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Cuddling with Aodren under the heavy blankets spread across the bed, Cullen was absent-mindedly brushing his fingers into his lover’s hair. The Inquisitor had been away for a few days, and their reunion was always something he was looking forward to. The comforting presence of his lover in his arms never failed to soothe him; his touch, his smell, his laughs and gentle smiles – he doubted he could ever have enough of it all. The way the elf let his head rest upon his shoulders, as if nothing could ever happened to him as long as he was in his arms; the way he narrated whatever had happened to him and his companions when they had been away from Skyhold… All this had a very loving place in Cullen’s heart.
“… and Varric was so stunned!” Aodren was saying, laughter in his voice. “He even said I was cheating, but, seriously, he asked for it.”
Cullen blinked. He had been so absorbed in his own thoughts that he hadn’t paid attention to what his lover had been telling for the past five minutes – if not more.
“What are you talking about?” he interrupted him.
Aodren gave him a sidelong glance, the corner of his lips twitching as he was obviously repressing a smile.
“You were not listening.”
“I was too focused on enjoying your presence,” Cullen answered, kissing his nose.
“You’re lucky I love you, vhenan,” Aodren retorted.
I know, Cullen thought, but his lover didn’t give him time to reply and carried on:
“I was saying that Varric was mad at me because I won our story-telling contest, the other night at the camp. He said I cheated because I used magic, but that’s how I’ve always told stories to the kids of the clan. Besides, he didn’t set up any rules, so that’s entirely on him.”
Cullen couldn’t help but freeze, even if momentarily. He knew he should do and be better than that, but sometimes mentions of magic still triggered unwanted responses from him, despite his best efforts. Being in a relationship with a dalish mage definitely obliged him to rethink what he knew about magic; Aodren had little to no knowledge of what was taught in a Circle and didn’t care about it. He had never given him any reason to doubt his control over himself or his powers, though, but even if Cullen had learnt to trust his lover about it, a side of him would forever be afraid of magic and the horrors it could bring. Some scars ran too deep to disappear completely.
The gentle squeeze of Aodren’s fingers around his own almost made him jump. His lover was looking at him, his bright eyes shining with understanding as if he knew exactly which direction his thoughts had taken. Cullen sighed, bringing their entwined fingers to his lips to kiss them.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and he absolutely meant it.
Aodren replied with a simple smile, but it was all Cullen needed. He wasn’t mad at him. He understood. He would be patient as long as he needed.
“Maybe I could tell you a story,” Aodren eventually said, his voice a soft whisper. “Maybe I could show it to you.”
Cullen felt his throat go dry at the offer. He knew it was genuine, but… But perhaps it was precisely what he needed.
“Just think about it,” he added, slowly brushing his hand on Cullen’s chest. “There’s no rush. And if you don’t want to, it’s okay.”
Cullen closed his eyes for a second, his heart beating louder, faster, as if he was standing on the edge of a ravine, ready to jump into it without a harness to stop his fall. He looked at Aodren, his lover still tracing soothing patterns with his fingers. Aodren would be his harness.
“Show me,” he breathed out. “I trust you.”
Aodren’s smile was so gentle and happy – Cullen couldn’t help but feel that jumping might have been the right decision. The elf wriggled slightly, leaning more on Cullen’s shoulder to free both his hands, then began:
“It’s an old legend about the wind…”
Aodren’s voice did the same as Varric’s when he was relating something during one of their shared evening meal; its tone wasn’t the usual one, but deeper, smoother, the flow of words turning like the wind he was talking about. Aodren’s voice was captivating, more than the story itself, and added to the delicate herbal scent of his lover’s hair, Cullen could imagine himself wandering among the leaves of the trees, cradled by the trade winds dancing in the forest.
As he was feeling more relaxed, a discreet sparkle suddenly caught his eyes, followed by another one. Aodren’s hands had begun to move slowly, and from the tip of his fingers, small dots of magic were appearing, floating in front of them the same way light would catch particles hanging in the air. Cullen blinked, watching those tiny sparkles starting to move, each going in a different direction at first but joining the others as the story went on. They ended up in a whirlwind, spinning slowly in front of them almost in a sensual way. It was a strange kind of dancing, wild but peaceful at the same time. It was fascinating, and without thinking, Cullen raised a hand as if to brush past it.
He had often wondered what it felt to have magic. He had never been envious of mages – too many things could go wrong with magic, as he had learnt the hard way – but he had always been curious about it at the same time. He knew, of course, that mages could summon fire, frost, lightning, but it was magic with a specific shape and aim. It wasn’t the case with these tiny sparkles. They simply were. The touch wasn’t cold or hot, there was no shock or electricity, nothing but a soft a gentle kind of warmth, so subtle he didn’t notice it at first. The sparkle stayed on his fingers for a few seconds, then left to join the others.
For the first time in his life, Cullen realised that magic didn’t have to be strictly useful. It could be beautiful.
He kept his eyes focused on the sparkles, until they slowly began to fade. Aodren’s voice had quieted, and the silence around them was tainted with something he couldn’t quite define, even if it was comfortable. Cullen gave his lover a glance; he seemed to be unsure, looking at him expectantly. He cupped Aodren’s cheek with a hand, following the line of the vallaslin with a gentle brush of his thumb.
“Thank you,” he whispered, his throat tight.
Aodren smiled happily, leaning his head into the palm of his hand.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he answered in the same tone. “It’s one of my favourite legends.”
Cullen nipped at his lips, suddenly very aware that he had been so focused on the magic sparkles he hadn’t listened to a single word of the story. He felt the specific heat of a blush settling on his cheeks as he awkwardly cleared his throat, lowering his gaze briefly. Aodren blinked, surprised by his reaction, and then made a face when he understood why his lover seemed ashamed.
“… You didn’t listen,” he deadpanned, even if the corner of his lips were slightly turned upward and his eyes were shining with fondness.
“I’m sorry, love,” Cullen apologised. “I was just… Watching. It really was beautiful.”
Aodren’s expression softened right away, and he stretched just enough to reach Cullen’s lips with his.
“Thank you for trusting me,” he murmured, their breaths mixing into one as he ended his sentence with a kiss.