"Hey!" Hands wrapped around his arm, silencing his step. His eyes snapped open and he stared slack jawed across a magnificent sight. A cavern split open through the earth. Blanketed in veins of lyrium, the walls towering above and below lit up like the stars of a moonless night. The blue glow bathed the cavern into an almost serene experience. It was beautiful. Cullen blinked, grateful to no longer have smoke piling in his eyes, and turned to the woman holding him.
Lana's eyebrows raised and she pointed to his feet. "You almost fell," she said. His boot hung an inch off the edge, prepared to take him even deeper down the crevice into whatever void waited beyond.
Cullen shuffled back a bit while Lana clung to him. He nodded a thanks, then returned to staring upward, "This is not what I expected. The color and emptiness. It's magnificent."
"You're lucky," she said, "my first trip into the deep roads involved dwarven politics. It was far less magical."
He turned to her, her face lit up with the lyrium glow, her eyes transcendent from the awe inspiring view. Even for being a jaded grey warden she still relished in the beauty of the Maker's hand. After a time she must have felt him staring at her, as she caught his eyes. But Lana didn't glower or break away, instead she held his gaze for a beat and smiled. More than the heat of the torch blasted his face. A creeping terror rose up from the depths of his mind. What if he couldn't break away from her? What if he didn't want to?
Lana shook her head and lifted her hand off him. "We should continue this way," she pointed towards the left. An outcropping of rock offered support above the long fall, but they'd have to travel one at a time. While Cullen tried to pound back half a thought into his brain, Lana took up the lead again. Her path twisted in and out of rock dissolved away by time and water, the lyrium providing a better light source than the torch. Cullen still held it high, clinging to the last bits of the outside world as they drifted deeper into the infested lairs of the darkspawn.
At some imaginary node, Lana turned to the left. It was one of a dozen other possible twists they passed and did not take, but they all looked the same to Cullen. He tried to not imagine how easily they'd become twisted around in the dark labyrinth, making a mental picture of every turn. Yet, deep in his gut he knew that if he lost his grey warden guide, he'd most likely die at the end of a darkspawn sword before finding his own way out. The caves narrowed again, nowhere near as pressing as the entrance, but Lana slowed and waited for Cullen to catch up. Her hand lifted and she pressed the back of it against his chest.
"What is it?" Cullen whispered.
Her eyes slipped closed as she mashed her lips together like sucking on a candy. It was strangely hypnotic, drawing Cullen closer. He almost jumped when her eyes snapped open, certainty burning in the light of the torch. "There's a nest of darkspawn to the left of us."
"How many?"
She shook her head, "It doesn't work that well, I'm afraid. But I'm getting the sense there are enough I'd not want to challenge them. Luckily, I think the phylactery should be pointing us to the right?"
Cullen fumbled to reach for the glass, her gaze unnerving him. His fingers only managed to skim the surface when he felt a rush of the beacon across his skin. The prey was close, and in the exact direction she felt. "How did you...?"
Lana shrugged, "Grey Warden secret." The right path dipped down, the ceiling pinching them low to the ground. They both had to slip along the rocky wall, one at time to make it past little more than a keyhole. The rock bulged out of the wall, as if a fist tried to reach into the cavern and froze. Cullen was fairly certain he could make it through. After Lana dipped past, he handed her the torch and tried to make himself as small as possible.
The rock bowed outward at the top, providing more room at the bottom, but he wasn't about to go crawling on the ground. Pulling in a breath, Cullen twisted to the side and eased into the hole. A squeal of scraping metal thundered against his ears as he dragged himself against the rocky wall. His armor was just large enough to catch.
"Hurry," Lana whispered at him, holding the torch closer than seemed wise.
"I am trying," he huffed, each shift pulling forth more of the squealing.
"Or be quieter," she added, her peeved voice drawing the same ire from him. Did she think he planned this?
"I would be if it weren't for this Maker blighted armor," Cullen cursed, inching his body along. He made it nearly halfway through the gap when the griffin on his chest bulged with a breath he didn't mean to take. "Oh no. No, no, no," he cried softly, struggling to unstick himself.
"What is it?" Lana asked, as if she couldn't see the fool he turned himself into. It was one thing to die in the deep roads from darkspawn or blight, or even the deep stalkers she mentioned, but wedging oneself in the rocks and starving to death earned nothing more than the Maker's scorn.
"I am...I cannot move," Cullen collapsed, wishing he had more to give. He was about to tell her to move on, find White and do what she could without him, when Lana dropped her staff and shifted the torch to her other hand.
"Ah," she said, and wiggled her fingers up through the gap of his collarbone.
What was she doing? You couldn't remove the armor while was was pinned in place. Lana didn't reach for a strap or buckle, instead her finger touched against the back of the breastplate. She didn't slip her eyes closed or even appear to concentrate, but Cullen tasted the fade drifting into their world. A chill crept off her skin like fog across a graveyard at dusk. It bloomed down his chest, the ice skimming across the metal griffin. It grew from an uncomfortable frost to a stinging pain biting through the linens and into his bones.
"What are you..." he began to ask when the armor popped, the seal against the rock broken.
Lana snaked her arm away from his armor and grabbed onto his arm. Thankfully, her hand was warm as she yanked upon him. Without the rock in place, Cullen was able to squeeze out into the cavern beside her. As he tried to check himself for damage he spotted a sheen of frost clinging across the griffin relief now slightly dented inward and scuffed. He looked up at her, and Lana shrugged.
"Cold metal constricts."
"You could have warned me."
"I suppose, but 'I'm going to freeze your armor, don't move,' seemed pointless when you already couldn't move. Here," she passed back his torch and lifted up her staff. "White's near. I'm certain of it now."
He nodded his head and reached for the hilt of his sword. Lana placed her hand over his, the same one that he now suspected could shatter his armor if given cause. How powerful did she grow in the intervening years? "Not yet," she said, her fingers digging into his.
"This is a dangerous blood mage. I should be armed," Cullen said, meeting her gaze. For a moment she looked about to argue, but Lana dipped back, her heat breaking from him.
"Of course, you're right. I...come, he's around this bend."
Unsheathing the sword that'd seen the end of far too many of Kirkwall's renegade mages, Cullen followed behind Lana as she moved through the dark like a deep stalker. The lyrium veins drifted away here, only a few patches of the blue lighting up the stones around them. But Lana didn't need it, it was almost as if she could smell the other grey warden. Perhaps she could. Or...
Cullen shook the idea off. She came to him, came to the templars to hunt a blood mage. There was no way she could be...no, he refused to even entertain the thought. It was madness. Lana paused at the end of another turn in the rock. Mercifully, this was large enough to fit him. Even with his lyrium ration nearly drained from his system, the mage was close enough Cullen could feel it through the phylactery. He gripped tighter to his sword, the leather crackling.
Lana watched his hand dig into the longsword, her stare a hundred miles away. She seemed to be contemplating something, or perhaps remembering another moment. Cullen was about to shake her out of it, when she whipped her head up towards him. Closing her eyes once, she nodded her head. Magic crackled around her entire body as she jumped around the rock to face down White. Cullen was inches behind her, his b
lade extended out.
Oh shit!
He nearly sliced into her elbow as he wrapped his sword arm around Lana's waist, pinning her close to him. Cullen dug his heels in, anchoring them both from the gigantic gap in the floor only inches away from their feet. She pressed back into him, her feet scrabbling to find purchase as she gazed downward.
A neck breaking fall below, the ground burst in an unnatural red fire. What drew them both to it wasn't the churning lava but the tentacles whipping in and out of the platform suspended above it.
"Broodmothers," Lana sneered, a hate twisting her face into something macabre.
Even from the vast distance, the creatures appeared massive. Their mottled, hairless flesh undulated off their upright chests as their tentacles slapped into the ground. An old memory of catching an ancient sow on her last litter stirred in Cullen's mind and he looked at the monsters anew. Oh, that wasn't just sagging skin dangling off their chests. Vileness radiated off the horrific things, pinging a primal disgust inside of him. These things weren't just unnatural, they were atrocities. He watched the two of the broodmothers tug upon something like a dog with a sock. It wasn't until the legs ripped apart, blood splattering in the wake, that he realized it was the bottom half of a corpse - which both creatures happily devoured. Bile rose through the back of Cullen's throat, and he had to lean back before he vomited all over the back of Lana's robes.
"Yes, Lady Mage," a voice spoke in the darkness, "the mothers of...I believe hurlocks. So, you know what that means."
Lana snapped her fingers and kicked out a ball of light. It arced above their heads and highlighted a man standing on the other side the pit. His hair was stark white, whiter than the snows of the Frostbacks, which appeared even more striking against the fine features. If they were aged, he wore them well. She wasn't kidding about him being svelte, even for an elf. He wore the blue and silver grey warden armor, though with less metal than of Cullen's, but his body was so slight he all but disappeared inside of it. His head bobbed upon a sea of fabrics and chainmail.
"White!" Lana shouted just as her ball of light faded away, blanketing him back in shadow.
But the mage lit up his own light source, a blue turning his patrician face gaunt and horrifying. "You're hunting for me. Of course you would. You always would. But do you know why?"
"White, listen to me. Please. You don't want to do this," Lana pleaded, trying to shout without drawing the attention of the horrible creatures below.
For a moment the elf sagged, his shoulders crumpling fully and he stared down at the broodmothers. "They wouldn't exist if it weren't for us, you know? That's how they make us. We made them, then they made us."
"What is he talking about?" Cullen tried to interrupt, but Lana waved him off, her bony shoulder burrowing into him.
"I understand, you're scared. But what you're planning to do won't fix anything. You know that. Please, let me help you," Lana's normally stern voice cracked, a gurgle of a cry breaking up her words.
White shook his head, then under great strain climbed up his staff to raise his head higher until he could look over at them. "You brought a templar with you. Wise. Best way to stop a blood mage is with a templar."
Lana stiffened in Cullen's grasp, her entire body tightening like a rope about to snap. Did she hope to pass him off as another grey warden? Cullen tried to bring up his sword, but he was mostly useless at this distance. He couldn't even drain the mage's mana without leaving Lana vulnerable.
But White didn't outright attack them, only twisted his head, and sighed, "Templar, forgive me for not knowing your name. But I suspect it's Templar in your mind. Templar all the way down. Templar in the blood." He tapped his head and twisted his lips into the cruelest grin. Cullen squirmed, steeling himself for a mental invasion by the blood mage, but nothing came. Not even a whisper skimmed over his thoughts. "No, it is good you are here. You should know too. Know the truth, know everything. It's in you, too, you chose it, some didn't. It's in all of us, or should be. The truth, we keep getting it almost right, but even more wrong."
"What truth, White? Why are you doing this?"
"Lady Mage, so young. Too young to be in this. That's what they do. They need them young, to feed to it. Everything we were told, it's all a lie."
"Wonderful," Cullen sighed. When anyone said the phrase "everything we've been told was a lie" it was best to lock up the sharp objects and keep them from swallowing their own tongue.
Lana didn't roll her eyes at White, but tried to inch closer to him despite the gap full of whatever the broodmothers were. "White, I'm sorry about whatever you've seen, but I need you to come with me. Please."
For a moment the elf looked about to cross to them as he extended a foot. He'd slip down into the cavern and break his neck, true, at least it'd solve the problem one way or another. But then his self preservation instincts kicked in and he slid back, "I wish I could, Lady Mage. You were better than most, we found some amazing answers together. But it didn't matter. None of it does. This is all wrong, everything, even this!" He flicked his fingers and the air above him flickered, revealing a thread of green light peeking out from the Fade itself. Somehow, he tore right through the veil! Cullen gripped tighter to his sword, the threat of demons now on the table. He'd never seen any mage rip apart the veil so easily before, most requiring enough lyrium to light up a cavern.
White slipped his fingers back, closing up the veil without a second thought.
"How did you do that?" Lana shouted, her eyes white in terror. That oddly comforted Cullen, knowing she was just as frightened of this unseen and unknown power.
"The same way I do anything, the same way you do...could do, will do. Nothing lasts forever, Lady Mage. I have to do this, for all of us. I am sorry if I hurt you in the process," White shouted. Then he drew forth a silver blade, the edge a ghostly blue in the light of the lyrium.
"Sweet Maker, he's going to..." Cullen shouted, but there was nothing they could do. White slit across his arm drawing forth the power of the blood. Cullen gripped tighter to Lana, extending his sword before them both. His hair stood on end as she snapped up some kind of protection spell, the energy wrapping around their bodies.
"White!" Lana screamed even while lifting up a bolt of lightning, prepared to throw it at him. "Do not kill the First Warden!" The blood mage looked up at her, his eyes drifting down in regret. Then he lifted his hands and the blood rose up around him. Thick and black, it clotted in the air around White. Lana tensed up, her shield thickening around them.
Rocks shattered off the walls, hissing in rage, but White did not throw the pile at them. Instead, he blasted the cavern above the pit. Boulders and chunks of the ceiling broke off and careened down towards the broodmothers. Their bulbous heads twisted up, the tentacles slapping in terror but there was nothing they could do to stop the incoming bombardment. The first struck one in the head, killing it instantly. Blood splattered into the lava below. The second screamed in rage as rocks slammed into the torso and tentacles. It wasn't until the final roof spanning boulder dislodged from the ceiling and splattered across both of their bodies that the screaming stopped.
"White!" Lana shouted, shaking off the horror of the broodmother's deaths quicker than Cullen. She gripped onto his arm while leaning as far out as possible. But the elf had drifted back into a tunnel and blasted the ceiling again, sealing himself off from them. "Damn it!" Lana screamed, kicking her boot into thin air. Cullen clung tighter to her, his eyes bulging from the effort while she raged over how close they came.
After her rain of curses dropped down to sacrilege under her breath, he said, "Do as before, with the stairs. Raise the debris up and form a bridge."
She sighed, her head lolling forward, "It wouldn't matter. He's too powerful, he can just collapse more in front of us. We'd be digging for ages before we'd get through." Her entire body leaned back into his, pressing the armor even tighter to his body. "He killed them, the broodmothers. No reason, they didn't even see us, but he
didn't hesitate."
"Was that..." With the danger passed Cullen realized he'd been holding his arm just below her chest for what now felt an eternity. Struggling to not croak, he continued, "What does that mean?"
"That he's still a grey warden. I thought he was possessed, surely only someone that...but to put an end to those things." Lana's body shuddered in his grasp, a fact that wasn't helping his realization that he was still holding her.
"What are they?" Cullen asked.
"They are what create darkspawn. This one would give birth to hurlocks. But it's not what they are now, it's what they were." She struggled through a breath and patted his arm, "They were women once. Humans the darkspawn corrupted into those."
"Sweet Maker!" Cullen cursed, sobering up instantly. He tried to peer back down again, to find a hint of humanity in those horrifying creatures, but only a few limp tentacles were visible beneath the carnage.
"The Maker had nothing to do with it," Lana spat. "'They looked on what pride had wrought, and despaired.'"
"'The work of man and woman, by hubris of their making. The sorrow a blight unbearable,'" Cullen finished the canticle, both of them staring into the hissing pit as the last of the rock dust burned up on the lava's surface.
"I know a way we can catch up to White, cut him off before he gets through the thaig," Lana spoke, her voice a whisper.
"Why do I have a sinking feeling about this plan?"
She snorted, and began to slide away from him. Cullen released his grip as she drifted to the side of the crevice. Staring into his eyes, Lana delivered her death sentence, "Because it takes us straight through the darkspawn nest."
Darkspawn
"Do you have any advice?" Cullen whispered above her ear. He was grateful Lana took the lead so she didn't watch his measly color drain from the horrors below them. Creatures not of the Maker numbered in the multitudes, their malformed skin slick with ichor as they all dug bare handed into the rock below them. There was no cohesive movement, no planning on the darkspawn's part. It was a twitching mass of terror, like a dead druffalo bursting with maggots.
"Advice?" She glanced around the caverns, knots of paths winding up and down throughout the area, most seeming to end in the pit below. On occasion, a cry or blood curdling shriek would echo up as one darkspawn threw a chunk of dislodged rock at another. Anywhere else it would cause a fight between soldiers, but the darkspawn shook it off and continued working. That froze Cullen's veins more than the broodmother's tentacles.
"For how to handle that many darkspawn in one area."
"Yes. Don't," Lana pivoted from their vantage point and stared up into his eyes. Terror skirted through her face, and it soothed him to know that despite her years walking through the deep roads even she found this madness.
"What now? We could still attempt to dislodge the rocks," Cullen said. It was a struggle getting through the cramped space for a second time, and while he did not relish the thought of a third, it was preferable to diving headlong into a hundred plus darkspawn horde.
"No, I believe I have something better," Lana said.
"Return to the surface and intercept White where there are no darkspawn hordes, as any sane person would," Cullen spoke aloud the words floating in his brain. He whipped around, a blush rising from his flippant tongue.
But Lana smiled, "I'm the hero of Ferelden, sane was never in the job description." She pointed towards one of a dozen holes carved into the cavern, the entire area dotted with them like a wasp's nest. "According to the map, if we follow that one it should twist around and drop us onto the road between two thaigs, which will intercept with White."
"And here comes the problem..." Cullen said even while calculating how they could drop down to reach it.
She softly elbowed him, "You're getting the hang of this grey warden thing."
"It seems to amount to run head long into danger, then -- at the last moment -- devise a brilliant way to survive."
That drew a chuckle from her, the sound so foreign in this demonic pit he felt himself smile. Lana slid around her pack and opened it. He couldn't fully see what she was inspecting, only the tops of something clay colored wrapped in wads of cushioning cotton. "When I get closer to the darkspawn they will sense me. It's part of the deal, we sense them but then they can sense us."
"Can they sense you now?"
"If they did, they'd be climbing over top each other to kill us. So, gonna guess not." She snorted and shook her head, "A rare time when a non grey warden would do better in the deep roads. Which is why you'll have to go first."
"And trust you can slaughter all the darkspawn alone?" Cullen tried to not sound indignant given what he'd seen of her powers, but even that seemed to be reaching into the realm of fantasy.
"No, I'm going to have trust that you can clear all the darkspawn in the way to create a path while I carry this," she hefted up one of the clay pots from her pack. It was nearly too large for her smaller hand, the pot sealed fully save for three holes drilled into the top.
"What is it?" Cullen asked, leaning closer.
Lana tucked it tight to her stomach like it was a fragile egg and breathed, "You'll see, but trust me. It'll do the job. If not, I have three more. First, we have to get down and without, um, exploding."
"Exploding?" Through sheer willpower, he kept his voice from cracking.
Lana ignored him, her neck craned so she could peer down at the ledge below. He watched calculations pucker the folds along her nose, the kind that seemed to be ending in more running than he anticipated. After a time, she turned to him and asked, "Do you think you could hold me?"
"Uh..."
"I can bend time to slow our descent, but we'd have to do it together and I'll only be able to use one hand." She indicated the supposedly more terrifying clay pot still snuggled to her midsection.
"Oh," Cullen gulped a few times, willing saliva down his raw throat, "yes, I am sure I could if...why don't I hold the pot thing while you cast spells with both hands?"
Lana's eyes widened as she glanced towards whatever it was, then she chattered her teeth, "That would be unwise. Very, very unwise. We only found a balance if a pressure is applied to...Just, you'll have to trust me."
"I do," he said so quickly she blinked from the confession.
"All right, good, that's...good. Grab me and we'll get started."
He'd already thrown his arms around her to stop her from falling once before. This was no different. There was no reason to treat it like an insurmountable task, just grip onto her body and think about darkspawn. Winds shifted, casting the smell of fetid sulfuric air through his nose and Cullen glanced down at the mass of creatures unaware of them. He pressed his fingers into Lana's hips, surprised to find less give than he expected. Something other than the typical corset protected her midsection.
"Ready?" she asked. Cullen nodded, then remembered she couldn't very well see him and whispered in her ear. It must be his imagination that she trembled from his breath, or he could unnerve her. Mages tended to skitter away from templars, and that's what she was a mage. And he was a templar, holding onto a mage, trying to find any canticle to recite that would get him through this.
Light sputtered up around the ground directly below them, the air refracting into frosted edges around them. It looked like water droplets splattered across a glass. "Jump!" Lana shouted. Together they both stepped off the outcropping and plummeted towards the rock a leg breaking distance below. The forces of the world tugged at Cullen, as strong as normal, and he tried to hiss in her ear when something yanked him upward. It was soft, and delicate, like gloved hands carefully plucking him up. They couldn't compete against the power of his jump, but each one slowed them a bit more until the pair landed flat footed.
The light melted away, and Lana sighed, "There, not so bad. I knew I could still do it."
"Still do it?"
"It's been a few years since I tried that one. I don't make a habit out of jumping off cliffs," she shrugged her shoulder
s and Cullen realized he still held her tight. Breaking away, she stepped forward, but didn't rush off to the supposed path out of the darkspawn. Instead, Lana turned to him and nodded, "Now's the time for swords."
"Right." He unsheathed his sword, the edge far too notched than was regulation. It'd seen an excess of use as of late. Cullen rotated his wrist, settling the blade into a comfortable stance. "This is when I take the lead."
Lana nodded her head and stepped back, her face vanishing into the shadows. Almost no lyrium chewed through the rocks here and they had to abandon the torch. At least he could unearth his shield with his free hand. The symbol of the order faded into the dank along with everything else in the deep roads. Cullen stepped forward, his eyes glaring down at the mass of darkspawn, then snapping back up ahead of them. So far so good, the monsters were too enraptured in their digging to bother with a couple of humans crawling above their heads. Even by the barest light of only a few deep mushrooms, he could see the path's entrance ahead. This was going rather well, all things considered.
"Ah," Lana cried behind him, her voice at a whisper.
Cullen stopped, but didn't turn to face her, his eyes hunting down at the unobservant darkspawn mass. "What is it?"
"The cavern is not empty," she said, a malice shredding her voice. She gestured the end of her staff at their only hope for an exit as two of the human sized darkspawn stepped into view. What were they called? Hurlocks? The last was lankier, its head extended like a wolfs. It struck Cullen how they milled about the same way a human soldier would, their weapons tipped across their backs as they slowly slid along the path. If he didn't know better, he'd swear somewhere there was a darkspawn lieutenant who screamed their names every day for insubordination.
"What now?" he asked. Three blood red eyes snapped at him and an unholy scream echoed from one. Well, that answered it. The first hurlock untethered its own axe and came at Cullen jabbering in their tongue. Swinging fast, Cullen caught the edge of the blade with his shield. He threw all his back muscles into knocking it away. The hurlock twisted to the side, giving Cullen the opportunity to attack with his own sword. The blade sliced up the creature's side, splitting through rib and offal that scattered in his wake. Still shrieking, the hurlock tumbled to the ground, black blood dribbling across the dirt. Cullen spun away from the dying creature to stare into the cold eyes of the second one. He tried to roll his shoulders back to bring the shield up, but the creature was too close. Its hammer swung high for a bone breaking blow.
Lightning crashed up the creature's armor, it's skin charring from the heat as its limbs convulsed. Unable to maintain its hold, the hammer slipped out of the dead hurlock's hands and its body crumpled backwards. The smell of burnt flesh twisted Cullen's stomach, but he still turned back to Lana. Her eyes glowed with the power of the fade. She didn't see him, her focus was on the last of the group. The final creature tipped its head back and cried, the sound drilling through Cullen's marrow and strangling his brain. He dipped down, summoning every mental exercise he'd used fighting against blood mages to will his arm up. The shrieking darkspawn lopped towards them like a gangly dog, its claws extended towards the prey.
It leapt into the air, teeth baring to bite down on Cullen, when the templar rose up and bashed the edge of his shield into the creature's jaw. It flew up from the force and Lana shot another bolt of lightning at it, knocking the body off their platform.
"What was that shrieking horror?" Cullen gasped, trying to shake his ears back to life.
"A shriek, actually."
"A creative endeavor naming that one, the grey warden's were really stretching their limits." He continued to rant until he could finally hear his own words, the shriek's spell having broken. Something brushed against the back of his arm, and he turned to see Lana prodding him gently with her staff. She still held the clay pot close, but her attention was on the landing below.
The shriek's body skipped through the darkspawn horde like a stone across a still pond. Ripples of creatures rose up from their digging to glare at the invaders who dared to kill one of their own. His early estimate of their numbers was far off. The darkspawn horde wasn't in the hundreds. The hundreds stood upon more hundreds, who were now trying to climb over them to see what disturbed their work. Thousands of red eyes hunted through the dark, sniffing for the grey warden.
"Oh Maker," Cullen cried, waving his impotent sword.
"To the path! Now!" Lana screamed, waving her hand towards it.
Cullen picked up his legs, the muscles groaning from all this sprinting. He ignored the pain and faced their only hope, which was quickly filling with more darkspawn. The horde may be mindless, but they caught on fast to what the invaders were up to. While some scurried up the rock face to climb to them, others ran along the paths, their blackened corrupted armor jangling like the peel of a death bell.
Fifteen of the creatures stood as a wall blocking off their path. Each snarled and snapped while waving their blades in fury. They didn't have to form a proper blockade, only one needed to get lucky. Cullen extended his sword and he tried to burrow under his shield. This was suicide now, but he wasn't about to back down. The air thickened and pulled from his lungs. He gasped for more and found himself swallowing icicles. Before he could turn to Lana to warn her, a blast of ice shot just over his shoulder. It struck two darkspawn in the chest, then linked to ones standing beside it, then another and another, until the wall was a fractal snowflake, each creature frozen solid.
"Bash through them!" Lana shouted, her words whipping against unnatural winter winds.
Cullen threw his might behind his shield and did as she said. When his body met darkspawn, there was no pushback from the creatures. They cracked in place, their cleaved bodies shattering into pieces strewn across the ground. He hacked a path through them with his sword, trying to carve it away and not think about the horrors of what it would look like upon thaw.
"Don't drink any blood!" Lana shouted, a dangerous exhaustion curling in her voice. How much more did she have in her?
"I wasn't intending to, rather doubtful the darkspawn have clean glassware," Cullen answered back, finishing off the last of their wall. His sword stuck into the meat, the body not shattering into pieces. The ice spell was wearing off quickly, even though it managed to kill fifteen creatures in one throw. He'd ever seen anything so destructive before. Maker, if the mages of Kirkwall learned how to do something like that...
His thought trailed away as the first wave of darkspawn crawled their way up to their level. "Lana! Behind you!" he screamed, waving his sword at her.
She spun and with one hand, smashed the bladed edge of her staff through the darkspawn's chest. Shoving it off with her foot, the creature tumbled back into its own, blood curdling on the ground.
"It's not dead!" Cullen shouted. Despite her best efforts, the blade only bit a few inches into the creature's skin.
Lana sneered and she raised the crystal end of her staff at the bloodied but not beaten darkspawn. The smell of decay and waste wafted off her as she cast something at the creature. For a moment it blinked, waiting for the spell to take effect, but nothing happened. She must already be out of mana. Cullen tried to shove her aside, but she stood her ground and with a flick of her wrist brought the staff blade through the darkspawn's skull.
Its entire body erupted, coating the walls and darkspawn behind it in blood and gore. Cullen ducked down, but Lana threw up a barrier, the ichor sizzling in the air before harmlessly falling to the ground. The other darkspawn, now coated in their compatriots life blood, twitched and writhed until one by one they all exploded in the same gore. The mage turned away from the scene and checked on the pot cupped tight to her breast. She must have sensed Cullen staring up at her, as she explained, "Virulent walking bomb combined with a little something I picked up in the Anderfells."
"That's..." The ground twisted below them, a massive quake vibrating up his legs and rattling every rivet in his borrowed armor.
Lana's face d
rained, the whites of her eyes almost visible in terror, "Oh shit, ogre!"
He'd heard of the horned creatures, ten feet tall with mouths wide enough to rip a man in half. The stories did not do them justice. Cullen gripped tighter to his sword as he turned to face the ogre rising up towards them, its feet smashing through the path. Each step rattled the cavern knocking rock off the ceiling. "How do we defeat it?"
"We don't, we run, now! To the exit!" she pointed towards the pitch black cavern that the giant was slowly climbing to cut them off of. Cullen whispered a prayer to Andraste as he willed his thighs to obey him one last time. That was all he needed, just one more burst of energy to make it through. More darkspawn climbed from behind, but the pair ran away from them. Lana was quick on his heels, her staff zapping out a bolt here and there, but if anything hit it was by luck. He swung both sword and shield with all the skill of a recruit, neither of them caring if they took anything down. All that mattered was survival.
A massive hand, as grey as the grave, reached for Cullen. He tried to swing to slice into it, but Lana snapped a more powerful lightning bolt at the ogre's leg. Its horned head shook and the hand moved for the mage attacking it. Cullen jumped high, straining his reach to try and slice into the ogre's arm. His blade bit at best a few inches into the thick flesh, but it was enough for the ogre to rear back. Lana dashed to the side, and both slipped into the cavern.
Pitch black, only the sound of their heartbeats and pounding feet echoed through the passageway. Cullen tried to ask if there were anymore darkspawn ahead, but his breath rattled in his chest, unwilling to part with a single word. The ogre tried to follow after them, but its gigantic size couldn't fit. Instead, it beat its fists against the outside of the passageway, shaking rocks off the ceiling. And through that, the horde continued to follow behind them.
"Lana?" Cullen managed to gasp out.
"Get to the exit!" she screamed, her breath steadier. Maker, how often did she do this? His elbows slammed into the walls and his feet rolled across uneven ground, but he didn't falter in his steps. Twisting through the black earth before them, Cullen felt a breeze fresher than anything from behind.
"I think I can feel it ahead," he said. Either it was his mind playing tricks or the area before them was a softer shade of grey in the field of black.
"Ah!" Lana cried, the sound of her scrabbling against the twisting landscape echoed behind. Cullen twisted and reached for her without knowing where she was. Somehow he caught her elbow, and heard the sounds of her staff clattering to the floor.
"Sod this," she said, shaking off his grip. Rising up, she lit her fingers with a flame. The burst of light bleached his eyes until he blinked and could see her face. People spoke of her duel against Loghain Mac Tir in the palace's throne room. How she bore a face out of ancient myth, the terrifying hero emerged from an unknowable land that steps out of it to save the world with a certainty unavailable to mortals. He thought it nonsense of course, but in this moment her face twisted into a controlled assurance so cold there was no arguing with her power.
Lana touched her fingertip to the clay pot. The end caught in fire, and she hurled it as far from herself as possible. The darkspawn watched the fire arc into their midst, the front ones twisting back from it. As it shattered into the wall, light and a powerful force burst free, shaking the walls of the cavern like ten ogre fists. Grabbing up her staff, Lana shoved into Cullen and the two of them rolled into the exit. The sounds of rocks smashing into earth and splattering bodies echoed in their wake. Even still, Lana yanked open her bag, unearthed another pot, lit it and tossed it in. This time the darkspawn screamed as they were aware of death shattering through the air. The few surviving ones scrabbled as the grenade caught and exploded into the walls of the cavern. There was no one to crawl out in the end, not that they could. The entire path collapsed into a wall of rock.
The humans held their breath, counting to hear if anything would try and crawl out through the debris, but it seemed to be impenetrable. Only their heartbeats echoed down the chiseled stones of the road they stood upon, dwarven runes lighting a red glow around them. Lana tipped her head, listening to that internal grey warden sense. After a moment, she smiled wide, "There are none near us. We did it!"
She jumped up and threw her arms around Cullen's neck. His fingers knotted behind the small of her back, lifting her higher as they gave in to the jubilation of walking through an army of darkspawn and coming out alive. Her cheek pressed into the side of his neck, and he felt it widening, the smile even infecting his dour face. They stood like that, bodies entangled in a celebratory hug for what felt both like hours and a heartbeat. He was well aware of the dangers that could be lurking in any of the multitude of shadows, but he also did not want to let go.
Lana's hands broke from his neck, her retreating heat chilling his skin as she slipped down off her raised toes. She stared up at him, only the ghost of a smile twisting up her lips while an enigmatic thought dove in the depths of her eyes. Whatever she was thinking, he knew he'd never fully know it, her mind always shrouded in mystery. Cullen bent his knees and, against all common sense, softly pressed his lips to hers. It was the barest of touches, a terror crawling up his spine at daring to try. His hands limply draped against her back if she needed to flee.
Her lips slipped away, and Cullen let her go, prepared to accept his mistake. He began to pull back when Lana hopped up onto her toes. Threading her fingers through his curls, she pulled his head down to hers. This wasn't the almost chaste kiss of before, she drunk from him like a woman walking the wastes. She tasted of the twang of magic but there was a sweet spice below, her tongue encouraging his, leading his. Cullen's fingers gripped into the small of her back, pulling her body tighter to him. A moan rolled in her throat and her fingers drifted out of his hair and down the armor. Her eyes flew open as she circled the griffin relief and she dropped off her toes breaking contact.
Cullen opened his arms, and Lana stepped out of them, her two fingers patting her lips. Shock threaded across her face and her eyes stared through him. "You should probably rest," she said, still sliding back as if afraid he might lunge for her. "After the fight, we'll have time to catch up to White, you'd want to be at your best." Lana continued to start and restart new sentences while she scooped up her staff and clutched it tight to her chest.
"I," Cullen began, his arms still outstretched. He felt too foolish to even lower them, "I did not intend to..."
She skirted around him, dashing deeper into the shadows of the roads. "Darkspawn could still be, I'll go and, go..." her voice carried, as if she needed to come up with an excuse to get far away from him.
Cullen lowered his arms, watching her vanish into the darkness. He could chase after her, try and explain that it was all a misunderstanding. He hadn't meant to, there'd been, it was just that...
"Maker's breath!" he chided aloud. Bunching his hands into fists, he glared at the ground and silently screamed in his head. Out of all the things you could try, you had to do that! You were here for a purpose, a purpose you just jeopardized for your own selfish wants! For the love of the Maker she's a, she's...
Knowing Lana was a mage used to chill his lust, or at least temper it until he could extract himself from the situation. Then she left, became a grey warden, saved the whole world, and he took ship to Kirkwall. He knew in his heart he'd never see her again. Certainly never speak with her again, or be so near to her his heart skipped in a delightful pain.
But she came to him, searched him out, needed him. And you went and destroyed all of that for a kiss. Cullen touched his lips in the same move as Lana did before she skittered away. He could still taste her on him, the lingering undertones reminiscent of lyrium. Did all mages have that same spark against their skin or was it just her? Why was he even wondering it? It'd never affect him again. Shaking his shoulders as if it could remove the memories of the past hour, he unknotted the bedroll off his pack. Little more than a celebrated blanket, Cullen snapped it a few times a
gainst the air hoping that assaulting it would make him feel better.
He didn't want her to need him. Many people needed him, needed him to hold that line between chaos and order in Kirkwall. Needed him to make the choices they couldn't, that they wouldn't, so blood didn't run through the streets. He wanted her to want him, and that thought made him feel even more worthless than before.
"Cullen..."
Twisting away from the beaten bedroll, he watched Lana step out of the shadows towards him. A determination roared in her eyes, which only made him shy away from her. He glared at the broken nub of an etching carved against the wall and spoke, "I should apologize for what I --"
She picked up his dangling hand and threaded her fingers through his. "Don't." Her thumb rubbed the back of his hand, the same way when she didn't seem to want him to follow her into the deep roads.
"But it was my unwanted affections that--"
Lana slipped her body in front of him until she was only a breath away. She tossed her staff to the ground without a care and cupped his cheek. Cullen turned his gaze even lower, embarrassed by the burn inching below her fingers. "You have nothing to apologize for," she said.
His eyes snapped up to hers, and he almost snorted in shock from a smile curling up her lips. "I don't understand," Cullen gasped, paddling to find some sense left in the world. "You, and I, it was...you left."
Lana's smile fanned out, and her finger circled across the stubble of his chin, "I needed a moment, to steady myself. To think. It's been..." her eyes dipped down and she shook her head, "I'm afraid I'm not very good at this."
"You're not alone," Cullen admitted, getting a chuckle from her. She raised her head and claimed his lips as her own, claimed his body, claimed his heart. He'd offered it up to her long ago without even realizing it. Now it struck in his soul how much of himself he'd abandon for her. All she had to do was ask.
The kiss was much gentler than their first, like two young lovers struggling to see if this other person could possibly care as much. He scooped her up and lifted her body to him. Their lips softly pressed and cupped against each other, trying to find the perfect spot to meld into one. He felt Lana break into a smile below him, which broke his own concentration. Slipping away from her, he brought his forehead to hers. His eyes slipped closed and he whispered, "This is not wise."
Lana chuckled again, "It's the deep roads, nothing here is ever wise. But, would you rather do something unwise now or regret never attempting it later?"
"I..." Cullen's life was staying in line, minding himself as best he could, and keeping others from shattering the rules. Wrapping Lana in his arms, he lifted her up and placed her on his bedroll. It was the least romantic spot he could imagine but Maker he did not care, and she didn't seem to either. Her fingers curled up behind his jaw, pulling him in for more kisses. Lana sighed as she leaned back, her hands exploring across his body. For the first time in an age, Cullen wanted to do something stupid.
Pillow Talk
If he was going to the void for that, it was worth it.
Lana propped herself up on her side and stretched across the bedroll until her toes clipped against the cold rock. His one hand rested against her naked hip, gently massaging the curve of it. He was too terrified to touch any other part of her, even after...
Andraste's grace, did they really do that? Did he do that? She caught his eyes and ran her fingers against his increasing scruff, knotting it against the grain. A warmth radiated off her body keeping the chill away between them, but a cool breeze still wafted against his backside. Knowing his luck, this would be when the darkspawn finally broke through their cave in - while he was bare-assed and unarmed. Cullen shook off the dour thoughts invading his mind and let his eyes drift down across Lana's body.
He'd expected her to dress quickly after...no, he hadn't expected any of that, truth be told. But it all happened so fast, his head buzzing with a thousand different thoughts -- all of them traipsing about in an ecstatic panic -- he could only sample parts of her. Now he felt he had all the time in thedas to savor what didn't seem possible.
Her graceful neck sported a birthmark shaped like a melting flower that bloomed down into her collarbone. He only saw the barest hints of it peeking out below her robes before. The mark of hers fevered his imagination since the days when she was an apprentice and he wished to kiss it endlessly. She'd laughed at his attempts during, almost taking the top of his head to her chin when he tried, but he loved it. Loved the scoop of her shoulders, the muscle chiseled below her skin from years carrying her staff across thedas. And...a blush burned up his nude neck as his eyes drifted down to her breasts. Each handful cup rested atop themselves, the depths of her cleavage inviting him. Freckles dashed up the side of her breast and under highlighting the part that was called...
"What is it?" She spoke for the first time since they'd disentangled.
"Hm?" he snapped his head up trying to wipe away any guilt across his face, but Lana had to see it. He was a horrible liar.
She chuckled, her finger twisting through the knotted curls above his ear while her other arm propped her head higher. "You were thinking something so profound your lower lip jutted out in concentration. I have to know what drew it from you."
"Oh, that, it was..." Cullen tried to scrounge for anything deep or philosophical from the depths of his brain. Unfortunately, that organ was still short on blood and refused to offer assistance. "It's not important, I was only...it is trivial, foolish, and. I was tying to think of the word people use for the part of your, um, body that..." he mumbled his sentence to death, terrified to continue on.
But Lana rose up, curiosity burning a sparkling focus in her eyes. She broke her hand away from his hair and pointed at her nose, "Is it this?"
"No," Cullen sighed, aware of how this would go. He wished for once a poet would inhabit his skull instead of his usual fumbling.
"Oh," Lana gestured to her collar bone, her fingers rolling across the birthmark. "How about this?"
"No."
"This part?" she patted her stomach, her fingers prodding against an old scar bisecting up her hip. Cullen shook his head, chuckling from the game, when her hand slipped in between her thighs, "It cannot be this bit. You seemed to be well acquainted with that one."
An unmanly squeak erupted from his throat, and he squeezed his eyes shut tight. "It's the breast," he cried, cutting off her game before he embarrassed himself into a puddle, "there's a term for the part of it that's...I was thinking of it, trying to think of it. The word I mean. And I don't know why I'm still talking."
Lana laughed with such strength her in question anatomy bounced, the hypnotic jiggle drawing his attention like a moth to a flame. "Swell!" the word dawned in his jumbled brain as if by magic.
"You're not so bad yourself," she responded, still chuckling.
"They call it a swell, the swell of the breast."
"Who's they?" she shook her head, knocking around her knotted braids.
"I don't remember where I read it," Cullen exasperated, not wanting to be on trial. "People who describe breasts often, I suppose," he grumbled. Someone was taking the piss from him and he feared it was himself.
Lana ran her fingers down his shoulder and onto his bicep. Her own attention into his interrogation waned for a moment as she squeezed his muscle. Cullen thought he might be free before she shook her head and asked, "Do templars often describe breasts?"
The blush charred up his cheeks and moved towards the forehead. He remembered where he'd first read it, and there was no way he would confess it to her. The chantry could be strict about what it expected from future templars, but even the patrician sisters knew that a pile of adolescents trapped together with rampaging hormones needed a guiding hand once in awhile, and a feigned ignorance the rest. The book was terrible and trite, but every recruit passed it from one to the other, often emphasizing the dirtier parts.
"We, I..." He floundered, gritting his teeth to will away the guilt and shame when Lana pr
essed her lips against his. It took a moment before he thought to kiss her back.
She settled back onto her hand and said, "I'm sorry, you're rather adorable when you're stewing. I couldn't help myself."
Cullen's head dipped down but the shame evaporated in a breath leaving a goofy smile in its wake. How did she manage to calm him with a single kiss? He gazed down at those swell of breasts or however one classified them in groups. Despite decorating the deep roads in scattered clothing, Lana kept on her long necklace. The pendant dangled above her pressed cleavage, a quartz cylinder with a dark thick liquid lapping inside.
He blinked at it and lifted his hand off her hip to reach for it. "Is that your phylactery?"
Lana frowned and picked up the vial in her palm. He stopped short of touching it, watching the liquid in the haunting light of the dwarven ruins. "My phylactery?" she sighed, shaking the bottle back and forth, "This tiny?"
She was right, the mage's blood was preserved in bottles at least seven centimeters tall. The bottle itself would change with time and tower but they would all fit comfortably in the hand. The templars wanted them to be easy to carry, but not something small and misplaced.
"What is it then? That is blood, isn't it?" Cullen asked.
And with that, a wintry draft wafted between them. Her frown etched deeper as she cupped the pendant in her hand. "It is, but it's not what you think. It's from the joining, my joining into the wardens. It's the blood of the darkspawn I killed, the blood I...how I became what I am. I wear it to remember."
"Remember what?"
She stared into the liquid he now realized was black as ink and bore no resemblance to the pulsing glow of a phylactery. And he'd jumped right to the most deadly conclusion, unable to imagine a mage would have any other reason to wear a pendant of blood outside of being a malifecarum. Lana's eyes snapped up to his and she dropped the vial to her breasts, "That there's no going back."
He expected her to shy away from him after he all but accused her of consorting with demons, but Lana slid over to him. Burying her head into his chest, she dipped a hand across his hip, her fingers drifting towards his bare ass. Cullen wrapped his free hand around the small of her back and pulled himself tighter to her. Days traveling, even in the depths of the darkspawn horde, and her skin somehow smelled of rose water and a sweet musk. Maker only knew what he reeked of after struggling through the depths of the world in the grey armor. He planted a kiss against the top of her head and she sighed.
"You probably have your phylactery stored somewhere else, of course," he spoke his internal thoughts aloud. "If the chantry has no control over grey wardens they have no reason to keep it."
"I...they did gift it to me, but I didn't keep it. It's in the hands of someone else. So he can find me if I should ever vanish or know if I fall." Her warm breath ruffled the downy hair across his chest, but the words were cold and aloof.
"Only a templar can track a phylactery," Cullen continued, unable to leave the thread alone.
Lana snorted, "Despite his years sitting on the...out of the game, I don't think he'll forget how to do that."
There were rumors that placed the Hero of Ferelden in damn near everyone's bed, even some tracing her as Empress Celene's arcane lover. They all grew increasingly outlandish with each new romance, to the point it was a wonder she had any time to stop the blight in between all the snogging. One even suggested Lana seduced Loghain and then his daughter to end the civil war in Ferelden. Through the were-dragons and demon lovers there was one that repeatedly bubbled up, the new King of Ferelden. It fit; he a grey warden, she the newest recruit, alone together in the world turned against them fighting to save it from impenetrable odds. Only a true idiot would not notice Lana, and despite the rumors about king Alistair it was doubtful he was that brainless. It was a few years after the blight that Cullen remembered he met the man who would be king during the lowest stage of his life. Maker, he'd even confessed his affections for Lana while her possible new lover stood there. That churned up his guts for a few months no matter how hard he tried to shake it off.
His jealousy was unfounded regardless if the rumors were true or not. He'd had no right to act as if he had any claim to her. The fact it bothered him burnt his shame brighter for too many years. And now she was here with him, all of her. She pressed her body against his, her hip bones knocking into his own. Cullen curled his leg up around her hip, enveloping her deeper. It was hard to say who sighed from the move, perhaps both. The warmth of their bodies yanked them deeper into the fade. Maker, he never dreamed he'd sleep with her wrapped up in his arms.
"I should let you sleep," she murmured, but didn't break away from his hold.
"What of you?" he asked, struggling through the fog of exhaustion. The smart thing to do would be to rise and re-dress, but his body cried for him to give in to the uncomfortable bedroll.
"I told you, I don't sleep in the deep roads."
"I thought you couldn't hear the darkspawn anymore," he continued, struggling to understand what drove the grey wardens.
"That's not how it works, I..." She burrowed deeper into him, her words so muffled by his own skin he couldn't understand her.
"I'm sorry, I missed that," he said. Lana slid away, and Cullen started from tears brimming in her eyes.
"I lied to you earlier. It isn't a grey warden thing that keeps me awake here. We hear them, sense them, but I can sleep if I...It's...there was an attack. I was struggling to cast a spell, low mana on uneven footing - bad luck all around," Lana explained, as if the templar knew anything about the rigors of spell casting. "When a genlock pops out of the ground and sticks a sword right through my shoulder," she pointed to a jagged white mark raised off her skin.
"Maker," Cullen cried in sympathy and ran his thumb against the fading scar.
Lana shrugged but watched him tend to it as if the wound was still fresh. "It wasn't the worst I've had. It didn't even stop me from casting. At the time I thought little of it. I'd been injured so many other times before and after, seen things...the arch demon, for the love of the Maker. But, I close my eyes, I lay my head down in the deep roads and it's as if someone's sat upon my chest. I feel the blade sawing through my flesh all over again."
Lana turned down, unable to face him, "It's pathetic."
"You're not alone," Cullen blurted out.
She sighed into her own chest, "I know, the shock of war. I've heard it before from the old soldiers walking the battlements talking of their days on the fields."
"Lana," he curled the back of his fingers against her cheek and felt the tears streaking down them. She hadn't made a noise to cry them. "I get them too. From the," Cullen steadied himself, "the blood mages, in the tower. And..."
He never talked about it, not to anyone. Speaking of it could lead to lesser commands, or even a forced retirement - as much as templars retired. He didn't want to face either possibility. What he wanted was to serve, to protect others so they didn't have to suffer the same fate as he did. Save them so they wouldn't wake screaming in the night from a blood mage shredding apart their mind, slicing open every buried pain inside their head, and dangling their greatest fear before them. It wasn't noble anymore, not some great calling from the Maker like he dreamed when he was younger. He needed it, needed to be fighting against the always wearing line to protect the innocent. Some days, thinking he made a difference was the only reason he could keep going.
Lana slid up higher so her eyes could stare into his. He blinked, feeling the sting of smoke in them despite the torch being long doused. "Once, while asleep, I encased an entire campfire in ice from the nightmare," she said. "I have to sleep with my hands under me or I might accidentally hurt someone." Her pupils danced back and forth while she stared into him, waiting for him to condemn her.
"The sound of rain, any water dripping, it...it's like a vice upon my heart. I, I'm back in the tower, in the cage with the blood and..." Cullen fell silent, unaware he was trembling until he felt her hand slide down the e
ntirety of his side. She lifted it back up and continued to stroke him like he was a mabari, but it soothed him. It took some time before his shaking stopped, Lana's petting never slowing as her eyes held his.
"Orange," she said. "It's orange for me."
"The fruit or the color?" Cullen asked.
For a moment she smiled, then leaned forward for a kiss. Cullen accepted it gladly, her touch grounding him. Lana leaned back so she could continue to stare into his eyes, "The smell, actually. It wasn't darkspawn but a demon. The things it did...I doubt I need to tell you, but when it reached out and gutted a man, it must have pierced an orange in his satchel. The smell wafted on the wind while it littered his intestines across the ground."
Her voice paused and she shuddered, "I despise the things now. The smell of oranges turns my stomach and I have to get away lest I vomit all over some noble's shoes. It's rather sad to think the Hero of Ferelden can be defeated by fruit."
She pouted after her final proclamation and Cullen giggled at the insanity of it all. The Lady Amell, Hero of Ferelden, conqueror of the Blight, laying beside him in the deep roads, both of them naked as the day they were born, confessing she could be stopped by an orange. Her lips curled into a frown, but for once Cullen didn't stumble. He cupped her cheek and pressed his forehead to hers.
"You are the most awe inspiring person I've ever known." Despite years of denying it, he ripped back the edge of what he buried deep in his thoughts. "The things you can do even with the horrors of war in your mind, you saved the world. It gives so many hope, the Ferelden refugees in Kirkwall, the way they speak of you...you're so much more than a hero to them. You're a...they care for you," He blathered on, but not into the depths of his heart. He'd learned how to seal it off after Kinnloch.
Lana sighed, "That's sweet. I never, well, no, I did sort of know after, but...But it doesn't change anything. I still feel broken."
"So do I," Cullen admitted, his eyes slipping shut. "Not much changes it, certainly not platitudes."
"Then why..."
He shrugged, a hint of a smile twisting up his lips, "I wanted to tell you the truth either way."
Lana kissed him, a lustful heat burning through it as she lapped up his lips with her tongue. He rose to the challenge, matching her new dance. His fingers drifted down her side to cup that swell of her breast and then take in the rest of it. Never one to be passive, Lana kneaded into his ass cheek.
Despite how much he wanted her again, Cullen pulled back to ask, "I thought you intended to leave me to sleep?"
An ornery smile twisted up her flushed cheeks. She pounced upon him, twisting him flat onto his back. Straddling across his stomach, her thighs clenched against him. She leaned down and whispered, "Sweet dreams."
Spires