Chapter Text
The Commander held the attention of every soldier in the room. They crowded around him, circling his desk to await his orders.
“Rylen’s men will monitor the situation,” said Cullen, his voice carrying the weight of his position. Stern, but not cruel. Every person under his command gave him their respect – he had earned it — and would treat them with that same respect.
“Yes, Ser. We’ll begin preparations at once.”
He nodded, pushing away from the heavy desk. A scout stepped forward, a report outstretched for the Commander’s attention. His hand found it before he turned his head to look, his body acting out the familiar steps of his daily debriefings without need for forethought.
“In the meantime,” he continued, scanning the report, “we’ll send soldiers to—”
That is when he saw her. Over the top of the suddenly altogether unimportant report. Anala. She leaned casually against the wall by the door, her face unreadable. Though she said nothing, his words snagged in his throat.
“—assist with the relief effort.” He found himself unable to tear his eyes away from her as he said, “That will be all.”
At once, the gathered soldiers began to filter out of the room. Cullen shepherded the last of them through the door before collapsing against the heavy wood.
“There’s always something more, isn’t there?” he muttered, his head bowed.
Anala pushed away from the wall, her eyes fixed on the Commander. He looks so tired— always pushing himself too far.
”Wishing we were somewhere else?” She said wryly, the memory of the docks by the Lake fresh in her mind.
His breathy chuckle cut through her reminiscing, returning her to the present moment. More than anything, he thought.
“I barely found time to get away before,” he said softly, pushing away from the door and turning to his desk. “This war won’t last forever. When it started, I hadn’t considered much beyond our survival. But,” he turned to face Anala, powerless to resist, “things are different now.”
Anala crossed the room, her feet slipping across the flagstone without a sound. “What do you mean?” She watched closely as a muscle feathered in his jaw — as his throat bobbed before he spoke.
“I find myself wondering what will happen after,” he turned to face Anala, his eyes drifting briefly to the enticing curve of her lips. Focus Rutherford, he chided himself and dragged his gaze up to meet her eyes instead. He took a breath and continued. “When this is over— I won’t want to move on…” His hand moved up to cup her cheek, his gloved thumb brushing softly over the raised ridge of her scar. “Not from you.”
His eyes shifted away, a wave of heat climbing the back of his neck as he pulled away. “But I don’t know what you—” Maker, this is difficult. He turned away, retreating a step towards his desk. “—that is if you, ah…”
Anala watched, a brow raised, as he fumbled around at his desk. He moved a stack of parchment, only to place it back where he found it a moment later. I love it when he gets flustered like this.
He would not look at her, his nerves demanded he occupy his hands to avoid the panic in his chest creeping into his throat.
“Cullen,” she murmured and his hands stilled as she slid onto his desk. “Do you need to ask?”
His voice was hoarse as he replied. “I suppose not. I—” Maker’s breath, keep it together Rutherford. Don’t~ Before he could finish his thought his mind was awash with the image of Anala spread out across his desk. Sprawled amongst his papers like his own personal feast. His hands formed fists at his sides as he fought to restrain himself.
Anala swallowed to shift the lump in her throat. Seeing him so riled stirred something deep and primal within her. It coiled in her core, a warm, insistent pressure which built between her thighs. She leant back against the solid wood of the desk, her back arching in a way that threatened to erode what remained of Cullen’s control.
“I want—” he began, reaching for her.
Glass shattered as a bottle hit the floor. Anala gasped, turning to see what had fallen.
Andraste’s tits, Cullen cursed inwardly, a low growl building in the back of his throat. I can't take this anymore. His eyes fell to her parted lips. Not one more moment.
His decision was final. No more waiting. No more holding himself back. He shook his head, smiling, and with one sweeping gesture cleared the desk. Bottles and papers cascaded to the floor. More glass joined the shards littering the stone, but he did not care. He was untethered. His self-restraint fell away like leaves in autumn as he guided Anala back onto the desk.
The candles flared brightly as Cullen leaned over her. Their flames jumped up in concert with the flighty racing of her heart. My, my, Cullen, she thought as he followed her onto the desk. She allowed him to ease her back until her shoulders hit the sturdy wood beneath them.
A shallow gasp broke her lips as the Commander's knee filled the space between her legs. Her hips bucked against him involuntarily, instinctively seeking the friction of his touch. Slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers, careful not to let the weight of his armour press down on her.
Her lips were soft, and she sighed against him. The deep growl in his throat surfaced as he felt her tongue brush against his lip. A request. At once he opened his mouth to her. He groaned as her tongue swept into his mouth. The taste of her was sweeter than anything he'd ever known and her answering moan threatened to be his undoing.
Her skirt spilled around her as she lay back against the desk. The Commander traced a hand up her thigh, his gloved fingers following the slit in the fabric to her hip. His fingers curved around the bone possessively and he pulled her against him.
“Tell me I should stop,” he growled into her ear. His breath was warm as it hit her cheek and she suppressed a shiver.
“Do you want to stop?” Anala replied, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.
“Maker, no,”
“Then don't.” Her lips fell into an easy smirk as her hands worked the leather straps of his breastplate. “Don't you dare stop, Commander.”
Cullen groaned against her neck, the swelling in his breeches becoming more insistent by the moment. Maker Anala, don't call me that I’ll~
“A— Anala,” he gasped as she brushed her hand against the growing firmness below his belt.
She chuckled warmly against his neck before planting a kiss there. The soft scrape of his stubble tickled her lips as she nibbled and sucked at the sensitive skin.
“Maker’s breath,” he murmured, unconsciously exposing his neck more fully to her. “Anala, I—”
“Yes, Cullen?” Her hands stilled and she pulled back to stare up at him.
He met her gaze. His racing heart matched her own and all he could think about was burying himself in her. Claiming her as his own. Hearing her lips spill his name as she reached her ecstasy again and again. He wanted her. In every sense of the word, he wanted her.
“Help me get these damned things off,” he pushed from the desk to begin tearing at the straps of his armour. Anala grinned, and at once her quick hands worked free piece after piece of the troublesome metal. As each armament hit the floor with a loud crash, his impatience grew, as did the swelling in his pants. He tugged free his gloves with his teeth, tossing them aside like a rabid hound. Finally free of metal plate, he levelled his eyes with Anala’s.
“Now, where were we?”
Her hands fisted in his hair as she dragged him into a kiss. Her lips opened to him and at once they were a whirlwind of tongue and teeth. The commander leaned against the desk, his thick thighs braced against sturdy wood. His hands snaked around to cup Anala’s ass, squeezing tightly. She moaned into his mouth as a deep pressure built in her core. Damp beneath her skirts, she followed the rhythm of his hips desperately.
Cullen's hands crept upwards to rest on the lace of her bodice. He pulled away, looking at her parted lips a moment too long before finding her eyes.
“May I?” He asked, tugging lightly on her laces.
Anala panted softly as she whispered her reply. “You may.”
She had expected fumbling. The embarrassed, awkward rutting of a Chantry pup. Maker, she was wrong. His fingers tore through her bodice with ease. He flung the fabric aside one layer at a time until all that remained of Anala’s wardrobe was her undergarments. All the while, she ran soft hands across his torso, peppering his neck with kisses. Soft red bruises formed where she nipped and sucked, marking him as hers. He groaned as she traced her tongue over the marks.
“Anala,” his voice was barely a whisper. “Please.”
“Commander?” she murmured against his neck.
“Sweet Maker,” his eyes were dark as drew back and pushed her flat against the desk. “Stop calling me that,” his voice was the low crackle of a burning hearth. It reverberated through her, the pressure between her thighs thrummed with her racing heart.
“Can I…?” His hands hovered over her corset.
Anala huffed a soft laugh, grabbing his mantle and drawing him onto her. “Cullen, I am lying on your desk.” her hands snaked beneath his tunic and she pulled him flush against her. “If I didn't want this, I wouldn't be holding you so tightly.”
“Good,” he purred and stripped her bare. The moment he tugged away the bindings of her corset, her breasts spilled free. Sweet Maker, he thought as the black of his eyes dilated to nearly swallow the gold, she was radiant. He took them in his hands, squeezing and kneading the tender flesh until Anala mewled in pleasure.
“Commander,” she breathed and he faltered. “I'm overexposed. You should lose a few layers.”
His cheeks reddened at her sultry tone. He was powerless to her command. He pressed his mouth to hers one last time before sliding from the table. Anala watched eagerly as he shook out of his mantle and threw his tunic aside. A soft sheen of sweat clung to him, shimmering in the candlelight and highlighting every inch of his chiselled form. Sweet Andraste, does he look good beneath all those layers, she cursed as he prowled towards her.
He stopped between her legs. With a hand on her thigh, he guided them further apart. Slowly, he dragged a hand down her form. He traced every curve with a tender reverence. “Anala,” he murmured as he lowered himself to the floor.
Anala watched as the Commander took to his knees. He braced her legs on either side as he brushed a single finger across the silken dampness at her centre. He smiled at the soft gasp that broke from her lips as he slipped between her folds. Maker, how he wanted to hear her whimper as he tasted her.
The desk became her rock as Anala clung white-knuckled to the edges. “Cullen,” she moaned as his spiralling ministrations honed in on her clit. He teased her with his thumb as he pressed his lips against her thigh. She moaned and writhed beneath him, his name a prayer on her tongue.
“Cullen, please,” she was powerless to keep the desperation from her voice. Her hips bucked into his touch as though she needed it more than air. “Please.”
He chuckled at her frustrated attempts to grind against him. He longed to pull free his aching cock and bury it in her, but he knew if he wasn't careful he’d be undone before they even started. His breath was heavy and warm as he traced the curves of her thighs with his mouth.
“Maker, Anala, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he whispered. With his spare hand, he palmed his cock through his breeches, groaning against her as he did. “How much I want you.”
Her thighs shook, anticipation coursing through her veins like wildfire. The candles flickered wildly around them, but Cullen was too entranced by the velvet folds beneath his fingers to notice how they jumped in time with her gasping moans.
Her breath came faster as he trailed kisses higher and higher up her thigh. Please, Cullen, she tried to speak but her thoughts refused to materialise on her tongue. Please, touch me.
With every inch, the thick, heady scent of her arousal threatened to bring him to his breaking point. He dipped his chin low between her legs, the hot air of his breath brushing against her waiting cunt and—
“Commander!” A voice that was neither his nor hers cut through the room. “Commander!” It shouted again, this time with a barrage of knocking upon the door. “Commander, are you there?”
Cullen growled as he stood. “Don’t move,” he told Anala as he tugged on his mantle and stormed to the door.
It was a wonder the hinges remained intact. The Commander wrenched open the door with such force, that the scout behind it paled.
“What?” He snarled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
His cock strained impatiently against his loosened breeches. Stray locks of golden hair hung wildly out of place, he could almost feel Anala’s hands still tangled within them. His neck — as bare as his chest beneath the mantle — was peppered by love bites as he stared down the scout in the doorway.
To their credit, the scout stared back blankly, unwilling to risk the Commander’s fury should they call any attention to the precarious state they had caught him in.
“Report for you, Ser.” They held the sealed scroll out in front of them, their eyes struggling to remain in one spot but finding anywhere aside from the Commander.
Anala, leant back on her elbows, an amused smirk blossoming on her lips as she watched from the shadows. Seems he's more guard dog than pup after all.
Cullen snatched the scroll without even a look at the shaking scout. He slammed the door shut. The thunderous crash of the wood echoed across the courtyard. The scout flinched.
“I will not be disturbed further until morning,” he roared through the wood to where the scout had finished saluting and was backing away quickly.
“Oh Commander,” Anala purred, inching forward on the desk. “How gallant of—”
“I said,” his voice was a dark whisper, husky with want. “Don’t. Move.”
She stilled instantly, her breath caught in her throat. “Commander?”
Cullen rushed to close the space between them. I am sick of this waiting, he thought as his hands curled around her hips possessively. I need this, I need her. A deep growl rumbled through his chest as her legs opened for him and his swollen cock brushed against her mound. His movements stuttered and he pulled back.
Anala watched him with wide eyes, her chest heaving with every breath. There, just below her clavicle, glinting in the firelight was the coin Cullen had gifted her. How had he not seen it before? He brushed his thumb over the pendant, panting softly. “I don't deserve you,” he whispered.
Anala gasped as her whole world turned on its head. She had barely a moment to notice his hands tightening around her waist before she was hoisted from the desk and over his shoulder.
“Oh— Cull—” she squealed as he lifted her from the desk. “Commander, what do you think you are doing?”
“I’m taking you to where I can enjoy this without the Inquisition present.” He chuckled, giving her ass a firm squeeze before moving to the ladder in the centre of the room.
Anala kicked her legs in vain as the Commander mounted the ladder. One hand on the rungs, he kept her pinned against him effortlessly. Only when he stood in his room did he set her down.
Anala was breathless and what remaining air she had in her lungs was knocked from her chest as he deposited her on his bed. His expression was wicked, the slanted half-smile that crept across his face sent sparks shooting through Anala’s blood to her core. She pressed her thighs together as the pulsing want between them became near unbearable.
Cullen watched her, enraptured, as he began to slip free of his furs.
“Wait—” Anala rose to her knees and stopped his hands with her own. “Leave it on.”
“Yes, Ma’am” he groaned, the words barely audible. His hands found her hips and he pressed her against him as he claimed her mouth with his once more. Anala ran her hands across his fur mantle, they formed fists in the fabric and tugged him closer.
“What do you want?” She asked, panting, when they at last drew apart.
His cheeks flushed with rose as he stumbled over his words. “I want…” he tried to look her in the eyes but his gaze snagged on her mouth. So perfectly plump, her lips were red and kiss-swollen. Maker's breath, Anala, please don't make me say it.
His breath caught in his throat as she slowly ran her tongue along her lower lip. The noise that came from him was not human. A strangled sound of desperate want— need. “I want—” he repeated dumbly, the full intensity of his glare fixated on the perfect curve of her mouth.
“Cat got your tongue, Commander?” She purred, tracing a single perfectly manicured finger down his chest. He shivered beneath her touch, a low groan rumbling through his chest as she dragged the tip of her nail across his abdomen. He held his breath as she hooked her finger in between the laces of his breeches and pulled. She worked quickly, her mouth wet with saliva as she tugged away his breeches and watched his cock spring free.
“A—Anala?” he groaned as she wrapped her delicate fingers around him and stroked him slowly.
“Is this okay?” She asked, looking up at him through her lashes.
He nodded, unable to speak. Yes. Maker, yes. It was more than okay. Starlight seemed to sizzle beneath his skin as she rubbed the firm length of his cock.
Her eyes twinkled in the candlelight as she lowered her mouth to brush his tip. She delighted in his startled gasp of pleasure as she pressed her lips against the bulging member. Slowly, she ran her tongue along him, lathering him with moisture.
He was frozen in place. Utterly paralysed by the toe-curling pleasure that rippled through his entire body. Every flick of her tongue sent a new wave through him. His eyes fluttered closed as she opened her mouth and—
Maker, A— Anala. He lost all sense of where he was as her lips wrapped around his length. Anala hummed her appreciation as his cock filled her mouth. The vibrations wrenched free a gasp from the commander and he shuddered as she took him deeper still.
He moaned as she bobbed her head back and forth, taking the full length of his prick deep into her throat. She held his gaze with every stroke and he could not help himself from running his fingers through her hair. Anala groaned as his fingertips curled against her scalp, her eyes flaring with desire. His hips bucked in response and he lost himself thrusting relentlessly into her waiting mouth.
Sweet Andraste, I can't~ He could hold on no longer. His fingers knotted at the base of her head and he tugged sharply. Anala’s eyes grew wide as she watched Cullen’s cock spring free. Still connected by a single strand of saliva, it glistened. A breathy whine escaped her before she could stop it and she licked her lips, hungry for the taste of him.
“Cullen,” she murmured, the green of her eyes eclipsed by the empty voids of her pupils.
His only answer was the crush of his mouth to hers. She gasped softly as he dragged her face to his. With his spare hand, he freed himself from his breeches and underthings, kicking them aside before following Anala onto the bed. He pushed her legs apart, settling on his knees between them.
“Maker’s breath, you are beautiful,” he whispered. Calloused fingers traced along the inside of Anala’s thighs, circling closer to her core with every breath. She could not contain the mewl of desperation that parted her lips as his thumb brushed over the slick bundle of nerves in her centre.
Her back arched as he drew circles across her clit, his name spilling from her lips between frantic breaths. The sound of his name on her tongue drove him near madness. He wanted her now.
His eyes bore into hers as he brushed his tip against her entrance. Please? They seemed to say.
Anala nodded a barely perceptible dip of her chin. But it was enough. No, more than that, it was his unleashing. Without another moment’s hesitation, he plunged himself within her. Her hands fisted in the bed sheets as the Commander pushed inside her cunt. Cullen gasped as her legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer. Buried deep between her thighs, he rolled his hips against her. She squirmed beneath him, panting. She was so wet and warm and welcoming around him that it took every ounce of his control not to lose himself entirely.
He ran his hands across her skin. Reverent, he worshipped every inch. He cupped her breast as he filled her again and again, his rhythm unbroken. Anala gasped as he toyed with the swollen peak of her nipple. He flicked it lightly, chuckling softly as he brought his mouth around it. His tongue soothed the hurt and Anala arched into his touch.
Slowly he trailed his kisses higher across her chest. He brushed away the curtain of hair from her shoulder and—
Her skin. His pulse raced as he brushed his thumb across her shoulder.
“Anala,” he murmured, “you—” He was lost for words. He had seen markings like these before of course… but never on a Lady. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Maker, forgive me.
Anala looked up at him slyly, a small smirk stretching across her lips.
“Cat got your tongue, Commander?” She purred.
He groaned in response, his breath warm against her shoulder.
“Can I— Can I see it?” He pulled back to look at her, pleading. She nodded and allowed him to guide her onto her stomach, chuckling softly.
Andraste’s blood, Anala. You will be my ruin. His hands traced her every curve as she presented her back to him. There, the pitch ink kissing her shoulder blade, a delicate depiction of a black cat stood out against her skin. It leapt, paws outstretched, chasing a star over her shoulder. His breath caught in his throat as he brushed a thumb across the markings. So precise, so perfectly crisp and vibrant against Anala’s flesh, it seemed to him both out of place and utterly perfect.
Anala hummed beneath his touch, the gentle scrape of his callouses igniting the pulsing need between her thighs with a new fervour.
“You like it, then?” She purred, glancing back over her shoulder. He nodded shallowly, unable to summon speech.
Slowly, he trailed his hands down her sides. He stopped as he reached her hips, his hold tightening slightly. Maker, Anala, you are perfection.
Anala arched her back as his hands found their hold on her hips. Between her thighs, she felt his cock brushing against her slickness and mewled impatiently. Her cunt throbbed with every heartbeat. Each pulse echoed her desire— her need— to be filled. Enough looking, more fu~
“Fuck,” the word tore through her without warning. A guttural gasp wrenched from her very soul as Cullen plunged himself deep within her core.
His growl of pleasure was lost among her cries. With every roll of his hips, his name spilled from her lips. Slurred against the sheets again and again as he filled her, the soft slap of her ass a steady rhythm that grounded him.
“Maker,” he panted through his teeth. “Anala.” Every thrust brought him closer to the edge, and her with him.
“Cullen,” she whined as he slipped a hand from her hip to dip between her thighs. His rhythm unbroken, he circled her swollen clit with a single finger. She writhed beneath him, her wetness spilling down her thighs as he coaxed her closer and closer to her unravelling.
“My— A— Anala,” he stuttered as he felt her cunt clench around him. His movements faltered, his strict, commanding rhythm broken. The candles around them flared dangerously high as her thighs shook and her release shattered like veil fire through her veins.
Oh, Commander. His name filled her mind as she drooled into his pillow, spent.
And still, he was not done. Even as she sagged into the mattress, he would not— could not— stop… not yet. He dragged his hand away from her quivering clit and claimed her breast instead.
She murmured her contentment. A soft mewl of pleasure and surprise as he renewed his rhythm once more. Each thrust was more insistent than the last. She was malleable to his guidance. Deliciously pliable as he lifted her from her stomach so she knelt, her back flush against his chest as he pounded her from behind.
He pinned her in place against him. One hand firmly grasped her breast as the other trailed possessive fingers across her throat.
“You are incredible,” he whispered against her ear. The warmth of his breath sent a shiver down her spine. It coiled in her core and she felt herself approaching a second eruption.
“Cullen… I—” Her words fell short as his tongue brushed the shell of her ear. His hand closed around the slender column of her throat, his grasp firm but not constricting.
“Anala,” he groaned, squeezing her breast sharply. Pain that was not pain shot through her chest to her core, the pleasure far outweighing the potential risk of bruising.
She moaned between frantic breaths, speech no longer an option as the tidal wave that was deep within her threatened to break her entirely. Cullen please, I—
His thumb anchored on her jaw, he tilted her face to face his. Gold eyes locked with green and together they fell into oblivion.
This time when her cunt clenched around him, he was powerless to resist. Her most loyal dog, he growled against her skin as his completion cascaded through him. Towering flames shot up from the candles, bathing the pair in a warm light that radiated from the windows for all of Skyhold to see. Too lost in the bliss of one another, they barely even registered the change in light, nor what it signified to the scouts on night watch.
As one, they collapsed to the bed. Panting, Cullen took care to lay Anala softly on her side, a sleepy smile crossing his features as he took stock of his ruined sheets. His eyes never left her as he found something with which to clean them both. Gentle hands cleaned away the evidence of their mutual enjoyment and he tossed the soiled sheets to the corner. A problem for the morning.
Anala nestled against him as he joined her beneath fresh sheets. He traced her back with gentle fingertips and she purred appreciatively against his neck. His mind raced with words unspoken—
Truly and wholly spent, sleep reached out with tender talons and claimed both Commander and Inquisitor alike.
Sunlight crept in slowly through the open ceiling as Skyhold woke to another dawn. Anala stirred as a breeze filtered in through the broken wood and groaned against the unwelcome chill. By her side, Cullen dozed still.
The deep furrows he wore by day were smoothed away by his slumber and she smiled softly at his sleeping form. My Commander, she mused, does he know just how handsome he truly is? She wished she could stay until he woke, but her duties demanded her attention elsewhere. A sigh on her lips, she pushed from the mattress to find her belongings.
“No…” Cullen’s voice halted her and she spun to face him. His face contorted into a twisted portrait of terror. Eyes tightly closed, he murmured a plea. “Leave me.”
Anala was frozen. Eyes wide she scanned the room for threats, for any sign of the cause of his distress. Finding none she could only surmise one thing. A nightmare.
She eased closer to him on the bed and laid a gentle hand on his arm. He did not stir to her touch, only the terrors which plagued his dreams. Not knowing what else she could do, she began to hum a soft melody as she stroked her fingers across his skin.
Shadows fall
And hope has fled
She traced whirling patterns along his shoulder. He was warm, a faint coating of sweat clinging to him, but she did not care. He shivered and shifted imperceptibly into her touch. Her fingers trailed up his neck and nested in his hair. Gently, she combed through the damp curls.
Steel your heart
The dawn will come.
Anala had faint memories of a soothing voice singing to her as a child. Her mother's fingers, or perhaps her father's, drifting through her hair as they sang gentle lullabies. The woven melodies were a comfort to her then, and she hoped her offering would provide some small comfort to the ex-Templar now panting beneath her touch.
Look to the sky
For one day soon
The dawn will come
His chest rose and fell with an alarming intensity and despite her touch, he murmured still. “Leave me,” he pleaded with some force unknown, desperation turning to defeat.
Anala pulled him to her chest, cradling him as she whispered soft reassurances. You’re here, Cullen. You’re safe. I’m with you.
His shudders waned, the rebellion within quelled. He awoke in her embrace, cradled by warmth and tender comforts. His throat snagged and he let out a shattered gasp. What? Where am I? Who— Anala? His thoughts were jagged shards in the wake of his nightmare, but in her arms, they smoothed like the clouded glass he had found upon the shore as a child. You're here. You're real.
His waking was sudden and Anala huffed a soft sigh as his arms tightened around her without warning. Though his breathing had calmed, his body still hummed with residual tension. Subtle tremors raced across his flesh and the taut muscle quivered as Anala ran her hands across it in long soothing strokes.
“You’re safe,” she whispered and the Commander nuzzled closer against her chest. “You’re…” she stumbled over the word in her mind before it made it free from her lips.
Loved.
Her breath caught and her pulse fluttered wildly in her throat. Loved? She loved him. Those words, although felt often in his company, had not yet been spoken aloud. True though they were, she would not say them only to soothe her fear. She felt them swell in her chest, she would tell him soon.
“Bad dream?” She asked instead, swallowing once to tame her frantic breath.
"They always are," he replied, his voice still hoarse from sleep. "Without lyrium, they're worse." He closed his eyes, inhaling the sweet scent of vanilla and elfroot that clung to her hair— her skin. His throat was dry and he felt his eyes prick with moisture as he spoke. "I didn't mean to worry you," he said, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from her cheek.
Her answering smile was radiant, like the first golden rays of sun as they broke over the horizon or the milky brilliance of a full moon on a starlit night.
"You can let me worry about you a little," she said, smoothing back his curls. "There is strength in allowing others to care for you, Cullen."
He let out a wry chuckle, the corners of his lips pulling up into a small smile. "Alright." Anala pressed her forehead to his, all thoughts of her duties forgotten she would stay here the whole day if she had her way.
"You are…" Words escaped him. She was everything. Words could not do justice to the feeling which swelled in his chest with every moment in her company. "I have never felt anything like this… I love you."
The moment the words left his lips, Anala felt her heart swell in her chest. No longer did it beat for her alone, and if she was being honest with herself, it had been that way for some time now. Time slowed to a crawl as she forced air into her lungs— as she parted her lips to utter the words she longed to set free.
"I love you, too."
Cullen caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger and guided her face to his. His lips found hers and they slotted together effortlessly, like they were made for one another. The kiss was gentle, loving, exploratory and new. Wholly unlike the fierce passion of the night before, and yet something far more.
Time slipped by as Anala allowed herself to be folded into his arms. Pressed against his chest, surrounded by his elderflower and oakmoss scent, she felt her resolve melt away. Together, they remained entwined, tangled in his sheets as the sun climbed slowly into the waiting sky.
They remained like that much longer than was reasonable for the Inquisitor and the Commander of her Army. But buried deep within the bliss of their twinned hearts, neither could find the presence of mind to care.
When at last, they could peel themselves from the Commander's bed, Anala perched upon the edge and gathered her hair behind her head. Agile fingers parted dark strands with ease, preparing to weave them into a simple braid. She started as Cullen's hand closed over hers, pulling it away.
"Let me," he murmured, running his hands through the length of her hair.
"Are you sure?" She asked, more than a shade dubious. Her doubts melted away as he ran his fingertips across her scalp, earning him a satisfied purr from deep in Anala's throat.
He worked quickly. His fingers trading several strands to craft an elaborate braid.
"I would braid Rosalie's hair sometimes," he mused as he finished. "Do you have a tie?"
Anala produced a thin strip and handed it to him, from where he did not know. He had half a mind to ask, but before he could, he heard her softly murmur—
"Cute."
"Cute?" He spluttered, almost letting go of the tail of the braid. He blustered for a moment, disarmed by her remark. "I— I am not cute." A quick twist and he laid her finished braid over her shoulder.
"Fine," Anala said, turning to him. "Adorable, then."
He pinched his nose, though mirth lingered in his eyes. "That— That is worse."
"Can the Commander of the Inquisition not be adorable?" She made a show of considering the question before levelling her eyes with his. "How sad."
He barked out a laugh, unable to remain stoic. "It would not do for our enemies to believe so."
"Perhaps," Anala agreed. "But I know your secret Commander. Beneath all the fur and steel, you are adorable." She punctuated her proclamation with a light tap of her finger to the tip of his nose before dancing away from him to collect her clothes from below.
Atop her tower, the Inquisition's spymaster smiled. The flare from the night before had, of course, been brought to her attention immediately and she had watched the commander's quarters closely. She smirked as the Inquisitor slipped out of the side door, noting the glint of a coin that bounced upon her breast, hanging free around her neck for all to see.