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They’d managed to sneak away for a couple hours. Or rather, Cullen had managed to chase all of the soldiers, messengers, et al out of his office long enough to lock the doors. She had just returned to Skyhold late the night before, and they both needed to be with each other if only briefly.
Myrlana knew that their reprieve was almost over, and she would need to leave soon before someone started banging on the door. But for now, she could lie here in Cullen’s bed and feel at peace. She was on her back with her eyes closed. She could feel the length of his body against hers as he lay on his side next to her leaning toward her. One of his large callused hands gently stroked her neck, her ears, her hair, her face. Cullen was fond of tender touches; it was one of the things Myrlana loved about him.
His hands gradually found purpose tracing the lines of her vallaslin across her cheeks, forehead, eyes and chin. She slowly opened her eyes to look up at him, smiling slightly. His face was content and his amber eyes were warm.
“What do they mean?” he asked then his eyes widened slightly. “That’s not rude to ask, is it?”
Her smile broadened. “Of course not. Well, it might be if you asked some random Dalish stranger, but I believe the man I love can ask me any question he wants.” The warmth in his gaze burned brighter at that, but he remained silent, still gazing at her curiously and slowly tracing the tattoo’s lines.
“They are my vallaslin, my blood writing,” she explained. “They are the proof that I am a full member of my clan and dedicated to one of the Creators. When one of the Dalish receives her vallaslin from the Keeper, she becomes an adult.”
“There’s a ceremony?”
“In a way. The Keeper determines if you are ready to try for your vallaslin. You must then bear the pain of the tattooing process without sound. Any cry and you prove yourself unworthy. It is very shaming.”
Cullen looked impressed. “You got all of this without making a sound?”
“Yes, and I am thankful every day that I never have to endure that again.”
“Which of your Gods are you dedicated to?” His voice was shy now. They rarely discussed religion. She knew he was devoutly Andrastian, and he knew she still maintained her own people’s belief in the Elven Creators.
“Andruil, goddess of the hunt,” she answered softly. “My skill as a warrior was obvious even when I was young so I trained with the hunters and was dedicated to Andruil.”
He nodded and then his fingers found her scar and stroked it gently. She closed her eyes as his fingers skimmed across her eyelid. “And how did you get this?” he asked. His voice was slightly sad now. Myrlana knew that he worried about her every time she was off fighting and out of his sight. The scar, proof that she’d been injured even if it was before they met, was obviously reminding him of those worries.
“It was...humans,” she said. She didn’t like discussing the story outside of other Dalish with all the racism leveled at elves, but as she’d told him earlier, she loved him so he could ask her anything. “I was hunting alone and came across a group. They objected to the filthy knife ear.”
“Oh.”
“I got away, but I was outnumbered badly. One of them got me with his axe. Luckily my Keeper is an accomplished healer or I may have lost the eye.” She remembered the fear of that day, but it was a distant thing as if from another life.
Cullen leaned over her and brushed kisses along the scar. There was taut protectiveness in his body language. When he pulled away, she reached her hand up to cup his face and smiled reassuringly. Then her thumb brushed his lips.
“What about you?” she asked as she gently stroked the scar on his upper lip, the one that always drew her eye and thus always led to other thoughts.
“Kirkwall,” he answered shortly. His eyes grew haunted as he thought about that place, and Myrlana began to regret asking. Kirkwall was almost as much of a sore spot for him as his time at Ferelden’s Circle.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered with compassion.
His eyes cleared and softened. “No, I’m sorry. But as the woman I love, you can ask me any question you want.” He sighed. “It happened sometime during the final fight against Meredith in the Gallows. I’m not even sure exactly when I was wounded. A lot of people got scars that day. Or worse.” He closed his eyes and turned onto his back. Myrlana followed his movement so that she was now fitting her body to his, trying to chase the darkness away with her presence.
He opened his eyes finally and smiled at her. “I wish I could have known then what that day would lead me to. Facing it would have been easier knowing I’d find you one day.” He moved suddenly, pinning her beneath him while his lips found hers, but before things could progress farther…
Knocking. Insistent knocking. The reprieve was over.