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Her fingers shook as she raised the taper to the wick.

“O Maker, hear my cry.”

Her prayer, small and broken, echoed through the darkness like the chiming of a bell. Only instead of a clear peal, this bell was fractured; its resonating peal was dull and lifeless.

“Guide me through the blackest nights.”

The flame the lady sheltered within the cocoon of her palm sputtered momentarily, casting the tiniest of sparks out into the void-like emptiness surrounding her.

“Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked,” She breathed, her faint words encouraging the golden light to duck and dance. “Make me rest in the warmest places.”

The newly lit candle hesitated at first before finally giving birth to a brilliant glow. The warmth radiated soothingly against her palm, casting a fiery aura across her face. Before long the sensation had crept through her limbs, bestowing its heat throughout her weary, chilled bones.

“O Creator,” She lifted her eyes to the Chapel’s vaulted ceiling overhead, “See me kneel – for I walk only where You would bid me.” Her tears, now illuminated by the candle she still clasped in hand, stung bitterly at her tired eyes. “I stand only in places You have blessed, sing only the words You have placed in my throat.”

Kneeling upon the stone bench before her, she tenderly placed the wax candle upon its tarnished silver stand.

“My Maker, know my heart!” Each heartfelt plea was cast up to the heavens. “Take from me a life of sorrow—” Her throat seemed to tighten then, and the words caught. Rather than fight her failing voice, her pride demanded silence. Bowing her head, she rested her forehead upon her folded hands.

“Lift from me a world of pain, and judge me worthy of Your endless pride.”

The strong voice rang through the empty chapel, startling her from her grief. But she dared not look back over her shoulder, dared not to meet the fiery gaze of the person she knew would be standing behind her. Instead she swiped at her tears, one last attempt to shield her grief from her unexpected company.

“How long have you been standing there?” She whispered hoarsely, grimacing at the feebleness of her voice.

“Forgive me,” the voice returned, nervousness dancing on the edge of an otherwise assured tone, “I did not mean to startle you, Inquisitor.”

Laela Trevelyan steeled herself. Startle wasn’t quite the right word for how she felt right at that moment – chagrined, humiliated at being caught at her weakest perhaps, but not startled. She pushed herself up from the cold stone, her eyes never once leaving the candle on the altar before her. Somehow the sight of such a small flame valiantly fighting against the seemingly eternal darkness surrounding it revived her. “I have always been told that the Maker looks down upon us with love,” She began, faltering slightly when she heard the faint scuff of a boot against the sandstone floor. “Though I have questioned for so long, sometimes I wonder if I have forgotten how it feels to truly know His mercy.”

There was no response, only an uneasy silence.

“Did you wish something of me, Commander?” She finally queried, chancing a look in his direction once she felt strong enough to meet his gaze.

The Advisor hesitated in the shadows, his tall form barely distinguishable from the gloom save for the candle he too carried in his hand. His studious brow furrowed in indecision, those gold eyes overshadowed by regret. “Not at all, Inquisitor. I... I was seeking comfort of my own, I... I guess.”

Trevelyan risked giving away her tear-stained cheeks by rising from the stone bench.

Laela stood trying to not look away from the templar... Ex-templar, she mentally reminded herself.  She felt as though he was judging her with that same look he gave to his maps and reports.  Weighing and measuring her, and she felt embarrassed being scrutinized after what happened after the last time they met.  She was caught in a weak moment that night at the Masquerade ball: soaked to the skin by rain, haunted by ghosts of the past, filled with regret and sorrow.  He had found her in the smithy, her dress ruined and her heart heavy, and he had been kind to her. Despite her state, he had kept her company, singing and dancing with her.  She could almost feel his arm around her still. She could nearly taste the momentary brush of their lips. And then she saw it again, the bewildered expression on his face illuminated by the white glare of lightning; once more she relived the panic rampant in her heart as she had fled out into the storm.

Her embarrassment flooded back and Laela had to fight to not to look away in shame. For weeks she had been avoiding time alone with the Commander. And now here he was, watching her cry pitifully at the Altar of Andraste. The one man who seemed to be able to see through her, the man always seemed to find her when she was at her worst.  The thought of him seeing her weak and pathetic was torture – even more torture than she already felt around him. The mere sight of him had her recalling embarrassing memories of that night of the ball.  She felt disgraced having kissed him so abruptly and fled. The Advisor had been so gracious to her then, but now...? Surely a man as strong and composed as Commander Cullen would not wish to speak with her now, not after she had lost her self control. Laela half expected him to reprimand her, to remind her of his position as an ex-Templar and of her responsibilities as a mage.

But to Trevelyan’s surprise, the confident mask the Advisor wore by day fell away momentarily, revealing a man equally as scarred and restless as herself. “I guess I was also hoping that the Chant would also provide me with solace this night,” He confessed, shifting uneasily from foot to foot, suddenly glancing back toward the door. “Forgive me,” he murmured once more, turning to leave.

“Commander, wait.”

The words were almost whispered, and yet the desperation in her voice made Cullen stop mid-step, almost as though he were tethered to the spot by her words. When he turned, he beheld Laela Trevelyan’s arm outstretched toward him. He started, taken slightly aback. The Inquisitor had never been an openly affectionate woman, and the gesture on her part was unintentional, surely...?

The instant his eyes fell upon her upturned palm, the Inquisitor flushed and pulled it back in embarrassment. “I... I thought... That is...” Laela took a deep breath, “I came seeking consolation, seclusion; but perhaps having somebody to... to...” She faltered, words once more failing her.

“...Help you recite the chant?” Cullen offered tentatively, noting the telling red hue in her cheeks.

“Yes,” Laela exhaled with abrupt relief – perhaps too abrupt. Taking a deep breath, she struggled to hold her chin high, but the slight tremor in her shoulders gave her away.

“Would it help?” He took a step nearer, trepidation in his eyes. This woman was still such a mystery to him, one that both terrified and intrigued him. “I do not wish to intrude.”

“I would welcome your company,” She reassured him, “That is, if you would like to stay.” The Inquisitor coloured once more beneath the intensity of his gaze.

Cullen’s clenched jaw relaxed the moment the words left her lips, and as he suddenly noted their proximity, a new blaze lit within the depths of those golden irises. Taking a breath, he forced himself to break his eyes from hers, remembering the candlestick he still cradled in his palms. “If you would permit me, my lady,” Cullen told her gently, his voice echoing off the cold, stone walls, “There is something I must do.”

Laela remembered to nod, barely managing to step out of the way to allow the Commander’s muscular frame to pass hers. The narrow Chapel aisle brought him so close to her now that she could feel the brush of his tunic against her shoulder.

Only now did she realise why Cullen had truly come.

The flickering embers of her lit candles danced across his weathered features as he reached to retrieve the Chapel’s taper. Igniting it upon the flame of his own candle, he raised it to another wick on the stone altar. “My Creator, judge me whole: Find me well within your grace.” He continued the Chant, his strong, calloused hands tenderly cupping each candle as he set them ablaze. “Touch me with fire that I be cleansed – tell me I have sung to Your approval.”

Laela’s eyes stung once more as she listened to his furtive prayer. She watched him light half a dozen candles, each one of them shining brilliantly in the night in remembrance. Her heart ached at all the candles representing lives lost to them both.

Cullen replaced the taper, kneeling as she had on the stone bench before the altar. “O Maker, hear my cry: Seat me by Your side in death. Make me one within Your glory.”

In the midst of her reverie, Laela noiselessly stepped close behind him. Her fingers unfurled and reached out toward Cullen’s broad, linen-clad shoulders – currently bent over in prayer. She could feel his warmth radiating off his skin, an invisible presence that wrapped itself around her fingertips and beckoned her to come closer. His presence offered her warmth and comfort in the otherwise frosty, dark night. At the last moment she caught herself, rapidly withdrawing her hand and staring in horror at what she was about to do. Laela clenched her fists at her own thoughtlessness. It was at that moment she realised that the Advisor had fallen silent.

She took a steadying breath, finishing the verse: “And let the world once more see Your favour.”

Silence reigned for several long moments before the Commander finally confessed, “There are nights when sleep eludes me, taunting me and mocking me with reminders of the ones I have lost. The nightmares are horrendous, shrieking abominations that threaten to tear apart my mind. I... I sometimes wonder if the Maker is testing my faith.” He let the thought rest there, his eyes once more seeking out the lights upon the altar.

“And other times you grow angry,” Laela concluded, moving to kneel beside him. “You simply cannot abide the thought that He could possibly love you, and take the people you love away.” Even though she had steeled herself and locked her emotions away, pain still racked her, her voice shaking under the emotional turmoil that now raged inside her chest. “You wonder how the Maker could lie to you like that – promise you peace in return for so much loss and pain.”

Cullen watched her closely as she spoke, the exhaustion inside him now clearly visible on his countenance.

“You wonder why He would give you false hope, ask you to save the world alone...” Laela felt the all too familiar sensation of bile rising in her throat, “Only to lose the ones you’re fighting to save.” She turned to face the Commander now, her eyes searching his. “Commander... I believe. I know I do, even though often I grow angry at the teachings of the Chantry. I understand that the Maker wouldn’t ask me to do this if He didn’t think I could. But it just hurts so much and sometimes that I wonder... But I can’t just let go. I know that by letting go, by not feeling, that I will forget them.”

Her companion’s head drooped slightly. Finally, he asked, “Who were they? The departed ones you were lighting the candles for?”

Laela pointed to one that was a little shorter than the other candles, the first lit one.  Her voice belied the strength she felt, “This one is for a young child I couldn’t save,” she admitted momentarily, watching as the flame swayed beneath her breath. “He was captured and held hostage by raiders. I tried to reach him in time but....” She swallowed hard at the lump rising in her throat.  She had found his small body and brought it back to his family.  Laela had watched helplessly as his parents grieved, taking his body from her arms.  She had failed him, she had failed his family. “I never knew his name.” His candle represented all the people she was unable to save, the nameless, vulnerable boy who had held onto life, waiting to be saved by the Inquisitor – and in the end, failed by her.  How many would join him? How many ghosts would haunt her?

“And who do the other lit candles honour?” His voice is quiet, his gaze captivated by the flames dancing on the altar.

“Would you care to tell me of yours?" She asked, wondering how much he would be willing to divulge to her or if he was even interested in sharing his pain with her.

The Commander lifted his hand to point to the candle on the far right of the altar. “This is for an old friend, a good man. He passed away just before the uprising in Kirkwall.  He was a good Knight, though he felt unable to confide in me.  In the Order, you come to see the ones you fight beside as brothers and sisters.  What does it say about you when those who swore to fight beside you won’t seek you out when they need help?” His shoulders slumped a bit at his admittance of failing his comrade.  

"Some of my friends died when our Circle decided to take a stand against the Chantry,” Laela offered then. “We didn't want to fight them. We only wished to live in peace, without a brand marking us." She shuddered at thinking of such a fate for any mage. Her voice was quiet as the events replayed in her mind, recalling the atrocities that were carried out in the Maker's name that day. "A few templars from the Circle stood with us. Those templars who came to cleanse the tower didn't care about whether you were old or young, mage or templar; they set out to make an example of what happens to any Circle not willing to abide by the Chantry's mandates." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes trying to erase the images of the dead. Their faces haunted her still – the empty eyes of the templars that tried to shelter the mages in their care, and the mages, their bodies laying broken and bloodied together. "They were all brave, losing their lives rather than sacrificing their morals and freedom.  Before then I had assumed..."  

She lifted her head to find that Cullen was staring intently at her.

“Please,” He whispered hopefully, wistfully, “You can tell me.”

Laela shivered. “I had just assumed that Templars were either indifferent to our struggles or hated mages. I never thought that they would want to see us live, not if it meant defying their orders. Those templars stood with us even though they could have just as easily walked away.”

Her advisor stared into the flames. “Do you avoid me because I am a templar?” He ventured.

The Inquisitor visibly shrank back, her eyes widening. “You... You think that I am avoiding you?” She licked her lips nervously waiting on him to reply.

“I know that you are. It was impossible not to notice,” The Commander returned, his eyes burning into hers. “I have been hoping—no. That would not be stating it suitably. I was wondering if you would...” He bowed his head with sudden embarrassment, glancing up at her from beneath solemn brows, “Allow me to understand you better, Lady Trevelyan.”

Laela could not speak for the pressure that seized her throat, the apprehension and anticipation both choking her into silence. Her initial perception of this man as a stone-hearted Templar battled harshly against the present vision of him: embarrassed, uncertain, and waiting upon her response.

She faltered. “I thought that after what happened in the smithy that you wouldn’t...”

“You mean when I kissed you?” Cullen’s gaze remained steadily locked on hers.

Laela’s mind raced as he spoke. He kissed her? It took a moment for her dazed mind to decipher his words. He kissed her – she hadn't imagined it? Laela stammered, "But I thought...my being a mage...you a templar...that you would be upset..." He watched her intently as she puzzled through it, her thoughts slow and fuzzy in the midst of her embarrassment. "I was quite a mess... You didn’t have to kiss me just because you felt sorry for me." She lost track of her thoughts once more jumping at the feel of his fingers entwining with hers.  

“You think I felt sorry for you?” Cullen repeated making sure he understood her right. “Is that what you think – that I felt manipulated into kissing you? That I wouldn’t want to speak to you again?” That familiar line of concern reappeared on his forehead.

It did sound a bit ridiculous when he said it like that.  She had remembered the events differently, her embarrassment still running hot from her actions, but now she felt unsure and uneasy at her earlier presumptions. Laela shifted away slightly, her knuckles turning white from her grip against the cold stone.

Maker, the look he was giving her.

“Cullen, I—” Laela blanches the instant his given name slips off her tongue, her presumption of familiarity caught too late.

She pulled against his hand trying to free herself, but Cullen didn't loosen his grip as he had that night at the smithy. Instead of letting her move away from him, Cullen hemmed her in, swinging his legs over the other side of the seat and trapping her between him and the altar. He leans in a fraction, a fascinated smile playing across his lips.

“You used my name,” He murmurs, studying her with a visible mixture of fascination and purpose. “I was wondering how long you would hide behind titles.”

“I’m not hiding!” Laela retorted indignantly, but he silenced her with a finger against her lips.

Cullen couldn’t help but smile at the betraying blush that was rapidly spreading across her cheeks. “Do you trust me, Laela?” He asked her suddenly, his other broad hand reaching up to cup her cheek lovingly.

Trevelyan’s throat went dry when her name left his mouth. She stared into his smouldering eyes for several moments before shakily nodding her confirmation.

“Then let me help you carry your burdens,” He whispered, brushing his thumb across her jaw. “Nobody should have to grieve alone.”

Laela’s heart sank a little. “But I have grieved alone, and I carry this burden alone. The Maker would have it so.”

“Perhaps He has until now, but He has asked you to lead the Inquisition – not sacrifice your soul for it.” Cullen stared into her, delving into her eyes with a searing intensity that threatened to consume her whole. “Let me help you carry your burden,” He repeated.

Laela hesitated, and then with quivering fingers, reached up to trace the tired lines beneath those amber eyes. “Only if you let me help with yours,” She paused for a heartbeat before she spoke his name once more, this time intentionally, “Cullen.”

At the sound of his given name, Cullen smiled. He tilted his head and Laela let her eyes drift closed in anticipation. The Commander cupped her chin in his hand, angling her tenderly in his arms so that he could claim her lips delicately. The kiss was fleeting, soft, but just the mere brush of his lips against hers left Laela breathless. Her eyes fluttered open to find Cullen smiling down at her longingly. It was the same kind of kiss he gave her when they danced at the smithy, the one that came back to her once again.  He watched her face, enraptured as she beamed up at him.  

Smoothing his palm over her soft cheek, Cullen murmured, “It would seem that the Maker’s truest gift comes not in the form of loss – but in the joy that awaits us beyond the darkness.” His lips curled into a very deliberate smirk when he breathed, “Laela.”

She reached up to pull him close. Their second kiss was deeper, more confident. Cullen wrapped her in his arms, holding her against him. They forgot about their sorrows, their losses, even their prayers. For a long moment, all they knew was the sensation of their latent anxieties and passions bursting to the surface, overwhelming them with a blinding radiance. His lips danced with hers so wonderfully that she could hardly think, let alone breathe. His stubble was a sharp, dizzying contrast to his smooth, heavenly lips. Slowly, he coaxed her to relax, and in return she taunted him with a brush of her tongue against his mouth. Her head spun when he responded in kind, drawing the gentlest of moans from her with each caress. Her soft whimpers only spurred Cullen on to try and educe more sounds from her. Likewise, it was his deep groan though that made Laela’s breath catch – the sound vibrated where his lips met hers, the sensation stoking the fire within her to burn even hotter.

Finally, Cullen gently released her again, the cool night air replacing his warmth. “We didn’t finish the last line of the Chant,” He reminded her, his growl low and rough in her ear.

Threading her fingers through his soft hair, Laela let her head fall back against his strong arm. She smiled contentedly. With a voice that sounded far-away, as though she were waking from a dream, she began reciting, “For You are the fire at the heart of the world—”

“And comfort is only Yours to give,” Cullen concluded, tracing the curve of her neck with his fingertips. “Laela...” When she didn’t protest, he repeated her name again. “Laela, may I...?”

She arched her brows in confusion, suddenly wary. But she needn’t have been, for moments later she felt Cullen’s muscular arms encircle her and lift her from the stone seat. She threw her own arms about his neck and buried her face against his shoulder. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the scent of his sweat, memorising his unique scent through the linen tunic. She relished in the feeling of him moving to stand, the fluid way his muscles moved beneath her and the gentle sway of his movement as he carried her from the room.

“Where are you taking me?” She murmured against his neck.

“I was thinking we could go sit by the fire in the hall before it goes out,” Cullen told her, his voice echoing through the semi-dark corridor.

“Oh?” She lifted her head at this, a frown of mock disapproval flitting across her features. “You only wish to sit by the fire...?”

 “If I may be so bold, Lady Trevelyan, I would like to submit a proposal for the Inquisitor to consider.” To emphasize the importance of his application, Cullen pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her neck, relishing the muffled exclamation of delight that practically tumbled from her as he did so.

"Ser, if all of your proposals start off this way, then I doubt any argument of mine could refute them,” she intoned formally.

This earned her another hurried kiss, a light chuckle escaping his throat. “Then it would seem that I shall have to submit more applications for your approval,” He rasped, breaking free and sweeping her around a corner with a flamboyant bounce in his steps.

Laela blinked when they stepped into the abandoned hall. The light was pale, but the dying heat from the fire beckoned deliciously for them to come closer, to come dwell in the secluded corner of the room. Across from the fire lay a pelt rug, and beyond it a fur-strewn couch. The stone fireplace cast a gorgeous orange glow across the otherwise dark hall, one that neither of them could truly resist.

The Inquisitor’s bare toes curled into the pelt rug gloriously once Cullen finally set her down. As he pulled away, she tilted her head back so that she could stare up into his face. Laela thoroughly enjoyed the sensation of his hands lingering on her waist, his desires breaking through that commanding visage at last. She could feel a slight tremble in his fingers, a tremor that echoed through her own muscles like the stirrings of an earthquake. Looking up at him through long lashes, she felt the breath rush from her lungs.

Cullen’s eyes were dark – and it wasn’t just the lack of light, it was something else. Something Laela had been longing to see. His mouth was drawn into a determined grin, a faint twitch of delight dancing on the corner of his lip. His scorching eyes were slowly taking her in, studying her face, her bare shoulders, down to the cinched waist of her nightrobe – and suddenly Laela felt as though she was wearing nothing at all. Instinctively she shivered, her hands reaching to pull her shawl closer about herself.

“No – Laela, please.” Cullen reached down and took her cool hands in his, drawing her into him. He lifted her palms to his chest, resting them against the faded linen that swathed his well-built chest. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Trevelyan sucked in a breath, her pulse accelerating as she felt the pounding rhythm of his own heart beneath her hands. “I just... It’s... I thought for so long that you and I could never...”

Cullen bent his head a little to gaze into her eyes while she spoke.

“I couldn’t believe that you would love me,” Laela finally admits, before adding, “I’m a mage, and you’re a templar. It’s just not—”

His response caught her by surprise. Wrapping her hands lovingly in his own, Cullen broke her concentration by gently lifting her fingers to his chin. His lips brushed across her cold fingertips, breathing warmth into them before planting a loving kiss on each one. His eyes flickered up to her face, expectation dancing in those bright eyes.

Cullen smirked, abruptly declaring: “Ex-Templar.”

Laela’s nervousness rapidly melted under the heat of his gaze. The certainty in his eyes, the devilish undertone to his voice, even the assured stretch of his shoulders as he stepped closer to her made her want to crumble. The Commander had the most extraordinary power. One moment he seemed insular, almost vulnerable; the next he had transformed into a calculating, almost salacious figure of a man. His brows were arching up in a way that warned her he was planning his next move already, those dark pupils measuring even her most subtle response to his gambit.

“Would the Inquisitor care to hear the supplication from her Advisor now?” He murmurs, a profound longing taking root in his words, “Or shall I inform him that she does not desire an audience with him this evening?”

Laela felt an irrepressible shudder rack her when he took the tip of one finger into his mouth.

“Oh...” Was all she managed to utter before Cullen threaded his fingers through her long, dark curls and drew her back into him.

Her breath escaped her in a sudden rush as his lips captured hers. He ran his free hand down her back, pulling Laela flush against his chest so that she could feel those taut rippling muscles through his tunic. Cullen’s groans tore at her: waves of yearning, tugging at those last few threads of resistance that kept her anchored to the real world. Soon a new sensation arose. That weighing grief was lifted from her shoulders, now replaced by what could only be described as buoyancy. With every touch of his hands, every melding of their lips, Laela’s worries fell away until all she could feel was him.

Cullen drew back momentarily, still cupping her head with his hands. Now he moved across her chin, pressing an almost chaste kiss to the curve of her jaw.

“I offer you my admiration,” He whispered between kisses, his words broken only by the faint muffle of his lips against her skin. Leisurely he progressed to her cheekbone. “I offer you my reverence.”

Laela’s knees trembled, struggling to hold her upright. Dizzying heat pulsated through her, a combination of mortification at her own disadvantage and wonder at his attention.

“I offer you my allegiance, my devotion.” As her eyes drifted closed, Cullen directed his care to her eyelids, pressing feather-light kisses to them reverently. “I offer you my body, my strength: my arms, my hands, and every talent they possess.” The Commander was seeking more of her now, inching his way down her neck, her shoulders, leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake.

A strangled whimper passed Laela’s lips, her head falling back weakly against his cradling grip.

“Receive my offering – I lay it before your heart,” He sighed, ghosting his warm breath along her collarbone. Dipping his head, Cullen nestled in the centre of her chest, his mouth grazing the neckline of Laela’s gown. His movements were so gentle, and yet, his mounting desperation was starting to produce cracks in his disciplined facade. “I offer you all that I am free in this mortal world to give.”

Laela quivered as his hands began to explore her curves, his hands wrenching fervent moans from her with every gentle stroke.

His voice wavered as he fought against the urge to kiss her. Cullen’s mouth sought hers out of its own accord, but he denied himself the indulgence for the moment, instead repeatedly feathering his lips over Laela’s. He continually pulled away before they could seal the kiss – every denial resulted in desperate whimpers from the woman before him. But he was not finished addressing her yet. “I bequest you my every heartbeat, my very breath: for they are yours, my lady.”

The meaning behind the hastily spoken words finally caught up to her. Between fervent kisses and through the haze of her thoughts, Laela stiffened. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy having her body being commanded so adeptly by Cullen's capable hands and enticing mouth. But even so, as realization dawned on her, she searched Cullen's face for any hint of insincerity. What she saw in his gaze made her heart beat more wildly in her chest. He was openly and honestly offering himself to her. Even though it had almost sounded as though he was teasing her with his supplication, the look in his eyes showed he meant every word.

"Cullen..." Laela hesitated. To think that he cared for her so deeply; she felt wholly unworthy of the attention and care he was showing her. "I don't—"

Cullen saw the look of uncertainty cross her face and his breath caught. His shoulders sank and he took a step back. "It is alright, I understand."

He started to pull his hand away, but she reached out to him. "Please, Cullen, I don't want you to go, but—" She closed her eyes and swallowed hard knowing she had to get the words out. "I don't want you to regret this, any of this. Ever." She looked up at him not sure of what to expect. When he sat there only looking at her with an unreadable look on his face, she couldn't help but ask, "Are you sure that you wish to be with me?" She felt so small standing before him, her slender frame shaking in apprehension of his response.

The ex-Templar stood there for several moments, appraising her thoughtfully. Then he took a step closer to her. “I would not have said it if I did not wish it, Laela.” Taking her hand into his, Cullen looked into Laela's eyes, as his fingers stroked her reassuringly. "I care about you Laela.  I will admit I hesitated at first even though I knew exactly how I felt about you. I thought that my being an ex-Templar was a problem for you, but now that I know it is not, I don't want to waste any more time questioning whether this is right or not.  I know how I feel when I touch you," Cullen's fingers played with hers and the sensation of her soft skin rubbing gently against his calloused hands was something so small and yet the feelings they ignited within him couldn't be denied. "And when I kiss you," he leaned closer to her, waiting a moment for her to tilt her head before he gently claimed her lips in a light kiss, "I can't deny that I want more."  The hungry look in his eyes returned. He captured her face in his hands, making sure she saw how he felt about her.  "I want you Laela. It doesn't matter to me that you are a mage; I only know that it feels right to hold you in my arms.” He cupped her cheek, tracing his thumb across the edge of her jaw. “You have enchanted me, and you have done it entirely without knowing. I have watched you from a distance for so long that to have you here, to hold you close is...” Cullen took a shaky breath. “Is so much more wonderful than I ever dreamed it could be. Please, Laela, I want you to trust me, to rely on me, to let me be here for you.” He stopped then, anxious eyes delving into hers, waiting for an answer – any answer. But when her mouth opened and closed without response, Cullen grew apprehensive. “If—”

But he was silenced when Laela placed a finger gently over his lips to quiet his fears.

"I never wanted you to regret being with me because I care about you as well," Laela told him gently. She kept her finger in place over his lips wanting to make sure he understood her hesitation. "I want you, Cullen – all that you are willing to give to me.  And I offer all that I have to give to you if you still want me."

Cullen’s amber eyes looked down at her in surprise. But then his gaze softened, admiration flooding back in where the anxiety had taken residence moments before. He tilted his head, stroking her hair and urging her to surrender to him once more. “I know what I want, Laela. I want you –nothing in this world could keep me from you.”

He trapped her lips beneath his, convincing her slowly of his devotion with every gentle caress. Laela trembled, still trying to process that this was truly happening. She reached up, laying her hand upon his shoulder, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. “Nothing?” She said in a marvelled whisper.

“The world could end tomorrow,” Cullen murmured huskily, “The Maker could take me now – the void could claim my soul, and yet I still wouldn’t cease loving you.”

“Sweet Andraste, Cullen...” Laela exclaimed, daring to meet his glassy-eyed gaze with her own, “If I had known that you were this eloquent in all your supplications—”

The words had no sooner escaped her than Cullen was upon her once more, his lips devouring hers with such fervour that Laela could not breathe. “Perhaps not all my supplications, Inquisitor...” His chest heaved when he sucked in air between ferocious kisses, his muscles undulating beneath her touch. “But this one is different.”

Laela reeled when he pushed her back and pinned her against the tapestry-covered wall. His toned arms trapped her in place, commanding her desires for himself. She wound her sensitive fingers into his wavy hair. Laela gasped against his mouth when she discovered that it was silken and soft. Already Cullen’s arousal was painfully evident, his hardness pressing into her thigh. His fingers played voraciously to raise the lower hem of her night dress; fingertips grazed her hips as he slowly revealed them. Cullen had utterly shattered her self-discipline and was now entreating Laela to give herself to him.

“Maker preserve me...” The Inquisitor slowly gave way to the yearning rampaging within her, relishing the feeling of her barely-clothed hips rolling wantonly against his. She could already feel the proof of her arousal growing. That irresistible heat had awakened in deep places; the slick evidence of her desire was already causing her legs to slip impatiently against each other. The rising tension within her was becoming excruciating. “Cullen,” She gasped, “What are you doing to me?”

“Laela, my Laela. I lay all that I am before you,” Cullen panted against her ear eagerly, his fingertips roaming ever closer to the juncture of her thighs. His palm brushed against the cloth at the front of her smalls, and he shuddered at the ensuing, sensual moan. “You have heard my proposal, my lady. Claim whatsoever you so desire – and claim it freely.”

Laela’s cheeks were flushed scarlet, her eyes almost black with want. Her mouth hung slightly open. “Advisor, I...” She swallowed at the eager look in his eyes, “I have heard your supplication. And I am touched by the generosity in your offer, the...” Her breath left her suddenly as Cullen’s hand grazed her breast, his distraction breaking her concentration for a moment. “The uh... The sincerity of your proposal...” Cullen pressed his body harder against hers so that Laela could feel the heat of his breath against her cheek. “Having had... Ooohh.” She moaned at the warmth of his roving palm, resisting the urge to press her body further into his hand, “Had... had the time to consider your heartfelt request, Ser, I... I have come to a decision.” When he lowered his head to her shoulder, laying kisses along her bare skin, she all but cried out, “I... I shall accept your supplication... Oh Cullen...”

The Commander’s answer came in the form of a maddening growl. Cullen loomed over her, his muscular form all but shutting out the light of the fireplace and trapping her in the shadows. His tongue swept into her mouth, duelling with hers insistently. Only now did Laela realise how much noise her newfound lover made when he was in pleasure. Hungry sounds rose from deep within his chest, sending shiver after shiver through her already weak body. His masterful tongue reduced her to a feeble creature writhing beneath him, but when Cullen broke free of the kiss to bite her lower lip between his own, something feral awoke within Laela.

Pressing her hands against those well-built shoulders, Trevelyan shoved – hard. The force from her weight was enough to catch Cullen off-guard. He stumbled back, the animalistic drive within him forcing out a frustrated growl that almost made Laela’s knees buckle. He arched his shoulders back in readiness, the crouching of his knees reminiscent of a lion preparing to pounce. Truly, this man was the very embodiment of his imposing symbol.

But she was not about to let him have all the fun.

“I have one amendment to your supplication, Commander,” Laela drawled, slipping away from his assault and skipping onto the pelt rug. The flickering embers of the fire cast a brilliant aura about her as she leisurely – calculatingly – let her shawl slip off her nearly-bare arms. The silk scarf fell about her ankles. In this light, the thin fabric of her pale blue nightdress allowed the Commander a perfect view of her shapely silhouette. “I will take what is mine, Ser. But you must first afford me with sufficient opportunity to,” She looked him up and down, “Appreciate the harvest.”

Inquisitor and Advisor circled each other on the hearth rug. Cullen’s smile was positively dangerous now. He stalked her with languorous, cat-like strides, his eyes appraising her form appreciatively. Laela hovered just beyond his reach, every fluid movement designed to taunt him.

“And tell me, Inquisitor,” He rejoined at length, “What gave you the impression that I would not allow you to acquire what is yours?” A mischievous sparkle took pride of place in his eyes.

“Perhaps, Commander, you did not understand my full meaning.” Laela danced backward as his arm reached for hers. “You presented me with all that you have to offer – and I intend to claim my reward. Now.”

Cullen stopped pacing then, an insatiable fire flashing in his eyes. His lip twitched impatiently, causing his scar to move enticingly with it. “As you wish, my lady—”

Laela had barely time to contemplate her next step before movement flashed in front of her eyes. Suddenly an enormous weight forced her back. Reaching out, she grasped a hold of Cullen’s tunic, but not before he had pressed her down on the couch possessively. She struggled to steady her breathing. Fur tickled the back of her neck as his body weight locked her beneath him. Cullen studied her face carefully, and then shifted his knee between her thighs.

“—But if you’ll remember, Inquisitor,” He apprised her, smirking at the expression of sheer astonishment on her face, “My application included the use of my hands and their various talents.” Cullen licked his lips. “And I’ll have you know,” He accentuated his position by using his leg to part hers further, “That I intend to make thorough use of this clause.”

The cool night air made her flesh prickle. His knee reached the junction of her thighs and she threw her head back, grinding her hips against him involuntarily. “C-Cullen...” She stammered furiously, “This isn’t f-fair.”

He nibbled at her ear, his stubble grazing against her cheek. “Tell me to stop.” He bit down on the lobe’s soft tissue before running his tongue over it soothingly.

Laela’s hands groped at his shoulders, her fingers clawing at his tunic. “Don’t – oh Cullen, don’t stop...”

Cullen reacted by drawing her nightdress up higher, past the waistband of her smalls to reveal her stomach. He ran his fingers along the very edges of her muscles, tracing the faint line of the scar he found on her abdomen. Then, bowing his head, he bestowed kisses along its length, following it as far as he could. After several seconds, Cullen reached the lower edge of her breast. Hesitating, he allowed the heat of his breath to linger on the exposed underside, watching her nipples noticeably pebble beneath the fabric of her gown.

Laela gave out a faint cry, her hands reaching to trail through his hair once more. She stared down at him, her jaw slack in pure bliss. “Cullen...” She uttered his name like a prayer, a plea for deliverance. Now, as he nuzzled against the loose fabric of her gown, she nearly held her breath. The anticipation was driving her wild – the mere thought of Cullen’s lips on her skin was making her incredibly wet for him. But then the warmth of his lips, the heat of his mouth closing over her nipple destroyed her. Laela keened wildly, the desperate sound ringing out across the empty hall.

Instantly, Cullen shifted over her, entwining his tongue with hers and swallowing the sound with his mouth. “Shh,” He whispered hoarsely, a mischievous grin playing across his face as he pulled away, “Would you bring the night guard down upon us?”

Laela’s reply was indecipherable between his fervent kisses and her own hungry gasps. All she knew of the world now was his fingers – oh Maker what talented, wicked fingers! Those calloused, gifted digits had captured her hardened peaks and were teasing, rolling and stroking them so tenderly that it sent bolts of arousal searing through her body. Her body arched up against his, the sensation of her flesh against his tunic making her whimper all the more.

“Cullen,” She murmured, barely coherent, “Please... I want to see you.”

He pressed open-mouthed kisses along her temple, a throaty rumble warning her that he was not ready to let her claim him just yet. Instead, Cullen pulled the nightdress over her head, slipping it free of her long hair and casting it aside. He trailed his free hand across her forehead and through her dark waves. Eyes black with lust drifted over her now bare torso, taking her in and memorizing every little detail.

Laela felt so defenceless, so vulnerable beneath that gaze. Her hands came up to cover her scar, to conceal her imperfections, but Cullen caught her wrists gently.

“Maker’s breath, Laela,” He whispered, “You are beyond beautiful.”

Incredulity played across her features. “Show me,” She dared him.

Cullen’s eyes flashed, and he lowered himself to his knees before the couch, settling himself between her knees. Moments later, two strong hands wrapped around her waist, grasping at her bare back and pulling her upright against him. One hand cupped the fullness of her breast; meanwhile he slowly teased her peaks until they were agonizingly sensitive. Those soft lips caressed and suckled at her breasts in turn, tempting her to cry out his name with every stroke of that clever tongue. His strong arms drew her closer, and it took all of Laela’s strength not to make a sound. Cullen’s hand trailed down the centre of her chest, teasing across her stomach and dancing along the edge of her smalls. She shivered as one finger dipped beneath the fabric, sweeping across the concealed skin there and testing her resolve.

“Oh Maker...” She hissed, an irrepressible shiver tearing through her. “Please... Please Cullen...”

He wordlessly slipped her smalls over her hips, sighing with want as he beheld her for the first time. Laela watched breathlessly when he pulled the last of her clothing off her legs and tossed it away. His pupils visibly dilated; his breath became shallow and raspy. The scent of her arousal was painfully evident, a realisation not at all aided by the revealed wetness that caught the chill of the night air.

“Oh Laela,” Cullen murmured hoarsely, his fingers digging into her hips. He pulled her closer to the edge of the couch, easing her thighs apart slowly. “You will be the death of me.”

“I-I hope not,” She retorted dryly – but her ability to speak broke the moment he touched her.

One long finger caressed her folds softly, sensually; gathering the slick moisture there. With mounting confidence, Cullen began to ease her open. Laela clenched her jaw against the bombardment of sensations. She could feel his calloused hand cupping her, his fingertips first stroking the outer curve of her labia and then stretching her. All the while, his handsome face stared up at her expectantly, those beguiling eyes tempting her to call out his name once again. Cullen growled low in his throat when she did not oblige him. He lowered his head then, nuzzling between her thighs eagerly.

Laela arched around him; a hum of excitement on her lips.

She allowed him to guide her legs over his shoulders. His strong hands nudged her legs further apart as he delved into her, angling her hips upward slightly so that he could ravish her properly. The Inquisitor lay back onto her elbows, savouring the twin sensations of the fur pelts prickling against her back and his stubble burning pleasurably against her thigh. Laela had to bite down on her lip to keep from crying out when Cullen’s mouth closed about her bud. His tongue flicked against her sensitive bundle of nerves, each move rapid, light, unpredictable. Alternating between suckling and licking, he coaxed her fire into a raging inferno, the heat accumulating torturously inside of her. Already she was writhing feverishly beneath his ministrations, her liquid heat spilling over his fingers as they circled her entrance.

“Oh sweet Maker,” He rumbled against her folds, his hot breath sending a spasm of pleasure up her spine, “You’re soaked for me...”

She keened shamelessly when his probing fingers slid inside her. Laela’s mouth hung open, her lips forming an ‘o’ as she struggled to breathe. She was still chanting his name, but now it sounded fainter, weaker, secondary to her need for air. Laela’s thighs flexed as he continued to stimulate her, her ankles locking around the back of Cullen’s neck. She fell back against the couch. Her hips gyrated against him in both rapture and torment, his anchoring hand the only thing holding her to the ground. The sensuousness of his masterful tongue and his euphoric touch combined drove her headlong toward that cliff.

Cullen savoured the sound of her sumptuous moans as much as her vice-like grip would allow. Her muscles throbbed around him, desperate pleas for mercy filling the air. Her dewy folds trembled beneath his lips – he had no intention of allowing her a reprieve until she screamed his name. His own desire was growing more and more urgent, but he taunted her like a man possessed. Cullen accelerated, devouring her, coaxing her ever closer to the edge.

Laela moaned in warning, her whole body stiffening. The undulating fire within her gave way to a swell of acute, burning rapture. The sheer force of the onslaught dragged her under, sending her hurtling toward an inescapable chasm. Her hands trembled fiercely, clawing at his shoulders for stability once the shockwaves of her climax pressed down upon her. Laela’s muscles clenched, her body pulsating uncontrollably around him. Cullen revelled in her shuddering cries, stroking her to completion and nurturing her as she gave way to oblivion. Heat flowed from her entrance as he basked in her completion.

Her eyes sought out Cullen’s, the warm ambiance of the fire and the afterglow casting a delightful radiance across her skin. After Laela crumpled back on the couch, boneless with fulfilment, he pulled himself up beside her, cradling her in his arms and stroking her hair. The Commander enveloped her, drawing Laela against him. He combed her damp curls with his fingertips, at the same time tracing lines on the sweat-slicked skin of her waist. As she settled back against the plane of his chest, her bare flesh resting on soft linen, Laela felt him bury his face against her hair. Cullen breathed in her scent but was startled when the Inquisitor pushed herself upright, turning about to trap his torso beneath hers.

“My turn,” She whispered, coursing her lips across the outer edge of his ear. Laela straddled him, her hands capturing his and pulling them up over his head. “I will have my way, Commander.”

“Indeed?” Cullen’s brow arched, but he did not protest. Instead he let her push him back against the blankets, stretching out his torso languidly. “What would you have of me, my lady?”

Laela’s hands toyed with the hem of his tunic, rolling it up and over his stomach. Her fingers moved onto his buttons, freeing them from their clasps. “I would have all of you, Ser.” She lowered her mouth to the exposed centre line of his abdomen, tracing the indent there with her tongue. “As you promised me.” Her hungry fingertips perused his skin, exploring the newly revealed curves of his muscles and memorizing their shapes.

“And... Ah!” Cullen exhaled, his breath escaping in a rush. Laela was pushing him, trying to distract him by dragging her nails over his pecs. He ground his jaw instinctively when Laela grazed her teeth across the curve of his throat. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing delightfully beneath her lips. “Tell me, m-my lady, what do you think of your... Your prize?” His agitated stammering was worsening.

Laela smiled against his flushed skin. “Would you care for me to tell you? Or show you?” Her fingers brushed over his trousers roguishly.

She took Cullen’s lips with her own then, her hand still holding his prisoner above his head. The Inquisitor hummed, twining her tongue with his in what was becoming a familiar dance. He responded enthusiastically, lifting his chin slightly to gain full entrance to her mouth. His lungs heaved in desperate breaths the moment she broke free, his tongue darting out to taste her on his lips.

“Maker preserve me, Laela,” Cullen whispered, his voice barely audible as he fought to keep control, “Your touch alone i-is enough to undo a man...”

Laela stretched out over him, her long body grazing his provocatively as she tilted her head back. “Maybe I’ll find new ways to undo you by the end of the night,” she promised, her velvety voice sending an invigorating tingle through his veins.

Cullen closed his eyes, driving his grip into the cushion behind his head and losing himself to her touch. He felt her fingers trace the line of hair down across his pelvis, slipping beneath his belt to taunt him. His hips jerked forward the moment her hand brushed against him. “Ahhh, Laela!”

But she was far from finished with him. Crawling down his body, Laela hooked her thumbs under his waistband, pulling his trousers down and off his legs. Blood pulsed through him, heightening his pleasure when she trailed her tongue down to the lowest point of his stomach. Her skilled hand quickly divulged him of his loincloth, leaving him lying bare beneath her, except for the unbuttoned tunic splayed about his shoulders. She elongated herself over him, entangling her slender limbs with his muscular ones. Laela’s leg stretched out, stroking the underside of his calves with her toes and trailing up the inner curve of his bare feet. Her lover’s reaction was evinced by a low moan, and Laela’s toes curled against the back of his knees at the sound. This time Cullen let his hands roam over her curves possessively.

“You are so beautiful...” He was staring up at her, half-dazed, his mouth drawn into an enticing smile. “I love seeing you like this.”

She pressed a chaste kiss to his scar. “I am only just getting started.”

Easing back on her haunches, Laela propped herself over Cullen so that she could take full advantage of his naked beauty. Her hands smoothed down his angular jaw, brushing against his stubble on their path toward his neck. Parting ways, her roaming palms caressed those thick shoulders, searching and learning every dip in his rippling physique. He lifted his head slightly, resting it against one of the fur-covered cushions as he watched her.

Laela bit her lip, her hungry eyes settling on his well-formed chest muscles. Only now did she see them: the twisting scars that wove across Cullen’s fair skin. Some were thick, jagged. Others were fine, barely perceptible but for the faint white streaks on the very surface of his flesh. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she envisioned him: curly haired and youthful; clad in shining Templar armour; lunging at a fearsome opponent only to be caught off guard by a sharp blade. The image was horrifying, and yet, the thought of Cullen fighting for his own freedom made him even more alluring. She threaded her fingers through the luscious sprinkling of golden chest hair, following the trail down his abdomen and past the defined ‘v’ of his hips. Her eyes flickered down once more, to where the hair clustered thickest. The sight of him hard for her made Laela shiver.

Cullen’s skin tingled when her gaze landed upon his member. He licked his lips, shifting beneath her weight slightly, attempting to anticipate her next move.

Trevelyan rolled her hips against his thigh before reaching for him. But Cullen wasn’t about to let her just take what she wanted from him. The Commander tangled his calloused hands in her dark hair, giving it a gentle tug. Laela winced, her head falling back just long enough for him to lunge up and bite into her neck. She yelped with surprise at his aggression but it was not enough to deter her. She smiled evilly, tossing him back with a fierce shove of her hands. Her lover all but roared when her fingers closed about his throbbing shaft. One smooth, magical hand pressed him down into the couch while the other caressed him intimately, earning the deepest of sounds from his throat. Laela looked on in wonder, her mouth going dry at the sight of him quaking beneath her. This was what she had wanted – to see Cullen undermined by her touch, dependent on her care, gasping “Laela” like it was his dying breath. She pumped him gently, a thrill shooting through her when Cullen bellowed her name, the exclamation softening as her name danced on his lips over and over. Another twist of her hand had him crying out in pleasure – too loudly. She reacted instantly. Her mouth instinctively stifled her lover’s noise before it could alert the rest of Skyhold.

“Hush, Cullen,” Laela reminded him with a furtive grin, pulling away from his adventurous tongue, “There are guards outside – remember?”

“Damn them,” Cullen grunted in exasperation, his magnificent hands mapping the curve of her breasts possessively. His aching need was painfully evident now both on his face and in his straining length. The powerful warrior within him took control and without warning, he reared up from beneath her.

The sheer force of the move unhinged Laela’s grip and sent her tumbling off the couch. She landed with a gentle thud on the soft fur rug, rolling to a stop just a foot or two away from the hearth. Her eyes burned with annoyance as she pushed herself up on her hands and knees.

“Damn the guards,” Cullen growled ferociously, standing over her now. The firelight behind them made his imposing physique look almost angelic, the brilliant glow dancing off his hair and eyes like the gold of the admonished Saint’s statue. He flexed his stalwart shoulders, ignoring the beads of perspiration that dripped across his rippling core and striding toward her aggressively. “Damn the whole keep – I will not suffer silence for them anymore.”

Laela stared up in amazement, her body aching as she realised his course of resolve. She scrambled back, suddenly conscious of the fact that he was indeed on the hunt, and she was now his prey.

“They can break the doors down for all I care,” He snarled, hunkering down predatorily on his hands and knees and stalking towards her, “I will have you, Laela.”

“Cullen...” She whimpered, weakness grasping at her limbs when she beheld the raw hunger in his eyes. “We’ll get caught—”

“I will make you scream for me,” he growled, his eyes drinking in her nakedness with yearning. His hands landed on her shoulders, rolling her onto her back. From this angle, the Inquisitor had a mesmerizing view of his body as he crawled over her, her angle allowing her an idyllic perspective of his muscles flexing wonderfully. Cullen glowered at her from beneath scheming brows, “And you will be begging me to grant you mercy.”

Suddenly Laela was trapped underneath him, her thighs parted willingly; the energy radiating off her Commander’s bare skin making her quake in expectancy. No other man had ever managed to affect her like this. But already, lying prone beneath Cullen, her insides were ablaze with desire. She felt impossibly weak – vulnerable. And it felt incredible.

“Tell me you want me,” He demanded, staring down at her through pupils clouded with lust.

“Cullen—”

“Tell me.” A drop of his warm sweat fell from his forehead, rolling down her neck and bestowing a trail of his scent in its wake.

“Maker save me, Cullen, I need you!” She cried without thinking.

Instantly, he fell upon her, hunger driving him to enter her, to claim her at last. His thick fingers slipped between her folds once more, tormenting her and stretching her in preparation for him. Laela’s eyes rolled back, a strangled moan tearing from her throat. Cullen razed his teeth over her collarbone, sending hot puffs of air against her skin. She could feel him pressing into her thigh, the first droplet of his own need escaping and rubbing wet heat into her skin. A thrill of anticipation made Laela’s pelvis rock against his. She bit down on her lip, bracing herself for what was about to happen.

Cullen hovered over her, his brow lined with concentration. He shuddered, easing his shaft into her passage slowly, closing his eyes at the sensation of her warmth engulfing him. But it was Laela who keened shamelessly when she felt his fingers guiding himself between her moistened lips. Cullen stammered her name, pausing for a moment before sheathing himself fully within her. She wailed softly, a shockwave of exquisite pain racking her as her body welcomed him.

“Cullen... Cullen...” His name was like a prayer, and Laela found herself whispering the admonishment over and over.

He allowed himself to remain buried within her for several moments, allowing her to adjust to him before slowly easing her pelvis even closer against his. That urgent heat was already swelling within them both, rolling through their bodies from the intimate place where they were joined. Cullen growled low in his throat as he gripped her hips, pulling himself out slowly and then thrusting back within her.

“Maker preserve me...” The words rumbled from deep within his chest. “For I have touched heaven itself.”

Laela cried out fervently, completely forgetting about her previous efforts to remain silent. “Oh yes,” She gasped, feeling her body surge around him when he filled her again. “Oh Cullen, yes!”

Cullen’s hands guided her legs around his waist, and Laela’s ankles locked there gladly. She stared unseeing at the ceiling of the hall, her body crippled by paralysing tremors as he sank into her again and again. The Commander clenched his jaw, pacing himself. Laela matched him stroke for stroke, arching her back to take more of him. Cullen moaned with every sublime lunge, breaching her unsteadily at first. But as the woman beneath him began to writhe in spasms of divine agony, he urged himself deeper. Within minutes they had developed a savage rhythm. His ragged breath came against her neck, and Laela could do little more than wrap her trembling fingers in his hair, hanging onto him desperately.  Cullen licked at the curve of her throat, lingering at the dip of her shoulder. He laved at the salty skin, eliciting euphoric cries from her lips.

Somewhere beyond the fog of pleasure, Cullen heard voices outside the grand doors. He lifted his head, slowing momentarily, much to Laela’s annoyance. She opened her mouth to protest, but Cullen clamped his hand over her jaw protectively, warning her to remain silent. He heard the latch on the wooden door lift. It took every ounce of his restraint to pacify his urges for the moment but he knew what was required.

Cullen bellowed, “Be on your way, guardsmen!”

The sentry instantly stopped, the latch still lifted, but no move was made to open the door. Laela bit her lip anxiously, chancing a glimpse out from behind the chaise lounge. The hall was still empty except for her and Cullen, the haven behind the couch allowing them some meagre privacy from the would-be intruders.

“Is all well, Commander Cullen?” A man’s voice called out.

“It shall be, provided that you return that latch to its proper place and leave me be!” Cullen’s booming voice echoed furiously off the stone walls. “I do not wish to be disturbed!”

“Sir?” The guard sounded uncertain.

“Did you hear me, guardsman?” Cullen shouted, the vibration of his rough voice cascading through the entirety of his torso, making Laela’s toes curl with delight. “I have an,” he stared down at her pointedly, “Urgentmatter to attend to – and I will not tolerate any interruptions! Now be on your way!”

Trevelyan swallowed back the urge to laugh as the guard did as he was told, a faint “aye, Commander” echoing through the dark room. Then, once the latch slid back, she leaned up and ran her tongue along the pulse-point of Cullen’s neck.

“You magnificent man,” She hummed, melding into him once more. Her practiced fingers stroked his back, dragging her nails lightly across his skin. “Defending me so valiantly...” Laela let out an excited squeal when he pushed her back, squirming beneath his anchoring hand. She shuddered, the resumed penetration of his stiff length prompting a rush of liquid from her entrance.

He captured her lower lip between his teeth. “I will not let anything separate us, Laela.” Cullen tugged at her supple flesh, purring softly, “Nobody and nothing will take me from you. Not now.”

Cullen picked up his punishing tempo, driving into her vehemently and observing her rapturous face. The sound of his frayed moans and her needy cries filled the air, and both knew that it would not be long. The Commander repositioned himself, his eyes burning into hers knowingly. He plunged to the hilt, hitting the spot within her that made her want to scream. Cullen released his pent-up breath then. He let his head fall forward between her breasts, his eyes obscured behind sweat-drenched curls of blond hair. Cullen pounded into her desperately now, a rolling sound akin to thunder building up deep in his stomach. Just the hum of his voice had her nearly blind with ecstasy.

Laela’s mouth hung open, desperate gasps of air the only sound she could generate. He was pushing her harder than any man had ever done, and the blatant growls that accompanied each surge made her feel as though she were about to burst. She could hardly move except to clutch at his flexing shoulders; she held onto him even as she felt the first electric bolts of her climax welling up within her. Already white spots were dancing across her vision. Her lips trembled, a desperate attempt to formulate a coherent warning falling wretchedly short. Laela rode him mindlessly, her satin walls rubbing gloriously against his steel. When Cullen reached down to knead her clit, she groaned frantically. His hips slammed his quivering piston inside her and she felt her body unleash. Laela recited his name like a mantra in the throes of pleasure. Her muscles clenched powerfully, a cataclysmic scream tearing from her throat.

Cullen tilted her head back so he could watch her, his eyes gleaming while she came undone beneath him. His movements were becoming erratic. The sight of this beautiful woman saturated and arching into him was enough to send him teetering over the edge. His eyelids grew heavy as Laela’s walls clamped around him, milking him, his member pulsating against the nectar flowing from her opening. With one final thrust, Cullen shattered. “Laela!” He all but roared her name, giving way to the consuming strain and releasing his seed within her.

Laela mewled weakly when his heat shot into her, collapsing against the pelt rug in fulfilment. For several long moments they lay tangled in each other’s arms, the only audible sound was their frantic breaths. Cullen lay exposed, defenceless, against her stomach, half of his body weight still supported by his shaking arms. Cool trails of perspiration snaked down his arms and over her skin. She was holding his head against her chest, she realised; his damp curls were tickling against her nose. Slowly, Cullen raised his head. Those remarkable eyes met hers, her lover resting his chin against her abdomen. He bestowed a lingering kiss upon her belly button and Laela was mesmerised.

“You are glorious,” He sighed huskily, his fingers drawing circles lazily on her sticky skin.

Laela was too lost in the afterglow to answer.

Vaguely she recalled Cullen crawling over her, leaning down to ravish her mouth. She could feel him slip out of her, his absence leaving her empty and cold. A shiver racked her, and she moaned at the loss.

“Cullen,” She pleaded. “Cullen, don’t go.” Her hand blindly reached for his.

Those warm fingers enclosed hers, squeezing her palm reassuringly. “I’m not going anywhere, Laela. I promise.”

Then she felt it, the soft brush of fleece on her skin. Cullen had retrieved a soft blanket and was wrapping it tenderly about her. She sighed contentedly as her lover tucked her feet in, sliding behind her and offering her a lithe shoulder for support.

Laela accepted gratefully, snuggling into him with a faint moan. “Cullen?”

“Yes, Laela?”

“I want you to be here when I wake up.”

The Commander chuckled low in his throat. “Always.” He burrowed his nose in her hair and stretched one arm possessively over her hip.

That was the last Laela recalled of that night, drifting into blissful sleep with Cullen’s body heat at her back to keep her warm...

Cool sunlight roused her the next day. Laela inhaled, flexing her legs as she struggled to wake up. Somewhere in the back of her mind she could remember falling asleep on a fur rug, so it was no surprise to her when she felt pelt tickling at her toes. But it was the soft padding beneath her and the fabric around her waist which startled her. She deciphered after several moments that her hand, which was tucked instinctively beneath her chin, was resting against the thin fabric of her nightgown.

That was enough to wake her properly. Her mind remembered events very differently.

Prying her eyes open, Laela found that she was not in the great hall as she had expected. Instead, she was lying in her own bed. She remembered falling asleep lying against Cullen’s shoulder, his hands wrapped in ownership around her. But the faint light of morning revealed that the Commander’s sinuous arm was now, in fact, her crushed pillow.

Letting out a despairing groan, Laela rubbed her hands over her face.

“Maker, I’m such a fool!” She groused, rolling onto her back. Her tangled, dark hair moved with her, and she fought it off with one hand. “A dream. Heavens, it was a dream.” She felt tears well up in her eyes, dissatisfaction overwhelming her.

And yet, her thighs told a very different story. They ached, a tell-tale sting intensifying from faint bruises on her rear. Her folds still throbbed and her innermost places ached with fulfilment and exertion. She decided to check for sure. Reaching down to touch herself, Laela jumped slightly. Her smalls were missing! Only then did she recognise Cullen’s scent lingering on her skin, on her clothing.

Confusion racked her – so they had made love then. And then he had left her.

Turning onto her right side, Laela’s hands stretched out to claim her pillow possessively. Instead, she encountered a firm, warm surface. Her fingers grazed against smooth skin before reaching a patch of fine chest hair.

Sitting bolt upright, Laela struggled to take control of her rapid breathing: lying beside her, his body stretched out in sleep, was Cullen. His arm was curved around the top of her pillow, just out of her reach.

Which is why I didn’t sense his presence when I woke, Laela realized.

Cullen’s fair locks were dishevelled, strands of wheat-coloured hair sticking to his forehead. Where lines of tension once stretched between his brows, now peace ruled: his light, golden countenance was flushed with satisfaction. Those chiselled cheekbones caught the first dim rays of sunlight, and Laela had to smile at the sight of his long, golden lashes resting against his skin serenely. He looked so peaceful, so youthful and innocent.

To think that this was the same lion of a man had been roaring her name last night. She already felt aroused just thinking about it. Maker, the time he had taken in claiming her for himself and the dominance he had displayed as he did so. Her knees went weak at the memory.

Laela’s fingers gently swept his stray hair off his forehead, laying a tender kiss upon his upper lip. She followed the course of his scar, memorising it with first her fingers and then her tongue. His stubble had increased dramatically as he slept. Where the night before his jaw had been dotted with fine hair, now Cullen’s chin was shrouded in thick, dark fuzz. Laela laughed quietly, tracing the line of his growth in wonder.

Cullen groaned low at her touch, rolling toward her and trapping her beneath his broad arms. Laela chuckled, unable to hide her fascination with his sleeping form. She wrapped herself about his unconscious form, winding her legs between his now-clothed hips.

“Cullen,” She whispered enticingly, dragging the tip of her warm finger across his ear.

“Umph,” he muttered inarticulately. His lashes stirred as his body betrayed him.

Laela smiled when she felt him hardening through his trousers. She lifted the skirt of her nightgown fractionally and, remembering the previous night, ground her pelvis against him evocatively. “Cullen,” she breathed against his lips, “I need you.”

That worked. His eyes fluttered open, hazed pupils struggling to focus on her face. Laela’s insides flipped – he was adorable when he was half-asleep. Then, as he recognised where he was, Cullen’s mouth stretched into a relaxed smile. “You’re here,” He murmured huskily.

“So are you,” Laela smiled back at him. “But I don’t exactly recall walking from the great hall to my bedroom.” She trailed her toes over the underside of his foot.

Cullen moaned, stretching his arms around her and pulling her flush against his bare chest. “That’s because you didn’t,” He informed her in a gravelly voice, nibbling at her ear. “I carried you back here once the fire burned out.” His hands slid down her back, dipping beneath her gown to touch her.

Laela sighed with amazement. “I was sure it was a dream,” she confessed, stroking his cheek and staring into his eyes. “When I woke up here, I was sure of it.”

“Would you rather I left us in the hall for the guards to discover come morning?” He teased, one brow arching in bemusement.

“They wouldn’t have learned anything they didn’t already know,” She laughed in return, her shoulders shaking at the recollection of the guard’s shocked tone when he had unlocked the door. “To think they almost came storming in on us – I’m glad you called them off when you did.”

Cullen growled against her lips, and Laela shivered. He felt her reaction and drew back slightly, staring into her eyes in awe. “Do you like that?” He questioned, smoothing her curls back across her pillow.

She nodded, and he repeated the sound, sending thrills of delight through her. His fingers slid beneath her gown to remove it, before gliding against her glistening folds.

Laela scrambled back against the pillows. “Cullen, you insatiable beast!” She pushed him back roughly, ignoring the wounded look on his face. “You just woke up.”

“I know,” he smirked, lying against the down cushions and folding his toned arms across his chest. “I was thinking we could...”

Laela quirked a brow expectantly. “...Go for round two?” She finished his sentence for him.

Cullen’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly. Laela laughed and gently slapped her hand against his arm.

“Now that it is light, I want to look at you,” Cullen admitted, a nervous blush spreading across his cheeks. “May I...?”

“Of course – after last night, there is nothing I can hide from you,” Laela smiled.

Cullen moved to kneel before her, his adoring eyes worshipping her in the grey light of sunrise.

“Tell me, Commander,” Laela apprised him after a few moments, “How did a man as strong as you earn so many scars?” Her hand gently reached out to trace a few of the larger markings his body bore. “Did you not have healers in Kirkwall to properly mend your wounds? Surely there were mages at the Circle who would have been trained in the healing arts? Adept healers can heal the gravest wound without leaving any scars." 

"Not always did I travel with mage, nor did I always trust them," Cullen murmured regretfully, his eyes turning sad as looked over her form. He stared at the worst of her wounds: a scar that crossed from her shoulder to the center of her chest. He vaguely recalled that it continued onto her back – he had caught a glimpse of it the night before, and the sight evoked a memory of it beneath his fingertips. "And what of this here," he gently traced the blemish from her shoulder where her heart pounded beneath her skin.  "What caused this scar?"

"I had the misfortune of crossing a templar having a bad day.” Laela played it off lightly, hoping that he would not be offended by the admission. “He left me for dead, but thankfully a very skilled healer kept me from dying."

Cullen could see the pain in her eyes, despite her best efforts to conceal it. "I thought that adept healers could heal the gravest would without any tale tell sign?" He prompted gently.

Laela’s voice grew quiet and thoughtful. "I nearly died,” She told him delicately, “The magic they used to knit bone and muscle back together drained their mana. It was all they could do to keep me from bleeding out." She searched Cullen's eyes for any assurance he could offer her. "The scar reminds me what the alternative could have been... Though sometimes I wonder why I was ever spared. Sometimes I don’t understand why I became 'The Herald'." She almost sounded as though she regretted survived the events.  

Cullen was silent for a moment, contemplating the bitterness that had crept into her voice. "Is that why you believe in the Maker?  You feel as though you were chosen to become the Herald – and that is the only reason why He spared you?"

The laugh she gave was a harsh one, "Oh Cullen, I feel as though I am the worst person to do this task.  A mage, survivor of two events that stole the lives of hundreds – what could possibly make me special enough to be worth saving over all those other lives?"

Taking her chin in his hand, Cullen tilted her face up. Laela had no other choice but to gaze into his eyes when he spoke. "You are special, Laela Trevelyan,” he told her softly, caressing her hair. “Nobody else I know could have accomplished all that you have in such a short amount of time. I may not have agreed with your methods at first, but I can't argue with your results.” Laela shook her head, but Cullen held her fast in his grasp. “You know how to talk to nobles and peasants alike. You are not easily cowed and believe that you can accomplish any task we set before you. You are strong minded, but you have a good heart. Not many people I know can boast half as much.” Cullen stroked her cheek reassuringly and her eyes softened beneath his doting gaze. “You may not believe it, Laela, but the Maker could not have chosen anyone better to have led us through these troubling times.”

She couldn't look away from his intent gaze. He spoke the words honestly and from a heart that bled for her. He truly believed her worthy of guiding Thedas, as well as capable of caring for his heart. She didn't have the spirit to tell Cullen that he shouldn't place his trust in her. She wanted to believe, wanted to think better of herself. But she had made so many mistakes. Laela had not been able to save people from dying before; how would she be able to save them now?

Cullen’s hands encouraged her to lean back against him, his body shifting so that he could wrap her warmly against his chest. “If the Maker's bride had only one person to choose in Thedas to have touched with her wisdom and light, there would be none other more deserving of her favor than you."

Laela’s breath caught in her throat, and tears pricked at her eyes. Where the emotion had made her feel ashamed the night before, now she felt amazed. Cullen cradled her against him so gently that her heart felt as though it would burst. Instead of pulling away, Laela reached up to cradle his face in her hand, reclining her head against his shoulder. She kissed him tenderly at first, her lips barely touching his. But Cullen cupped her jaw, encouraging her to relax and allow him to show her how much he treasured her. Laela gave in. Rather than allowing old fears to overwhelm her, she lost herself in his embrace, happily surrendering herself to his faith. For now at least, Laela Trevelyan would let herself forget that she could ever let Cullen, or anyone else, down.