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To her, love was more than just the hugging and kissing and good feelings that came with it. Once it had meant just that, but since she’d met Cullen, her perception of what love was had changed.
Love was getting to watch him wake up from a deep sleep in the early morning sun, hair messy and tangled. Sharing a bed through the night was different, but soon it became his only comfort. Feeling him pull her closer to his chest, placing kisses on her neck before he pressed his nose into her hair - he loved the subtle scent of elderflower of the soap she used. Some mornings his hands would wander her body aimlessly. Always reverent, appreciative, caring. Other mornings, there was a purpose, and meaning to his touches. Desperate after a period of absence from each other, teasing when she’d brought up that game of Wicked Grace, gentle when she’d had a poor night’s sleep.
Love was listening to him give orders to his soldiers to protect the fortress, to secure a new foothold in a region, to send a report to Leliana to decipher. Conviction and confidence suited him, and he didn’t need the massive fur on his shoulders to stand out as the commander. He often shed it to spar with new recruits, anyway. Hearing the pure exertion of his energy with each swing, each blow that was taken, the care in his voice - remember to raise your shield! - the gentle reminders as splinters were pulled from tender skin. For as fierce and immovable as the man was, he had a heart of gold. Every soldier knew this. Every soldier respected this. Orders were spoken once, heeded twice. She only ever heard him raise his voice once outside battle; someone had been careless with their sword. A shout turned to a stern voice, softer words, and a reminder to mind their sword.
Love was waking up in the middle of the night when his night terrors returned. Wiping the sweat from his forehead when he woke, reassuring him he didn’t have to apologize for waking her. Never asking him to talk to her, but always there to listen. When he caught his breath, she went to grab the teapot, getting fresh water and tea and setting it by the fire. Sometimes she would wrap him in a blanket, sometimes she would simply lean against him. Whether he talked or remained silent, he always held her hand. She wasn’t sure what it was about the tea that was so soothing to him, but after a cup or two, he was always ready to go back to sleep. He always clutched to her dearly when they lay back down, sometimes so tight she almost couldn’t breathe. But eventually, he would relax, sleeping peacefully the remainder of the night with her beneath the weight of his arms.
Love was the pain that came with the realization she could die any day, at any time. Tucked away in a dark corner of Skyhold, face soaked with tears as her arms wrapped around her legs, she was hardly surprised when she heard Cole’s voice calmly guiding Cullen to her. Cole wanted to help, he assured the boy that he’d done enough to bring him to her, and asked him to please wait outside. His smile was gentle, knowing, and he simply sat beside her, making a comment about how she must be freezing sitting on the stone floor for so long. She couldn’t bring herself to speak, but she cracked a smile and leaned against the fur of his coat. Silence for so long. Until his hand turned palm up, nearly in her face. Cole had told him what had been on her mind. He knew that fear well, and wanted to show her something. Despite the cold and the rain, they made their way to the edge of the bridge of Skyhold, where he spoke in that same, patient, quiet voice. She had much to be proud of, and every right to be afraid. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t in control. Her armor was well maintained even when she was out traveling, the same to be said of her weapons. Her companions would all protect her fiercely or die themselves trying to save her. There were worse things than death, he claimed, but she didn’t have the mind to ask what he meant by that - he was likely speaking from experience. Each moment they spent alone, her pain was eased with the knowledge that she was understood perfectly. It would never go away but the burden was made easier.
Love was seeing the way his face lit up upon seeing her after a long day. The hard lines on his face softened, his lips would curl and pull at the scar ever so slightly, his eyes seemed to reignite with some fire behind them. Some days she could stroll right up to his desk and greet him, other days she waited by the door for his meeting to finish. His greeting was always the same - a sight for sore eyes. The days when she returned from a mission outside the fortress, often late in the evening, she felt she was the one who needed to see him. Sometimes he was already asleep, taking up the entire space of the bed until she woke him with a gentle nudge, collapsing beside him and effectively passing out. Other times it seemed he knew she would be returning and kept himself awake to greet her and make sure everything went as well as it ever could. He treated her like she was the only person worth listening to when she came with news of any kind, pushing aside all other responsibilities or feelings to give her his complete attention with that mildly adorable look in his eyes to match.
Love was seeing the relief that overtook him when she returned from her final battle with Corypheus. She was covered in blood, bruises, dirt and sweat, but he saw right past all of it when he took her in his arms, his sword clattering to the ground beside them. Her legs felt ready to give out, and he lowered them both to the ground to sit, keeping his arms firmly around her. She was cradled, feeling his warm tears against her neck.
Love was watching him casually toss opened letters into the fire as she curled up against him. There was a faint smile on his face with each one that got added. Elaborate wax seals in various shades of red or blue, fanciful script that was sometimes too elaborate to be read. Declarations of interest or outright proposals all tossed into the flame as he held her hand. As the last of the pile was cast into the heat, the thumb that had broken each of those seals was placed on her lower lip before he leaned down to press his own lips to hers.
Love was finding herself incapable of seeing a future without him. Inquisition or no, he was beside her. At times, it was beside her back home in Ostwick. Other times she imagined what it might be like to live in Ferelden. She asked him one afternoon over a game of chess what he might do if the Inquisition was disbanded. He replied, with readiness she hadn’t anticipated, that he intended to follow her wherever she went. Consequently, he asked what she thought she might do, and she forgot the game of chess, staring dumbly across at him in surprise at his words. Moving a piece on the board, she grinned, admitting she liked the sound of that. She asked if he would like to see Ostwick, and meet her family. He joked about not being of the proper breed to meet them, despite knowing all he had to do was ask and he could gain just about any noble title he desired, short of King. He sacrificed a knight to protect his queen, smiling when he replied he would love to meet her family if they were open to meeting him.
Love was too many words and feelings to be captured so easily in one. When people asked if she loved Cullen, the answer felt almost too easy, too simple:
Yes.