My Warden (COMPLETED)

Dreams

Cullen picked at the ashes now barely warm hours after they'd been doused. He could sleep, she assured him it was safe of darkspawn, and bandits would find a rather unfortunate end if they tried. After a few hours of twisting upon the ground, never missing his creaky bed more, he gave up on the fruitless effort and sat beside the dead fire. Maybe it was being in an unknown location for dubious reasons, perhaps it was the incessant crying of the wild animals echoing through the trees. Or, most likely, it was due to the woman curled up on her bedroll. She had her knees almost tucked up to her chin, her cloak stretched out across her body like a blanket. It must not have been as warm as he suspected. On occasion, her arms would tremble deep in sleep, shaking the cloak like a flag in the wind. She'd grip tighter to her knees, pressing them deeper into her chest until the tremors passed.

It was idiotic to even entertain the notion. Cullen was more certain of that fact than almost any other in his life. He'd watched countless mages sleep, or feign sleep, during night shifts counting beds. A few would glare back at him, their sullen eyes sullen daring him to say a word against them. They were technically in bed, and there were no orders they needed to be asleep in said bed. For a brief moment he was powerless against them. Those were far from the worst. It was discovering a mage missing not because he tried to escape but was in anothers bed that ratcheted up his anxiety.

At twenty and as inexperienced as a hermit with a fascinating pin collection, stumbling upon two people becoming very well acquainted all but drew the breath from his lungs. Something of an order had tumbled from his throat, though to his ears it sounded like a goose cry. The activities froze and both heads sheepishly dug out from under the blanket. Uncertain of what to say, Cullen -- with a face as bright as a strawberry -- suggested they go to sleep. He did not let them rise from the bed or even disentangle, just sleep like that for the whole night.

Knight-Commander Gregoir found the report humorous and gave a 'people will be people' response, but there was an announcement to the apprentices to try and contain their affections as best they could. There was no mention of Cullen's idiotic order to the pair, but somehow the mages found out, because there was nothing they loved more than gossip. It spread faster than a misplaced fire spell. They would whisper "Finish quick or you'll have to sleep like that," every time he passed. Apprentices thought they were oh so hilarious.

Lana stirred in her sleep and she rolled to face him. Slips of dawn barely breaking up the horizon lanced across her face. She was beautiful, you'd have to be an idiot not to see that. He thought time would temper that, reveal his idolization as little more than youthful folly. She could not be as heart racing as he remembered. This trip had done nothing to shatter his fantasies, even a hard day of traveling and finding rest upon the dirt did nothing to mar her temperament or beauty. Of course, she could not care for him, he was...not good enough, for her or anyone he'd wish to spend time with. It was an oddly comforting thought to know where he stood, a shield against the traitorous parts of him that dreamed of dangerous things. Though, he could not stop watching her slumber.

The cares of the world were erased from her brow while she traipsed through the fade in her dreams. It was her smile that shifted her from a beautiful woman into someone that knotted his tongue every time he stood near her. It took almost three weeks upon first meeting her before he could even bark out a "move along." Before that, he'd made squeaking noises and wave with his hands, which only made her smile wider and -- on occasion -- laugh. Andraste's breath, he was finished when she'd laugh.

But that was a lifetime ago, another man, a foolish and naive man who thought mages were good people at heart. Now he knew the truth, bore their scars on his body and...elsewhere. And yet, Lana was different. Even becoming a Grey Warden, those fearsome slayers of darkspawn, she maintained her gentleness. She was one of the good ones.

Lana stirred again, but this wasn't a soft tremble from dawn's chill. Her shoulders pivoted back and forth, slamming her sides into the ground. Whimpers vibrated up her throat.

"Lana," Cullen whispered in the air.

If she heard him, she gave no sign, her eyelids undulating in pain. Her calm face shattered, dragging her lips into a rictus of horror. She screamed something that sounded like a chant, the words foreign to him. Her voice hissed and snapped, giving the strange tongue a demonic turn.

"Lana," Cullen tried again, leaping to his feet. "Solana!"

Still she would not respond, her fingers clawing at the cloak around her neck while more of the unholy chanting broke from her throat. He dropped to a knee beside her bedroll, ignoring dawn's frost chewing upon his shin.

"Lady Amell," Cullen reached out to her, prepared to catch her hand and yank her awake from whatever ensnared her. "Warden Commander!" he shouted.

Lana's eyes snapped open and she sat bolt upright. Her fists both flared, blue light warping around her hands as magic gushed out of the fade. Ice shards erupted from the ground spearing through the sky nearly twenty feet in all directions around them. She blinked thrice, then stared at her hands. Shaking away the buildup of magic, Lana finally turned to him. It was only her that peered out through her eyes.

"That was all the wards, wasn't it?" she asked, tapping her fingertips together "Ouch! Yep, all of them. The blowback's the worst part."

"Are you..." Cullen's hands froze, one inches from her, the other inside his armor.

Her fingers raked across her forehead, leaving furloughs of red flesh in their wake. "I, sorry. It's a Grey Warden thing."

"A Grey Warden thing?" Cullen repeated, his body rigid.

"We, uh," Lana's eyes slipped closed for a moment as she continued to claw across her skin. "On top of sensing darkspawn sometimes we hear them as part of...part of what makes us Grey Wardens. It's most prevalent in dreams."

"You have nightmares about darkspawn?" It should not be surprising, few came back from war unchanged, but he couldn't stop the shock upon his face. She was the Hero of Ferelden, surely she was strong enough to resist the horrors of war. Somehow, despite knowing her before she became that mythic warrior, he'd bought into the hype around her. Perhaps it was because he knew her before he wanted so much to believe it, to think she was untouchable.

Lana pursed her lips and nodded, finally pulling her fingers away from her forehead. The scratches were deeper than he expected, more reminiscent of a cat attacking than her chewed down nails. "I should have warned you."

"Do they happen often?"

"It's worse the closer I draw to the deep roads. Some remnant of my joining during the blight." Her eyes didn't water, but her gaze drifted past Cullen and towards the lightening horizon. For a time neither said a word, they only shared in the silence of the early morning broken by the chirp of birds. "I should probably get up, anyway."

It wasn't until she struggled to rise to her feet that Cullen noticed how close he was to her. He staggered back to let her up, and turned his back to her. Certain that she was Lana and nothing else, Cullen released his hold on the knife hidden inside his armor. His fingers trembled and he held them close to his chest, trying to will away the rapid beating of his heart. If she noticed how close he nearly came to killing her out of fear of possession, she did not voice it, only scooped up her water skin and headed towards the creek. Any mage was vulnerable, Cullen repeated, watching her unsteady steps. Any mage was dangerous.