"When you said that you'd wanted to try something Orlesian, I'd hoped you'd meant a new set of pastries."
Kaitlyn smiled through the butterflies in her stomach. She'd never seen Cullen wear such ominous scowl before; his glare at the red silk draped around the center of Val Royeaux would've lit it on fire had he been a mage.
"That's just an enormous waste of cloth."
"Do you say that every time you come here?"
"Not every time," he mumbled, cheeks gaining a pink hue. Cullen turned back to the group of soldiers who had traveled with them. His voice grew louder as he addressed them, "You all have your assignments. I expect everyone to be finished with this glorified grocery run in the allotted time." He paused, glancing to Kaitlyn, before he added, "Though I might turn a blind eye to a few hours of leisure if some of those chocolates we saw earlier made it onto my desk."
Laughter rippled through the firm stances of the men and women, their cracked and worn lips pulling up with their smiles.
"Dismissed."
She waited for the soldiers to clear before strolling to Cullen's side—or trying to stroll, at any rate. Her knees were beginning to shake. "Determined to get your pastries after all, Commander?"
"I will admit," he whispered, leaning in and letting his fingers brush along the back of her hand, "there are a few things that the Orlesians aren't completely terrible at."
"Such scandal!" Kaitlyn gasped in mock horror. "They won't let you back into Ferelden after that."
"Then I'll beg you to keep it a secret."
She smiled when his fingers twined with her own; a rare show of affection for such a public setting. Her heart pounded in her chest when he stared at her. "I, um..." Heat flared in her cheeks when he squeezed her fingers. "What I wanted to show you was, uh..." His tongue ran along his bottom lip and she found her thoughts scattering. She wanted him to kiss her again and again and then again like he had that first time on the battlements. The softness of his lips. The languid rub of his tongue. His sighs when she—
"Kaitlyn?"
"Yes?!" She blinked then turned away, sure her cheeks were red. She pressed her free hand to her stomach, wondering if it would be coming up her throat or if her knees would buckle or if something equally embarrassing would happen before she reached the stairs. "U-up on the next floor, in that little garden area. That's where it is."
"Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm just a little warm is all," she tried to laugh it off but the sound strangled itself somewhere along the way. "Must be the heat. I'm so used to Skyhold."
"Of course," Cullen said. His face remained set but the wrinkles around his eyes betrayed his smirk. Her lie would've gone over better if she hadn't just returned from the desert.
"Yes, well." Kaitlyn kept a tight hold of his hand as she marched through the market with him in tow.
What if it was too much? Too fast? She'd never really done anything like this before. Glancing back to him, she bit her lip. The Circle hadn't allowed many opportunities of romance; what if she was going about this all wrong? What if the gesture seemed childish or naïve?
Oh, Maker. What if she scared him away?
"Are you sure you're all right?" The question was gentle, his voice a balm against her fears. "You don't appear well."
Kaitlyn squeezed his fingers, grateful he hadn't worn gloves. She loved the feel of his hands: rough with callouses, leathery from constant use, lined with fine scars. She'd never seen hands like his before, not even among other Templars.
"I promise I'm all right." She tugged him into the shaded alcove, heart hammering harder than a blacksmith flattening out a blade. "I just wanted to show you this." She stopped beside one of the golden plaques strewn all over the city. Her face burned and she lowered her head and watched him through her lashes.
"I don't understand."
"Read it."
The Lover's Alcove
When manners and station will not allow impassioned words, such corners are places to be seen not being seen. Entering with a paramour is as much a declaration as dinging out in joy, which one of good standing must never do. The alcove is this a dignified means of announcing romantic affiliation, either for genuine partnership, or to appear as such in order to spare a suitor a refusal. Dignity of course requiring that one does not also make use of the darkness for actual physical gratification.
Kaitlyn remembered when she'd first found the plaque months ago. She'd laughed at the idea at first, but now she watched Cullen's eyes move down the engraving and prayed instead. Prayed that he would accept the gesture or, at least, that his rejection might be gentle.
"Is this—?" He cleared his throat and the earlier pink began spreading to the tips of his ears. "I mean, we've entered like it says, and we entered together like it says, and I'm fairly certain you're not using me to refuse another suitor."
She screamed inwardly at his response. Was joking good or bad?
"No, I'm not. U-using you, I mean."
Andraste preserve me. This had been a bad idea. This whole thing had been such a bad idea. "It's silly, I know. Let's just forget it, shall we?" Kaitlyn forced a smile, heart aching as she started to pull away.
"It's not silly." Cullen followed her, sweeping in until she was pressed against the wall. Placing his other hand against the brick behind her, his body all but blocked her from view of any curious onlookers. His gaze dropped to her lips before returning to her eyes. "That plaque also mentioned not using this place for 'physical gratification.'"
She swallowed hard, growing breathless under his intense stare. "I remember."
"That's the Orlesian way, at any rate." His head dipped down; his breath ghosted across her lips.
Kaitlyn smiled. "Thank the Maker that neither of us are Orlesian."
Cullen chuckled even as he kissed her, his lips warm and eager. He released her hand only to cup her cheek. Tilting his head to allow for a deeper kiss, his tongue sent shivers down her spine with its thorough and unhurried search. He grinned when she sighed his name, slowly pulling apart to rest his forehead to hers. His thumb ran along her chin, his smile broadening enough that dimples appeared in the sides of his blushing cheeks.
"Thank the Maker, indeed."
