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“I’m sorry dear, Branson’s asked me to marry him and I fear I truly must accept.” Cullen looked up from the chess board with an amused quire of his eyebrow.
Devanna was stretched out across one of the couches, Hauen purring contently on her chest and her head in Bran’s lap. His younger brother gave him a grin, fingers working her long hair into a rather complicated braid. She looked so languid, so very relaxed and wholly at ease, as if she belonged here. As if it has always been meant to end like this.
Maker but it nearly stole his breath away.
“He’s got your good looks, you see.” She continued, voice lilted and sing-song, lips curling into the smallest of smiles.
“And twice the charm.” His brother added.
Cullen affected an air of affront at that, one that faded with a nonchalant shrug. “As you wish my lady, though you should be warned Branson does snore.”
“And I hope you enjoy picking up his dirty underwear.” Mia muttered.
Branson made a pained noise at that, shaking his head. “Don’t listen to these rakes, my dear. I cannot believe my own family would disparage me so in front of my intended.”
“That’s it then.” She said decisively. “We’ve no choice but to elope. And besides I managed to survive your sleep talking, didn’t I? At least the snores won’t leave me foolishly trying to carry a conversation about troop movement.”
“Now, why is that not surprising?” Mia shook her head with a rueful smile.
Her words were met with warm, honest laughter, the kind that he remembered from his childhood. Incidentally enough he was usually the butt of those jokes too. It was nice, Cullen thought, being back home. Now that he’d survived Mia’s initial wrath, and Devanna had been welcomed into the fold with open arms, he could admit that he’d missed this. Missed them.
Rosalie and Miles returned a little later, arms full of packages from the market, and the house was truly full. It took a little while to get settled, especially with an excited five year old, and as soon as he was divested of his treasures, and his shoes neatly lined up with everyone elses, he made a beeline straight to the sofa. Hauen let out a grunt as he was dislodged from his resting place, Miles crawling into her lap.
“Dev! Aunt Rosie won’t let me go barefoot like you do!” He pouted with all the indignity a child could muster.
And bless her heart, but she always took even his most ridiculous requests seriously.
“For good reason, Miles.” Devanna nodded, sitting up and positioning him so that she could inspect his feet. “We Dalish grow up in the woods, from birth we are barefoot, and so the soles of our feet toughen up quite nicely. And even then, you’ll notice that in the dead of winter we do wear boots to protect from frostbite. Elves that live in the Alienages, in the cities, are often too poor to afford shoes, so they learn to do without. Whereas, by contrast, human feet, especially very little human feet, are very sensitive.”
To prove her point, she dragged a finger lightly along the instep of his foot, sending Miles into a fit of giggles. And of course it snowballed from there, until he was breathless, with tears of laughter on his face as she tickled him.
It was, for lack of a better word, perfect. The woman he loved was here, in a room filled with the rest of the people he loved, everyone was happy, and he was even enjoying a day free of withdrawal symptoms. But there was still something that seemed ever so slightly off, something deep down nagging at him, that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. There was something missing, he just wasn’t quite sure what it was.
IOI
“Your siblings are very sweet.” Devanna had a small smile on her face, her form outlined with a soft, golden glow as she stood in front of the hearth. “I’m glad you convinced me to come with you.”
She was watching him now, shaking out her damp hair as she approached the bed and, oh, Maker help him but he loved when she wore his shirts. They were always big on her, falling down to her thighs and slipping off her shoulders to bare the star shaped scar from where an arrow had struck her collar. It was a small reminder that she was his, and when he got them back, they always smelled like her, wild and fierce and so, so real.
His eyes traced over the vallaslin on her face, blood red branches of thorned vines twining over her lovely features, and something nagged at him, something completely out of place in this intimate evening atmosphere. It nagged at him more when his gaze flicked to the ram’s head tattoo on her forearm, gold and silver ink accented with black.
“Do you think… you’d ever introduce me to your family?” He regretted the question almost as soon as he’d asked it.
Devanna stiffened instantly, eyes flying to him in confusion as she paused. “Why?”
“Why?” He repeated, brows furrowing. “They’re your family. They’re important to you.”
“Well, yes, but I didn’t think—do you want to meet them?”
Cullen sat up with a frown at that baffled question. “Of course I want to meet them. I love you, Dev. I wanted to introduce you to my siblings because I love them, and I love you, and I wanted to share this part of my life with you.”
His family, for as terrible at communicating with them as he was, meant the world to him. He wanted Devanna to meet them, so they could love her as much as he did. But she had never even suggested that they introduce him to her Clan, even as much as she talked about them. He hadn’t pressed, didn’t want to presume but—
Something cracked in his chest at the realization that struck him. “But of course, I am a human.”
And after everything that the humans had already done to Clan Lavellan, he doubted that they’d be too welcoming of him.
“Fen’harel’s filthy fucking cock, Cull, no.” The language never failed to bring a slight flush to his cheeks, but then she was at his side, sitting on the edge of the bed with a horrified expression on her face. “It’s not that, I swear it’s not. I… fucking shit, I’m so fucking bad at this.”
“It’s alright, my love, I understand.” He hurried, trying to soothe her, to ease the upset.
“It bloody the fuck well is not.” Devanna huffed, jaw clenching as her yellow eyes narrowing into a glare that was directed inward at herself. “Shut up for a second. Fucking dicks I dicked this up. Cull, I love you. You know that right?”
He knew that more surely than he’d known anything in a very long time, but before he could answer—and was he supposed to answer? She’d told him to shut up after all—the elf was continuing.
“I’ve never done this before, you know. Relationships. The big, important kind where you go off and meet each other’s families and open up about your feelings, and shit. Where it’s more than just a quick fuck, or a few quick fucks and—venhedis, this isn’t making it easier!” She took a deep breath, scooting closer so her thigh pressed against his flank, and her hand slid up to cup his jaw.
“I would love to introduce you to my family. My mothers will love you, my aunt and uncle and cousins will love you. They’ll be fucking tits about everything, because that’s who they are as people, but they’ll love you. Because I love you, and you make me happy, and it doesn’t matter if you’re human, dwarf, kossith or another elf.” A startled laugh ripped out of her chest, and she shook her head.
“The Company will love you too—they’ll rip on you endlessly, because you’re so fucking polite, and orderly, but you can tell them to fuck right off.” She grinned again. “You won’t though, because you’re such a fucking gentleman.”
Which was, admittedly, true, he thought with no small amount of amusement. “I just… you talk about them so often and yet.”
“You didn’t ask me to visit your siblings until after that particularly strongly worded letter from your sister.” She said quietly. “I just didn’t think about it. About the long term, about going back to the Free Marches and leaving Skyhold or… I guess it didn’t matter if you met them, because I already feel so much for you and their approval means. I don’t want to say jack shit, but. It wouldn’t change how I feel about you one way or another.”
Cullen lifted an arm to wrap around her waist, pulling her flush against him as his anxiety unspooled into raw affection. How he adored this woman, who blasphemed to her own gods and his with every other breath, whose words dripped and danced with vulgarity, who would go to such great lengths to show her emotion even if she couldn’t vocalize it. Who loved him with everything she had in her, broken and sharp and dangerous as it was, even though he was just as broken—albeit in very different ways.
“I want to meet them.” He said quietly, lips brushing soft and quick over her cheek. “All of them.”
She chased the kiss, never content with such fleeting affections, pressing one firmly to the corner of his mouth with a promise. “We’ll go to Wycome next then, it’s where they are. All of them. Don’t say I didn’t warn you though.”
IOI
“He’s rather big, isn’t he?” Devanna rolled her eyes at the question, ignoring her cousins as she made a show of dipping a chunk of a cookie in her tea. “And very blonde too.”
“Just how she likes them.” They were attempting a whisper, she knew, and failing completely intentionally. “I believe they call it having a type, Arty.”
With a quiet sigh, lips pressed in a line and brows pulled together in a forbidden expression—if only to hide the laughter that was bubbling in her chest—Devanna looked out over their camp.
It was… bizarre, actually, seeing the Clan’s aravels spread out among the beaches of Wycome, the sea splashing up warm in the summer. Their own land, granted to them by the new city Council. They had houses and lodging, in the Alienage, but cities weren’t healthy for halla, and aunt Deshanna did so enjoy the sea air. There was a celebration; she visited enough not to be a stranger, but infrequently enough to warrant a special occasion.
Especially since she’d brought someone home.
Cullen was trying to help one of the craftsmen drag a large piece of driftwood in from the surf, bless his heart. Try being the operative word, because there were her parents, fluttering around him and chittering with delighted expressions on their faces. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the way they would occasionally poke at him, hold up a piece of hair, or make a gesture at his arms told her enough.
“And look at how easily he blushes.” Arcturus continued, propped up with his chin in his hand, elbow on his knee. “She picked a pretty shem, didn’t she, Ishka?”
They were right, of course, even if they were teasing, the great fucking blighters. She had picked a pretty one, and a strong one, and a good one. Cullen had been so hesitant, that first day, so worried about sticking his foot in his mouth, but it was hard to stay reserved with Arcturus asking a million questions, her mothers wanting all of the details, and the Keeper curious about the Inquisition, and how to proceed with the city of Wycome.
They had accepted him easily, and there he was, her lion, stuttering and blushing and trying to dodge away from her mom’s prodding while not dropping the driftwood. It was… it was good, she thought. They were good.
“You two are awful.” Devanna spoke finally, turning to her cousins.
Arty just grinned at her, white hair mussed from the wind and flopping against his brown skin. Ishkari, on the other hand, looked so much more poised, leaning on her staff with a mage light bobbing and orbiting around her head. She missed them dearly, her cousins, her family, her Clan.
A shame that it had taken this for her to go back and visit them.
“And you’re a bore.” He teased, his voice a light, trilling song. “Come dance with us Dev. It is your celebration after all. Maybe you can even get your pretty shem to join us.”
She doubted it—Cullen hated dancing. But as she watched Arcturus bound off, kicking up sand, she had to admit it was her party, wasn’t it? Might as well go and have some fun.