#innermuse

Kelandris catches a final glimpse of her love as she's manhandled out the door. Tristan is standing over her, prodding at the mangled fingers of her glowing hand. She wants to call out, but by the time she finds her voice she's already been hauled into the corridor. The guards deposit her in yet another dungeon cell – Sid is already there, waiting.

He grabs her, roughly, and forcefully stuffs her mouth with a cloth before binding it in place with coarse bandages. A guard is busy moving various devices until finally a trap door creeks and lifts open in the floor. Shoving her tender back Sid forces her towards the pitch-black hole.

Kelandris balks, but her struggles are futile. She stumbles and falls, convulsing, as ungentle hands make contact with her injuries. And then there's a disorienting blur of motion and pain— until suddenly there's a slam, and then... nothing. Total darkness, and the press of stone all around her. Something scrapes nearby – the same jostling of equipment as when she was dragged in – and she realizes, in utter horror, she can still hear everything going on above her prison. When she yells, the sound is swallowed by the gag. She knows then, with terrifying certainty, that sooner or later, Annabel would end up in that cell, and she'd be powerless to comfort her.

There’s a rhythmic banging above her: the sound of someone nailing shut the door. Panic grants her strength as her prison is sealed – she will not be trapped like this without a fight! Her muscles protest violently as she flings herself against the door— and promptly falls back, yelling unheard curses. Blood dribbles from the new puncture wounds marring her side; as if the tiny hole wasn't already horrific enough, the underside of the door is spiked.

Back in the other room, Tristan glares down at Annabel. "Now I can finally have you all to myself." He nudges her broken thumb and smirks. "Perhaps if you ask nicely, I'll just play with you here on my own instead of bringing you to Sid when he's done with your bitch. What do you think?"

Dragging Kelandris away was about the worse thing they could’ve done to her. She couldn’t do this alone, couldn’t live with the worry of not knowing where her love was or what was happening to her. The Lord’s smug face however turns her bubbling fear into solid anger. "Perhaps, if you ask nicely I won't roast you alive when we get outta here!" She wants to reach out, slam him into the ground and pound until there is nothing but bloody paste left. Her body is so feeble though and she can barely strain the restraints.

"Threats do not become you. But go ahead, keep spewing vitriol, if you wish – I'll make note of your better suggestions to try out later on Kelandris." His fingers wander over her stomach. "So much pretty, soft skin; all mine, now..."

Annabel’s glare is cold. "It’s not a threat, it’s a promise," she feels a shiver run up her spine at his touch, her lips curling in disgust. "And it will never be yours, ‘coz I will never be yours! Not the part that matters! You're nothing but a petty perverted cowardice of a freak, you hear me?!"

Before he can answer, a guard bangs on the door. "Ah," Tristan smirked. "It seems Sid is done already. I wonder how much she'll scream without you around to hear her?" He chuckles and lets the guards in to unbind her. "Don't worry, my dear, you won't have too long to think about that. We're going to have some fun of our own..."

As the straps are removed Annabel snatches her chance. Pulse racing, her body runs on the fuel of stale rage, she head buts one man and knees another in the groin. She hears the wet crunch of his nose breaking and the deep winded yelp and for a second she is free. Instinctively she rushes at Tristan.

Numerous hands grapple at her, she lashes out, throwing elbows and kicks. Outnumbered and overwhelmed she's soon forced to yield. She was so damn close! She spits fresh blood at Tristan, getting him square in the eye as she is forced down onto her knees in front of him to be re bound.

Growling, he wipes his face and slaps her – once, twice, three times, for good measure. The feisty sluts refuse to learn, no matter how many times he tries to teach them manners. The guards chain her hand and foot, to drag her down the hall. He follows, sweeping into the next dungeon chamber in time to watch them secure her. The shackles on her wrists are attached to a hook dangling from the ceiling; while her ankle chains are bolted to a loop in the floor. There's not enough slack to fight back, but there's plenty room to squirm.

Red face stinging Annabel tugs at the ceiling, the anchor flaring as she pulls, trying to use her weight against the iron, all it does however is hurt her mangled hand. Cursing, blood dribbles down her chin which she spits at one of the guards.

"You are mine, now. Your little harlot isn't here to distract you. But I expect the rest of my guards are finding her very distracting, indeed..." he smirks, walking around behind her to run rough fingers down the burn on her back.

Annabel hisses when he touches the burn. The hiss grows into a roaring scream of pure fury. Slamming her wrists down she tries to slip loose. The thought of those men with their hands on Kelandris is enough to make her want to snap off her own to get free.

"No!" she snarls like a snared beast. "When I get out...I swear by the Maker and Holy Andraste...you will suffer— you..." her mind is such a mess she can't form a decent threat.

A few feet below them, unknown to her, Kelandris is quietly wallowing in despair, hearing their voices through the door. The heavy wood muffles most of the words, but she recognizes Annabel's anger and Tristan's smug satisfaction. Don't believe anything he tells you, she thought, as if she could somehow get Annabel to hear through strength of will alone, I’m here. I love you.

Kelandris flinches when her lover shrieks. What were they doing to her?! She flings herself at the door again, heedless of the jagged surface, yelling with pain and desperation, although her struggles go unnoticed above.

Tristan chuckles nastily and nips at Annabel’s bare shoulder playfully. "Now, now, there's no need to panic. All you have to do to help her is swear to be mine... Sid, be a gentleman and give her something else to focus on while she considers."

"In your dreams..." she sneers. Sid moves around in front of her, armed with a pair of heavy pincers, already glowing cherry-red. Her eyes catch the pincers and she promptly shuts them rather than give away her dread. Locking her jaw, she bites down hard, determined to not scream.

Sid starts with the underside of her arm, just above the elbow, taking a pinch of flesh in the heated metal jaws he squeezes it hard. Instinctively her arm tries to jerk away. Teeth firmly locked, her face scrunches while the humming of the anchor voices the pain she refuses to. She would not let Kelandris down again.

Tristan scowls, grabbing her hair and yanking her head back. "Come now, whore, where's all your spirit gone?"

"It's with Kelandris!" She growls back cruelly, hoping to dent his ego. Sid moves a few inches further up her arm and grabs her again, the flesh immediately bruising and reddening around the cruel implement. Jaw locked shut her throat still makes a high-pitched whimper. She tries to focus on anything other than sheer burning pain, her eyes fill and stubbornly she holds back the tears.

Growling, Tristan twists her hair harshly. "I will have you scream again, you filthy tramp!" Apparently responding to his master's anger, the torturer abandons her and moves out of sight.

Annabel smirks with pride at his tone – seems she'd struck a nerve after all. "You know who I do scream for..." she hushes her voice. "Kelandris and Cullen- I've screamed their names every damn night and will do again, and again—" She stops, observing Sid carefully before clamping down her teeth.

He’s returned with a different pair of pliers, blunter and hotter still. His next target is somewhere more sensitive: just below her navel. When burning metal crushes flesh she can't help but cry out through pursed lips but she does not scream. He holds the metal there for longer, this time, twisting slowly.

"Oh, I'm sure you will, when you cry to them for mercy," snarls Tristan. "But your bitch and whatever dog you've ensnared can't help you now... Maybe I should've sent her to the kennels instead of the barracks. Maybe that's where we'll go next – would you like to watch your dear Lady Kelandris get torn apart by my hounds? Or perhaps they'll just make her a bitch in truth."

"Won't you miss your position in the pack?" Sneers Annabel her old self emerging in a bitter and twisted form.

He ignores her, watching hungrily as Sid drags the glowing tip of his pliers slowly up the centre of her torso. They pause beneath her breasts, before nipping sharply at the sensitive underside of one. She hisses and her stomach muscles contract, ill prepared for the scorching metal. She exclaims in pain, her eyes rolling back, body trembling with the need to scream as the burning builds.

"The way you're talking back makes me think you never want to see her again," he snaps. Sid continues his grisly work, heedless of the chatter, taking another pinch of her breast between the cruel head of his pliers.

At his comment fear snatches her heart and stops it. However, something of the fighter in her core resounds deeper. "You'll do what your sick mind wants. I offered myself to you and you blew it! I'll make no offer again, not until I know she's safe—" she is cut off by pain and curses profanity. She's had enough and hot tears slip down her cheeks. She knows she can't hold herself back much longer.

"I don't need you to offer," Tristan growls. With a flick of his tongue, he catches one of her tears, and follows the trail of salt water up the side of her face in a long lick. She twists her face away at the press of his tongue which sends a pulse of disgust through her.

"How many times must I repeat myself? You’re mine. I can simply take what I want!" When Sid releases her breast, Tristan snakes a hand around her front to grope the abused flesh. She muffles a cry and doesn't dare open her mouth, fearing the sounds that would come out.

His lackey circles them once again, pausing to exchange his cooling pliers with the freshly-reheated pair. Back at her front, he seizes her knee with one rough hand and tugs outwards, baring the top of her leg. The blazing metal grabs a sliver of her inner thigh, and stays there, held in an unyielding grip. The pain scorches through, its pitch and intensity unyielding, she jerks away and a deafening scream rips from her.

Below, Kelandris howls into her gag at the scream, writhing uselessly. She's completely, totally powerless. All she can do is listen, and imagine the horrible things that bastard must be doing to draw such a noise from her lover's lips. It's worse than any torment they could have inflicted. No! Annabel, love, be strong…!

Tristan's lips curl in a twisted grin. "That's more like it." He lets go of her hair to rake his fingernails down her chest and stomach, scraping the freshly burned skin viciously. Pulling her hips back hard into his, he grinds against her rear, letting her know in the most vulgar way just how much he's enjoying her pain.

She begins sobbing, the fight smothered by overwhelming pain, disgust and despair. The anchor is flashing wildly as she pulls against the restraints, feeling him hard against her back and his dirty little fingers touching her makes her release a garbled noise of desperation. His hand creeps lower still. "I wonder, how loud will you scream if we burn your dirty little nub right off your—" That's when the door slams open, the resounding bang all but drowned out by a primal, furious roar. She doesn't even open her eyes at the slam, she’s too lost to pain – but the thunder of that roar... A lion's roar. The vibration of the noise, the power, lights a spark which causes her breath to catch in her throat. It couldn't be? Slowly she inches open one eye, almost not daring to hope and whispers one word: "Cullen?"

Eyes blazing, Cullen meets her gaze briefly then barrels across the room to rip Sid away from her. The torturer slumps to the floor, convulsing around sword wound through his gut.

Tristan stumbles back from her as the Commander rounds on him.  "You're their latest toy? Listen, you don't understand, those two sluts are leading you on—" he breaks off, choking, as he's slammed against the wall with Cullen's fist wrapped around his throat.

"If you ever speak about them like that again," he snarls, the tip of his blade jammed against the sick bastards chest. "I will personally rip out your tongue."

Annabel is fighting wildly to break free, as if this chance might be ripped away from her at any moment; blood makes the chains slippery but she can't get loose. Another angry voice is snapping commands in a harsh Nevarran accent – Cassandra demanding her release – but still she flails. There's a soft familiar voice in her head, saying something about hope and hurt, light and lions... As she starts to calm her mind returns to her. "Kelandris!" She shouts. "They have Kelandris! Cullen - please!"

Without hesitation Cullen solidly punches Tristan in the jaw, knocking him out cold: there's too much going on to deal with the scum properly. "Someone take this— this— just lock him up!" He barks. A soldier scurries over to comply, and he turns to Annabel. Someone has found the keys to her chains and Cassandra is busy working on the shackles while trying to calm her.

He catches her as she's released. "I know," he blurts. "Where did they take her? Is she alright? Are you alright? Maker, of course you're not... Maker's breath, Annabel, I was so worried— it's alright, you're safe, we'll get you both out of here..." he trails off to smother her in his embrace.

Relief washes her from head to toe. She buries her face deep into his fur mantle while her intact fingers clutch so tight her knuckles turn white. She takes a selfish moment to be held and just listen to his voice, savour his scent, his warmth. Too soon, she pulls away to meet his gaze desperately, although her hands don't let go. "Go, find her… The guards—" she chokes on the words. "The guards, the men, they have her. Go!" She shoves him away feebly.

Cullen frowns, not letting go, voice low and urgent. "We swept the barracks and found nothing. If they had her there, they don't now..." He hesitates, torn between joining the hunt or helping the woman in front of him. Choosing between his two loves is more than difficult, it's agonizing. "Cassandra! Can you lead a search? Find the Inquisitor. Tear the place apart!"

"No..." Annabel shakes her head, not in denial but disbelief. "You're wrong, she's there, she has to be! You have to—" She tries to push him away but she can see from the look on his face that's not going to happen. What had they done with her love? To her? She shakes her head again, her muddled mind frantically searching for a clue. "Him!" Abruptly she hisses turning to the unconscious Lord. "That son of bitch! He knows—" Growling, she lashes out at the arms that hold her. Determined to break free, she pants. "Let go!"

"Love— Annabel, stop! Look at me!" Cullen nearly drops her as she thrashes; he's trying desperately not to hurt her any further. "I want to find her just as much as you. But I love you, too, and so does Kelandris. I'm not waking that bastard up until I know you're safe. The men will look for her. You know that's what she'd want, too."

She’s crying again without even realising. She is so sick of being restrained that she fights until his calm voice soothes her. If it had been anyone else she would have struggled on, spat and cursed. She meets his warm gaze with one of grateful devotion. "I love you to," her eyes then narrow. "But I'm not leaving without her. I won't... I can't...please..." Something breaks down inside her. Sick with worry and grief, she clings to him, still begging, sobbing intangible woes between shaky breaths.

In the darkness, underneath them, Kelandris screams in frustration. The murmur of voices above her is maddening. Again and again, she'd tried to force a sound through her gag but it's useless. Her throat is too raw, her body too weak… She'd even resorted to banging on the ceiling in a moment of quiet. Surely someone would hear something?! All she gained was yet more pain. She trembled, bleeding and beyond exhausted. She was so close – to freedom, to Annabel, to Cullen – and they had no fucking idea…

Worst of all, she could hear her lover sobbing her name. Suffering on her behalf. She was trapped here, blind and helpless. Tears slipped down her cheeks, vanishing into her matted hair. There was nothing she could do but pray.

Cullen holds Annabel gently as she sobs into his shoulder, wrapped in a blanket. Cassandra having taken half the men to search the rest of the dungeon. He'd glanced in some of the cells as they'd charged in; glimpses of their contents had been more than enough to leave him shaking with fury. There'd been catacombs beneath the Gallows that had looked something like this, used by some of his so-called brothers to extract confessions from suspected maleficar – or, in other words, to torture the mages they were supposed to be protecting. But the equipment there had been smuggled in; not even Meredith had been brazen enough to openly build and stock a hall of torment such as this.

The thought of his lovers being held here left him sick to his stomach. He'd heard Annabel scream, the moment before he'd bashed in the door, and the sound had all but broken him. And both his ladies had been languishing for days – what horrors had they experienced? Was Kelandris still trapped somewhere, suffering? Blessed Andraste, they had to find her…

“Here, she's here, but he can't hear!”

Cullen nearly leaps out of his skin when Cole appears in the middle of the room, already babbling. “Waiting, wanting, weeping. Desperate and despairing in the dark, skin scraping on stone; too tight, too much... Caged, caught, Cullen! Knew you'd come, our love, our lion – get me out! I'm here but no one hears— Get me out, get me out, get me out—!” His hat flopped as he looked around wildly. “I can hear! Where are you, Kelandris?! There's too much pain to pinpoint hers – I can tell she's close, but it's not enough!”

Clutching her blanket over her chest Annabel spins at Cole. She's so pleased to see the boy she could kiss him. If he weren't so far and her feet so sore. “She's alive!” With one hand she holds onto Cullen for support and he wraps an arm around her, staring at the spirit, chagrin and relief mingling in his expression.

“Alive, and in pain…” Cullen murmurs, brows furrowed.

Trying to stand on her injured feet Annabel hisses in pain, her trembling legs refuse to bear her weight, and she sinks to her knees. Her biggest fear had melted, the fear that had driven her near insane - that Kelandris lay mutilated and stone cold somewhere. Something she hadn't fully let herself feel until its burden was now gone. "Cole....where is she? What do you need- Cole please..."

"There's so much hurt soaked into the stones. Memories that catch fear and bounce it back, distorted, echoes of a scream in distant dungeon halls— She's hurting, but so is everyone else. It's muddled, and you and Cullen are so loud...so bright..." He glances up at her apologetically. "If everyone leaves I think I can find her. You wouldn't have to go far!" He adds hastily, sensing their reactions to that idea.

Annabel rubs at the stone under palm as he speaks. She didn't mean to be loud, she didn't really understand, but she knew he was their best hope. "Ok," she says, softly with a nod. "Just find her." She doesn't want to admit she can't stand by herself never mind leave. Her broken pride however gives way to her love for Kelandris and she pitifully asks Cullen to help her up.

Without hesitation, Cullen scoops her up in his arms, eyes widening in horror as he sees the state of her feet. "Maker..." he murmurs again, and then glances around at the assembled soldiers. "Everyone out! Back to the courtyard. Bring the scum. And alert the healers!"

When the tromp of footsteps starts to fade, Kelandris panics. No. No no no, don't leave me here! Another scream; another wave of pain as she forces her weary body to respond; another set of bloody punctures marring her abused flesh. She was going to die here, bleeding out or wasting away. She'd never see Annabel or Cullen again. They'd find her broken corpse, stuffed in this fucking hole, and it would break both their hearts. One final failure…

“Kelandris?”

At first, she thinks she's hallucinating the quiet voice. It's right above her, barely loud enough to filter through the wooden door.

“Alone and afraid; now my own mind is abandoning me, too— No! I'm here, I'm real. I'll get you out!”

…Cole?

“Yes!” Metal scrapes above her, and she's overwhelmed by a crushing tide of relief. Relief that turns back to panic when the noises fall silent.

“I can't pull the nails out with a knife. I'll tell the others! They'll be able to help, it will be okay—”

Cullen! Please, tell him, bring him – don't let me stay down here…!

“Yes. He wants you as much as you want him – we'll be back soon, don't worry!”

And then there was silence.

When the spirit-boy popped up suddenly in the courtyard Cullen lunged to his feet. “Where is she?”

“They put her in the floor and nailed it shut! I tried to pry it loose myself, but my daggers are meant to work on people, not nails.”

"They did what?!" he exclaims. He can see Cole is going to answer and shakes his head. "Where? Take me to her, now." He spins pointing one of his men. "You, fetch a crowbar," he turns to point at two more and a healer. "All of you - with me."  He barks already pressing Cole forwards.

When he's returned to the same cell he scowls, eyes scanning the ground until he see's the door. That bastard. She had been under his feet the entire time, under Annabel. He drops to his knees, pressing a palm to the wood. Was that a thump under his hand? "Kelandris?! We're here. Just hold on." A soldier passes him the crowbar, and he wastes no time prying out the nails. His men haul open the door; one shouts in pain, discovering the spiked underside. And below him... By the Holy Andraste – what had they done to her? “It's okay,” he murmurs, and reaches for his love.

The sound of Cullen's voice is the most beautiful thing she has ever heard. The screeching metal as he unsealed her prison is a very close second. Light floods in, and she flinches, squinting. Above her, though, her Commander kneels, already reaching for her, the torchlight framing his face like a halo. She whimpers when he touches her, and again when he lifts her free – she's too far gone to care that she sounds small and pathetic. Her gag falls away as someone cuts the ropes binding her; familiar, gentle fingers brush her lips. “I'm here,” her lover says, “You're safe.”

“Cullen…” she breathes his name. A hand touches the back of her neck, and she tenses until the gentle glow of healing magic engulfs her. It eases her suffering, just a little – it's less pain than she's felt in days. Shuddering, she sobs in sweet relief before regaining herself a little. “Annabel?”

“Outside. She's safe and worried – I'll take you to her.”

“N-no, wait—” Kelandris clutches at Cullen, weeping into his mantle. All her stoicism had evaporated in that cell – but their lady would need reassurance, not more fear. “Can't let her s-see me like this. Need to be strong for her – I screamed, once, and it n-nearly broke her, I swore I wouldn't — wouldn't let her down again!”

Cullen makes a pained noise in the back of his throat. “Oh, Kelandris… You're not letting anyone down. I think Annabel would be more upset not seeing you.”

“I can't!” She wails, “Can't hurt her with my pain, Cullen, please, I'm not— I'm not strong enough, I'll fail her again…!”

“You've never failed her, love! You were – you were tortured, of course you're in pain. I can go talk to her; I know she wants to see you again, more than anything, but if it would help I can—”

“Don't leave me!” Kelandris clings to him like an anchor in a hurricane, her torrent of words becoming more incoherent as she sobs. “I know, I'm sorry, c-can't— don't go, not again, can't be alone again… She n-needs you, too, I'm sorry, I’m so – s-selfish, I can't…”

“Shhh…” he holds her as tight as he dares stroking her hair softly. Tears have pricked in his own eyes which he forces back with sheer determination. “You're not selfish…” he gently kisses her head. “I'm here,” he doesn’t know what good his words will do but he continues on. “You don't have to be strong, not for me, not for her, not for anyone right now. It's going to be alright.”

Kelandris shakes her head. She can barely form words through the pain and distress, but still, she chokes out, “Annabel. Hurting, f-for me. Can't— can’t be w-weak for her…”

He rocks her gently and goes to speak but is interrupted by light padded footsteps

“You don’t understand...” said Annabel, being propped up by Dorain as they enter tentatively.

Cullen shots the mage a glare, she should not be here and Dorian damn well knows it. Her feet have been heavily bandaged, and the anchor now glows through linen wraps. She winces, but sneaks closer leaning wearily on Dorian who appears rather perturbed.

“I’m sorry,” he states. “But in my defence, she was rather adamant and trying to sedate her...Well let’s just say the healers now need some healing themselves. In fact, I’ve seen dragons display less fury,” he pauses to help carefully lower her to the ground. “I don’t know how you cope,” he murmurs under his breath.

Cullen’s glare slowly fades, he should’ve expected as much from Annabel, besides this was not the time for anger.

Ignoring the men's exchange Annabel edges closer on her knees, eyes fixed on Kelandris. “You don’t see, do you? It doesn’t matter how strong you are…you, both of you, are my weakness.”

An anguished noise escapes Kelandris. "Never want... to cause you pain..."

Shaking her head Annabel frowns. "It doesn't work like that," her eyes flick to Cullen for support briefly then return. One hand reaching out she touches her hip, one of the few places devoid of marks. "You think I wanted to hurt you? Cause you pain..?"

Cullen shifts very carefully, extracting an arm to wrap around Annabel's shoulders. Kelandris trembles with longing at her touch, finally cracking open an eye to peek out through the fur of his cloak. She wants so badly to be comforted, but isn't certain she deserves it. "No," she whispers, "I know you didn't..."

Tears slip down Annabel's face silently. "Nothing you did hurt me, you hear me? He, that," her lips curl in disgust. "That thing, he did it, he caused OUR pain. When you cried out and when you didn't, when you fought back and when you couldn't… every second of it hurt us both the same. Just because I shout louder doesn't mean I suffer more...or that I'm weak. You know that. I know you do. You don't have to be strong for me, I've never needed that, you just have to love me, for me, that's what I need. Ok?"

"Always," Kelandris grits out. She lurches across Cullen's lap to rest her head in the crook of Annabel's shoulder. "Always, Annabel," she murmurs in her ear.

"Good, because I love you," she whispers back, holding her as best she can. She catches the soft smile in Cullen's face and beams.  "And we both love you."

Kelandris sobs once more, a wracking release of pent-up fear, curling as close as she can to both her lovers. After a minute of catharsis, with Cullen's arm around her waist and Annabel's lips in her hair, her crying eases, subsiding into occasional shudders. She takes a deep, steadying breath, and looks up at them both, wincing with the effort. "I would very much like to go outside," she mumbles hoarsely, "And pass out in the fresh air."

"A fine plan," states Cullen with a half-smile, rising and helping to drag them both up.

Epilogue

Cullen wakes, startled, reaching instinctively for his sword hilt. Something's trapped his arms— but no, he's tucked up in his own bed; the weight on his limbs comes from his lovers, pressed warm and soft against his side. Annabel's hand has fallen heavily across his face. He nudges it off with his nose – she's managed to thump him in her sleep. Again. Well, at least he knew what had woken him.

He winces as she stirs and mutters something, nuzzling into his arm. He prays he hasn't woken her. They’d been back for weeks now, but still struggled to sleep. Annabel had admitted awful night terrors and refused to sleep alone; he’d even noticed she had taken to falling asleep in war room meetings, seemingly comforted by the company around her. No one complained. Kelandris was more stoic, but the heavy circles under her eyes didn't lie. She never woke him in the night, but he almost wished she would – he felt her trembling whenever Annabel interrupted his sleep; he suspected she spent most nights lying awake.

“She punched you again, didn’t she?” comes a whisper in the darkness – Kelandris, lending weight to his concerns.

Cullen turns his head, finds her gaze – her eyes glimmer up at him in the light of a single lit candle, kept on the bedside table at her insistence. He gives her a soft, reassuring smile. “It’s fine,” he breathes, stroking her hair. “I don't mind.”

Her hand creeps across his chest to clasp Annabel's. “Mmm… it's a wonder you're not sick of us…” she mutters. “Can you even remember the last time you got a good night's rest?”

He cocks an eyebrow, heart aching for them both even as he's morbidly amused by the irony. “Can you?”

A faint huff, almost a laugh. “Fair.” She snuggles closer with a sigh, nuzzling his chest; he kisses the top of her head, careful not to jostle Annabel.

“I'm here, love. Try to get some more sleep.”

“I would,” quips Annabel from his other side. “But somebody keeps talking...”

Now Kelandris smiles faintly, and Cullen chuckles, squeezing them both gently. They'd both been through so much… he's beyond grateful for the feel of them against him, their delicate breathing and the sweet warm aroma of them, mixing with his. Two pairs of eyes gaze up at him, weary and worn – but full of love, despite everything. He relishes the moment, kisses them both on the head in turn… He just hopes they know what they mean to him.

“I love you both so much,” he whispers. Twin murmurs respond in kind. His ladies aren't alright, not yet – but they're getting better, gradually. Given time, he thinks, and plenty of affection... they would be. And he would be there for them both, every step of the way.

------------------