Chapter Text
Her cloak was a shockingly effective disguise. But then, much of what made Raina Surana so distinctive for most people was her plumage. Even in her days as an apprentice, her eyes had lit up at any display of bright color. There were those who thought it was finery -- silks and gems and other richly colored baubles. But he’d seen her in the garden and on the grounds of the Circle, exhibiting the same wonder over the colors of the blooms or butterflies or a visiting merchant’s kerchief as she did over the fine fabrics or adornments they might carry.
He remembered how taken aback he’d been by her when first he’d seen her; a lad of eighteen, having just taken his final vows, he’d never seen a girl like her. Of course -- of course she was an elf, with wide, green, almond eyes, pointed ears, and subtle, lilting accent adding a musicality to her voice that seemed almost unfair. He’d seen few enough of her people during his days of training, but her dark, shining curls and honey-bronze skin made her look more Rivaini seer than Ferelden Circle apprentice. More than her striking appearance, though, her demeanor had been utterly disarming.
She’d been well-liked among the apprentices of the Circle, and by the mages as well. The First Enchanter had taken notice of her skill but also, Cullen suspected, her devotion to the garden, her fellows, and anyone in her charge. Even Greagoir had seemed to have a grudging affection for her. She was warm and charming and funny and friendly, and knew how to make people smile. He knew it wasn’t magic, but it was just as much of a mystery, how effortless it seemed for her.
But it was confusing, too, because she also liked to spend long hours in the garden, planting and tending and humming to herself, and in the library, reading until the candles began to sputter. More than once he’d received a report of her missing from the dormitory, but it was understood that the first place to look was the library, where it could be guaranteed she would be found, either deeply immersed in one tome or another, or having nodded off in an alcove, book open in her lap.
She was known, though, for wearing bold, brilliant colors, always choosing robes that stood out, refusing anything in her surroundings that could be considered dull or drab. Often enough, flowers would find their way into her hair and the hair of the younger children around her.
She had always offered him one, her smile a bit different, he thought, than the ones she gave to others so freely.
He’d always refused.
Now, though, the cloak she wore was hardly shabby, but neither was it fine; somewhere between brown and grey, it covered her completely from neck to feet, only the black toes of her boots occasionally peeking out from the bottom of it as they walked. The hood covered her hair, her ears, and obscured most of her face in shadow. Though when she turned to look up at him, he could see the light in her eyes and the curve of her smile even still.
“You know, Cullen,” she said, once they’d gained a bit of distance from the keep, “I think your sense of chivalry has survived the past decade.”
He gave her a rueful look.
“Such as it is,” he murmured.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You were always chivalrous. Honorable. It was why I liked you, even though you would have killed me if need had been.”
He was silent as he felt heat rushing to his face and something tighten in his chest.
As the silence grew, she looked up at him, as though suddenly realizing something. “I’m sorry, that was rather bad form, wasn’t it?” she asked. She shook her head. “It stung a bit, I won’t lie. But somewhere – eventually, at least – I knew that if it had come to it, you believed it was your duty to do what you thought must be done for the good of all.”
The tension in his jaw relaxed slightly, and he nodded.
“I understand that,” she said quietly. “I understand it now so much better and in so many more ways than I ever could have then.”
He didn’t know what to say. There was much he wanted to say, but he couldn’t begin to know how. Instead, he continued walking with her. Night had fallen, and as they entered one of the squares, a group of young nobles, ostensibly on their way to a party, passed them. Several of the young ladies turned to look at them as they passed, giggles floating through the air in their wake.
He ignored them, and Raina Surana looked up at him sidelong, a flash of her smile visible peeking out from her cloak.
“At any rate, it seems you’re famous now.”
“Hardly,” he responded reflexively.
“Hardly,” she responded in kind, the lamplight of the estate lighting her features, revealing her full grin. “The word in all the most impressive circles that you’re the most eligible bachelor in Thedas these days.”
He frowned, then. “If I were famous,” he replied, “I would rather it be for my deeds rather than my marriageability.”
She gave him a wry smile.
“Well, fear not, Commander, your deeds are part of what make you such a catch. For my part, I needn’t worry -- no one ever wants to marry a Warden,” she said lightly as they approached the door to Amell townhouse. “The odd hours, the strange company we keep, and darkspawn blood is impossible to get out in the wash.”
He shook his head.
“How can you -- how can you make light of it?” he asked. “Doesn’t it bother you? That after all you’ve done, all you’ve sacrificed, your life is still forfeit?”
“Ah, there it is,” she said with a half-smile. “Been talking to Leliana, have we?”
Shit.
“What do you mean?” he evaded.
She laughed at him outright.
“Oh, Cullen, it’s really rather comforting that you’re still such an abysmal liar,” she said with a grin. “Come now, it’s not as if I didn’t know that the Inquisition would be privy to anything I sent Leliana in writing. And I did find it a bit odd that the High Commander of the Inquisition would travel all the way to Kirkwall to help plan a defense of the city.”
“No one in the Inquisition knows Kirkwall as I do,” he replied as she withdrew a key from her cloak and unlocked the door.
“But Aveline does,” she replied as she entered the vestibule and waved him in before closing the door behind them. “And I feel certain that she’s experienced enough as a leader to be able to properly utilize the forces you’ve brought to her.”
She opened the door, which he passed through after her.
Then, chaos.
There were two mabari barking enthusiastically, bounding over to them -- they took turns sniffing at him and headbutting her hands for pets, and soon enough, after he let them get his scent, they were doing the same to him. A dwarf was enthusiastically greeting her and taking her cloak before she gave him a hug. Then she was moving into the foyer, where another dwarf greeted her with an enthusiastic “Enchantment!” before she raised her hand and he reached up to slap it in greeting. There was an elf who informed her that everything was ready for her bath, the first dwarf was asking if she’d like dinner to be served, and when she said they’d be all right, he let her know that everything was in the kitchen. There was a flurry of “if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask” and “really, we’re fine, please go relax!” along with some more barking before the dogs had settled next to the fire, the staff had gone back to their quarters, and they were alone.
With a breathless grin, she canted her head to have him follow her into the sitting room.
“You really do make friends wherever you go, don’t you?” he observed.
She looked back in the direction of the foyer and smiled. “Oh, Sandal and Bodahn? They were merchants back in Ferelden who traveled with us for a time during the Blight. They took care of us quite well, and they’re both lovely.”
Finally, they were both seated, her legs crossed, leaning back in the cushioned chair with a sigh before she looked at him.
“Gods, how do you stand it?” she asked.
He looked at her quizzically.
“Stand what?”
“Being in your armor, still! If we’d had even one drink by this point, I’d be taking my boots off right now.”
He blinked.
“If you want to take your boots off, don’t hesitate on my account. I may have been a Templar, but I’m a bit past being scandalized by a bare ankle.”
She laughed. “Fair enough,” she said, leaning down to begin unlacing them. The angle gave advantage to her clavicles and decolletage.
He looked at the fire.
“But I still think you’re mad, going around in that armor all the time,” she continued.
He smirked. “Compared to the plate I wore in the Order, this feels like a tunic.”
She laughed again. “I suppose that makes sense,” she said with a grin as she removed one boot, wiggling her toes in her stockinged foot with exhausted delight.
“Lovely,” she sighed with relief before she moved to the other boot. A slight smile curved his lips, but then he cleared his throat.
“Commander--” he began.
“Raina,” she replied without looking up, deftly loosening the laces and pulling off her second boot, then setting it next to the first one.
“I don’t know if --” he hedged.
“If you don’t call me Raina, Cullen , the answer to whatever you’re here to ask me will be a hard ‘no.’”
“You don’t even know what I’m here to ask you!” he exclaimed, then quickly recovered, “or if I’m even here to ask you anything!”
She arched a brow.
“If you weren’t here to ask me anything, you would have dropped me off at the door without even considering coming inside.”
He looked at her then, unflinchingly; wet his lips. His tongue brushed across his scar.
“I would have come inside,” he told her without a trace of reserve.
She blinked. A flush crept into her cheeks. His lips curved slightly for the first time -- was she blushing? Before he had the chance to enjoy it, she said,
“Well, then it should be no problem to call me Raina, then, since even if you’re here for business, it’s under the pretense of a social call, isn’t it?”
He shook his head. She was right, but she wasn’t. But he couldn’t express that.
There was too much between them, too much history.
“It isn’t --” he took a breath.
Raina wet her lips.
“We’re going to need a drink after all,” she decided.
He opened his mouth to protest -- there was too much to be done, and no matter how tempting any of this might be, he would not neglect his duty --
She raised her hand, as though reading his thoughts.
“It’s all right, Cullen,” she said. “We don’t have to do this tonight. But when the battle’s won and we have a bit more time, we’ll be having a drink. In the meantime, you can consider what your approach will be now that I know you want something.”
His jaw went tight.
“Commander --”
“Raina,” she replied blithely as he rose from his seat.
“Commander Surana,” he said insistently, but had no idea what to follow it with. Finally he said, more stiffly than he wanted to, “now that I’ve seen you here safely, I ought to get back to the Keep. We both have much to do tomorrow.”
A retreat. Coward.
But she just smiled at him.
“Of course, Commander .” There was definite mockery in her tone there. “If I don’t see you tomorrow, I’ll certainly see you in a few days.”
His lips thinned, but he gave her a bow, then left the townhouse, stepping outside and pulling the door shut behind him -- though he didn’t leave until he heard the lock click and the bar fall in place.
He was a bloody fucking idiot.