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Slow Burning Dreamer	By : Breathing2nd Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 3692 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-1
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 14-Fourteen
- 15-Fifteen
- 16-Sixteen
- 17-Seventeen
- 16
- 17
“N-no…l-leave…leave me…”
Isala opened her eyes to the sound of Cullen’s voice. Her room was dark, the candles having long since burned out. She could see that the sky was just beginning to pale, but the stars had not yet left the heavens.
She wasn’t sure when she’d drifted off, or when she’d laid her head on the cushions of the couch. At some point, Cullen had rolled onto his side and she’d nestled down into the empty space his movement had left. Now, the Commander was shifting uneasily beneath the small blanket, his eyes flicking wildly beneath his closed lids. A fine sheen of sweat had started across his furrowed brow and he was making soft, defiant sounds in his throat.
Her smaller hand slid over his larger one, unsure of what to do.
“Cullen?” She breathed his name, not really wanting to wake him, but feeling uneasy with allowing the nightmare to continue.
His breath rushed out in a half-growled huff and his hand contracted around hers. His grip was bruising, crushing her fingers into his palm. She smothered the strangled yelp in her throat, biting her lip against the painful constriction of his hand around hers. The mark that marred her palm beginning to glow faintly between his clenched fingers.
Isala swallowed hard and fought to slow her pulse as it leapt into her throat. Instead of fighting him, instead of jarring him awake, instead of panic, the Inquisitor calmed herself, relaxing her cramped hand and arm.
“Elgara vallas, da'len…” She began, voice soft and unsure. It had been so long since she’d heard the Dalish lullaby, but she could never forget the words.
“Melava somniar…Mala tara aravas…Ara ma'desen melar…” She continued, finding the right pitch and rhythm.
“Iras ma ghilas, da'len…Ara ma'nedan ashir…Dirthara lothlenan'as…Bal emma mala dir…” Isala reached out with her free hand as she sang, brushing back the soft curls on the human’s head. She caressed his brow with the back of her fingers and felt his hand begin to relax around hers.
“Tel'enfenim, da'len…Irassal ma ghilas…Ma garas mir renan…Ara ma'athlan vhenas…” As she neared the end of the lullaby, she felt Cullen’s hand loosen completely around hers, but he didn’t fully let go. His eyes were still and his face lax with sleep. Isala smiled and cooed the last line. “Ara ma'athlan vhenas.”
There was a sound at the top of the stairs, a soft shifting of feet. Isala poked her head up at the intrusion and found the skittish eyes of Laisa glinting back at her through the darkness. The city elf was smiling wistfully from the steps, her arms full of clean water for the basin and fresh cloths.
“I remember that one.” The servant whispered as she took a few meager steps inside.
Isala smiled at the young elf. “It’s Dalish.” She had thought Laisa to be alienage born.
“And so was I, until I was six, Your Worship.” Laisa’s large brown eyes saddened at the mention of her childhood and Isala could only imagine what tragedy had brought her into the walls of Kirkwall.
Laisa glanced around nervously, her eyes never lingering too long on the sleeping form of the Commander.
“I don’t wish to disturb you, messere.” She intoned. “I shall come back later.”
“Wait!” Isala hissed in as loud a whisper as she could manage. The Inquisitor slid her hand, ever-so-slowly, from Cullen’s and stood. She motioned for her chambermaid to set down the items she’d brought and Laisa made quick work of refilling the basin and replacing the cloths.
When she’d finished she gave Isala a brief nod. “Anything else, Your Worship?”
Isala smiled. “Yes, actually. Laisa, I need your help. I need you to manage several tasks for me and all of them rather quickly, can you do that?”
The red-head nodded rapidly and Isala began laying out her instructions to the younger elf. She needed the stain in the war room cleaned and the ink well replaced. Laisa seemed confident the stain could be removed with a powder from the kitchen. She also needed messengers to speak with Leliana and Josephine the moment they had woken, instructing them to see the Inquisitor in her chambers before any other meetings. She would have breakfast catered to her quarters, but didn’t wish for the two advisors to know.
“Let it be a surprise.” Isala finished with a grin.
Laisa nodded. “Will that be all, Your Worship?”
“One last thing, and this is a task I am entrusting to you specifically, Laisa.” She could see the young elf’s eyes grow eager and wide. “You must go to the Commander’s quarters, fetch his clothes and usual armor and bring them here as quickly and quietly as possible. Do this before anything else and tell no one.”
Laisa nodded once more, her red hair bobbing around her ears.
“Thank you.” Isala said, giving the servant her leave.
Cullen was still slumbering quietly from the couch and the sky had just begun to pale. She knew Leliana and Josephine were both early to rise and that these moments were fleeting.
The Dalish mage sighed and padded over to the basin resting on her bureau. She splashed some of the fresh water onto her face and cleaned her hands. She dressed quickly and tied back her pale hair. She began lighting the sconces on the walls with barely more than a wave of her hand, tracing tiny fire glyphs in the air. For the fireplace, however, an extra log on the dying embers was enough to stoke the gentle flames back to life.
As the revived fire crackled before her she heard the creak of her bedroom door. Laisa emerged behind the bannister, her arms full of Cullen’s familiar attire. The lithe elf could barely carry the ensemble, but had managed to stack the smaller and lighter pieces inside the breastplate Cullen always wore.
“Ma serannas.” Isala thanked the girl, taking the accoutrements into her own arms.
“Your Worship.” Laisa bowed her head once and hurried back down the stairs to complete her other tasks. The girl was efficient and diligent. Isala had no doubt in her ability to complete all that the Inquisitor had requested.
Cullen groaned a sleepy sigh as he stretched against the cushions. His eyes blinked open and closed slowly as he drug himself from his dreams. Isala crossed to the center of the room, resting his armor and clothes onto her bed.
“Good morning, Commander.” She spoke softly, a gentle smile spreading across her delicate features.
Cullen smiled, sleep still heavy on his face. He shifted comfortably against the cushions, eyes still closed.
“Mmm, good morning.” His voice was like the purring of some great cat. He inhaled deeply, stretching once more, eyes blinking slowly open before shooting wide. Cullen jolted upright, the small blanket sliding to the floor in his haste. “Uh…” he looked startled and a little embarrassed as he fumbled at the pillows he’d kicked from the couch. “Um, Inquisitor, I um…I must have fallen asleep…” he licked his lips and Isala covered her laughter with the back of her hand.
“Cullen, it’s alright.” She assured him, still trying to hide the snicker in her voice. “I promise not to tell anyone.”
That seemed to sober the Commander. His warm amber eyes gazing up at the elven woman across from him. He opened his mouth and closed it and Isala found herself watching how the little scar above his lip pulled and moved as he worked out his expression.
“No, it’s not…I don’t mind…” He sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Maker, I am terrible at this.”
Isala giggled and came to crouch before him so that she could stare up into his handsome face. “At morning afters?” She teased and Cullen actually baulked. She watched as crimson crept up his throat and into his face and it only fueled her giggles.
The mage placed a slender hand on the human’s knee and smiled at him in earnest. “Did you at least sleep well? You seemed a little restless.”
The discomfiture seemed to fade from Cullen’s face as he gazed down at Isala. She watched that little scar pull at his top lip as he smiled faintly.
“Yes, actually. Better than usual.” He admitted. “I remember hearing a voice…singing. I don’t recall the words. I’m not even sure I understood them…they sounded…”
“Elvish?” Isala asked sheepishly and the soft smile that had been playing across the Commander’s face broadened.
“You sing beautifully.” He complimented.
Isala shook her head. “I think all Dalish children learn that lullaby. It’s nothing special.”
She felt his palm slide along her cheek, fingertips just grazing the shell of her ear. The Inquisitor stifled a shudder from the tender caress as she leaned into his warm, solid hand.
“It was to me.” He murmured and the elven mage felt something stir inside her. That heavy fluttering that held her lungs hostage.
Isala stood suddenly, Cullen’s hand falling away from her face. “Well, I took the liberty of sending for your…uniform.” She made her way back to the bed, gathering the armor and clothing into her arms. When she turned around, Cullen was incredibly close and she was reminded of how very shirtless he still was.
“Thank you.” He murmured as she handed over the accoutrements.
The elf shrugged. “My pleasure. After all, we can’t have the Commander showing up to breakfast without his infamous frock.” Isala said lightly. Her fingers giving the fur lined vestment a little ruffle.
“Breakfast?” Cullen asked.
“Yes. I’ve sent for all my advisors to meet me in my quarters for a surprise breakfast.” She winked. “Meanwhile, the war room is being cleaned and the inkwell replaced.”
The human smiled halfway. “My, you’ve thought of everything. Leliana would be proud.”
Isala licked her lips. “Yes well, I know how many ears Skyhold’s walls have, and we are brimming with gossip these days.”
Cullen’s smile sobered then. “Does it bother you?” He asked and Isala was taken back by the seriousness of his question. She hadn’t been prepared for it and it took her a moment to respond.
“Me? No.” She shook her head. Why did her cheeks burn? “Not for me, I thought, you…” Her mouth opened and closed. Now she was turning into the awkward one.
“Then let them talk.” His face was serious but his smile was warm.
Isala felt her breath hitch.
She took a step back and motioned to her dressing screen and the water basin on the wardrobe.
“You can dress over there if you like.” She offered, trying not to stare at him too hard. “The sixth bell just rang before you woke. I imagine we don’t have a lot of time before Josephine and Leliana arrive.” Isala licked her lips and held her breath as Cullen nodded and made his way to the dressing screen.
When he was behind it, the elf let her shoulders relax and allowed the breath to ease out of her lungs. She was surprised at her racing pulse and the tightness in her chest. She could hear the shifting of cloth and the gentle tinkling of metal buckles coming from behind the screen. Isala tried not to imagine the Commander slipping into the sturdy leathers and handcrafted metal. She tried to keep the images of his taught muscles pulling beneath the skin as he fitted his body with armor. She tried so hard, in fact, she’d barely realized she’d been moving toward the dressing screen until she was standing right in front of it.
“Do you…need any…help?” She winced as the question fell from her mouth. Why had she asked him that? Why should he need her help getting dressed in something he wore every day? Creators, what was wrong with her?
“One of the first things we learned in training is how to fasten our armor on our own.” Cullen answered evenly from behind the screen. Isala nodded. Of course they did. It was a stupid question, after all.
“O-of course.” She stammered, wincing once more.
Cullen stepped out from behind the screen. His shirts in place, hands already covered in soft, buttery leather, boots laced and guards buckled in. He was holding the small breastplate in his hands, straps and buckles jingling softly. The human smiled bashfully at her and took a step closer.
“But I’d be a fool to turn down the offer.”
Isala felt her pale eyes fasten to him immediately, weighing his expression and trying not to appear too eager. It was an invitation she couldn’t very well refuse.
Cullen held out the breast plate and Isala took it into her hands. She found that it slid into place rather easily, having been specially crafted for the Commander’s body alone. The buckles seemed rather self-explanatory and her nimble fingers made quick work of fastening them. The pauldrons came next and the gauntlets were similarly attached. Isala tried to keep focused on pulling the leather taught, feeding the straps into the buckles, and not how it all made her feel. There was something oddly sensual about the entire process and the mage was vaguely aware that she was biting on her lower lip in deep concentration.
She helped him cross the deep burgundy fabric that hid much of his armor away and when she pulled the belt taught across his waist she felt a little involuntary huff escape her lips. She’d wondered so long at what all the armor looked like off the Commander, but the act of putting it on held an almost similar thrill. He was strong and powerful and every-bit a warrior, and yet, she knew that beneath all of the leather and metal, lay a gentleness and vulnerability that spoke of the man behind the title.
Isala drew the last piece of cloth from the back of the dressing screen. Her fingers brushing lightly though the peculiar fur that felt strangely of feathers. Cullen eased his arms through the garment and Isala smoothed it out over his shoulders. When she crossed back to the front of him, he stood there looking as he always did, and she reminded herself to treasure the small glimpse of the man she’d witnessed beneath the armor.
“Thank you.” He murmured and Isala nodded her approval.
“Anytime.”
There was a soft rapping at her door and Isala made her way down the staircase to answer it. Both her Spymaster and Ambassador stood on the other side of the large wooden door and Isala greeted them with a wide smile.
“Josephine! Leliana! Good morning to you both! So glad you could make it.” She widened the door to allow them to come through. “Cullen only just arrived.” She lied.
“Yes, we were delighted to receive your summons, Inquisitor. Though, I must say, this is a most unusual place for our morning meeting.” Josephine chattered, her ruffles swishing as she took to the stairs.
Isala smiled. “Josephine, I didn’t invite you all here for a meeting.”
Leliana gave the elf a sidelong glance. “Not a meeting?”
The Inquisitor shook her head, pale hair bobbing in its ponytail. “No. I thought we could all have breakfast together.” She announced as they reached the top of the landing. “As friends.”
The look on both women’s faces was of soft confusion. They glanced first at one another and then at the Commander, before smiling a slow, approving grin.
Isala heard the quick knocks of the servants on the outer door and called for them to enter. The scent of fresh eggs and pastry wafted up to the loft, along with the rich aroma of coffee, tea and cured meats. The food was brought up and settled around the Inquisitors table while all three of her advisors watched.
“Thank you.” The Inquisitor stated, giving the workers their leave.
“Oh Inquisitor, this is lovely, really.” Josephine purred.
“Josephine, please, call me—”
“Isala…” Cullen said suddenly and the mage found that she’d had the words stolen right out of her mouth. The Commander smiled then and spoke for his comrades. “Thank you for this, Isala.”
Creators, she loved the way he said her name.
- 16
- 17
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Slow Burning Dreamer