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“You won't be strong enough to do anything.” He said, setting her down on his bed. She bounced against the mattress, sighing loudly. “If you don't take it, I'm not letting you leave Skyhold!” The words were weighed with command, a tone he only used with his soldiers.
She shooed his hands off weakly, her eyes snapping upwards. The white-grey radiance of them always took Cullen by surprise, yet he was absolutely infatuated with everything about them. Now, however, they only made the anger in him rise. “I'm doing this for you, you know!” Her head felt woozy, but she kept her gaze hard.
Cullen could see the weakness in her face, casting spells without lyrium put an extreme toll on her body. Even the simplest spells left her with a nose bleed or made her black out entirely. “You can't even stand!” he snapped back, quickly turning away. He could feel the hair trigger rage beginning to manifest - damn lyrium! His greatest weakness was her greatest strength. He felt horrible for causing her pain - but this wasn't his fault. He told her not to do this, warned her that it would be dangerous.
“Don't ridicule me, Cullen. I know what I am doing,” she growled, crossing her arms over her chest and turning her head to look away. She took a breath, centering herself and removing the shake from her voice, “As Inquisitor, everything my teammates go through I go through - you are not doing this alone.”
“If you continue casting without lyrium you may as well be useless to us.” He spit through gritted teeth, attempting to get back down to her level of calmness, but any attempt failed.
Elizabeth snapped her head back to him. She pushed herself from the bed, her strength returning. Only slightly weak on her feet, she mustered enough strength to walk into his space and claim the area, her eyes locking on his, “you are useless to me on lyrium.” Every syllable was stressed with harsh and firm meaning.
“You are acting like a child,” he muttered under his breath, turning away and scratching the back of his head in a dismissive way. This wasn't the first argument, and he knew it wasn't going to be the last. He was tired of fighting her on this. It was an inner struggle - lyrium gave him power he couldn't put into words...he expected Elizabeth to comprehend this. Yet on lyrium he wasn't himself - just another pawn for whoever held his lyrium leash.
However, Elizabeth wasn't done. She chased him with a few purposeful steps. “You are acting like an addict - can't get enough of it for yourself so you want to share it with everyone! I don't want lyrium, and I am not going to sit back while you let it kill you!” Her pitch raises as well as her volume. She pushed his back, trying to get his attention, “what's next? Red lyrium?! You'll be just like Samson!”
He whipped around, his golden eyes coming alive with fire. “I am nothing like Samson!” he snarled loudly, moving his face to be inches from hers. The heat radiated from his very being. It stung her eyes. “I don't have to take any of this from an abomination of nature.” The words burned his lips, tasting like nothing but ash in his mouth. He regretted it more than he could admit. He was breathing heavily, becoming more aware of himself.
Her throat felt tight but her gaze remained hard. It stung. “Is that truly how you see me?” She whispered, afraid actual words would crack whatever held her tears back.
Cullen dropped his gaze, “no...no...Elizabeth...” His eyes raised, and even in her sadness she was absolutely beautiful. The water rimming her eyes made the color even more vibrant. Everything about her, her voice, her hair, her scent, her skin, her body...it was nothing but intoxicating to him. His hands yearned to touch her - it made his heart skip a beat. Even in anger she was gorgeous.
She felt it too, her eyes locking on his face. Without thinking, her hand reached up to brush a stray hair from his forehead. The blonde strand refused to stay, making them both breath a laugh. Even the relief of laughter couldn't break the heated tension. His words burned through her just as her words marked him. “Cullen...”
With that, their lips locked. His hand gripped her waist, pulling her into his form. Her fingers entwined into his hair, gripping the wavy strands with eagerness. His tongue worked to pry her lips apart, to feel the inside of her mouth. Cullen's hands fumbled their way to the front of her shirt. Her body arched, giving him room. “You have absolutely no idea how long I have waited for this, Elizabeth...” he gasped.
Her hands cupped his cheeks, pulling their lips apart just long enough to breath a gentle, “show me.”