CHAPTER TWO
Apples
Three steel barrels overran with water, each of them large enough to bathe an obstinate child. Though, despite the rising chill in the shade of the house, the children seemed more than happy to wash each other. Lana watched in confusion as one of the toe headed tots smacked her face into the water, seeming to drown herself, while splashing the three other children huddled around beside. Lana was about to speak up her concerns, when the girl rose up triumphant with an apple of all things between her teeth.
"I am beyond confused," Lana admitted, turning to the man who'd done a rather lousy job of explaining any of this. She shifted on her legs, trying to get footing in the soft dirt with her cane. Without her having to say a word, Cullen slipped an arm under her elbow and took some of the weight. It wasn't necessary, it'd been a rather easy day on her, but judging by the warm smile gracing his cheeks, he enjoyed it.
As she leaned into him, momentarily distracted in the hint of his muscles hidden beneath that simple tunic, a woman slipped into their conversation. "It's apple bobbing. You're telling me you've never done apple bobbing?"
Lana knew Cullen's immediate family, and they in turn knew about her, all about her, but for the sake of simplicity the other guests were told little about the mysterious new wife. She remembered mention of this woman being married to a cousin, and not much else. But with her ray of sunshine hair and strapping height she fit in far better as a Rutherford than the hidden mage.
"I, um..." Lana struggled to find an excuse to explain why she had no idea what this bobbing thing was.
"Don't be a pillock, Angie," Mia interrupted, stomping over to rescue them both. "Not like the city folks would have access to farms for this stuff." Angela, that was her name. Married to...a son of an uncle? Maker, she'd never had to remember so much family before.
An off putting shrewdness glimmered in her eyes, and Angela turned towards Lana, "A city dweller, eh? Never thought Cullen here would go for that type."
"Oh?" Lana tried to play the effervescent part, but she felt Cullen's grip tighten around her waist as if he needed her to act as a shield.
Mia leapt forward first, "Angie, don't you think we should be laying out the blankets before night comes?" Rather than allow Angela to complain, Mia strong armed her towards a pile of quilts resting on a bench. The cousin tried to whip her head back, but Mia was already overloading her with orders.
"You know," Lana whispered to her husband, "I think your sister would put us both to shame if she were ever made a commander."
Cullen rose up to his full height to see over her head and then dipped down, "I fear you may be correct. Mia can chastise a giant for treading upon a flower."
He began to comment upon something else his sister could do, but Lana twisted around to slip her hands around him. A body as unbendable as iron bark, but a soul softer than goose down, she snuggled deep into her husband. Cullen followed suit, his hands locking behind her back so he could place a kiss to the top of her head. "Too much?" he whispered. Always concerned, always careful - that was him. And if she so much as winced he'd already have a plan in place to fix whatever bothered her.
"No," Lana answered, her words muffled from her cheek warming his chest. A crisp wind wrapped the smell of dried hay and apples as well as their decimated gourds around them, and she couldn't bite back the sigh of contentment. "Sometimes, I simply want to embrace my husband."
"Oh..." Cullen replied, his voice stark with surprise, then it dipped down to his intoxicating whisper, "for which I am glad."
"Mm hm." His earthy musk and enveloping warmth drew dreams of an afternoon slumber to her brain. "Would you mind if I took a nap right here?"
"Standing? While I hold you?" he chuckled at the absurd request.
Lana only shrugged, "I have faith in you."
Instead of shaking her awake, or insisting she get into the fun, Cullen continued to support her, his chin sliding through her hair. It was the cackle of children still in the throes of a joy only a belly full of sugar and a free afternoon could conjure that broke her awake. Two of the youngest girls toddled past, ribbons tied in their pigtails as well as across their wrists. The smaller, having only mastered walking a few months prior struggled through the waning fall grass. Her chubby fingers trailed across Lana's skirt, using it to keep herself upright. Something drew her attention, her blue eyes as round as the apple in her fist, and she plowed head first into Cullen's knee.
"Oh no..." he cried, releasing Lana and reaching towards the girl as she plummeted the short distance to the ground. "Emmy, are you okay?" For her part the girl seemed stunned and a bit confused, but she didn't cry, only rubbed a rising bruise along her forehead where it met Cullen's impenetrable kneecap. Emmy glanced up at her uncle making a big fuss over nothing, until she noticed that in her tumble her hard won apple scattered to the dirt and rolled through a patch of grass.
Wails erupted from the child's throat as if she was being beset upon by demons. Lana was uncertain what to do. She'd never been around a child for more than a few minutes at most, and certainly never when one cracked into inconsolable tears. While she fumbled away from the screaming girl, Cullen dropped to a knee and held a hand out to her.
"Emmy, you're okay," he insisted so certainly, the girl stopped rubbing the sore spot on her forehead, but the cries didn't cease. "Where's your mum?" he whipped his head around trying to scrounge up his sister-in-law, but none seemed to appear, though her powerful wails were drawing the attention of Mia and Angie.
Emmy's sister slipped over and in between bites of an apple, she informed them, "She's such a baby."
"Am..." sniffle, "not!" Emmy shouted back, her tears gaining momentum from her sister's interference. "I'm a big girl now!" She stuck a hand on the waistband of her corduroy pants and jabbed her elbow out, no doubt to prove just how big she was. Disturbed by all the commotion, Honor stomped over to investigate herself. An intrusion from a big, slobbery dog instantly silenced the tears, and Emmy turned towards Honor whose tongue lapped across her cheeks. The girl giggled and the sister, jealous of the attention, patted Honor's back to get some as well.
"You," Cullen roughed up Honor's fur, "are a silly girl." Her tongue lagged out, the dog ecstatic from the children clawing into her fur when the winds shifted. The change happened instantly, Honor's ears perking forward, the panting freezing. Before a word could be said, she darted towards the downed apple and chewed it up in two bites.
Maker, that was the worst thing to do. Reminded of her loss, Emmy began crying anew, her shaky finger jabbing at the betrayal from her canine friend while Honor swallowed it all down, core and all. "Andraste's fiery..." Cullen reined back in his curse at the dog, and instead reached out to the girl. "Emmy?"
"That. Was. Mine!" Fearsome eyes winnowed on Cullen, blaming him for his dog's actions against her.
"Okay." He reached over and plucked his niece up off the ground, easily cradling her in his arms as he stood up. "What if I get you another one? There are bushels tucked away in..."
"No!" Emmy shook her head, "From the bucket. Has to be. It's the rules, unkie 'ullen."
Done in by his own familial hubris, Cullen sighed, his head tipped back in resignation. Lana had no idea what this bucket meant, but her husband seemed to be dreading it. With his arms full of child, he trudged over to one of the metal troughs, Emmy's sister hot on their trails. Adjusting her cane, Lana limped after with a curious quirk to her eyes. For a moment she glanced back to spot Mia watching as well as Angie. Both wore gigantic smiles, clearly something either hilarious or embarrassing was about to happen.
"Okay," Cullen shifted the girl around and then gestured towards the water, "what if I dip you in?"
"Nu uh!" she grabbed tight to his shirt, burying her head into his chest. "Is scary and cold."
"But you did it once before and..." he sighed and shook his head. "You conned someone else into doing it for you." Juggling the child to his other arm, he caught the edge of Emmy's ornery grin. "A
re you certain you have no relation to the Pavus house?"
Emmy giggled anew, finding his words silly, but she had her little fingers wrapped around Cullen's collar, not about to let him back out of his promise. Slipping closer, Lana noticed that floating in the barrel were, of all things, apples. Did southern Fereldens like to eat their fruit wet? She'd never seen the practice before.
Resigned to whatever fate he walked himself into, Cullen dropped to his knees while keeping Emmy in his arms. For a brief second he glanced over at Lana and a blush bloomed over his cheeks. She tipped her head, confused beyond measure, when her husband drove himself face first into the cold water. Instinctively, Lana reached forward to try and pull him out, but Mia's hand grabbed onto her arm.
"Don't worry," she said, "he can swim."
Water sloshed over the sides of the bucket as Cullen whipped his head back and forth through the barrel. On occasion he'd surface and pull a breath deep into his lungs, only to return to the fruity bath. By the Maker, what was he doing? Lana tried to rise up on her toes to see better, but her legs complained. He'd been under for what felt an age but was probably at most ten seconds, drawing worry right to her gut, when Cullen whipped his head out of the trough, water sluicing off his soggy hair. A bright red apple was clutched in his mouth.
"Will you take it?" he huffed, his lips struggling to form words around the fruit.
Giggling, Emmy yanked it free and held the hard won prize in her fingers. She bit into it to match where her uncle's teeth pierced the skin while Cullen lowered her to the ground. With his hands freed, he wiped back his hair and cleared the water from his eyes. When he could finally see, he looked over at Lana and shrugged as if to say "It quieted the crying." Pretend all he liked, grump and complain, but she saw the grin hiding under his scowl, the light rising in his eyes. He loved it.
Now the proud owner of a new apple, Emmy flounced to her older sister and stuck her tongue out. That was enough and the older girl chucked her half eaten apple in the dirt and reached over for Cullen.
"My turn!" she insisted, leaping onto his back.
"Ah..." he pinned her in place and then turned to plead for Mia to save him, but she parted her hands. "I suppose I brought this upon myself. All right..." Cullen slid the girl higher up his back so her head perched on his. "Hang on!" And then he dropped down into the water so low, the girl came with. She squealed in terror before it turned to bubbles in the water. Even more sloughed over the side drenching the grass, as uncle and niece hunted for an apple. Mia released her hold on Lana and began to move closer, worried about the girl left with a rather dangerous man.
Bursting from the tank, Cullen and the girl both emerged with apples in their mouth, laughs echoing deep in their throats. She slid off him quickly, having to show Emmy her own apple, while Cullen rose off his knees and dropped his apple into his hand. Mia stepped near him to whisper, "It's a lucky thing their mother wasn't here or she'd have killed you."
Cullen tipped his head back and forth, "What's autumn without a little murder?" Then he took a crunching bite of his hard fought prize, the juice dribbling down his chin.
Carefully, Lana eased over, one eye upon the slick mud that could take her down, but most of her attention upon her husband. His hair was matted back from the water, which also seeped across his knees and down the front of his shirt, while more of the apple juice coated the scruff of his chin. Maker, he looked achingly adorable. Honey eyes darted from hers down to the trough. "Think you're ready to give it a try."
"I, uh..." she swallowed at the sight of a dozen apples bobbing through the water, each mocking her. "It looks challenging."
"The trick is to try and pin one against the side or the bottom of the tank and..." he paused in explaining how simple it was to look fully upon the line of terror drawn across her face. Her ordeal in the fade dwindled as time marched on, but marks remained. The obvious ones were in her deadened legs and arms, and the less clear ones in her soul. She'd wake in a start sometimes not from a memory of fighting demons or having her own mind picked apart, but being trapped at the bottom of a lake with no way to surface. Any attempts to rise only ended in her back where she began, her lungs screaming for air until she woke gasping from a held breath she didn't need to take.
Cullen's wet hand glanced across her cheek, and Lana broke from her death stare at the tub. "Hey," he spoke softly, "you don't have to. It's not for everyone. Branson hated it."
"Did he make you get them for him as well?" she asked, trying to wall back the fear in her voice. Happy. This was a happy moment. Put the horrors back on the shelf.
Her husband ran his thumb across her cheek, following the fading scar, "No, he was nowhere near as clever as his children. He'd sit in the corner and scoff at how wet and foolish everyone else was. Said he hated apples too." Cullen took a bite of his apple, then held it near Lana's cheek. She smiled at the thought and took a gentle nip, barely scratching the surface of the flesh. She had to cup her chin to catch the juice spraying free, the apple riper than she anticipated.
"It's so sweet," she said, surprised. Most apples she came across were tart and eaten at summer because she tended to scrounge for them.
"Not as sweet as you," he grinned, then pecked a kiss against her burning cheek. Maker, it was so trite, but -- as her fingers drifted down to curl with his -- she didn't mind. He could be allowed a little mawkishness from time to time.
Lifting up on her exhausted toes, Lana aimed to kiss him properly on the lips when a kind groan broke from beyond them. "Newlyweds," Mia sighed, shaking her head.
"Ah ha..." Lana slipped back down having forgotten there was an audience.
"Not up for soaking your head, Lady Rutherford?" Angie asked, the start of a smirk snaking up her cheeks. She emphasized the lady with a trill of her tongue, which drew a blush of shame to Lana's cheeks. Aware that her clinging accent made her stick out among the vast Ferelden brood, she'd been trying to tone it down but it slipped back in when she grew excited.
"I'm afraid not. I...am not a good swimmer," she lied to cover for the far more painful truth. Fingers gripped tight around hers, and she glanced over at her husband's hand caressing hers. She forgot they were still holding each other.
"Never mind that," Mia reached behind her and unearthed a four foot long stick. "We've got something better you can try."
Cullen's eyes narrowed as he eyed up the stick which had a piece of twine knotted at the end. "Are we going to beat the apples to death?" he asked, shifting on his toes.
"Brothers," Mia rolled her eyes in confidence to Lana, and then she stood up. "No, oh great commander, it's an Orlesian tradition." That drew a proper sneer to Cullen's face. Even after they spent a few months healing and growing in the luxury of Val Royeaux, the Ferelden would never become accustomed to Orlais.
"So we curtsy at the apple and then kill it with a thousand cuts against its heritage," Cullen sniped back which got a full chuckle out of Lana. His sneer lifted from her laughter, and she couldn't stop tracing her fingers across his scruff, more snow than straw as of late.
Mia yanked out one of the bobbing apples, earning her a glare from the rule abiding nieces. "Hold this," she instructed Cullen who obliged by gripping onto the stick. Sliding her fingers along the twine, Mia gripped the end then began to draw it towards the apple, when she paused. "How in the blazing fires does this work? Eh, I've got an idea." Digging into her belt, she unearthed a nail. After tying it off with the string, she drove it straight through the top of the apple where the stem once was with her bare hands. The strength of the farm life.
"There," she smiled watching the apple slowly rotate at the end of the line.
"There what?" Cullen asked. He tried to hold his arm straight, but the apple continued to bob and weave through the air. Lana could already see the calculations in his mind about how hard he could whip it before the apple slid off the nail.
"Someone," Mia gestured at Lana, "attempts to eat the apple."
"What? Just th
at?" he snorted. "That's easy."
Folding her hands across her chest, Mia slid back on her heels to smirk up at her brother. "You're so certain of that? Perhaps you should go first, then."
"No, no," Lana interrupted. She didn't have the same confidence as her husband, but it couldn't be that difficult. "I missed out on the tank and would like an opportunity to prove myself. So you don't all think I'm some fussy layabout."
"Who thinks that?" Cullen stormed, about to defend her, but she shook her head that it wasn't important.
"Here..." Mia unearthed a kerchief and picked up Lana's hands. "Put them behind your back." She obliged and while Mia busied herself tying Lana's hands together, she heard a strangled cough from Cullen. Guilt radiated off him as he watched -- the last time they tried something like it during 'personal time' someone misplaced the key and she had to burn through the cuffs with her own fire. The new rule was that Lana always kept any necessary keys hanging off the chain around her neck.
"All tight?" Mia asked, getting a nod from Lana. Even with her magic it seemed unlikely she'd be weaseling out of those anytime soon. "Okay," she picked up the apple and gave it a turn. Looping in a circle, it orbited around Lana's head. "Try and eat it."
She watched her prize circle past as she waited for the opportune moment to strike. Streaking past like a ruby ballistic, Lana kept her head away from it until the momentum began to slow. When the erratic turns evolved to a gentle pendulum swing, Lana lanced out, her teeth aiming for the apple. Instead of biting into it, the fruit bounced off her chin, scattering towards Cullen before reaching the end of its tether and returning for the woman chasing it.
Chuckling at her failure, Lana dodged out of the way, ducking from the vengeful apple. She nipped at its wake, but it kept managing to slide on past, always one step ahead of her. Mia began to cheer her on as did the girls fully invested in whatever this silly adult was up to. A blush rose on her cheeks with each failure, the apple bumping into her nose, across her cheek, and one beaning her in the back of the head when she lost it.
"Maker, this is tougher than it looks," Lana said. She laughed at the end, but the strain was evident. More of Cullen's family wandered over to see what all the clapping and laughing was. She turned away from the rotating apple to catch Branson and his wife, along with a few of the cousins who traveled from further south. Andraste, did I have to look so foolish with such an audience? Her blush charred from her neck, up her cheeks, and reached for her forehead as the apple continued to evade her. It was in no mood to free her from her own damning hubris.
The apple twisted haphazardly, but Lana didn't look over to see what Cullen was doing with his end of the stick. She focused all her energy on the thing. How easily she could combust it, crack it to ice, or even squash it flat into applesauce, but that would be cheating and also reveal the fact she was a mage to people who didn't need to know. Blinking away tears of strain, she dove forward, her teeth gently scrapping away at it sending the cursed thing flying. Lana screwed her eyes up tight, when the apple hung suspended in midair. Eyelids flying open, she caught Cullen on the other side, his forehead pressed against the wayward fruit so she could take a bite out of it. Slowly, he slid his face upward, holding the apple still until his eyes met hers and he smiled.
His perfect grin obliterated what she was meant to do, and Lana stared slack-jawed for a moment, her own smile matching his. A loud cry broke through the field and Lana woke. With the help of her husband acting as a wall, Lana was able to open her jaw wide and bite down onto the offending fruit. Silence descended from the crowd as the crisp crack of tooth slicing apart apple flesh ricocheted over harvested fields and warm, autumn trees. Tartness bit into her tongue, but Lana swallowed her generous bite down. All around her the family fell into raucous applause, each of them hooting as if she'd won a jousting match instead of besting a solitary apple.
Lana moved to stand up and unknot her hands, but Mia said, "No, wait. She's supposed to eat it all."
"Oh Maker," Lana moaned, but she caught Cullen's smirk and he shrugged causing the stationary apple to slide along his cheek and back to freedom. He raced to catch it, but Lana got there first, her own teeth able to secure it by where she bit down before. Her husband chewed a large chunk of apple away on his end, white juice spraying across her cheek from his vigor. Lana laughed at the enthusiasm, while watching to make certain he didn't choke on it.
Together they worked down the apple bite by bite until it was mostly core and a few more inches of fruit. They didn't need to steady it for each other any longer, the challenge broken after the first few bites. The remaining flesh they had to bite off flew haphazardly though the air. Both chased after the apple, Cullen's teeth catching it first, but Lana was so close she felt the juicy core slide past her chin and cheek. Unable to stop her momentum, her lips landed beside Cullen's, pecking him upon the side of the mouth.
Even with pieces of the vengeful apple caught between his teeth, Lana twisted her head to the left and dove in for a kiss. He swallowed quickly in order to return it, as sweet as summer wine. Her mouth opened, a soft sigh wanting to escape, and Cullen took advantage of the opportunity, his tongue darting over her lips. Maker, he smelled of sunlight and sweet hay, his lips tasting of the tender brightness of the apple mixed with Cullen's earthy flavor. Lapping up his bottom lip with her tongue, she tried to draw him closer, wishing she could wrap her arms around his waist or pull back his curly locks. He seemed to be of the same mind, his chest knocking against hers, the muscles of his shoulders straining under the shirt as he struggled to keep his hands locked behind his back.
"Newlyweds..." Branson's voice cut through them, and both their eyes rolled open. She could see her own guilt reflected in Cullen's. "You forgot your game."
"Ah, um, right," Lana struggled to swallow down the shame, "sorry..."
Mia held up her hand, shaking the apple. She was the one Cullen passed the stick to before rushing in to help Lana. "We were all young and madly in love once. No need to be sorry."
Nodding her head rapidly, as if that could chase the blush away, Lana felt Cullen's cheek press into her forehead. She didn't lift her head, but mouthed in a soft whisper, "I love you."
He dipped down to place his lips upon her cheek and breathed back, "I love you too."
"Hm..." Mia snatched up the mostly devoured apple and yanked it clean off the nail. "Not as easy as some people thought, I see."
Cullen extended his hands, now free of the bonds of rules. "Forgive me for ever doubting your ruthlessness." His sister smirked at him, a reflection of the one Cullen wore when he one upped anyone in chess. "Oh," he turned to Lana, "let me unbind you."
Before he could even reach for her, Lana lifted her hand, free of the bonds, and dangled the kerchief, "Who's next?"
It was Branson's eldest boy who snatched at it first, his eyes wide at the possibility of a new game. "'Ere, someone tie it up!" he cried. While Mia jammed on another apple, Cullen obliged him.
Branson watched his son, but he spoke to Lana, "You have a real talent with knots, eh?"
"More like a talent with unknots," she said staring at her feet.
A low chuckle rumbled in Branson's throat and he jerked his chin at his younger brother, "This one's a keeper."
"I am well aware," Cullen bit back with. After checking the boy's knot, he stepped back, and a smile bloomed on his cheeks, "I've known since I was eighteen."
Lana couldn't hide her great grin as she slid back from the festivities beginning again. Her husband resumed the mantle of stick holder as the children each took turns pursuing the orbiting fruit, joy blanketing out any failures, and laughs covering over scrapped knees and falls. She couldn't take her eyes off Cullen while he stood with both hands holding a simple stick as if it was the last flag of the Inquisition. Even a silly game he approached with the same devotion he gave to the templars, the Inquisition, and her.
Sometimes, late at night, Lana would push aside the curls dampened to his forehead an
d whisper that she didn't deserve him. She always tried to do it when he was asleep, but once he was still on the edge. His eyes rolled open, and he cupped her hand in his to bring to his lips. Kissing each finger with a soft touch, he told her that she deserved the best and he was going to do his damnedest to be it. Maker, he was beautiful. She'd hear the snickers behind hands, the assumptions of the once Commander's prowess in all things bedroom related, and comments on how if he just did this, or did that he'd challenge some Duke for the title of most handsome.
None of that mattered to her. Cullen would glower if he heard any of it, especially the assumptions on the rather plainness of his wife, but Lana didn't care. They knew the shell, the man who grew into his handsome and imposing face. The others assumed he was a dark man, someone that would bludgeon his way to whatever he wanted. If they wished to be conquered they were glancing the wrong direction. He wasn't a man who'd throw a woman over his shoulder, he'd hold her tight in his arms while pressing kisses to her forehead. He was the kind of man who'd shake off the ridicule of his family to rescue her from embarrassment in a silly game. That's why he was so beautiful to Lana.
"That didn't quite go as you planned," Angela slid next to Lana, her eyes shifting over the gathered group chasing after an apple that scattered off the nail.
"I'm afraid I'm not well versed in Orlesian customs," Lana said, "but I had someone to rescue me."
"Yes." She smiled serenely at the obvious, then held her hands around her mouth to call to a small boy prodding his fingers near the table laden in pies. "Son! Come here a moment."
The boy froze like a deer sighting the hunter, but he slowly pulled his exploring hand back and began the laborious challenge of walking to his mother. Angela smiled wide as if it was the funniest thing ever to have her son sulk away from potential treats. "Children," she sighed, wrapping a hand around his back and guiding him to her. Offering no resistance, the boy clutched a sticky palm against his mother's legs, his head buried into her skirt.
After ruffling his Rutherford required blonde hair, Angie glanced up at Cullen trying to work a fresh apple onto the nail. "You two seem to be in the throes of early love," she shot a look at Lana from the side of her eyes.
"Ah," Lana shifted on her feet, uncertain how to answer without sounding sarcastic. 'How could you tell?' died on her lips. Instead she smiled brightly, watching her husband get berated by a three year old girl because he wasn't holding a stick properly. "Yes, I suppose so," she had no intention to elaborate on how long it took the two of them to reach this point.
Angela smirked, "Marriage is one thing..." Her fingers sifted through the boy's hair as she gave a pregnant pause to draw Lana's curiosity out. "But you can't really know true love until you have a child of your own."
"Oh..." Lana swallowed. Her eyes danced around to try and find anyone to break her free, but they were all occupied and Angela wasn't finished.
"I didn't realize how accurate that was until my precious boy came along. He's my everything."
"That's, um, good," she bit down on the gurgle in her throat, her eyes trying to pull Cullen over.
"What about you and Cullen?" She stopped rifling through her boy's hair, who reached a pudgy hand up to fix his mother's mess, and turned her full stare upon Lana. "When are you going to start a family?"
"Start a family...?" Lana felt herself inching further and further away from Angie, her feet trying to save her while her eyes darted over to her husband playing with the children, an ease she rarely saw softening his face.
"The way you two carry on, I'd think you've already got a seed planted. Men may grumble about nappies and early morning feedings, but they love nothing more than having a miniature version of themselves to play with."
Her fingers gripped tight to her midsection: empty, dead. Nothing would ever fill it, could ever fill it. That was her sentence. More of the children's laughter broke above the din of small talk, but she didn't look up at it, the joy rubbing salt in a wound she didn't notice. Spinning on her heels, Lana scurried away from the happy Rutherford gathering. Did she even want children? It was a decision stolen from her so long ago, she never stopped to question it. Unable to alter the past, or the taint flowing through her, she found it easy to embrace the childless life. As a warden, it was unwise. As a mage, foolish. But now...
And what about Cullen? Did she doom him to the same childless life? A family-less future?
"There you are..."
Lana froze at the voice behind her. She threw on a false smile and turned back to find Cullen ruffling up his own matted hair. "I saw you take off for air. We're thinking of...Lana," he slipped closer to her, his hand reaching for hers. "What's wrong?" He tried to curl his hand around her fingers, but they hung limp at her side.
"Nothing," she forced the smile higher, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"No, it's not nothing. What is it? Are you tired? A flare up?" he drove right to solving the problem, as if a quick jolt of healing magic could fix it. "Something from the fade?" She shook her head with each guess, her teeth biting down on her lip to keep it all from bursting free. Happy times, it was supposed to be happy. He so rarely got to spend this carefree time, much less with his siblings. How could she rain all over it?
"Please," Cullen slid his hands around her waist and he bent his knees so they'd see eye to eye. "Talk to me."
"I..." her lips puckered and she felt the first slide of a tear. Sucking in her nose, she spat out quickly, "I can't give you a family." Breaking from glaring at the ground, Lana stared into his confused eyes.
"What? What are you talking about?"
"You know, because of..." she waved her hands back and forth, trying to gesture to her poisoned womb, "because I'm a...can't have any children."
His eyes narrowed and he twisted his chin, "I'm well aware, I've known for years. I don't understand..."
"I didn't know," she sputtered out, warmth burning behind her eyes bringing more tears, "about marriage, the rules and what's expected...from being in the tower, I mean. Mages don't have children, to have babies is not an option, and then with the wardens, I never heard... I didn't think before we got. I'm sorry."
At a loss, Cullen wrapped his arms fully around her, his chin skimming the top of her head. As he began to rock her back and forth, Lana reached across his waist, trying to tug herself into him. "There's nothing to be sorry about. I...I still don't understand why you're upset, but..."
"You looked so happy with your nieces and nephews. Playing with them, and I can't ever..."
"Maker," he swallowed hard, a hand cradling the back of her head. Gently he rubbed his fingers across her hair, shifting the finer hairs away from her neck. "Lana, I love you."
"I know, but..."
"No buts, never any buts," he said, pulling her away from his chest so he could look her in the eye. "It is fun to play with the kids for a time, and then send them back to their parents when they start fussing." That got a quick laugh from Lana, but it didn't stop the tears. His fingers ran across her cheek, trying to sop them up. "Is this about...you know who and the fact he, um, ended things because of it?"
She snickered at his avoiding Alistair's name, and shook her head. "No, I don't think...well, maybe a little. I, I never thought of what all marriage entailed. In the tower it was a quick promise, if that. And I, I can't fulfill it. I can't give you a family."
"Lana," his fingers curled over her ear, and he tugged her tighter to him, "you are my family. The two of us, together, and Honor who is...?" He turned backwards to spy his dog two legs into the dunk tank, her stubby tail wagging in ecstasy.
"Get out of there!" Cullen shouted at her. Obeying her master's commands, Honor first leapt all four legs into the tank, scattering apples to the grass, before she fully hopped out of it. "That dog," he scolded the air, shaking his head in a sigh, before turning back to his exhausted wife. "I don't need children. I never anticipated them in my life, either. The templars were it, until I found you. You're my wife, you're n
ot keeping some...future family from me. I'm nothing without you."
She clung tighter to him and whispered, "Me neither." While his fingers circled over her back, pausing to dig into her old knots, Lana felt foolish. They'd talked about it before, when it went from being a non-issue to a big question and he never once gave her pause. There was no reason to think for a moment Cullen was lying or waiting to spring a change of heart upon her. How many old ghosts lingered in her soul no matter how hard she tried to air it out?
"I'm sorry for..." she began, her arms folded around the back of his neck as she reached up to speak to his shoulder.
"Don't worry about it," he waved it away, and she leaned away to catch his eye.
"You're telling me to not worry."
Cullen shrugged, "I can suggest it for others, not myself." Dipping down, he placed a gentle kiss upon her lips, his nose bumping against her cheek. Cullen began to rise away, when Lana grabbed onto the back of his head and brought him back for another. So much of her life was lost toeing the line, folding herself into the commander the world needed. Now, she had him and a dog. It was more than she could have asked for.
As Cullen broke for air, massaging up and down her arms, he asked, "What brought on this sudden concern?"
With pursed lips, Lana shook her head. "It doesn't matter." She'd rather forget it happened at all. "I..." perhaps it was the apple game, or maybe it was the sudden well of emotions, but exhaustion surged through Lana's legs. "I could use a sit, though."
"Here." He didn't lift her in his arms, though at that moment she wouldn't have minded it, probably would have welcomed being nestled next to him. Instead, Cullen slid a hand around her waist, tugging her weight to him as she gripped to his shoulder. "I think I know the perfect solution." Together, they walked back towards the crowd dispersing for the temptation of more treats left upon the table. Meringue ensconced two of the children's chins giving them the look of a pair of ancient dwarfs fresh to the surface.
Mia licked off her serving spoon, then waved to her brother and sister-in-law. "Come and join us, we've got pie, more pie, cake, and Branson brought some kind of peach tart thing?"
"It's a peach tarte tatin, made with heavy cream and fresh..."
Waving away his haughty dessert defense, Mia unearthed a plate in their limping direction. "Yes, yes, you cook something fancy when given half a chance. We're all impressed. So, what sounds good?"
Lana glanced over the goods on display, and while her always gaping stomach adored the idea of sampling each, exhaustion won with every step. "I wish I could, but..."
"We're still both tired from the trip. Been a long day, and us city folks aren't used to all this fresh air," Cullen spoke up, not needing to cover for her. "Mi, can I borrow one of your quilts?"
"Of course," she smiled and pulled a red and blue one off the stack, "what else are they for?" After draping it over her brother's shoulders, she whispered to Lana, "Don't worry, I'll save a few slices back for you."
"Thank you," she nodded.
Together, Cullen and Lana limped further across the farm grounds away from the families gathered around sitting logs giggling and carousing over their shared treats. He caught Honor gnawing her way through all the apples she knocked out of the bucket and called for her to follow, but at a distance as she kept shaking to dry herself. After a time, Cullen paused at a place where the grass, stripped to a golden yellow by the autumn sun, lay flat as if the land attempted to combover its bald patch. Down the hill she spotted a stand of sheep chewing through the pasture behind a shallow fence.
After making certain she was okay to stand on her own, Cullen pulled off the quilt and lay it across the ground. "Do you need help down?" he asked, glancing over at her and no doubt catching Lana's eyes wandering over his bent backside. She didn't blush, only smirked to herself.
"No, I believe I have it." With the assistance of her cane, she lowered herself onto the quilt, folding her legs up under. Cullen plopped down beside, his own legs crossed while he scratched Honor's head. Perhaps it was the dusty haze of the farm, or the golden halo to the weary sun on its downward arc, but the entire air took on an ethereal quality, as if the land itself were a painting inside a fairytale book. Warmth radiated not just from the sun, but the grass, the trees, and most of all the man beside her. All of it called out to her in an enticing urge to sleep.
"You look as if you're about to pass out," Cullen interrupted her thoughts.
She nodded, "I fear you're right."
"Here," he scooped up her shoulders and pulled her over the blanket to him until her head rested in his lap. While Lana stared out across the pastoral horizon, her husband caressed her side and twirled her own knotted curls upon her forehead. His muscular thighs made for a firm pillow, but Cullen's earthy musk lured her deeper into sleep. The constant reminder that he was there, he was always there for her when she woke, calmed her.
"What are the quilts for, exactly?" Lana asked, fighting against her body's natural urges. She gripped onto his knee adjusting herself as if to get more comfortable, but it was to keep awake.
"This," Cullen whispered above her, his fingers circling her ear in a gentle massage, "after a long day of carving, and bobbing, we eat dessert first and then enjoy one of the last beautiful afternoons before winter."
"Mmmm," Lana drifted further into sleep, "sounds wonderful."
"It..." he paused in circling her waist, both hands drifting away. She almost rose up to see what had changed, when Cullen's lips pressed against the edge of her forehead, the only section he could reach bent over. His warm breath tickled her skin as he whispered, "It is."