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She stood in the sanctity of her room, the morning sunlight streaming through her balcony windows. She held her sword awkwardly in her left hand. The bindings that had supported her right arm lay in a heap at her feet. Gingerly she transferred the sword to her right hand, gritting her teeth against the twinges of pain as she struggled to hold it in a ready stance.
“Put. That. Down.” A sharp voice rang through her chamber and she looked up to see her lover, looking positively thunderous, standing in her doorway.
“Morning Cullen. How are you? Have you had breakfast yet? Want to go together? I’m starving.”
He ignored her greeting, stomping over in his enormous boots. He sidestepped the blade and took the sword from her trembling hand.
She shot him a look. “I was using that.”
He continued to ignore her until he had settled the sword back in its place on her weapons rack. Then he turned to pin her with a glare. “What, pray tell, do you think you were doing?”
She shrugged. “I was just testing the muscles. Stretching them out. I need to start building up my strength again.”
“Not yet you don’t.” He grit out. Cullen took slow, measured steps towards her, clearly trying to contain the depth of his dspleasure. “Three days Trevelyan.” He crouched at her feet, recovering her bindings. He straightened and began re-wrapping her arm, strapping it securely to her torso. “It’s only been three days since you returned with a broken arm after rolling down a ravine in pursuit of a mabari of all things. By the Maker, that is not enough time to even think about picking up a sword again.”
She sighed, her other hand resting on his side in the small gap in his breastplate. “It’s not a big deal Cullen. We get hurt all the time. Besides, we needed the leather.”
He finished his task, and gave her a weary look. “I know that. And I hate it. I hate that you go out there and risk your life while I have to stay here and shuffle an endless mountain of Maker-cursed papers.”
She softened, moving her good hand from his side to his cheek, lifting his head until she could meet his eyes. “You know why you have to stay here. The Inquisition needs you here. I need you here.”
“I know. But I can’t help the fact that I would rather be out there fighting beside you. Maybe, if I had been there, I could have…”
She shushed him. “You can’t think like that. We all know the risks. We all have our part to play. Yours is no less important or dangerous than mine.”
Cullen arched an incredulous eyebrow and she grinned. “Don’t look so surprised. Paper cuts are a serious threat around here.”
He groaned, leaving her side to pace the room. “And now you’re making fun of me.” He ran a restless hand through his blonde hair, disturbing it from its normal, tamed position. “I…when you leave…I just…I worry about you. I hate that you push yourself so hard. I hate that you come home injured. I hate that you’re so eager to get back out there before you’re ready. I love it too. But right now I hate it.”
She felt bad now. Taking careful steps over to where he stood facing her balcony, she moved in front of him and wrapped her good arm around his waist. “I know my love. Thank you for worrying about me. I’m sorry I upset you.”
When Cullen still looked troubled, she leaned up on her toes to brush a kiss over his lips, lingering for a moment to suck on his scar. He sighed against her mouth, finally relaxing from his stiff position to wrap his arms around her waist and hold her against him.
“Please be more careful. I can’t lose you.” He begged.
She nodded. “I promise.”
“And promise me that you’ll rest for at least another day before you even think about picking up a sword.”
She opened her mouth to protest but he placed a large finger over her lips. “Promise me.” Cullen insisted, blue eyes firm.
She sighed in defeat. Then she smiled against his finger. “Fine. But I would rest a lot more contently if you were resting with me.”
He hesitated, no doubt weighing the pros of curling up in bed with her for the day against the mountain of work he was sure to have. Finally he smiled and she knew she had won. “I think that can be arranged.”