His mind
was full of clouds; he barely realized he was still walking down the river with
the water up to his shins. He didn’t even register the cold of the water; it
had long since seeped through his armor and under armor numbing his toes. But
it also numbed the stinging pain on the cut on his leg too.
Cullen’s
limbs felt heavy. So heavy that all he wanted to do – the only thing his
screaming muscles wanted him to do – was lie down and sleep. The fight had been
long, wave after wave the enemy came. Red Templars. Corrupted Wardens. The
strange elves… At some point he had despaired and thought they would never end
and the Inquisition Forces would crumble beneath.
But they
had persevered through it all.
He knew
the smart thing to do was to rest. His body desperately needed it. But no.
Through all the fighting, through all the blood haze, through it all the one
thing that kept him fighting was envisioning her face. The desire to see her
again. To see them again.
So he
wouldn’t stop moving, not until he found her. To make sure she was safe.
It felt
like an eternity that he had been walking that river, barely nodding at the
soldiers around him that saluted him. But he had still not found her, despair
began to grip at his heart.
No. Don’t think that way. It’s just your fatigued body.
She’s here. She’s here.
But he
couldn’t stop the tears that pressed against his eyes and the pain in his body
became too much. He stumbled and fell against a tree on the river bank. He
leaned heavily against it as his body refused to move anymore. No one paid him
any mind, they were too busy tending to their own needs or the doctors were
rushing to get to those dying. How he managed to stay standing was only by the
grace of the Maker.
Cullen
stood there in his own personal pain and misery, time slipping by that he could
be searching for her.
What if she’s injured? What if she’s… she’s…
He grunted
in pain as he tried to force his body to move. Keep going. He told himself over and over. And finally looked up.
There she
was.
Rayne…
She leaned
heavily against her staff like an old woman, her armor torn and ripped in various
places and stained with blood. Her face was covered in dark red hardening
blood, like tattoos of the Dalish. He noted the way her face screwed in pain
with every step.
But she
was alive…
Cullen
tried to call out her name, but all he managed was a strangled noise.
It
apparently had been enough. She looked up, her eyes hazed over with pain – no doubt
looking as bad as he felt. But in that moment she was the most perfect thing in
the world. And the moment she saw him her eyes cleared and filled with relief.
Cullen
couldn’t stop it then. His tears that he had been keeping back came forward in
equal parts relief at seeing her and pain, and his knees when out beneath him.
He was grateful for the tree he was against, it saved him from collapsing and
causing more pain. He sat against it, looking up at the sun with hope in his
heart that he hadn’t felt since before the battle began.
He heard a
small grunt and looked away from the sky and to Rayne as she just dropped her
staff and slid down the tree to sit next to him. He wanted nothing more to grab
her up and kiss her, to thank the Maker for keeping her safe. But his body was
done, it refused to move another inch. And Rayne looked about the same.
She closed
her eyes with a small smile on her face.
Despite
the pain, he moved enough to bring his hand to hers and wove their fingers
together and held on with all the strength he had left.
They didn’t
speak.
They just
conveyed how they felt through that one touch and fell asleep with their jobs
done.
Part 7 of Happily Ever After – my self indulgent Annabel x Cullen epilogue, because they deserved one!
This part is SFW with lots of pregnancy fluff with Dad!Cullen to be just being adorable really. You can read it all on AO3 here or on tumblr Part 1Part 2Part 3Part 4Part 5Part 6 – hope you enjoy!
–
Cullen chuckles as his wife huffs and throws a blouse at him which he catches clumsily. That’s the third that no longer fits over the ever-growing bump of her belly and swell of her breasts. He’s not sure she’s ever looked more beautiful than she does right now, with the pink morning rays lighting her silhouette in dusty hues and highlighting every radiant curve. It’s enough to make his groin stir to life. To think, he’s gazing at his wife, carrying his baby – it’s a gift that feels beyond divine. If someone had told him three years ago, that he would be here, right now, he would never have believed them.
His adoring gaze is broken by her heavy flop onto the edge of the bed, the contents of her trunk spread around her in a picture of chaos he’s come to see for its natural beauty. Trying to make Annabel tidier had proven to be like trying to coax water uphill, so he’d quickly given up and come to accept the mess as a part of her. Proof she was close by, and now he finds it strangely comforting, even if he does have to clear a space before he can join her on the bed.
Resting her hand over her eyes, she shields out the light as she collapses onto her back, only to grumble, fishing under herself to pull a belt free. Despite the early hour and evident stress, she cracks him a little smirk with a raised brow. “Well, won’t be needing that anytime soon.”
The little jest doesn’t convince him that she’s alright though, and sprawling on his side, he gently places a hand on her stomach. They should arrive at Mai’s in a few days, and even he must admit he feels a ball of nervous energy in the pit of his stomach about it. It’s been so long… He pushes his own concerns to one side to focus on her instead, while he knows Annabel will fit in splendidly, she’s already confessed several worries about the meeting. The latest of which was what she’ll wear. Apparently, she didn’t want to be too posh, and neither too common, although it now seems she would settle for anything that just fitted remotely comfortably.
“Stop fretting, my love.”
Annabel’s eyebrows shot up incredulously. “I’m not fretting! You’d be annoyed too if you tried on your entire wardrobe and not a single thing fitted! I even struggled to put my socks on!” She raises her legs to wiggle her slightly wonky socks at him until he’s smiling warmly once more. “Should’ve known I’d end up carrying some kind giant Rutherford baby. I mean look at me! It’s ridiculous.”
A posted this as a reply to a grammar post, but after thinking a bit I will make it an official one.
“How come you still want me?” – Cullen looked at Áine, his lower lip trembling. – “Me! The man who just brought you sorrow?” – Áine saw his fingers curling into a ball.
“How could I not?” – She approached him with slow steps. – “Every time I close my eyes I see yours staring back at me.” – Tracing his eyebrow with the tip of her thumb she smiled at him. – “Every time I touch my lips I remember the warmth of yours. Your breath tickling my lips until they are claimed by your mouth.” – She traced his cheek and studied his eyes. – “Every time I think about my future without you is like having my heart torn out of my chest. My lungs being crushed and I have trouble breathing. My hands and feet go numb, and I can’t move.” – Her hands on his neck, tugging on his coat, pulling him closer. – “No. There’s no me without you, Mr. Templar…” – Her nose touching his and his breath on her parted lips.
“Áine… I…” – Cullen rested his hands on her hips and pulled her even closer.
“Yes?” – She whispered in his lips.
“I love you.” – He kissed her and lifted her off the ground to sit her on his table. – “I’m not perfect, but you make me want to be the best I can; to be with you until our hair turns grey and the Maker calls us to be by his side.” – He planted small kissed all over her face. – “Marry me?”
Áine gasped, and Cullen gave her one of those smiles that melted her soul.
She kissed him between ‘yeses’ and promises of what was to come.
Mayerine 