands. You always have.”

“Cullen Stanton Rutherford, you are a damn fool if you think I don’t feel the same,” she breathed against his lips. “You are the only man I’ve ever wanted, the only man I ever could.”

She kissed him again, her teeth digging into his lower lip as she held his face, and for one brief, shining moment, he truly believed that everything would be alright.

Maker above, if he had only been right.

The siege was every bit as long and bloody as he’d expected. Demon after demon poured out, on top of the Grey Wardens they’d had to convince to fight beside them instead of against them. Luckily, when the archdemon appeared, it convinced them readily, and that had turned the tide quickly in their favor. They’d lost men, but not nearly as many as he’d feared, and the moment the Inquisitor fell from the rift, the demons disappeared. He’d come out of it all relatively unscathed, barring some minor scrapes and bruises. He was just taking a deep, grateful breath when a recruit came running up to him, breathless.

“Commander Cullen, Ser. Ser Barris needs to see you at once.” He panted, trying to catch his breath as Cullen frowned. A thread of panic was rising in his chest as he clapped the recruit on the shoulder.

“Calm down, soldier, and tell me what this is all about.”

“It’s . . ,” he bent over, grasping his knees to steady himself. “It’s Lady Amicia, Ser. She-“

Cullen didn’t wait to hear the rest, taking off like Corypheus himself was behind him.

It seemed like an eternity before he found Barris, but when he did, he wasted no time. The moment he saw him, he asked after Amicia.

“Cullen,” Barris started, his tone gentle and soothing, but he would have none of it.

“Where is she, Barris?” He demanded. “What’s happened?”

“We’re not really sure, Cullen. No one saw. But . . ,” Barris drew in a hesitant breath. “I’m not sure how to say this, Cullen. She’s . . . .”

Cullen shook his head, hands thrown up in front of his face. “She’s not . . . ? She can’t be . . . ?”

“No-“ Barris started. “She’s not dead. But she is unconscious. We think she must have taken a bad spill, fallen somehow, and not a short distance. But, as I said, no one saw, so we can’t be sure. I found her laid on the ground, arm twisted. She’s in bad shape. But as soon as I made sure she was alive, I sent for the healers, then you. I knew you’d want to know as soon as possible.”

His mouth ran dry, knees suddenly weak beneath him as the world swam around him. In that single moment, he felt worse than he ever had during his lyrium withdrawal episodes, and far more desperate. He’d have endured every shattering pain of all of it at once, if it meant she were safe beside him. With his heart trembling in fear, he gave Barris a sharp, single nod.

“Take me to her.”

The ichor-black dirt crunched beneath his feet as he followed Barris, his mind reeling. He’d known it a near impossible task for them both to remain unscathed, yet he’d hoped. He’d even prayed throughout it all that, should one of them be injured, it would be him. He could deal with it, he could endure, if he only had her. Now . . . he knew nothing.

Barris stopped outside of the tent they’d called their bedroom the previous night, his head hung in silent respect. More than anyone, he knew how Cullen must be hurting, how desperate and angry, how full of sorrow. He’d cared for Amicia too, after all, even if they didn’t share the same history, and he felt as if his heart were split in two. Finding her alone, so twisted and broken, had knocked the wind out of him. At least he’d been able to spare Cullen that.

Cullen hadn’t known exactly what to expect as he ducked beneath the flap of the tent, but whatever it was hadn’t been this. Not her leathers torn away, bracers discarded, linen underclothes cut from her body and discarded in a bloody heap on the floor. Not the splinted arm, so swollen and bruised it looked as if it belonged to another creature entirely, nor the scrapes that ran along the surface of her skin, the deep gashes across her chest. And- Blessed Andraste. He certainly hadn’t expected what rested on the pillow.

Two thirds of her face was nothing more than bloody, bruised pulp, so swollen he could barely recognize her. Only her lips, the curve of her neck, and the small mole beside her left eye gave her away. The rest might have been anyone, so engorged with fluid the skin around her eye had begun to split, and all of it the deep purple of raw, rotting meat. Beneath her head, a thick swath of fabric, already soaking with blood.

His eyes turned to the healer at her side, who gave him a grim frown before shaking her head.

“It’s not good, Commander. I-“ she sighed. “We don’t know what’s wrong. If we knew . . . well, it might be different. We could fix it. But even magic can’t target what we don’t know is wrong.”

“Then what do we do?”

She stood, facing him with her hands folded in front of her.

“We wait, and we pray. That’s all there is.”

She left him standing at the foot of the cot, alone in the room with the only woman he’d ever truly loved. As he moved to stand beside her, his legs gave way, and the next thing he knew he was on his knees at her arm, completely lost. He couldn’t even touch her for fear of hurting her, or worsening her injuries, only rest his forehead on the edge of the cot, praying that she knew exactly how much he needed her.

“Maker’s breath, Amicia, I’m so sorry,” he breathed as he wept. “If I could change things, if I could put myself in your place, I wouldn’t hesitate for a moment. I’d bear it all for you, though I know you’d tell me what a fool I am for saying so. But . . . I need you. Here, with me. I cannot live this life without you, so you have to stay, you must. Whatever comes, you must fight. You’ve always been determined,” he said, shaking his head. “So show me now. Pull through. Please.”

The Inquisition, the Templars, and the Grey Wardens all had their best healers look at her, trying to determine some way to help her. Though much was tried, little helped. All that was done was to ensure she felt no pain, and reduce the swelling in her face and arm, which would at least allow them to move her safely. They couldn’t even cast a spell to ensure she’d remain asleep for the journey, out of the fear it would interact badly with whatever was causing the bleeding in her head, and keep her from ever waking again.

Cullen stayed beside her the entire way, refusing to let anyone else take care of her. When the cloth behind her head became soaked with blood, he was the one to change it, taking great care to wash as much from her hair as he could. If she needed medicine, he administered it, and if she needed fresh bandages over her wounds, he replaced them. No one dared come between them.

By the time they reached Skyhold again, the bleeding had slowed tremendously, but she remained unconscious, causing fresh worries for Cullen. It wasn’t unheard of for heavily injured soldiers to doze for long periods as they healed, but few slept as she was, unbroken by any period of wakefulness. Those around him tried to remain upbeat, reminding him that at least it meant she didn’t feel the pain, but it was no comfort. How could it be, when he knew full well that the longer she slept, the less the chance that she’d wake?

The Inquisitor pulled Cullen from duty immediately, consulting him only when necessary, and always at Amicia’s side. He’d taken a room in the lower section of the castle, in place of his usual perch, so she wasn’t jostled too much but he could remain near her. Small and cramped, with a solitary window, it was the sort of room he’d have had nightmares about before, but now he barely noticed.

And day by day, he waited.

Chapter 14: What Has Become (GB/V, A/R)

Notes:

*References to blood, injury, ab*se*

Chapter Text

It became routine for him, the passing of the hours. Checking her pillow. Changing bandages, all the while looking for signs of poor healing or infection. The poultices she needed were placed, and while they soaked, he dressed. No armor, it wasn’t necessary, not when he stayed in this room, beside her, just as he had every day.

One of the kitchen helpers would bring food, always at the same time, just as the poultices were removed. Only one tray, one bowl, one spoon. He barely ate, and the process of feeding her slowly, small drips of broth licked from her lips on instinct, meant she needed little as well, and it still took large chunks of time. By the time he was done, it was time for the healers’ visit, though he could hardly see the point. Nothing changed, not where it mattered. Certainly wounds healed, swelling went down. Even the back of her head had ceased most of its bleeding, now only a faintly pink dampness, barely noticeable.

But she still had not woke.

Hours turned into days in the blink of an eye, and days to weeks in the time it took to empty his lungs. Scrapes healed into nothingness and cuts became scars. Bruising faded, just as the swelling had gone before it, and soon, she looked almost like she had before. Cullen added bathing her to his list of things to do, and took great care to keep her neat, smoothing her hair and straightening the sheets around her. For all the world, she looked as if she might wake any moment. But she didn’t.

As time moved on, and her body healed, he began moving it for her, stretching the unused muscles to keep them limber and fit, to keep the blood flowing. The hole at the back of her skull, the one he’d found they had put there to keep pressure off of her brain, was nearly healed over, no longer bulging or leaking. Only a small scab over dented skin, not as large as the tip of his finger. He talked to her, reading stories and, still, begging her to return. Sometimes, she would shift on her own, or she would moan softly, and he would hold his breath, waiting, hoping. Praying that this was the beginning, that she would wake. But it never happened.

Cullen no longer cared about his position as Commander. It was only by accident he’d ever lead military forces, anyway, because he was trained, capable. He’d meant to bring peace, to fight only in defense, only when necessary. Now he cared for neither. His entire life was one room, one bed, one body. Breath after breath, nothing else mattered. Only Amicia.

Out of worry, a letter was sent to his sister, explaining the situation. She wrote back, begging him to take care of himself, to not give his life over in the hope of something that might never happen. He loved her, yes, but would she want him to shut himself away the way he was? To forget about everything else he had, the other parts of his life? It had all meant so much to him, once.

He never responded. He hadn’t even read it.

The fight against Corypheus went on without him, the Inquisitor closing rifts and chasing leads, deploying the men he’d once been in charge of. Barris was given control of the Templars. The Grey Wardens fought darkspawn, as they always had, sometimes winning, sometimes losing. Cassandra visited him, then Varric, then Bull. If he responded at all, it was in a white hot flash of anger, burning bright but sputtering out just as suddenly as it had begun, and ending in him sagging in his chair, alone.

In dark moments of the night, when he couldn’t sleep without the nightmares that had gotten worse again, he began to wonder if anything would ever change. Had he been cursed, punished by the Maker for what he’d done in his past? Doomed now, to watch his love waste away in bed as he tried fruitlessly to rehabilitate her? A fate worse than death, absolutely. In those moments, the only thing that kept him alive was the faint glimmer of hope, and the knowledge that if he were gone and she woke, she would never forgive him. Her love was the only truly good, pure thing he’d ever known, and he wouldn’t take the chance of losing it, even in death.

Some nights he crawled into bed beside her, holding her close to his chest and stroking her hair. He’d pretend for a little while that she only slept, dreaming normal, innocent dreams as he kissed her skin and thought of the life he might have with her. Nothing big, not at all. A small home, a pond. Her in her linens and bare feet, laughing at something silly he’d done, again, in an effort to impress her. He in simple clothes, no hint of armor ever again. Children. Ones that shared their features, their hair, their personalities, the true embodiment of their love. She’d teach them archery, he swordplay, but only for defense. And at night, he’d take her in his arms and love her, his body joining hers, as it was meant to be.

Those were the nights he wept hardest, soaking the pillow, dampening her hair, and wishing without measure that she could comfort him as she once had.

Tensions grew outside of Skyhold as the Inquisition sought for an advantage over Corypheus, yet the Inquisitor still sent for the best healers from across Thedas to look at Amicia. Varric sought out cures from all over, not all strictly legal. Even Vivian and Dorian consulted any and everyone they could think of, sending for books and putting their heads together to try and find something that would help.

Vivienne came to him one afternoon, more humble than he would have ever expected. She stood beside him, head bowed as if in prayer, then spoke.

“I understand what you’re going through.”

He didn’t look at her, only stared at Amicia. With a deep breath, she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I just lost someone as well.”

“She’s not lost.”

His voice was flat, without emotion, though she knew inside of him was turbulent.

“Commander, I-“ she stopped herself, then tried again. “We all know how much you love her. And it’s been abundantly clear that she cared for you just as much as you cared for her. But . . . .”

Cullen’s eyes turned slowly to her, knowing, fearing what she was about to say. Made worse by the fact that he knew she was right. She squeezed his shoulder gently, then faced him.

“Cullen, she would not want you to waste away in front of her. To throw your life away behind closed doors when there is a world waiting for you.”

“I am with her,” he said simply. “It is not wasted.”

“There is a world out there that needs you. Our forces need their Commander. We are fighting for everything, for a future for everyone, not just you, or her. If Corypheus comes-“

“THEN LET HIM COME!” Cullen roared. “Let him take us all, let him end this! Without her . . . without . . . .”

He trailed off, sitting down and taking Amicia’s hand in his. As he rested his forehead on their clasped hands, he shook his head.

“Just leave me.”

“Remember this, Commander. She cannot wake if there is no world for her to wake into.”

With that, Vivienne left, closing the door behind her.

He knew she spoke truth, but he couldn’t leave Amicia. The thought of her waking for the first time, not seeing him, or not being the first person to look into her eyes killed him. He wanted her to know he was there for her, always, no matter what came. So he stayed.

On one particularly dreary morning, Cullen woke slumped in his chair, his neck aching. It wasn’t an uncommon thing these days, even though she was healed enough for him to crawl into bed beside her. Sitting gave him a clearer view of her face, to watch for changes. Last night she’d been whimpering and moaning in her sleep, her face twitching into frowns and grimaces of pain. It had hurt to watch, but he’d hoped it meant she was waking, and he wanted to see the moment she opened her eyes. In the end, he’d been disappointed. The whimpers had died down, her face had stilled, and he’d fallen asleep again.

He stood, stretching and rubbing the soreness from his neck as he crossed to the solitary window. Rain was falling hard, turning the courtyard to mud and obscuring his vision. Probably just as well, really. There wasn’t much that could improve his mood, so it might as well be raining.

From behind him came a sudden groan, long and drawn out. He spun around to see Amicia’s hand thrown across her face.

“Maker, my head hurts. That bastard.”

Cullen flew to her side, calling her name as he did, but she recoiled, drawing in on herself. As he stopped, she peered from between her fingers. All at once, she shot backwards, stunned, then squinted at him.

“Cullen?”

With a feeble smile, he stepped towards her.

“Yes, Amicia. It’s me.”

“Wh-“ she started, then swallowed. “Andraste, Templar life hasn’t agreed with you, has it? Does Mia know you’re . . . .” She stopped, looking around. “Where am I?”

He frowned, tilting his head. “You’re at Skyhold. I know it’s a different room, but-“

“What’s Skyhold? And where’s Da?” She sat bolt upright, looking frantically around. “Oh, Maker above, he’ll murder me if I don’t get supper done! I’ve got to go, I’ve got to get it ready, or he’ll have my hide for sure!”

Cullen grabbed her arms, trying to still her, but she fought hard against him, all the while growing more frantic. She wouldn’t stop talking about her father, the man long dead, nor telling him to talk to Mia.

Suddenly he stopped as the realization hit him.

“Micia, where do you live right now?”

She looked at him as if he’d grown another head.

“Where I always have, in Honnleath. Did you hit your head while training recently?”

“What do you know of the Inquisition?”

She frowned. “Not much. That was a very long time ago.”

He swallowed hard, his heart in his throat.

“How old am I?”

Rolling her eyes, she sighed in exasperation. “The same as me, Cullen. Seventeen.”

The wind knocked completely out of him, he collapsed back in the chair. If she believed she was seventeen, she had no recollection of nearly twenty years time. In her mind, he was a Templar, her father still alive. And they’d never gotten together.

“Amicia, I . . ,” he paused, trying to come up with something to say. “You’ve had . . . an accident. I need to go get a healer to come and look at you, so I’m going to step outside for just a moment, and I need you to stay where you are.”

Without waiting for a response, he moved through the door, closing it behind him. He sent the first person he saw to fetch a healer, the returned quickly, to find her in an agitated state. She was wringing her hands, muttering to herself, and pacing back and forth. As soon as she saw him, she started towards him.

“Cullen, I have to go, you don’t understand! If I don’t get there, if I don’t take care of him, he’ll-“

Carefully, he took hold of her wrists, shushing her.

“I know, Amicia.”

Eyes widened with panic, she began frantically shaking her head.

“No, you can’t know, you can’t . . . Mia, she promised me . . . .”

She slumped over on the foot of the bed, her head hanging low.

“You must hate me now, Cullen. Is that why you’re here? Because of him? I told Mia, I told her not to tell you, because you deserved to be happy. Not that I’m not happy you’re here, but, the Templars, and your dream, and . . . .”

Cautiously, he sat beside her, gently rubbing her back.

“Your father isn’t going to be a worry for you anymore. And, though I’m not a Templar anymore, it has nothing to do with you, or your situation. Mia knows where I am, and where you are, and, somehow, this is going to work out alright.”

She wept quietly, and Cullen could say nothing more to comfort her. His mind reeled, unsure, trying to understand, to figure out what he was supposed to do. When the healer arrived, he was only too glad to give her a moment with Amicia alone as he tried to collect himself.

He thought of the moments they’d shared since she’d arrived at Haven, what seemed like a lifetime ago now. Almost certainly, she remembered none. None of the tender kisses or promises of love, nothing of being with him at all. It felt like a dagger in his heart, that he’d remember these things, and she would not, but he could hardly complain. She was alive, and she would have a hard enough time without dealing with his broken heart.

The healer stepped out some time later, finding Cullen standing right outside. In low tones, she explained the situation.

“She remembers nothing of her time here, or a great many years before, as far as I can tell. I’ve told her that things are not as she believes, that she is older, and she is here, with the Inquisition. She remembers nothing of her accident, of course, but I’ve told her she had one, and she seems to accept all of that.”

“What can I do?”

The healer smiled. “She’s lucky to have you, for a great many reasons. I would not push too hard, but she may remember, in time, with your help. Seek familiar things, things that have meant a great deal to her, and answer the questions she asks. If she seems agitated, give her space and time. And, slowly, you may bring up things that have happened, to fill her in. Her health is good, physically. It’s only the memory, coupled with some weight loss from her time in bed, that’s a problem. Just watch her, and report it if something seems off.”

With that she left, and Cullen stepped into the room again. Amicia’s back was to him, the thin shift she wore hanging loose on her shoulders, her arms crossed in front of her. As he approached, she spoke.

“I don’t remember anything,” she said flatly. “I am thirty-five, an archer and healer for the Inquisition alongside my best friend, who I thought had forgotten me, and I remember none of it. This is . . . Cullen, what happened?”

Chapter 15: The Process of Memory

Chapter Text

“Where would you like me to start?”

Cullen sighed, watching as Amicia moved to sit on the foot of the bed. She gestured for him to sit beside her, and he did so, taking care to not sit too close. It killed him a little, to want so badly to take her into his arms, to be sitting so close but unable to do so, but his feelings didn’t matter right now. He allowed a certain numbness to set in, the same sort he’d used often, before she’d come into his life again, as she turned to him.

“How did I get here? To the Inquisition?”

“Do you remember anything of the Mage Templar wars, the uprising?”

She shook her head. “I know there was tension. Something . . . important. But I don’t remember.”

He gave her a brief history, leaving out his personal involvement, before explaining to her that the original intent of the Inquisition had been to bring peace between the two factions. As he lead to the arrangement of the Conclave, a deep crease formed between her brows.

“There was . . . an explosion? But, not just an explosion, right? I . . ,” she stood, slamming her hands on the nearby table. “Damn! It’s like . . . I can feel it, wiggling just beneath my thoughts, but I can’t hold onto it!”

Watching her stand there, shoulders shaking in frustration, looking frail and wild in her shift, was almost more than he could bear. He was seized with a nearly overwhelming urge to stand behind her and wrap his arms around her in comfort, to kiss her and make her forget her pain. But that was no longer an option. Instead, he sighed, rubbing her arm in a gentle, soothing motion.

“It’s alright,” he whispered. “It’ll come.”

With a dry chuckle, she shook her head. “You’re more affectionate than I remember, Cullen.”

He stopped, tensing up. “I . . . apologize.”

He began to drop his arm, taking a step back, and she turned suddenly.

“No, don’t misunderstand, I’m not complaining, not at all, I-“

Her eyes fell to the floor, and Cullen thought he spotted a blush on her cheeks. Inside of him, hope blossomed, making his stomach flutter and his heart soar. A faint smile twisted his lips as she turned away again, looking out of the window.

“What was . . . after the Conclave? Did we come here together?”

“No,” he replied. “I came from the Templars, before the Conclave, to help bring peace. Cassandra, one of the women who founded the Inquisition, and something of a friend, asked me. You came afterwards. I was . . . surprised, to say the least,” he chuckled, drawing a smile from her. “I hadn’t expected to see you again, least of all so far from home. But there you were.”

He returned her smile, his heart aching at the memory. He’d loved her even then, but he’d been too daft to see it. All he knew was that the moment he laid eyes on her, something had opened inside of him. He’d been such a fool, pushing her away, onto Barris, when he’d wanted her all the while. It was a mistake he had no intention of repeating.

“I must have been glad to see you,” she murmured shyly.

“I think you were, yes,” he returned in a gentle voice. Then, softer still, he said, “I know I was overjoyed to see you.”

Her smile changed to a wide grin as she caught his eyes, and, for a moment, they only looked at each other. Then, cautiously, he reached towards her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. As her heard the sharp intake of her breath, another wave of butterflies trembled inside of him, doubled when he saw the way she bit her lip nervously before turning around to sit on the bed once more. He took the chair in front of her, leaning forward slightly.

“Amicia?” He whispered, and she looked up at him. “Are you glad you’re here?”

“With you? Yes. I don’t remember much about anything else, but to have you here? It makes me feel better, Cullen. Silly, probably. Even by my inaccurate memory, we haven’t spoken in years. But you were always a great comfort to me, and that hasn’t changed. Without you, I’d be terrified. I’d have nothing familiar at all. Can you imagine it, so lost, alone?” She shook her head. “I don’t think I’d handle it well at all. But you’d never let anything hurt me, would you?”

Andraste preserve him, the way her eyes held his, the trust she placed in him, even without remembering the past few months, twisted his heart in his chest. It was as if something inside of her KNEW, even if she didn’t remember.

“Never,” he breathed.

His mind flooded with memories of the moments they’d shared in the darkness of his loft, of her soft sighs and tender kisses. For the first time, he let himself think about how this might have gone, how he would have handled it if she’d remembered everything. He knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that they’d be packing right now, at least if he’d had his way. He’d be taking her away, to some sheltered place, to marry her and start their life together. Now, he couldn’t even kiss her. And, Maker, how he wanted to. There was something about her sudden innocence, her vulnerability, that drew him in. Almost like a door left open, an invitation to see what was inside. Or maybe it was the desire to fill an open space, to protect what was there before someone or something with less wholesome intentions moved in.

They spent the rest of the day in casual conversation, covering only the basics of the Inquisition, what her role had been, and how they’d come to arrive at Haven. Cullen carefully avoided anything that might have been too deep or disturbing, even skimming over the bulk of Corypheus’ true threat. The healer had advised him to be cautious, after all. At one point, Barris stopped by, having heard of the situation, and Cullen introduced him only as a friend, someone he’d met during his time as a Templar. He asked after Amicia’s health, then made polite conversation for a bit before disappearing again to tend to his new duties as the ranking officer. As he left, he asked to speak to Cullen privately for a moment.

“She doesn’t remember anything of the two of you being together?”

“No.” Cullen shook his head. “And obviously, I’m not going to push it. She’s been through enough.”

“How are you handling it? I know it must be a great loss to you.”

“It is,” Cullen sighed. “But I’m grateful she’s alive. The rest can come later.”

“Think of it this way,” Barris smiled, “how often do you get the chance to court the woman you love twice?”

It was a lovely thought, Cullen decided as he returned to Amicia. And it certainly put things in perspective for him. When they’d first gotten together, he’d been awkward and uncertain, letting her do most of the chasing. But now he knew she’d cared for him. Why would that change, just because of a gap in her memory? Now, he had the opportunity to do everything he’d always wanted to, to truly and genuinely sweep her off of her feet. Why not make the most of it?

He stepped through the doorway to find her curled on the bed, crying. Before he even thought about it, he was on his knees beside her. As he brushed her hair away from her face, she looked up at him.

“I feel like I’m missing everything. I don’t know anyone, I don’t really understand where I am, or why I’m here, even if I know you’re telling me the truth. I’m just . . . scared. I thought I might be okay, then it hit me all at once that there are just so many things that have probably happened! Cullen, what if it doesn’t ever come back? What have I missed, what will I lose?”

“It will come,” he breathed softly. “And if it doesn’t, we’ll deal with it. Together. Amicia, no matter what, I’ll be by your side.”

Smiling faintly, she brushed her knuckles over his cheek. “Thank you, Cullen.”

There was a brief pause as she glanced toward the window, noting the darkening sky. The rain had stopped, and the stars were just beginning to show.

“I don’t want to burden you, but . . . .”

“What, Amicia?”

She cupped his face in her hands. “Would you stay with me tonight? Please?”

His heart leapt in his chest. He’d been afraid, after everything, that she’d want to be alone. To know that she still wanted him near lifted his spirits immensely, and he smiled broadly at her.

“Of course. But . . ,” he trailed off, suddenly uncertain. “Amicia, would you like to stay here, or would you prefer to move to the room I usually sleep in? You were here because it was the easiest place for you to stay, with your injury.”

“Where did I sleep before?”

“In the worker’s quarters.” He left out the part where they’d shared his room before they left for Adamant, fearing more questions that he felt it wasn’t yet time to answer. “But there’s no privacy there.” He blushed suddenly, realizing what it might have seemed to imply. “Not that we need privacy, of course. I just-“

“Your room is fine, Cullen.” She smiled. “Could you ask for some things so that I can clean up and change?”

He did as she asked, waiting just outside in the courtyard while she took care of things. When she came out, she looked just like the Amicia he remembered seeing that first day at Haven, her hair braided behind her, leather leggings, but only a simple tunic, belted at the waist. She followed him eagerly to his quarters, eyes darting from place to place, until finally, she asked him if he might show her around the grounds the following day.

“After all, I ought to know the place, if I’m staying here. And it might bring back memories.”

He nodded, then opened the door to his office. Once they’d climbed the ladder to his bedroom, she stopped, looking at the open ceiling. For a moment, she frowned, then she looked at him.

“There’s a reason you don’t have a proper roof.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, one that gave him hope, but he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he showed her around the small room, putting her things on top of his dresser. When he turned to her again, she was sitting in the small chair he kept in the corner of his room, but had pulled it to the center. She’d also turned it backwards, resting her arms across the back as she took in his room.

“I know this place,” she said finally. “I have memories here, I know. Somewhere. But of what . . . ?”

Cullen knew perfectly well what most of the memories likely were. She’d only ever been in his room to share his bed or take care of him, and sharing it had occurred with a bit more frequency. His memory turned to the night they’d shared just before leaving for Adamant. Her, positioned between his legs, her mouth wrapped around him . . . a terrible thought, for the moment. Particularly given how long it would likely be before something like that might happen again.

“You cared for me here, once. When I had a headache. You gave me tea, and ran your fingers through my hair . . . .”

He trailed off, unsure of what to say next, or if he’d said the wrong thing. But she only smiled, looking wistfully into the distance. To break the silence, he cleared his throat.

“I . . . if you’d like to change for bed, I can go back down, or I might be able to find a barrier of some kind?”

“Nonsense. Just turn your back, and I’ll turn mine. When I’m dressed, I’ll let you know, and you do the same.”

He nodded, then turned around. It was easy for him, he had little to change. Once he’d slipped off his tunic and pulled on some fresh linen pants, he was done, but he couldn’t help but listen intently to the sound of Amicia changing behind him. In his head, he tried his best to match the sounds with actions, reliving the times she’d undressed before him, or he’d undressed her. Once again, he cursed himself internally for thinking of such things. She was worried, and she was scared, and she’d come to him for comfort, not to be undressed inside his mind.

“Alright, Cullen, I’m done. Are you?”

Her voice startled him out of his daydream, and he realized he’d forgotten to let her know. With a quick word, he turned, and found her eyes wide as she gasped and sputtered.

“Oh! Cullen, I hadn’t realized that you slept . . . like that. Shirtless, I mean.”

“If it bothers you-“

“No!” She burst out, a little too quickly. “What I mean is, it’s fine, it’s just not what I expected. Not that I expected anything in particular, or that I’d thought about it at all . . . .”

Andraste, she was adorably flustered. He tried to hide a smile as he climbed into bed, gesturing her to get in beside him. Once she had, he blew out the candle at his bedside, and both of them lay on their backs in the silent darkness. The stars shone brightly through his roof, beautiful, but Cullen kept finding his eyes drawn to Amicia, instead. Every time he looked at her, he found her eyes already on him, and she would look away quickly. Finally, she stared upward into the sky, speaking in a soft, timid voice.

“Do you remember how we used to hide in the woods beside the pond, back home?”

“How could I forget? Those were some of the happiest hours of my life.”

“Mine too,” she whispered. “Even when your brother and sisters found us, and Mia would fuss over how dirty we were, or how your clothes were torn. For a long time, I thought she hated me. I was always getting you into trouble.” She chuckled a little, and Cullen turned his head towards her.

“She never hated you. She may not have always understood you, but she didn’t hate you.”

“I know. After you left . . ,” she paused for a moment, interrupting herself. “That seems so recent to me, you leaving. I remember it clearly. Spending that last day with you, you walking me home. And then, when we hugged . . . Maker, Cullen, I didn’t want to let you go. I remember squeezing you so tightly, as if I could press your body into mine, make you a part of me so I didn’t have to watch you leave.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, catching the moonlight and somehow making her even more beautiful to him.

“Mia came to me as soon as she got a letter from you. She always did, reporting everything you were doing, and how you were. I looked forward to those days so much. Sometimes I would make her read them to me over and over again, until she told me her voice would run out if she repeated it one more time. But I wanted to know everything. It made me feel as if you were still with me.”

Silence stretched on as he considered everything she’d said. He had no idea how to respond, not with everything the way it was.

“Cullen?”

“Yes?”

“Would you hold me? Just hold me, so I feel safe?”

He could think of nothing he wanted to do more. As she settled into his arms, he breathed a sigh of deep contentment. Even in this state, she was his Amicia, in his arms, and that was all he wanted.

Chapter 16: Around the Bend

Chapter Text

When he woke the next morning, Amicia had wrapped her body around his so thoroughly that, for a few moments, he forgot about her memory loss. In the dreamy state of early morning, they were still together, and there was nothing unusual about their position. Softly, he caressed her thigh, palm slipping upward to squeeze its fullness. As her breath brushed against his skin, he felt a slow, lazy heat building inside of him, the kind that spoke of leisurely couplings in the first light of dawn, of gentle, clumsy kisses. Without thinking, he pressed his lips to her forehead, letting her name spill out in a quiet moan.

It wasn’t until her body stiffened against him that he fully woke, realizing how overly intimate their position was. Immediately, he released her, jumping back and apologizing profusely.

“No, Cullen, it was my fault. I was hanging all over you! You must have been mortified.”

“Not at all,” he smiled. “I enjoyed being so close to you. Like the times we used to spend in your little fort by the lake.”

Her cheeks grew bright pink as she covered them with her hands, and she shook her head.

“Andraste, I was terrible. I used to drag you all over the place, whether you wanted it or not.”

“That’s not how I remember it,” Cullen chuckled, sitting back on the bed beside her. “I remember you coming up to me, so excited about some new thing you could hardly contain yourself. And you wanted to share it with me, and nobody else. I followed you completely willingly.”

As she smiled at him, he reached over to smooth down her hair.

“I’d have followed you anywhere,” he breathed quietly. “I still would.”

The temptation to lay everything out before her was great, but he didn’t want to overwhelm her. Besides, as Barris had said, he had the opportunity to court her all over again, and he wanted to use it to his full advantage.

They dressed that morning the same way they had undressed the night before, with their backs to each other. Cullen returned to his normal armor, more out of habit than anything else, but as he turned, he caught sight of Amicia standing before the mirror, running her fingers through her hair. Again, that thrill in his heart, and he stepped behind her. As he caught her eyes in the mirror, she stopped.

“You look lovely, as you always have,” he told her, smiling as she blushed. To cover it, she cleared her throat, turning quickly around.

“Do you want to show me around today?”

As she stared at him with wide, questioning eyes, he put his hands on her shoulders. She wasn’t going to get away from this, not at all.

“I’m serious, Amicia. You’ve always been beautiful to me.”

His thumb traced her jawline, and heat flushed her face. When she tried to look down, he caught her chin, gently tilting it back up. Had they not already confessed their attraction to each other, he couldn’t possibly have been so bold. But now . . . it seemed right. He could do all of the things he’d wanted to do, but had never had the courage for.

She raised an eyebrow. “Really? Always? Even during that summer that I cut my hair and it curled into a giant halo around my head?”

“Even then,” he chuckled.

They climbed down from his room, both smiling widely, and headed to get breakfast. The others made polite conversation, steering away from anything that might upset or disturb her. It was a smaller group than usual, with the Inquisitor gone for a few weeks, so it wasn’t overwhelming at all. A few interesting stories were shared, and they told her the harrowing story of the escape from Haven, at her request. To Cullen’s surprise, she accepted it easily, asking where she was and what she’d done to help.

When breakfast was done, she bade them goodbye, and let Cullen lead her around Skyhold. While they walked, they talked more about the past, with Cullen filling her in on the things that had happened to him the past twenty years. He left out the most difficult parts, skimming over the worst of both Kinloch and Kirkwall, and ended with the opening of the breach, her arrival at Haven, and what he knew of her life between. As they reached the garden, she turned towards him.

“The day that I woke up . . . you told me my father wouldn’t be troubling me anymore. I realize that I’m an adult, and thus out of his reach, but there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”

After a moment’s hesitation, he answered. “Yes. He’s . . . gone. Dead, I mean.”

“How?”

Cullen’s heart fell, and he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to hide things from you, but I don’t feel like now is the right time to tell you that.”

She frowned, but trusted his judgment and didn’t ask again. Instead, she changed the subject.

“Show me your favorite part of Skyhold, Cullen.”

“Really?”

She nodded, then wrapped her arm around his.

“Lead the way, Commander.”

They crossed the courtyard, heading towards his office, but turned just short. As they climbed the stairs towards the ramparts, Cullen got an idea. At the top of the staircase, he stopped, standing in front of her.

“Close your eyes.”

Wide eyed, she questioned him, but he insisted. After he’d made sure they were truly shut, he stepped behind her, placing his hands on her waist. Then, carefully, he moved her towards the edge. When he’d found the perfect view, he told her to open them. As she gasped in wonder at the spectacular sight before her, Cullen only had eyes for her. He took in her wide eyed excitement, the way she bounced on the balls of her feet. With his hands still resting on her hips, he moved closer behind her, until her back rested against his chest, and, to his delight, she leaned against him.

“It’s beautiful, Cullen.”

They stood there for some time, with her admiring the view, and Cullen admiring her. Then, slowly, he slipped his arms around her. When she turned to question him, she found his lips nearly against hers, his breath tickling her skin. Quickly, she turned her head forward again, but didn’t move. He could see her heart racing in the pulse of her throat, just as he’d heard her nervous gasp before she turned, and he smiled. Though he was seized with the urge to kiss that tender flutter, he resisted. Instead, he stepped back, then graciously held out his hand to continue the tour.

They covered the remainder of Skyhold quickly, though she did take some time to admire the variety of mounts they’d collected in the stables. She liked the giant nugs, in particular, so unlike their tiny counterparts, and Cullen watched in great amusement as she stroked their heads, talking to them in sweet whispers.

“Cullen, I want one,” she joked, or at least he assumed she was joking. “A great nuggalope to ride to town, where I will sell my salves and poultices under an assumed name, wrapping myself in silks and gaining a reputation as the mysterious old hag of the woods!”

Laughing in spite of himself at the dramatic way she threw herself over, Cullen pulled her back upright. She seemed to be more at ease now, even if she had no memories of the place, the time outdoors doing her tremendous good. As he placed a hand in the small of her back to lead her away, he shook his head.

“Amicia Tattersol, you are neither old, nor a hag, thus I think your plans should be put aside for the moment.”

Her playful pout tugged at his heart, the plumped lips begging for a kiss he knew he shouldn’t give, but, Maker, was he tempted. The way her eyes sparkled up at him, though familiar, held such different meaning for him now. How on earth had he not seen that she was in love with him, with the way her breath trembled as he drew near, or her cheeks flushed when he smiled at her?

Day by day, they walked the grounds together, slowly going over the past. At times, he felt she might be remembering things. Small flashes would come to her, and she’d make a comment or call someone by a name she’d known before the accident. But then it would pass, and frustration would take her again. Sometimes she would get so angry at herself for not remembering that Cullen would have no choice but to hold her tightly against his chest, soothing her and assuring her that it would be alright.

When she felt comfortable and familiar enough with the grounds, Cullen slowly resumed his duties, as she returned to helping around Skyhold. She did help in healing, some, but more often she cooked, or helped with the laundry. It worked well, for the most part, until Cullen had been forced to have a stern talk with one of the kitchen girls. She’d made a thinly veiled reference to their relationship, and the fact that she and Cullen were sharing a room, insinuating that her amnesia was perhaps less than genuine. Afterwards, he’d found Amicia bawling in the garden, asking him if the entire Inquisition thought she was only there to service him. He’d been absolutely furious, and probably a little harsher than necessary, but he’d impressed upon everyone in earshot that the situation was far more serious than it seemed, and comments like that would be taken very seriously.

Despite going back to their usual duties, even in a limited capacity, Cullen insisted they eat lunch together, alone. Every day, he sought her out, if she didn’t find him first, and they would find a quiet place to hide. Sometimes, it was a simple arrangement, lunch taken in his office, he in his chair while she perched on the edge of his desk. They would talk and laugh, while Cullen took every possible opportunity to touch her in some small, subtle way. A touch of her hand, or possibly her knee, to gain her attention. Reaching up, brushing his thumb across her lips to sweep away some crumbs, or, on one occasion, slipping his arm around her waist to lift her from the desk. She’d yelped in surprise, but placed her hands firmly at his shoulders, leaving them there even after he’d put her down, just as he’d still held her close. Andraste, she’d looked so lovely, her cheeks flushed, a wide smile stretched across her lips as she’d stared up at him. That was the moment he came closest to giving in, going so far as to cup her face in his hand and lean forward before he’d stopped himself. He’d been rewarded with the knowledge that, even as he’d leaned towards her, she’d remained completely relaxed in his arms, as if she were waiting for him to do exactly what he hadn’t done.

When he could find more time for them, Cullen would go all out for lunches, spreading a blanket out on the ramparts to make an elaborate picnic. He’d be absolutely ridiculous about it, making sure they weren’t disturbed, sharing a glass with her instead of providing two. Sometimes, he would feed her, teasing her by snatching the food away at the last minute to pop it into his own mouth. Others, he would ask her to feed him, pretending his hands were too dirty, or otherwise occupied. Then he would carefully take the morsel from between her fingers, letting his tongue brush over the sensitive pads, sometimes sucking the remnants gently off. She would leave those days with her skin flushed, her pupils blown wide, and Cullen would feel a great surge of pride at throwing her so off balance.

There was a heady tension growing between them, exactly as he had planned. He wanted no doubt in her mind about his feelings, he wanted her to see the true depths of his devotion to her. Moreover, if her memories never returned, he wanted her to still think of the way they’d gotten together and smile. No simple “by the way, we confessed our love to one another before you lost your memories”, he wanted her to feel properly chased. And if her memories did return, well, then it would be a wonderful story, of how he loved her so much he was willing to win her over a second time.

The process wasn’t always a smooth one, however, as Cullen occasionally pushed his luck a bit too far, or something would bring a disturbing memory to the edge of her understanding. In particular, she seemed dangerously close to remembering the circumstances of her father’s death. That was one thing he would spare her from, if he could, remembering how upset she’d been when she confessed to him that evening in his loft.

On one occasion, he returned to his office to find her standing at his desk, his broken lyrium kit open before her. He stopped suddenly, his heart in his throat, but before he could speak, she did.

“You used to take this.”

“Yes,” he breathed, muscles tensed.

“But . . . you don’t take it now. You quit. I remember that. You suffered, you had headaches, but you quit.” She looked up at him. “Does it still bother you?”

“Not often. Sometimes I have-“

“Nightmares,” she finished. “You have nightmares. And I’ve helped you, I think . . . .”

He crossed the distance, laying his hand atop hers on the kit. His body pressed tightly against hers, free hand at her waist, as he breathed quietly in her ear.

“You’ve helped me a great deal. More than I can say.”

He moved her hand with his, carefully closing the kit. For a few moments, they stood there together, her leaned against him, his arm around her waist. Then, slowly, he moved his head downward. With his nose, he traced the curve of her ear, letting his breath ghost over her neck as he did. He heard her draw in a sharp, stuttered breath, her eyes closing as she did, and let his lips brush her jawline. His name fell from her mouth, half whisper, half moan, as her fingers twined with his atop the forgotten box.

Then he slipped his arm from around her, stepping back. With the hand he still held, he tugged her to face him, kissed her knuckles, and let go. With some satisfaction, he noticed that she was reluctant to let go, sighing quietly as he took his place at his desk, beginning his paperwork.

“Cullen, I-“ she stopped. “Never mind. I’m sorry.”

A pang of regret swept through him. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, or seem as if he was leading her on, only string the process out a bit. A gentle teasing, not cruel torture.

Perhaps it was time to do things a bit differently.

Chapter 17: Home Again, Home Again

Chapter Text

Cullen wrote several notes before bed that night, sending them to their recipients by the nearest recruit. If things went as he hoped, in less than a week he’d have a wonderful surprise for Amicia, and he could stop feeling guilty. He’d apologized several times, of course, for crossing a line that shouldn’t have been crossed, but it did little good. She only told him he’d done nothing wrong, and remained painfully distant. They still ate together, shared a bed, talked, and laughed, but it wasn’t quite the same as it had been. There was a sadness to her now, an internal loneliness he could scarcely stand. It must have felt to her almost as if he’d left her again, stranding her at sea when she needed him most.

He shouldn’t have pushed so hard that day in his office, when she’d found the lyrium kit. She was already overwhelmed, remembering that bit of the past, and he’d only added the pressures of romance to the mix. He’d intended it to be a tender moment, something to share and build on. Instead he’d allowed himself to get carried away, acting as if her remembering that one small thing had opened their past for her.

When he’d gotten word back, finally, he’d been overjoyed, rushing immediately to talk to Amicia. He found her at the laundry again, listening to the gossip with her eyes wide and a smile on her face. He was proud of the way she’d fallen so easily back into the rhythm of Skyhold, even if she didn’t remember it. There was a beauty to her resilience- just one more reason for him to love her.

When she saw him, she gave him a small wave, then excused herself to go to him. As he walked, he saw the women behind her exchange significant looks, and the older woman in the corner winked at him, calling out for him to “take care of their girl”. He responded with a short bow and a nod, then let Amicia loop her arm through his and lead her away. When they were a short distance away, he spoke.

“Amicia, would you like to take a trip with me?”

He kept his tone light and casual, trying not to give away the excitement bubbling inside of him. He’d wanted to do this since well before the accident, but had never felt comfortable asking, with so much to do. Now, though, things were much different.

“You mean it, Cul?”

“Of course,” he smiled. “We have a bit of business in Ferelden that needs taking care of, and-“

She cut him off by leaping into his arms, pressing a hard kiss to his cheek that took him by surprise. Judging by her flushed cheeks, it had startled her, too. She jumped back quickly, trying to pull her hands away, but he caught them instead, bringing them to his lips.

“It’s quite alright. In fact, perhaps I ought to arrange surprises like this more often, if that’s the result.”

At his sly smirk, she gave him a playful slap on the chest, and they continued walking. When she realized they were near his room, she turned to him.

“When are we going to leave?”

“As soon as you’re packed,” he responded with a broad smile. “I’ve already made the necessary arrangements.”

With a squeal of delight, she ran ahead of him, packing the things she needed as quickly as she could. By the time he’d climbed to his loft, she was ready and waiting, bouncing with anticipation.

“So where are we going?”

“I’ve told you, Amicia. Ferelden.”

With a roll of her eyes, she scoffed. “Ferelden is a large place. Where IN Ferelden?”

He stared at her, smirking, his eyes full of mischief.

“That, Amicia, is a surprise.”

By the end of the day, they were making their way towards their destination, with Cullen deflecting any questions she asked to try and learn where they were going. He only alluded to the “business” that needed taking care of, and said they’d be there soon enough. The truth was, the trip they were taking WAS the business, with no reason other than his desire to take her.

So they made their way, camping when they needed, sharing a tent under the stars and talking about any and everything they could think of. Cullen began to feel a weight lifting from his shoulders. He’d needed a break from the seriousness of the Inquisition more than he’d realized, and taking that time off with Amicia by his side brought him back to the days of his youth, when they’d barely had a care. He watched her every move, entranced, bewitched, and falling deeper in love with her by the moment.

The last night, before they reached their location, a heavy storm blew in on a cold wind, and were forced to take shelter inside an old inn. It was small but sturdy, and run by a wizened old man who seemed to be mostly deaf. When arranging for a room, Cullen impulsively told the man that he and Amicia were married. He’d feared the man would try to force separate rooms on them if he thought otherwise, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her so far away.

That was how they ended up together in a room barely large enough for the bed and fireplace it contained, soaked to the bone, with even their driest clothes damp around the edges. Once the gentleman had closed the door behind them, bidding them a good night, Amicia turned to Cullen and burst out laughing.

“Cullen, your hair!”

Aside from being sopping wet, it was beginning to curl into the tight ringlets he normally fought against, laying in a thousand different directions. With a deep frown, he glared at her. He reached over to where she stood, then gave her braid a hard tug, sticking out his tongue. She retaliated by reaching over to ruffle his hair, making it stick out even worse, until he had her by both wrists. As he tried to keep her at bay, he noticed the chattering of her teeth, and realized he was cold, as well.

“Andraste preserve me, we’ll freeze to death if we don’t get out of these wet clothes. Have you anything dry to change into?”

For a few moments, she rummaged through her things, taking out piece after piece to hang around the room. When she’d reached the bottom of her bag, her lips twisted into a frown.

“No. Maker, everything got soaked! I’ll be lucky if anything’s dry enough to wear by morning.”

“Same,” Cullen replied. “But we can hardly stay like this, not unless we want to freeze to death.” He took a deep breath, then looked in Amicia’s eyes. “I’ll tell you what. Stand near the fire and turn your back to me. I’ll undress, then hang my clothes to dry and get into bed. When I’m done, I’ll turn away, and you can do the same.”

Her eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”

He wasn’t exactly happy with the idea, particularly since, unlike her, he remembered the times they’d been together. Being so close to her like that, with those memories in his head, was going to drive him crazy. Still, he couldn’t think of another solution. Wearing even moderately damp clothes would chafe and be uncomfortable, not to mention keep them from being as warm.

“Can you come up with a better option, Micia?”

After twisting her lips in thought, she threw up her hands, turning around, and Cullen let out a huff of breath. To say he was nervous was an understatement. Not only was he worried about the ways his thoughts might cause his body to react, he was worried about how she might feel if that happened. Even if she responded positively, this wasn’t exactly how he was hoping they’d end up naked together in bed again. Their first time together had been spontaneous and unplanned- but as wonderful as it was, he wanted it to be different this time. He wanted to romance her, to spoil her, to worship her body and make her feel as if she were the luckiest woman alive.

When he signaled to her that he was done, his back turned towards her, he closed his eyes and tried very hard to ignore the sounds of her disrobing. Every quiet huff, every wet slap of clothing against wood or stone, made his throat drier, his skin flushed with the desire he wanted desperately to push down. By the time he felt the tug of blankets that told him she was getting into bed, he had no choice but to remain with his back to her. Otherwise, she’d know exactly where his mind had been wandering. Luckily, she had the same idea. The next indication of her settling into bed was the gentle bumping of her back against his, her cold skin making goosebumps raise across his flesh.

“Andraste, Cullen, I’m sorry I know I’m cold, I’ll try to keep away.”

With that, she moved to shuffle away from him, but he reached behind to stop her. His hand slipped down the surface of her thigh as he whispered to her.

“Don’t worry about it. If you’re cold, come here, let me make you warmer.”

He hadn’t meant it as it might have sounded, but she didn’t seem to take it that way, either. Instead, she pushed back against him, then hesitated for a moment before rolling over quickly, cupping her body behind his.

“Is this alright?”

He nodded, but his mind was screaming. No matter how hard she was shivering, he couldn’t stop himself from noticing everything that he shouldn’t be, every inch of skin that was pressed against his. He wanted to reach around, take her hand and press it to his lips, to turn and run his hands over her body, as he’d done before. Desire was turning into a great aching need within him, and he didn’t know if he could resist.

He must have, because he woke a few hours later, when the fire had died to softly glowing embers. Their dull orange light cast flickering shadows against the wall, catching his eye and distracting him from what should have been the most obvious thing.

Sometime during the night, he and Amicia had turned to face one another, and now her legs were tangled with his, her body pressed tight against him.

He closed his eyes and tried to take a deep, cleansing breath, but all that did was draw his attention to the softness of her breasts, and the way they felt against him. Maker, they were so warm, the buds of her nipples brushing against him with each breath she took. Her head rested on his arm, mouth so close to his he’d barely have to move at all to kiss her, to take her bottom lip between his teeth in a tender bite before slipping his tongue past. He couldn’t possibly move without disturbing her, and if he disturbed her, she’d be all too aware of the way his cock was rapidly stiffening against her thigh, eager to slip inside.

Then she moved in her sleep, her hand sliding up his back to draw him closer, her hips wiggling to move tighter against his, and before he could stop it, a groan slipped from his mouth. She was now pressed hot and wet against him, the slightest movement of her hips dragging her slickness along his length. He placed a hand on her hip, intending to move himself away, to try and get out of the situation. Instead, he found her hand behind his head, her lips grazing against his throat.

Maker above, he couldn’t move, he wasn’t even sure he could breathe. All of his attention was focused on her, the way her hands danced across his skin, the way her lips caressed the tenderness of his throat. Though he knew it shouldn’t continue, he couldn’t find it in himself to wish for it to end, either. As he closed his eyes, willing his breath to steady and his heart to calm, she took his face in her hands, bringing it down towards hers. Their lips brushed softly together in something that was almost, but not quite a kiss, then she nuzzled her nose against his.

“What is this, Cullen, what’s going on between us?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. In the darkness, his mouth searched for hers, but stopped short, the same way his hands skimmed her body without quite caressing it.

“I just . . ,” she breathed in deeply, her teeth grazing his lower lip in a gentle tug. “I feel drawn to you . . . I can’t stop myself. Like there’s something I lost, and I need it back. Like I need YOU. But . . . .”

Andraste, he needed to tell her . . . he WANTED to tell her. But somehow, in this moment, it seemed wrong. How would she know it was real, and not something he’d made up because he wanted her?

“What if I’m wrong?” She continued. “I . . . I want to, but . . . I don’t think . . . .” She curled into a tight ball against his chest. “Cullen, I can’t. We can’t. This . . . I’m . . . confused. And I don’t want you to misunderstand, or to think . . . .”

She trailed off, and he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. Gently, he kissed the top of her head.

“It’s alright. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. Whatever you need, whatever you feel, however this ends up, I’m here for you. I always will be.”

He held her the rest of the night, cursing himself for not having said something earlier, for his body’s reactions, for his temporary weakness. He didn’t know if he’d handled the situation properly, it was only that he’d had a plan, and that wasn’t how he’d wanted or expected things to go. There was a reason he’d asked her on this trip, after all.

In the morning, they dressed, exchanging pleasant good mornings, even if there was lingering awkwardness. They returned to the road quickly, and it wasn’t long before Amicia began looking around curiously.

“Cullen?”

He hummed in response.

“Are we . . . we’re close to Honnleath, aren’t we?”

“Are we?”

He tried to sound nonchalant, failing as a smile pulled up one corner of his mouth. Immediately, Amicia began grinning at him.

“Cullen Rutherford, did you plan this trip JUST so we could come to our old village?”

“Well I thought it might be nice! You know, to visit some of the places we used to play together, our old homes . . . just walk around, remembering things.” Nervously, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Was that alright?”

Amicia rolled her eyes. “You silly-ass, of course it was! Thank you.”

“I just thought, maybe, that it would help your memory.”

As they spoke, they reached the edge of the village, and Cullen dismounted, helping Amicia down as well. Once he’d tied their mounts securely, he moved to take her hand, then lead her to the center of the place. It was much older than it had been, with fewer residents and homes in disrepair . . . but it was familiar. A wave of nostalgia washed over Cullen as he pulled Amicia to his chest. This was where it had all begun, decades ago. Where they’d met, become friends, and, although he only recently realized it, where he’d fallen in love with her.

His eyes fell on her face, every bit as beautiful as she’d been the last time he’d seen her here. They’d both been through so much in their lives, but he knew without a doubt he’d do it again. In their breaking, they’d found each other, and that was worth every moment.

“Amicia Tattersol,” he breathed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, “welcome home.”

Chapter 18: Memories

Notes:

*references to s*xual ab*se, inc*st, and m*rder below*

(but also serious fluff)

Chapter Text

Tears pricked at Amicia’s eyes as Cullen hugged her tightly, and she thought her heart might burst in affection. It was overwhelming, how he’d brought her back here to their old village, and she adored him for it. As soon as she’d collected herself, she grabbed his hand and began leading him around, looking for their old hiding places. It was just like old times, the feeling of her fingers laced with his, the pounding of his heart in his chest, and the quiet grin he wore as she lead him from place to place.

When, finally, they approached the lake where they’d spent some of their fondest times, he slowed down, pulling her back towards him. This was it, the foundation of everything, the source, the reason he’d brought her here. Slowly, he lead her down the pier, staring into the distance beside her.

“Do you remember this place? All the hours we spent here, hidden away from our families, playing at being grown-ups, even though we hardly understood it all?”

“Of course,” she smiled, looping her arm through his and leaning her head on his shoulder. “I was never happier than I was here, with you.”

“Nor I,” he breathed, then turned to face her. “Amicia, there’s something important I have to tell you. I should have done it earlier, I know- especially after what happened last night. But I wanted to bring you here, because here is where it all started.”

He took both of her hands in his, bringing them to his chest as he stared down into her eyes. Though he had no reason to worry, his heart still pounded in his chest, hands trembling with nervousness.

“Amicia . . . I love you. I’ve always loved you, even when I didn’t understand it. From the moment I left you that night, all I could think about was how much I missed you, how I wanted to get back to you. I never thought I would have the chance. Then you showed up, at Haven, and . . . .”

He trailed off, overcome with emotion. How could he explain to her the way she made him feel, how she eased his mind and calmed his nerves, the way he was absolutely certain she was the only woman he could ever love? Whatever happened in his life, he needed her beside him, always. He took her face in his hands, and saw that her eyes were filled with tears, just like his.

“This is what I wanted to the night I left you, but I didn’t have the courage. Now, though, I do.”

He swept her into his arms, kissing her passionately. As her hands twined around his neck, she melted against him, and happiness grew like a beacon in his heart, pushing away all doubts. When she broke from him to take a breath, she said the words he’d hoped to hear.

“I love you, too. I always have.”

Again, he kissed her, kissed her, and kissed her, until his lips were bruised and they could both scarcely breathe. After the moment was over, she smiled up at him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Cullen? Is this . . . new? Or had we talked about this before the accident?”

“We had discussed it, yes. But I was a fool, in the beginning, pushing you away and onto Barris because I refused to admit the truth to myself, and you certainly gave me grief for it.”

“Of course I did,” she laughed. “But why Barris? Not that he’s not a fine man, of course,” she said as they began walking again. “But why him, in particular?”

“He liked you a great deal, and, at the time, I thought he was a better man than I. You set me straight on that, of course. Asked me why I didn’t suggest myself, and told me you’d cared for me for years.”

“So I confessed first?”

“Yes. But it seemed strange, with your memory loss, that I would wait for you to do so again, or simply inform you of what had been. I thought that if I had another chance, then I should do what I ought to have done in the first place.”

She stopped, turning to him and pulling him down for a kiss.

“And I’m so glad you did. This is lovely, Cullen. Thank you.”

He felt truly happy once again, in a way that he hadn’t since her accident. As they strolled side by side, hand in hand, he felt as if the only thing that could possibly make the moment better was her memories returning.

“So, Cullen.” She sighed in a way that made him nervous, then continued. “Favorite memory of us together here?”

“At the lake?”

She nodded, and he felt a hot blush rising in his cheeks. He knew without a doubt what his favorite memory was. It was one he’d brought up many times, particularly after he’d left home, when the urges of pubescence had seized him and he felt as if he had to do something about it or burst. But he wasn’t sure if he wanted to share that particular memory with her. Instead, he turned the question around on her. Before speaking, she smiled broadly.

“We were eleven, and we’d gone swimming, even though we knew we weren’t supposed to. To try and hide the evidence, we laid on the pier in the sun, trying to dry our clothes out. I remember exactly how it felt- the warmth of the sun on my skin, the sticky wet clothing, drying slowly, and the cool breeze that came by from time to time. Then . . . I turned to look at you. Your eyes were closed, and the sun was in your hair, and I remember thinking then that you were the most handsome of all the boys, and whoever stole your heart would be the luckiest person ever.”

“That’s beautiful, Amicia.”

“So, what’s yours? It’s only fair.”

He started blushing all over again, but this time she noticed.

“Cullen, what is it? Wait- were you spying on me? Did you come to watch me swimming naked?”

“Well, if I’d known you did, I certainly would have.”

It fell out of his mouth before he’d realized it, and she started laughing.

“No, wait . . . I didn’t mean . . . .”

“Yes you did! I know you did! So what, Cullen? Did you watch me bathing? Changing in my room?” She stopped, grasping hold of his hands and putting them on her waist as she leaned against him, whispering in a softly mocking tone. “Did you think about it later, in your bunk after you’d left, taking yourself in hand and pretending it was me?”

He pressed a hard kiss to her mouth to shut her up, more forceful than he’d meant to, but it seemed she didn’t mind at all. Instead, she seemed to enjoy it, moaning into his mouth as his arms looped around her waist and sliding her fingers into his hair. Gently, she tugged against it, and soon he was moaning as well. Who knew being rough could feel this nice? She was small, but hardly delicate, so there were no worries of hurting her.

He filed those thoughts away, saved for a more appropriate time, and let the kiss end. Both of them were reeling slightly, dizzy from the kiss, but Amicia recovered quite quickly. Soon she had him following her again, heading down the path to her old home. She seemed so happy, so light-hearted she was almost floating down the path ahead of him.

Then she reached the end, and stopped abruptly. In a moment, she’d turned around, face pressed to his chest, as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Cullen, I . . . I don’t know if I can. It’s like it all happened yesterday.”

Her voice was quiet, and he stroked the back of her head.

“You don’t have to. We can go. I didn’t mean for this-“

She shook her head. “I need to. If I don’t face it . . . .”

She trailed off, turning back towards the house. It was long empty, abandoned since she’d left all those years ago. Cullen found himself uneasy as well. Though they’d both lived in the village, and near each other, her home had been far more isolated than hers, either by coincidence or design. It was likely that no one had ventured this way at all. Considering what had happened . . . .

He’d meant to reach the door before her, or what little was left of it, but his mind had wandered too far, and he’d been distracted. It was only once he’d heard the creaking wood that he came to, and by then, it was too late. A broken sob tore through the air, followed by something like a horrified wail. The next thing he knew, he was beside her, and she’d thrown herself into his arms.

“Did you know?” She gasped at him between sobs. “Did you know I had done this? That I . . . that I’m . . . .”

She couldn’t finish for shaking, and as Cullen looked into the dark shadows of the house, he understood why.

Laid across the table were the bones of what had presumably been her father, his skull smashed by the iron pan dropped carelessly onto the floor.

Maker’s breath, she must have seen it and, somehow, it made her remember what had happened. Now she was tormenting herself again, guilty, tearing at her own hair while screaming that Cullen should leave her, that she didn’t deserve him, that she was a monster.

As carefully as he could, he caught her wrists, stilling them even as she tried to beat against his chest. He called her name, but she either couldn’t or wouldn’t hear him through her desperate sobs, so he had no choice but to pull her away by force, dragging her away to the tree they’d stood beneath years ago, on the night he’d said goodbye.

As he pulled her against his chest, holding her so tightly she couldn’t hurt either of them or get away, he wept silently for her. All the guilt, all of the pain, for a man who deserved none. Amicia was the one who’d been wronged. Beaten, raped, treated with none of the loving kindness her heart deserved. And he, too, had been a part of that, abandoning her when she’d needed him. But he would never abandon her again.

When she tired herself, collapsing against him, he slid to the ground with her, holding her in his lap. Eventually, her arms twined around his shoulders, and she buried her face in his neck. He stroked her back, but said nothing, waiting.

“I remember it all,” she whispered at last. “The beatings. The accusations. His cruelty at every turn. And . . . .”

“He tried to force himself on you,” Cullen added gently. “You had no choice, Amicia.”

She nodded, looking up into his eyes as he brushed a tear from her cheek. Then her lips were against his, soft and gentle, and her tongue slipped into his mouth. There was no heat, no passion. Only a tender comfort, the assurance that he was real, that he loved her, that he was there. One hand pressed against the small of her back, the other squeezed her thigh, and when the kiss was over, he touched his nose to hers.

“I should have been here. Amicia, I’m so sorry. If I had known, if I could have spared you-“

“We wouldn’t be here today.” She kissed him tenderly. “I’d do it all again, to get to you, my love. And still consider myself lucky.”

“Maker, what an incredible woman you are,” he breathed, cupping her cheek. “To have you . . . .”

His mouth found hers again, and they kissed themselves breathless.

Back at Skyhold, she moved more delicately through her days than she had before their trip. Memories were returning faster, the slightest thing triggering a torrent of emotions, and not all of it was pleasant. In fact, it seemed that it was primarily the worst things she remembered. Events from her younger years, from the time she was away, would often come upon her suddenly, leaving her wrecked for the remainder of the day. During these times, Cullen was the only one she trusted, so he kept her company. Sometimes he was still able to work, her sitting beside him at his desk, while others required more attention. It was during these times that he would clear the afternoon to focus on her completely. When she needed it, he told her stories of his own missteps and failures, the wrong turns he’d taken in life and the consequences they had wrought.

Little by little, this was how they rediscovered one another, delving deeper into their histories than they ever had before. And the more time passed, the more Cullen began to feel as if they truly were one soul, born between two bodies, each complimenting the other perfectly.

Yet, somehow, things had not progressed further physically than they had the night before they’d reached Honnleath, at the inn. They still shared the bed, but nothing went farther than a few kisses, perhaps coupled with a wandering hand. For Cullen’s part, he was worried about Amicia, afraid that it would put too much of a burden on her emotionally. With her already distressed so often, he didn’t want to add another thing for her to fret about, another burden added to her shoulders. So he waited, although he wasn’t sure exactly what he was waiting for.

Chapter 19: Down the Well

Chapter Text

“Amicia, I have news.”

Even as the words spilled from his mouth, Cullen regretted them. They echoed the ones he’d used before Adamant, before Amicia’s accident, and he dreaded the thought that they might bode just as poorly this time, or worse. Despite her time unconscious and her memory loss, he knew he’d been incredibly fortunate- they both had. She had woke, she had remained herself, and her memories were returning with more frequency. She still cared for him, and he for her, and they were happily making plans for a future after the end of the Inquisition.

Things could have been so much worse, and that was the fear he carried in his heart right now.

“We’ve discovered Corypheus’ plans, or at least, we think we have. He is heading to the Arbor Wilds, to a long lost elven temple. Morrigan believes he is after some ancient device that will let him access the fade. In reality, it doesn’t really matter why he’s going there. Whatever he’s after, we have to stop him from getting it.”

He took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together, and brought it to his lips. As she shifted on the bed beside him, leaning her head against his shoulder, she sighed.

“How many are leaving?”

“As many as we can spare. Myself included.”

She jerked her head up to stare at him, eyes wide.

“Cullen . . . .”

“I have no choice. They need me there, just as you’ve needed me here.”

He sighed heavily, turning to her and cupping her face in his gloved hand. Though the hour was late, he hadn’t bothered to take the time to undress, not yet. Not when there was so much to be said.

“We’ll have many allies there, and it won’t be as dangerous as-“

He couldn’t say it, not right now. Not after already calling it to mind. Instead, he leaned to kiss her, and she covered his hand with her own.

“Do you want me to stay?”

She stared at him, waiting. After what had happened, he knew it was no trick, no attempt to goad him into an argument. She wanted to know, honestly, but he wasn’t sure himself. There was the terror of leaving her behind, neither of them knowing anything until much later. But if she went, there was the possibility of another accident, and he couldn’t possibly be that lucky twice. He didn’t want to worry about her- and he would if they were separated, but he couldn’t keep her by his side.

“I don’t know. Truly.” He paused for a moment. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know. I’m-“ she sighed. “I’m not myself, I know that. But I may never be, whatever we hope. I remember how to use a bow, and my aim is as good as ever, but . . . well, I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted me to stay. All of this has been so hard on you, and you’ve never complained, you’ve never blamed me.”

“Because it wasn’t your fault, Amicia.” He caressed her face, letting her lean into his palm. “And I won’t demand anything of you, I won’t ask that you stay, or that you come with me. I want you to do what you feel is right, not what I tell you.”

“When do you leave?”

“Not for a few days. There are arrangements to make.”

She nodded, reaching to wrap her arms around his neck. His slipped around her waist, and for several long moments, they only held each other. All Cullen could think about was how much he cared for her, how lucky he’d been to have her in his life at all. That she had returned to him, after so many years, and she loved him as he loved her, seemed nothing short of a miracle.

When they released each other, both stood, and Amicia helped him remove his armor. She’d made a habit out of it, since they’d gotten back together. Each night, she dealt with his buckles and laces, taking each piece and storing it carefully away while he moved on to washing up. Then, they would take their respective places in the room and change, coming to bed together when they were done.

This night, when Cullen reached for Amicia to pull her close, he was surprised to find the soft warmth of bare skin, in place of the usual linen tunic. Then, all at once, her weight was on his chest, head tucked beneath his chin.

“What’s this about? Not that I’m complaining, of course,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her.

“I . . . have we done this?” She asked, her voice quiet.

His hands slid gently along the length of her spine as he tried to figure out exactly what to say. He had no intention of lying, of course, but he also didn’t want her to misunderstand anything. What had happened had meant more to him than he could possibly express.

“Yes,” he whispered, finally.

She nodded. “I thought so. But . . . I don’t remember it.”

Tenderly, he smoothed his palms along her skin. All of the emotions he’d felt the first time they’d been together came flooding back to him, his stomach tying in tense, anticipatory knots.

“It was sunset,” he breathed, stroking her hair, “and I had just told you about Kinloch Hold, and Kirkwall, and what I had done. You . . ,” he paused, swallowing the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. “You said you forgave me.”

She smiled against his chest, then leaned to kiss him. In the darkness, his fingers threaded into her hair.

“I’ll never forget the moment I first saw you, your tunic tossed aside, only your leggings and breast band. You were beautiful beyond measure.” He pulled her down into a deep kiss, keeping her face close to his as he continued. “You were my first, and I was yours. Both of us, grown, but still so in love with each other we couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.”

He chuckled softly, and as she kissed him, he felt the wet of tears on her cheeks. They burned in the corner of his own eyes, too, the emotions he felt even in the memory of it too strong to ignore.

“Andraste preserve me, I was so afraid I would hurt you, as much as I knew I wanted you. I was afraid I’d get carried away, or move too quickly, or that I wouldn’t be able to satisfy you.”

She gave a small laugh, running a finger along the line of his bottom lip.

“And how did that go?”

“Well, you certainly didn’t complain. And you made a great deal of noise, which I assume means you enjoyed it.”

She hummed quietly, then pressed a hard kiss to his lips.

“I think we should find out,” she whispered, rolling to her back. “Pants. Off.”

He tore his pants off eagerly, rolling on top of her and planting deep kisses along her throat and chest. As her hands tangled in his hair, he moved lower, until her firm nipple rested beneath his tongue, then traced it slowly. Her lascivious moan drew a smug grin.

“Maker, I missed this,” he groaned, hands sliding to cup her breasts. “I’ll admit, we were only together once or twice, but . . . .”

He moaned, pressing his hardness between her legs and making her gasp.

“I want this, Cul. Maker, I want YOU, so, so much. Please.”

She rocked her hips, drawing her wetness along his length and nearly making him cry out with the pleasure of it.

“Anything,” he breathed in her ear as he readied himself. “Anything for you, my love.”

There was a feeling of pressure between her legs, and a gentle sting that was pleasurable, all the same. He gasped as her nails dug deep into the flesh of his shoulder, then nipped softly at her earlobe.

“Andraste, you’re nearly as tight as you were the first time we were together.”

“Good,” she grinned up at him. “Then if I never remember that, I’ll have this. Maker, Cullen, I love you so much.”

He leaned to kiss her, what had once been a leisurely pace rapidly growing faster. It had been months since they’d been together, months since he’d had her body pressed to his, her thighs around his waist, and though he wanted to make it last, he was desperate for her. She seemed to feel the same, her hips rising to meet his in a frantic rhythm as she bit against his shoulder. His name echoed in the air, rising above his groans of primal pleasure as she called it again, and again, and again.

“Cullen . . ,” she bit her lip hard as she called him. “Cullen . . . please!”

He was about to ask her what she meant when he felt the hot rush of his climax coming on, and tried to pull back. Instead, she locked her legs around him, pulling him closer as she stared into his eyes. As his release filled her, she pulled him down into a tearful kiss, her hands hard against the back of his head. Sobs wracked her body as he collapsed across her, until, finally, he composed himself enough to speak.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Her arms wound tightly around his shoulders as she pressed her face into his neck.

“I don’t want to lose you, Cullen, and I’m afraid. This has . . . it’s already been so much, and now, with this . . . .”

She trailed off, letting him hold her tight against his chest. He couldn’t think of anything encouraging to say, any words of comfort, because he was worried too. All he could do was hope that the fact that they’d made their way back to each other twice now meant that they would again, come what may.

“I just want us,” she sobbed. “I want you, and me, and babies. Our family, Cullen, our children.”

A faint smile twitched at his lips, despite the tears. Her, as a mother. Her, pregnant. With HIS child. A home, with babies.

“I want you to marry me,” she said, laughter beginning to tint her words. “Marry me and make me fat with your babies as soon as possible! I love you,” she sobbed, while somehow laughing at the same time. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you, too, Micia.” He cupped her face in his hand, tilting it up towards his face. “And I promise that I will marry you and give you as many children as I can, as many as you like. As soon as all of this is done.”

They laid down, her body cupped in front of his tightly as he held her. He knew she cried several times, because he woke to her body shaking, her cheeks wet. She simply rolled to face him and nested herself against his chest, and he stroked her hair until sleep claimed her again. By morning, she’d made her decision.

“I’m coming with you. I can’t bear the thought of staying behind, unknowing.”

“Alright.”

It’s a simple acknowledgment, but it lifted a weight from both of them, to have the decision made, and to inform everyone and make proper arrangements. There were a few raised eyebrows and questioning looks, but by now they knew not to question it. Cassandra, however, pulled him to the side later.

“Are you certain you want to do this?”

He stopped suddenly, dumbfounded by her words, and she continued.

“I’m not questioning your devotion to our cause, nor am I asking you to change Amicia’s decision, should you go. What I am saying is . . ,” she pursed her lips, trying to find the right words. “You have been through a great deal, Cullen, even before she came to Haven. And then, after the accident . . ,” she sighed. “I am not sure that, were I in your situation, I would want to associate with the Inquisition, or the Templars, any longer. I’m not sure that I would even be able to fight. I suppose . . . I suppose what I am saying is that if you were to wish to leave, to take her and make a stable life for yourself away from this, no one would blame you.”

He shook his head. “No. I might wish to leave- and, truthfully, it has crossed my mind more than once- but that wouldn’t solve our problems. Corypheus would still be out there, and we wouldn’t be able to live with ourselves if we didn’t do something about it.”

“Does Amicia feel the same?”

“I haven’t spoken to her directly about it, but I’m certain she does.”

Cassandra nodded, and Cullen turned to walk away, but she called him back to her with a wry smirk.

“You know, when this IS all over, if we have won, you may want to consider retirement.”

With a laugh, he returned, “Of course. Amicia has already asked me to have her with child as soon as possible.”

“You as a father, now THAT will be interesting.” She laughed along with him for a bit, then clapped him on the shoulder. “In all seriousness, Cullen, I hope the two of you find great happiness together. You deserve it.”

“If Amicia is by my side,” he grinned, “I promise, you will not find a happier man.”

That evening, he told her about Cassandra’s offer, and she responded exactly as he’d thought she would.

“I couldn’t leave. Not until I knew we’d be safe, and our children would be safe.”

“I figured as much.” There was a short pause before he spoke again. “Last night . . . when you said what you said about us, and children . . ,” he sighed, almost afraid to ask. “Do you really want to have children as soon as we’re free from here?”

She smiled dreamily at him and threw her arms around his neck.

“Maker, YES, Cullen. Yes. I’d let you get me pregnant this minute if I thought we’d be gone from here before the birth. I see no reason at all to wait.”

He smiled at her, a shy, astonished grin as he pulled her into his lap, and she took his face in her hands.

“I’m completely serious, Cullen. I love you. I know the life I want, what I’ve always wanted. As long as it’s something you want too-“

He squeezed her hips suddenly, making her yelp as he pulled her down into a kiss.

“Andraste preserve me- of COURSE I want that, too! I just can’t believe that you . . . that we . . ,” he sighed, pressing his face against her throat. “You want children with me,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “It seems impossible, and yet . . . .”

“Here I am. And I do. Maker above, how I want it.” Her fingers laced with his, pulling his knuckles to her lips. “Just THINK of it, Cul. Our child, growing inside of me.”

“You, getting enormous,” he laughed, hand running across her stomach. “Midnight cravings. Mia, insisting on visiting to help out.”

“You, panicking when I go into labor,” she smiled at him, cupping his jaw. “It’s first cry. Your face, the first time you hold it in your arms.”

“How beautiful you’ll look, even exhausted after the birth, when I look at you for the first time . . . as a mother. The mother of my child. Our lives tied permanently together.”

She wiped her eyes on her wrist, slapping at his chest.

“Oh, look at this. Cul, you’ve gone and made me cry!”

With a deep chuckle, he kissed her cheek.

“I’m dreadfully sorry.”

“No, you’re not! You love it . . . because it means I love you.”

He kissed her with a resounding smack before dumping her onto the bed and propping his body over hers.

“Absolutely.”

Chapter 20: Pride Has Fallen

Chapter Text

Cullen stared at Amicia, dressed in her leathers and bracers, readying herself for the march to begin. He wanted to memorize it, memorize everything, each and every part of her. If the worst happened, he wanted a clear picture of her in his head, the last thing he thought of before the end, or to know he remembered every detail of her, just as she was, if it was her. His mind wandered back, far into the past, thinking of the first time he remembered seeing her. Of course he’d seen her before that, he’d seen her a thousand times. But the first time he could remember clearly, she was standing the same way she was now. Shoulders squared, chin held high, her face fierce in the first mists of morning. Her bow held tight in her fist, eyes focused on some distant target. She’d been so much smaller then, so much younger, but no less dangerous looking.

Suddenly her eyes turned to him, gaze softening into something that neared pain as he faced her for what might be the last time. Bow and quiver were forgotten in an instant, clattering to the ground as she ran towards him, feet sliding over the rock, arms stretching towards him. Before he knew what he was doing, his weapons were lost just as carelessly, his feet moving towards her. She leapt into his waiting arms, legs wrapped around his waist, and caught hold of his face to kiss him, harsh and rough. With her arms around his shoulders, her weight resting on his hips, she let her teeth dig into his lower lip. Her breath trembled against his cheek as he held her, his heart beating wildly inside his chest. They had to make it, both of them. They had to, because without the other, they were lost, no reason to live, no direction to go in.

No words were spoken between them, because there were none to say. Things would go as they willed, whatever came would come, and they would go on, however they had to. Besides, after everything that had happened between them, they both knew how the other felt. A love like theirs didn’t come every day.

He watched her disappear with the archers, heart in his throat, and prayed to the Maker that she’d be alright.

He fought with everything he had. Every ounce of strength, of will, of determination was poured into defending himself, and into defeating their enemy. Each time his strength began to falter, he held the image of Amicia in his mind, and their dreams of a family. He thought of how she’d been hurt, unconscious before him for so long, and still she’d fought through, she’d awakened. She’d lost her memory, and all knowledge of their relationship had passed from her mind . . . yet she’d returned to him, come home to his arms once more. If she could do that, he could fight on. He would. For her. For their future, for their children.

Once, he caught a glimpse of her through the trees, during a break in the fighting. She held her bow at her side, her face a mask of concentration as she’d looked ahead to the coming soldiers, planning. The afternoon sun shone behind her, filtering through the leaves and surrounding her with a golden glow that made her look like a primitive goddess, or perhaps Andraste herself, if she’d been an archer. If he’d never met her before, and he’d seen her like that, he would have fallen in love with her in an instant.

It was late by the time the battle ended, and there was a great deal of confusion in the aftermath. To begin with, they could find neither the Inquisitor nor her companions, alive or dead, and no trace of Corypheus. As the Commander, Cullen had to meet with Josephine and the others to discuss the best course of action, which was to head back to Skyhold and hope that they showed. There had been a broken eluvian there, beside a dried well, and it was suggested that perhaps they’d made their way home through it, prior to it’s breaking.

Beyond that, there were a great many injured to tend to, and Cullen was certain that Amicia would be busy with that. He had, miraculously, come out of everything without any injuries at all, and so he decided to walk among the troops to thank them for their service, and tell them how well they had fought. Admittedly, he’d hoped to run into Amicia along the way. When he didn’t, he decided to return to his tent. The hour was quite late, and he was exhausted, after all, and no one had come to give him news of anything having befallen her. He could only assume that she was simply busy with her duties, and headed toward bed.

The moment he entered his tent, his heart leaped into his throat. There was a figure laying in his bed, propped on her elbows, with a devious smile spread across her face.

“I was wondering when you’d return.”

Her voice was low and sultry, and Cullen found every ounce of exhaustion leaving his limbs suddenly.

“And how long have you been waiting, Amicia?”

She hummed thoughtfully, teasing at her lower lip with a finger, then licked her lips.

“Hours, Commander.”

Her eyes ran the length of his body, asking without words for him to remove all that he wore. Yet his feet seemed rooted to the spot, incapable of moving as his throat went dry and his cock began to wake inside his trousers. He couldn’t be sure, for she had the blankets pulled over her chest, but he thought perhaps she was completely naked atop the furs.

He wasn’t sure if it was the suddenness of finding her waiting, the thrill of knowing she was alive and unharmed, or adrenaline still burning through his veins from the battle. All he knew was that it was suddenly urgent that he bury his cock inside of her. He needed to be naked NOW, and he was going to take her hard, without the benefit of mercy. If those on the far reaches of camp didn’t hear her screaming his name, then he’d failed himself, and he’d failed her.

Apparently, he’d taken too long in undressing, because as soon as those thoughts passed through his head, Amicia threw back the blankets, revealing to him the full length of her naked body. In the dim light of the tent, she was a delectable vision of loveliness, the light of the candles flickering against her skin, shadows accenting her breasts. A hot rush of blood filled his cock, making it strain against the ties of his pants as he began dropping his armor hurriedly to the ground. He looked up again as he untied his trousers, the last cursed piece of clothing standing in his way, and found his hands stilled at the sight before him.

Amicia was on her hands and knees on the bed, her messy, loose braid hanging over her shoulder as she arched her back, rocking her hips seductively. With a lick of her lips, she raised a finger to beckon him forward, and he obeyed her without a second thought. Then, she perched on her knees before him, thrusting her breasts forward, out of the shadows, as she worked his laces. The taut buds of her nipples called out to him, delicious, tantalizing, looking for all the world like ripe, rosy berries, begging to be tasted.

Then his laces were undone, his cock freed as she slid from the furs and onto her knees before him. She pushed him backwards, turned him until his shadow no longer covered her, and he could see her perfectly as she leaned forward onto her palms, staring up at him on her hands and knees. He reached out, tucking his hand under her chin to lift her face towards his.

“Maker,” he breathed, voice ragged with lust, “but you are a lovely sight.”

She leaned forward again, and the next thing he knew her tongue was running slowly up the inside of his leg. By the time she reached his upper thigh, he was groaning, weak enough in the knees he was a bit worried he might collapse. Swallowing quickly, her tongue darted out once more, and Cullen gasped as she began tracing him from back to front, teeth gently grazing the tender flesh that hung between his legs. With each gentle nip, his arousal grew, cock hardening until it was almost painful, his hips moving in a rhythm all their own against her.

Suddenly she stopped, and his eyes flew open to see her leaned back, resting on her knees, with her palms spread on her thighs. As she gazed up at him, eyes full of something near worship, she took one of his hands and wrapped it around her braid. Then, as she placed her hands on his hips, she purred a single sentence.

“Don’t be gentle.”

Her mouth engulfed him, eyes locked with his, until he felt himself beginning to enter the tight channel of her throat, the vibrations of her moan humming deliciously along his length. She moved only slightly, teasing him, rubbing her tongue along his underside until he thought he might burst with frustration. It was only then that she took his free hand, placing it behind her head, and used it to push her own head forward and onto him. As he looked into her pleading eyes, realization dawned, and he understood why she’d said what she said. With widened eyes, he asked her if she was sure.

Her moaned response was all it took. Though he was initially slow, worried about hurting her, it didn’t take long for him to get lost in the pleasure of it. Seeing her on her knees, mouth wrapped around him, trusting him to set a brutal pace without hurting her was intoxicating, as was the way her knees kept spreading beneath her, giving away the extent of her arousal. She felt incredible around him, and the fact that she was enjoying his rough handling made it that much sweeter. Soon he had her braid wrapped around his hand, using it to adjust the angle of her head and where her gaze fell. When her eyes closed as she moaned in pleasure, he jerked it hard, forcing her to open them.

“Eyes on me, darling. I want you to see just how much I enjoy this.”

At that, she groaned impossibly loudly, eyes rolling back slightly, and Cullen sped his hips with a smug grin. He’d have to stop soon, if he didn’t want to finish this way, but he couldn’t bear to quite yet. Something about the whole situation- the way she folded before him, giving him control, the fact that she was entirely naked, exposed, while he wore trousers still, and most especially the fact that, should anyone walk in, they would know immediately what was going on- all of it had him feeling like a beast, hungry and primal.

He was so absorbed in it that he nearly missed the opportunity to stop before he finished, remembering only at the last minute that he’d intended to do so. He jerked Amicia back roughly by her braid, dropping to his knees in front of her to kiss her harsh and deep. Then, before she could utter a word, he flung her to the furs on her stomach, braid still wrapped around his hand. She felt the sudden weight of his chest on her back, and he forced her to turn her head so that he could whisper in her ear.

“Do you still want this? Rough and harsh?”

She nodded against the furs, whimpering beneath him as his hand caressed her bottom. For just a moment, he let his fingers brush over the wet swell between her thighs, drawing a gasp, and then his palm was cupped over the mound of her ass.

“And should I smack you? Here?”

He squeezed to emphasize where he meant, and she moaned out a ‘yes’. Then he let his hand travel further, fingers spreading her lips to expose her dripping sex to the chilled air.

“Tease you? See how many times I can pull you to the edge without letting you fall before you cave in and beg me for it?”

A nod as she bit her lip, her hips already squirming beneath his hand, looking for relief.

“And then, my dearest Amicia . . . what if I break, and I give in and fuck you like the animal you make me feel I am? Take you from behind, just like this . . ,” he pressed his hips into hers, letting his cock graze lightly against her opening, and heard her whimper again, on the verge of tears. It was nearly enough to break him, make him change his mind, until he heard her voice beneath him, trembling with want.

“Yes. Oh, Maker, Cullen, yes . . . please!”

He did exactly as he had promised, striking her hard enough to make her yelp, her body stiffening beneath his. Immediately, his hand slipped between her thighs, fingers working harsh and fast against her until she was moaning and squirming, calling his name in panted breaths. Then, suddenly, he stopped, moving instead to place bites along her shoulders, her neck, as she cried out, hips wiggling against the furs. It was only when he heard her pained whimpering that he began to touch her again, dragging her again to the precipice of bliss. Then, again, he stopped.

He tortured her this way for longer than she could count, stopping each time the rush of pleasure began to overtake her, until tears were falling from her eyes. Such painful sweetness in his touch, her body flaming with need, his voice a primal growl in her ear. It was such a shock to her when he released her body from beneath his own, jerking her hips up to plant his face between her legs, that she came at the first sweep of his tongue. Still he devoured her, tongue pulsing against her as his cock throbbed angrily between his legs, her face buried in the furs beneath her to soften her screams.

By the time he pushed inside of her, both of them were frantic with pleasure and need. His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips as he slammed into her again and again, sweat dripping from his brow to roll down her back as she moaned and cried wordless beneath him, bracing herself against the onslaught of his passion. He was brutal, and she loved it, just as she loved him, as he loved her.

By the time he’d filled her, both were exhausted, soaked with sweat as they collapsed onto the furs. Cullen took her shaking body tenderly into his arms, soothing her, kissing her, as he pulled the blankets over them both. While her fingers trailed lazily across his face, he watched her eyelids grow heavy. She was perfect, they a perfect fit for one another. As she drifted slowly into sleep, he could only thank the Maker, once again, that she existed at all.

Chapter 21: Deep Breath

Chapter Text

Cullen held Amicia in his arms, memorizing the shape of her body, the way it felt against his. Since the Wilds, there had been a tension, thick in the air, like smoke. Each day, he wondered if it would be The One, the day the final battle began. So far, they were still waiting, but he knew it wouldn’t be for long, especially now. The Inquisitor and Morrigan had just returned, and he’d been called to meeting, immediately.

“Stay nearby, in the Great Hall. Please, Amicia.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

As she watched him disappear behind the door, she chewed her lip nervously. War was coming, she could feel it weighing on them, suffocating every moment, stealing the spark from all joy. Each night she and Cullen shared the bed, sometimes coupling frantically, sometimes tenderly, but each night, she wondered if it might be the last. Tears spilled in the darkness, and she reminded herself again and again- Cullen was strong, determined. He would make it out, if it were possible at all, for her. Just as she would for him.

She paced, wondering what was being said in the war room, if they knew the day and the hour that the battle would come. Had Morrigan and the Inquisitor found a way to match the madness of Corypheus? Or were they telling everyone to say their final goodbyes? Moments later, a dark rumbling echoed through the walls, and a familiar sickly green washed through the sky. Amicia’s heart began to pound in her chest, palms sweating, as she waited.

A rush of activity began the moment the door opened, with the Inquisitor rushing out to her companions with Morrigan following. Josephine called to the servants, relaying instructions, while Leliana rushed to her tower, shouting indistinct instructions as she went.

And then came Cullen. He rushed towards her without a word, sweeping her into his arms, cupping her face and kissing her like he may never have another chance.

“He’s come. Corypheus. At the Valley of Sacred Ashes.” He pressed his forehead to hers, shaking his head. “He’s opened the breach again. Amicia, we-“ his voice caught in his throat, and she took his face in her hands. “Our forces are still returning from the Arbor Wilds. We have no real army. If-“

She kissed him, sealing the thought away. She couldn’t bear it, she wouldn’t. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. As she let him go, he drug her away, into the undercroft. With a single nod, Harrit brought forth two items. One was a bow, shining with the strongest runes available. Cullen took it, pressing it into her hands.

“May it serve you well.”

The second item, Cullen took from his cupped hand, lifting it to reveal a chain with a small coin on the end. Amicia gasped.

“Cullen, your lucky coin . . . .”

He placed the chain around her neck, kissing her cheek.

“May it protect you, when I cannot.”

A blush formed on his cheeks as he fumbled in the pouch on his side, bringing forth a small wooden box.

“There is one more thing . . ,” he breathed, voice trembling. “I wanted to . . . that is, if you would . . . .”

He began to open the box, and Amicia saw the flash of silver and glinting of a jewel. Immediately, she pressed the box closed, back into his hand.

“You’ll ask me after,” she smiled. “So we both have a reason to return.”

Then she reached into a small pocket on her tunic.

“As it happens, I have a gift for you, as well.”

She pulled out a silver chain, sturdy, simple, and held it out. At the end of it dangled a small shield that carried the symbol of the Inquisition upon it, with two minor changes. At the center of the eye, in place of its iris, was a heart. Inside of the heart, two initials were intertwined- an A, and a C.

Tears filled Cullen’s eyes as his heart swelled with love. He took the shield in hand, running his thumb over the surface of the heart, and then he turned it over. In softly glowing writing, there was an inscription that Cullen read aloud.

“My love will shield you. Always.”

“I had Dagna make it.”

He pulled her against his chest, holding her as tightly as he could, then let her put the shield around his neck. The next moment, a scout stuck his head through the doorway.

“Commander? You’re needed immediately.”

He glanced at Amicia, who shooed him away.

“Go. I’ll see you soon.”

He rushed towards the door, then stopped and turned on his heel. Amicia ran at him, knowing exactly what he wanted. The moment she leapt into his arms, he kissed her deeply and passionately, until he could scarcely breathe.

“I love you, Amicia.”

“Love you, too, Cullen.” She leaned to place her lips against his ear, then whispered quietly. “Don’t forget- you’re getting me with child the moment all of this is over. And I can’t wait, so fight well.”

With a crooked smirk, he bowed towards her, then left to assume his duties. Amicia followed, falling in with the archers.

By the time they reached the Valley, it made the aftermath of the Conclave look like an afternoon picnic. The sky was dark, tinted with orange and red around the green of the breach in a nauseating display. Demons ran amok, taunting, chasing, causing terror and mischief as they could. And at the center of it all, Corypheus. His twisted facade, streaked with red lyrium, made Cullen’s blood boil with fury.

As he thought back onto the past months, Cullen shook his head. So much had happened. He’d joined the Inquisition, a mostly broken man, hoping to find either purpose or death, and he didn’t care which it was. Then, suddenly, Amicia had stepped back into his life, and everything had changed. He’d been a fool, pushing her away, leading her towards Barris, before finally admitting to himself that he cared about her, that he always had. He’d known the joy of finding out she loved him in return, the pleasure of joining his body with hers. And he’d known the agony of her injury, of losing everything they had built together. He’d made it through, and she’d returned to herself, and to him. There was a future for him, with her, and he’d not let anything take it from him.

He fought like a man possessed, slaughtering demons, hacking his way through Corypheus’ minions like they were dried grass. Nothing would stand in his way, nothing would keep him from fulfilling his promise to her. They would wed, and have children, and he would spend the rest of his life showing her how much she meant to him. And when all of this was done, he would never again be parted from her, he’d see to that. Injuries he sustained meant nothing. He ignored them, moved through the battlefield with only one thought on his mind. He must return to Amicia.

She was doing her part, firing arrow after arrow into the demons that poured from the breach, until the ground was black with their blood. In her head, the constant refrain of Cullen’s name, the dream of the life they would have. She was no fool. Whatever he said, he would likely be tied to the Inquisition for some time, but, with mercy, they’d have some amount of freedom. He had earned that much.

Amicia. Amicia. All his thoughts were on Amicia. The way she’d looked that first day he’d laid eyes on her, at Haven. The way her lips had felt against his, the thrill in his heart the first time they’d kissed. The absolute terror when he thought he’d lost her, worse even than Kinloch- because that he’d made it through. If he’d lost her- but no. Not those thoughts, not here, not now. He thought instead to the first night they’d made love. He’d been so afraid, trembling at the thought of being near her, despite how he’d wanted it, as well. And then he’d laid eyes on her, tasted her, touched her skin . . . .

He’d left a part of himself behind with her, though not in any real, physical sense. But that, he thought, his heart suddenly giddy, would come soon. They would lie together, bodies entwined, and amid the heat and passion, a child would be made. Their love, made flesh. Her belly would grow, huge and ripe, rippling with the life they’d made . . . the thought alone nearly brought him to tears. His love, his Amicia . . . the mother of his children.

It would be a simple life, she thought. Not much, surely. But with each other, what could they possibly lack? Every golden sunrise she could ever want lay in the amber of his eyes, every warm bed in the comfort of his arms. Only a house, large enough to for the two of them . . . and their children.

Their children.

Her knees grew weak at the thought of it, of binding herself to him, physically as well as spiritually. Would their children have his hair, the wild, barely contained ringlets he’d had in his youth? She prayed that at least their daughter would, if they were blessed with one, and that she’d be given her own determination, her readiness to take on the world. Their son, he should have Cullen’s strong chin, his heavy brow, and the way his serious frown could dissolve into a smile in an instant. And all of their children, every one, should be born with the capacity for love and selflessness they had both found within themselves, thanks to each other.

A great noise came from overhead, and the floating rock of the temple’s remains began to shake. Little by little, it broke apart, pieces tumbling to the ground. The few forces they had gathered began running, trying to get out of the way as the whole thing began to fall.

Then, in the distance, Amicia heard a familiar voice, calling her name.

“Cullen!” She screamed, taking off toward the sound.

The moment their eyes fell on each other, relief washed over them. It wasn’t over, not yet, but they would be together when it was.

Cullen fell to his knees as he took Amicia into his arms.

“Amicia . . . ‘Micia . . . you’re alright,” he panted. “You’re safe.”

“And you.” She kissed him hard on the lips. “What’s going on?”

He shook his head. “I’ve no idea. The demons left, and the earth started shaking. Then-“ he paused to catch his breath. “Then the rock began falling.”

A voice cried out in the distance.

“It’s the Inquisitor!”

For a moment, Amicia looked to the sky, and then she felt Cullen’s hand on her face, turning her back towards him.

“Whatever happens, however this ends, my eyes will be on you.”

Moments later, a shout of triumph echoed back and forth through the valley, followed by cheers and whoops of celebration. Somewhere in the distance, the Inquisitor was giving a speech, or maybe answering questions. As she passed by, Cullen and Amicia gave her a glance and a quick nod, then turned back towards each other.

It was done.

After a lifetime of obstacles, there was nothing now that stood in their way, no more worries or second guessing, no more threat of a future that wouldn’t come.

Cullen stood, and despite the injuries he had that needed tending to, he lifted Amicia to her feet easily. While the rest of the Inquisition readied itself for the journey back to Skyhold, they prepared for another journey entirely. Yes, they would return to Skyhold, they would stay and celebrate, and Cullen would have loose ends that needed to be tied up. Then, their life would begin, together.

Cullen had kept the ring he’d gotten in his pocket throughout the battle, to remind himself of what he had yet to do. For a moment, he was tempted to ask her then and there, in the Valley of Sacred Ashes. Then he paused for a moment. He’d done a great many things on impulse in his life, and rarely regretted it. This, however, he wanted to be special. She knew it was coming, so just asking wouldn’t do. It needed to be breathtaking.

Chapter 22: Ever After

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

He spent the entire trip back to Skyhold going over it in his head, trying to think of a way to truly surprise her, but it wasn’t until after they’d returned that everything fell into place. A few quick words with Josephine, a few more to Cassandra, and then it was put in motion. The question was whether or not it would burst out of him before everything was arranged. Each time he looked into her eyes, the temptation nearly broke him. More often than not, it resulted in a frantic race to his loft, to their bed, and a coupling so full of heat he was surprised the sheets didn’t catch fire. At the rate they were going, he’d have her with child before he managed to ask her.

When Josephine told him everything was arranged, an uncountable happiness consumed his soul. Time. It was nearly time, and the question writhed inside of him, ready to burst forth at any moment.

She knew, of course, that something was going on. He couldn’t stop smiling, and each time he saw her, he had to pull her into his lap or place a quick kiss upon her lips. He snorted in laughter and made jokes with the others, more silly than serious at any given moment. And, each night before bed, he laid his body atop hers, full of kisses to pour along her skin as he declared his love for her.

“Amicia,” he whispered to her one night, “there is to be a party. Three days from now. I . . ,” he hesitated, running his fingers through his hair. “I ordered you a dress. Tomorrow it will arrive, and you’ll need to try it on.”

“Cul, you shouldn’t have!”

“It was entirely selfish.” He kissed her, fingers teasing along her ribs. “I wanted to show everyone how lovely you are. That the Commander of the Inquisition has the MOST beautiful w-“ he swallowed, pausing. “The most beautiful woman in Thedas.”

“And I the most handsome man,” she sighed. “But what is to happen later? After the celebration, I mean.”

He rolled to his back, letting her settle on his chest before answering.

“Well, unfortunately, I won’t be entirely free of my duties as Commander, not for some time. But I have arranged for us to have some time away. Nearly a month, I believe. Long enough for us to find a home, hopefully.”

“A home! Cullen, I can’t believe it . . . that you and I . . . that we’ll be . . . .”

“I know. But I’m grateful. More than you can understand.”

The party couldn’t come soon enough, especially once she’d seen the dress he’d chosen for her. It was a deep shade of sea green, fitted at the bodice, with a long, flowing skirt, and scattered with delicate silver flowers, each one applied carefully by hand. At the neck was a silver collar which descended into three finely crafted chains, one at each of her sides, with the third falling between her breasts. From there, they joined into a gleaming net that followed the lines of her body, accenting it’s shape, just as the nearly waist high slit in the skirt accented her legs. It was the most beautiful gown she’d ever seen, and at first, she thought perhaps it was meant for the Inquisitor, instead. Once she’d been assured that it was hers, she’d squealed in delight and run to thank Cullen.

“I assure you, it was my pleasure,” he chuckled as she threw her arms around his neck. “Now, will you be hiding this one from me, as well?”

“Of course! You might have ordered it, but you haven’t SEEN me in it. It’s perfect, and you’re going to wait.”

He growled in playful frustration. “You delight in torturing my senses, don’t you?”

“Yes, and it’s why you love me.”

“It is, Maker help me,” he laughed. “I positively adore it.”

She teased him mercilessly with details and descriptions, raising his desires at the most inopportune times. If they’d still been as busy as they had before, he might have lost his mind with desperation, unable to slake his lust. Instead, he kept her pinned to the bed . . . and, on a few memorable occasions, his desk. He’d never been more glad he preferred sturdy furnishings.

By the time the day of the party came, he knew he couldn’t wait another moment. He was bursting with excitement, trembling with nerves, and far beyond ready for their next step together. Amicia was positively giddy, from the moment she opened her eyes. The first thing she did when she woke was roll on top of him, kissing him awake, as he pretended to be deeply asleep in order to drag things out. It wasn’t until she began nibbling at his lower lip that he finally conceded defeat, wrapping his arms around her and laughing.

“Alright, alright, I’m awake! Maker, you don’t fight fair.”

“Not today. It’s the party! I get to wear your dress, and soon we’ll be free, for a little while. Andraste, I’ll be so glad to be away from this . . . alone with you, doing whatever we like.”

She sighed dreamily, and he reached to run his thumb over her cheekbone.

“You really are the most wonderful thing I’ve ever known, ‘Micia,” he smiled. “I can’t wait. But . . ,” he sighed, “you have an appointment today. I’ve arranged for you to meet with Josephine, who will help you ready for tonight. I’m sure she’s got some rather ambitious plans for you, so you’d best get dressed.”

She pouted for a moment, sitting up across his hips and rocking subtly against him. To her satisfaction, his eyes fell closed with a soft moan.

“Andraste preserve me,” he murmured to himself, then opened his eyes to cup her face. “Fine . . . I suppose it won’t hurt to delay for just a bit longer . . . .”

In the end, it had been more than a bit longer, it had been nearly half the day. Cullen was certain someone must have come to fetch them, but had likely left quickly upon hearing the noises that had drifted down from his loft. Neither of them had bothered being the slightest bit quiet. What was the point? It was his space, and everyone knew they were together anyway.

While Josephine helped Amicia get ready, Cullen moved through Skyhold, checking all of his arrangements. It had been no small task to get things prepared, especially with them spending so much time together. In the end, he’d had to rely on his friends, and trust they wouldn’t breathe a word of it to Amicia. For a man who exerted such control of his life, and with such specific preferences when it came to this, it had been beyond difficult, but things at least looked as he’d imagined. Now the question was whether or not Josephine could resist the temptation to tell.

He’d begun to get slightly nervous by the time Josephine came to him, but as soon as she gave the word, he leapt to his feet.

“I warn you, Commander, she is most curious why I’ve prepared her so early for the party. I explained that you had something in mind, but it was difficult to not tell her.”

“I’m grateful you managed,” he chuckled, and she pulled him into a hug.

“Good luck, Commander. And for Andraste’s sake, please, do not keep us waiting!”

He took only a few seconds to adjust his clothes and hair, then set foot toward the garden.

With each step he took, his heard pounded harder in his chest, the nervous tension causing his palms to sweat before he’d even cleared the stairs. No gloves today, no armor. Nothing that might come between them. He wanted her body as close to his as possible, the warmth of her palms against his own as he finally set free the question within him.

As soon as he laid eyes on her, the rest of the world fell away. Though the bright shades of sunset filled the sky, they couldn’t compete with his Amicia, nor the vision she was in the dress he’d picked. For several long moments, he couldn’t move . . . he wasn’t even sure he could breathe anymore. And she simply stood amid the greenery, smiling, and waiting for him.

“Amicia . . ,” he breathed, as soon as he was able, “you look lovely.”

The compliment flushed her cheeks as he stepped towards her, and she smiled shyly. It all felt new again, as if she were some mysterious and beautiful woman he’d only just met. Carefully, he took her hand, bringing her knuckles to his lips. As he took her into his arms, he felt her body relax against him, leaning into his chest. She breathed his name, looking into his eyes.

“What is this about? I know you’re hiding something from me.”

He grinned, squeezing her for a moment before kissing her forehead.

“Yes,” he said simply, then lead her to a nearby bench to sit down. As he took both of her hands in his, he breathed deeply.

“You know, when I first laid eyes on you at Haven . . ,” he chuckled to himself, “I can’t believe I was foolish enough to not understand then that I loved you. The way my heart turned in my chest . . . how quickly it beat . . . the joy at seeing you again, after all these years. But I WAS foolish. More so that I didn’t ask you to marry me at that moment.”

She laughed lightly, and he put his forehead against hers for a moment before kissing her passionately. When the kiss broke, he pulled her to her feet.

“Come this way.”

As he lead her away, she giggled, asking him again and again what was going on, but he said nothing. It wasn’t until they reached the door to the Chantry that he stopped, turning to kiss her again. When he let her go, he stepping back, pushing the door open behind him.

Through the doorway stood everyone they cared about, gathered around the beautifully decorated altar. As she stared, incredulous, he took her hands in his again and pulled her through the doorway. Dropping immediately to his knee before her, he kissed her hands, then looked up into her eyes.

“Amicia, my darling, will you marry me?”

Tears filled her eyes as she laughed.

“Now?”

“Yes. I don’t want to wait another moment. I love you. You are the beginning and the end of everything I need, everything I could possibly want. Only say yes, and we’ll be married right away.”

“Mia’s going to KILL you, Cul.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Oh, you idiot,” she laughed. “Of course it is! Do you even need to ask?”

He stood, sweeping her into his arms. “I’d rather imagined you’d say yes, or I wouldn’t have set up the wedding. Now,” he held out his arm to her, “shall we marry?”

It was a quick ceremony, presided over by Mother Giselle. When it was over, they all filed into the Great Hall for the party, which was now doubling as their reception. Throughout the night, Cullen insisted on introducing her to everyone who passed as his wife, Mrs Rutherford. Amicia didn’t think she’d ever seen him happier, which was perfect, because she’d never been happier herself.

As the night wore on, the crowd thinned, and eventually she and Cullen headed to bed. As he helped her out of her clothes, they talked more about the future.

“Mia really IS going to kill you for this, Cullen,” she said as he loosened the ties of her dress, kissing along her spine.

“She can yell at me in person soon enough. We’ll be visiting her during our break.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he nodded as she turned to unlace his pants. “I’m sorry I wasn’t completely honest about our time away, but I thought it would be nice to visit my family.”

“OUR family,” she emphasized, kissing him softly on the lips. “She’s my sister now, too.”

He stood for a moment, stunned into silence, before grinning broadly.

“I hadn’t thought of that. Perhaps that’s how I’ll introduce you. ‘Hello, Mia. This is Amicia, you remember? She’s your sister now.’ She’ll adore that, I’m certain.” He laughed. “But for now, I’d very much like to get into bed with my new wife.”

Amicia hummed in approval. “And your new wife is hoping very much that we’ll conceive a child tonight, if we’ve not already. Though it make take a bit of trying.”

“That, my darling,” he purred in her ear, “is something I am looking forward to.”

Notes:

Thank you for sticking with Cullen and Amicia’s story!

(I may add a Trespasser epilogue at some point, but for now I’m considering this wrapped up!)