Chapter Text
Ara Adaar could feel her left eye twitch as she stared at Cassandra, aghast at what had just left her mouth.
“You want me, a Vashoth mage, to be Inquisitor?”
Cassandra was unphased as she nodded— Ara couldn’t say the same as she spluttered, “Are you insane? They expect a savior, someone with divine power! Not everything Thedas hates in one horned package!”
They stood on the battlements looking over Skyhold’s bustling courtyard, Cassandra having pulled her out there to discuss the constant stream of new people arriving, and it had turned into an attempt to choke her with a new mantle— as if Herald of Andraste didn’t already haunt her.
“They want you,” Cassandra said simply, unmoved by Ara’s outburst.
“Because they think I’m chosen!”
“They believe you are chosen because of what you have done. What you have inspired. In all of us. Without you, there would be no Inquisition. Where you lead us, what kind of leader you are…that is up to you.”
And then Leliana came out of nowhere with a big ass sword and past her, Ara could see Josephine and Cullen gathering people in the courtyard. She bit back a swear that would’ve made the dirtiest sailor blush, and graciously held her hand out to accept the damn sword. She turned to look down at the crowd, raising the sword above her head as she shouted, “This isn’t about a greater message. We have an enemy and we have to stand together. We’ll do what is right. The Inquisition will fight for all of us!”
Cassandra smiled at her, “Wherever you lead us,” she approached the ledge, “Have our people been told?”
“They have,” Josephine called out, “And soon the world.”
“Commander, will they follow?”
Ara held back an exasperated sigh as she watched the golden haired man turn to the crowd they’d gathered, “Inquisition! Will you follow?”
A cheer went up from the crowd, and Cullen continued, “Will you fight? Will we triumph?”
He drew his sword and raised it in the air, mimicking Ara’s actions as the crowd roared around him, “Your leader! Your Herald! Your Inquisitor!”
Everyone around her was yelling out of joy and pride— with the exception of Cassandra and the advisors— and Ara got the distinct feeling that surviving the avalanche that destroyed Haven was nothing compared to what she was going to have to do now. Cassandra clapped her on the shoulder and strode off to Maker knows where, leaving Ara to scurry off the battlements and out of sight before someone tried to give her another damn title.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
“Darling, there are worse things than being granted immense power as a handsome man excites a crowd for you.”
Ara sat with Dorian in the library, drowning her newest round of sorrows in a lovely bottle of Tevinter red that he’d somehow procured in the middle of Ferelden. They had scarcely been in Skyhold a month, only a week having passed since her being named as Inquisitor— and already the weight of it loomed over her. Nobles had finally made their way to the freshly repaired fortress, and her shiny new title came with the shiny new responsibility of being trotted out to them like a prize pony. She’d lost track of the number of people who smiled to her face and whispered “ox man” behind her back, and her head ached from keeping up with who was the lord or lady of whatever the fuck. She was grateful for the small reprieve with Dorian before she got back to her actual work and met with this friend of Varric’s.
Ara groaned, “But they made such a spectacle of it— Honestly Dorian, I’m spectacle enough without a crowd cheering me on.”
Dorian laughed and passed her the bottle, “My dear, if there ever was a time to make a greater spectacle, it would be while declaring a mage Qunari the leader of a growing world force.”
Ara just sighed and snatched the wine back from him, taking a healthy glug as she glared out the window, “I’m surprised the Commander agreed to it.”
Dorian sighed, “Still on that, are we? I’m rather certain the Commander has mind enough to separate a romantic rejection from any kind of remark on your abilities.”
Ara shrugged, “He made it very clear what he thinks of Qunari— Vashoth or not, he isn’t enthused by my general existence.”
A fact that had quickly been made clear to Ara when she first arrived in Haven and made the mistake of realizing just how attractive the Commander was. She’d always been attracted to men that carried themselves with authority, but the humility with which he led his men spoke to her just as much. So much so that she’d tried to flirt lightly, taking his warm and open demeanor to mean he’d be at least a little receptive to a gentle tease here or there. Much to her surprise, one risqué question about his vows led to the Commander stumbling over himself to explain to her that while he was always available to advise her, his attractions rather firmly did not run in the direction of her kind.
It had stung, and stung rather deeply. In the time she’d spent with the Inquisition, she’d gotten used to being seen for her person instead of her horns, for the first time in her life. To have that fragile understanding be proven wrong by someone she respected and had begun to admire— well, it hurt. Nonetheless, Haven had fallen shortly after that conversation and she’d had little one-on-one contact with the Commander since. It was largely by design, as regardless of her romantic feelings Ara simply did not want to be around someone who couldn’t see her as more than Vashoth.
Dorian reached over and lifted a chunk of her dark hair away from where it had tangled around one ivory horn, “My dear, he seemed enthused enough when he was rallying the people in your name. Does that not suffice? No one said you have to be best friends, you aren’t Maferath and Andraste.”
Ara snickered, “I wouldn’t have called Maferath and Andraste best friends, given the marriage and betrayal and all that, but I get your point. I think it would be easier to let it go if I was over someone else, to be honest.”
Dorian choked a bit on the wine, “Pardon?”
“I said it would be easier to—“
“No no,” he interrupted, “I heard you. I simply couldn’t believe that the Herald of Andraste was one for a quick rebound fuck.”
Ara raised an eyebrow and grinned, “Well, no one said anything about quick— and what do you mean? I’m not a damn chantry sister, and Maker knows I haven’t gotten laid since the Conclave blew up,” she paused to think, “Actually, longer— there was this one Rivaini merchant in Denerim—“
Someone coughed behind her and Ara jolted, nearly spilling the bottle of wine everywhere. She stood up, passing the bottle to Dorian and trying to look…Inquisitorial… as she turned to the newcomer. And of course, it had to be the Commander. Not once had she seen him in the library in the month they’d been at Skyhold, but of course he happened to just then. She, however, wasn’t one to beat around the bush, not to mention the man had already rejected her, and she desperately needed to know when he’d walked up.
“How much did you hear?”
She tried to smile as she asked but she feared it came across more as a grimace, and Cullen was similarly frowning as he refused to meet her eyes, steadily gazing at her chair as he spoke, “Around Maferath and Andraste being best friends— which feels near blasphemous to say, for the record.”
Ara held back a groan—of course he’d heard the worst of it. She gritted her teeth and smiled through it, “Sorry about that. You caught us having a personal discussion. How can I help you, Commander?”
There’d been a brief time in Haven where he’d asked her to call him Cullen, if she insisted on Ara over Herald. After his rejection on the basis of her race, she’d defaulted back to his formal title, eager to put a little distance between them.
“I came to tell you that Varric’s…guest has arrived. They await you on the battlements.”
Ara tilted her head a bit, “And you’re playing the role of messenger because?”
Cullen sighed, “They walked through my office to get there. This guest and I have a particular past, and I thought I should let you know they were here.”
Dorian wiggled his eyebrows, “Particular past, you say? Commander, do kiss and tell…”
“Not that kind of past,” Cullen snapped, his eyes flashing to Ara’s for a second before he went back to glaring at Dorian.
Ara suppressed a laugh as she nodded at Cullen, “I’ll get moving, then. Dorian, thank you for the wine. I’ll meet you at the Herald’s Rest later, Varric thinks he can beat me at Wicked Grace.”
“Can he?” Dorian called as she walked away, Cullen following close behind. She let a laugh loose then, “He can think that for now.”
She made her way down the stairs and out the doors of Solas’s rotunda, giving the elf a nod as she moved through. Cullen continued to dog her steps, and Ara abruptly stepped to the side and raised an eyebrow at him, “Did you need something, Commander?”
Cullen pinked up a bit at the question, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked up at her, “Not…need something necessarily. I just— I mentioned that this person and I have a past,” he hesitated, looking more vulnerable than Ara thought she’d ever seen him, “I just ask that you withhold judgement on what he tells you about me, until I can explain at least.”
Ara felt her brows pull together, “Commander— you and Cassandra saved my life when you kept up that patrol and found me in the snow after Haven. That does a lot of heavy lifting as far as being seen favorably goes, so I wouldn’t worry about it. We all have pasts.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Ara had meant what she said about everybody having pasts, but she hadn’t realized that Cullen’s past (aka Varric’s friend/reason for fearing for his life from Cassandra) came in the form of one very handsome renegade mage. A very handsome runaway mage who was the Champion of Kirkwall, and had seen the worst her kind had to offer when the Qunari invaded Kirkwall. Forget that she was Vashoth, not even part of the Qun, Ara’s nerves were on fire the second Varric introduced her to the dark haired man, waiting for his friendly smile to turn into an angry countenance at what she was.
Ara cleared her throat as the three of them stood on the battlements, “Varric tells me you know some things about our enemy?”
Garrett Hawke sighed, smile vanishing as he rubbed a hand across his face, “You’ve already dropped half a mountain on the bastard. I’m sure anything I can tell you pales in comparison.”
Ara raised a brow, “Whatever you know helps. Corypheus will keep killing people until he gets what he wants, and he wants to be a god.”
Hawke raised an eyebrow right back at her, “I suppose you’d better go stop him, then.”
Ara scoffed, “You’re right, that does pale in comparison.”
Hawke huffed out a breath, “All right, all right. I’ll tell you what I know, for whatever good it does.”
Ara beamed down at him, though he was tall, perhaps only an inch or two shorter than where she stood at 6’5”, though not quite as tall as the Commander. She scowled internally that the man stayed on her mind even now, and she brought her attention back to the task at hand.
“Varric said that you fought Corypheus before?”
“Fought and killed,” came Hawke’s reply as he leaned against the battlements, “The Grey Wardens were holding him, and he somehow used his connection to the darkspawn to influence them.”
Varric chimed in, “Corypheus got into their heads. Messed with their minds. Turned them against each other.”
Hawke nodded, “If the Wardens have disappeared, they could have fallen under his control again.”
Ara groaned and rubbed the base of one horn, “Great, because we didn’t have enough to deal with, now we can add possessed Wardens to the list.”
Hawke offered her a wan smile, “You’re not doing it alone, if that helps. My brother is a Warden, so I have a bit of a personal interest in helping out. As it is, I’ve got a friend in the Wardens. He was investigating something unrelated for me. His name is Stroud. The last time we spoke, he was worried about corruption in the Warden ranks. Since then, nothing.”
Varric turned to Hawke, “ Corypheus would certainly qualify as corruption in the ranks. Did your friend disappear with them?”
Hawke replied, “No. He told me he’d be hiding in an old smuggler’s cave near Crestwood.”
Ara tilted her head in curiosity, “If you didn’t know about Corypheus, what were you doing with the Wardens?”
Hawke sighed, his eyes troubled as he responded, “The templars in Kirkwall were using a strange form of lyrium. It was red. I’d hoped the Wardens could tell me more about it.”
Ara nodded “Corypheus had templars with him at Haven. They looked like they’d been exposed to the lyrium you describe.”
Hawke frowned, obviously troubled by that knowledge, “Hopefully my friend in the Wardens will know more.”
Ara folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the battlements, “Well, thank you for any and all help you’re offering.”
Hawke flashed her a smile, “I’m doing this as much for me as you. Corypheus is my responsibility. I thought I’d killed him before. This time, I’ll make sure of it.”
“Well,” Ara leaned forward and stretched her calves, surprised to see a flash of appreciation in Hawke’s eyes as she straightened, “You aren’t doing it alone either, for what it’s worth. After Haven, there’s a hell of an itch to make that bastard pay.”
Hawke grinned at her, “In that case, maybe you’ll join me in the tavern tonight? Varric tells me he needs to beat you at Wicked Grace, and I always love to see him lose.”
Ara laughed, twirling one dark strand around her finger, “It’s really you that’s joining me, considering I already planned on going to the tavern. Regardless, I’d be happy to see you there, though,” She hesitated, unsure if she wanted to poke at his friendly demeanor.
Hawke raised an eyebrow, “I hope this isn’t the part where you tell me someone wants you in bed early tonight.”
Ara flushed, pink overtaking the purple hues in her skin, “No, I just…am surprised you would want the company of a Vashoth, after everything that happened in Kirkwall.”
Varric snorted but Hawke interjected smoothly, “Having been in Kirkwall when everything went to shit, I know better than most people that you had nothing to do with it. Besides, you aren’t just a Vashoth— you’re a beautiful woman with the weight of the world on her shoulders, and I’d like to share a drink with you.”
Ara coughed as Varric aimed a kick at one of Hawke’s ankles, which he easily evaded with a laugh. It had been ages since anyone paid her a compliment like that, and it didn’t hurt that the person saying it was such a looker. It brought a warmth to her cheeks, and she had a hard time meeting Hawke’s eyes as she responded, “I— uh, thank you. That’s quite the generous statement. I should, “ she fidgeted with her fingers as she tried to come up with an excuse, “I should brief the Commander that Crestwood is our next focus.”
Hawke’s smile had grown as he watched her fidget, but it damn near vanished at the mention of Cullen, “Ah yes— Curly, can’t forget about him. I’m surprised he lets you or any other mage within ten feet of him, much less working over him.”
So there is some bad blood there, Ara thought to herself. She’d been beginning to think Cullen overestimated his own importance to Hawke, but the steel in the other man’s voice as he spoke of Cullen belied an old anger.
Ara shrugged, “Not sure if he likes it, but it doesn’t really matter. He saved my life— that does him some credit.”
“Enough credit to overcome him saying mages aren’t people?”
Ara blinked, a bit taken aback at the statement itself and the venom with which it was said. She didn’t doubt that those were Cullen’s words, and they pierced a soft little part of her that had been hoping she could change his mind on, well, all of it. Ara smothered that part of herself with a mental blanket as she replied, “He does his job, and does it well. That’s about all I can ask of anyone in this shit show, yeah? Can’t be too picky about the end of the world.”
Varric nodded, “Curly’s changed a lot since you last saw him, Hawke. I wouldn’t call us best friends, but he’s a better man now.”
Not better enough to see her as more than Qunari, she thought to herself as she remembered the way he’d stared at her horns while rejecting her. Hawke must have been having thoughts along those lines because he grumbled under his breath, “Being a better man doesn’t erase the things he’s done.”
Ara cleared her throat, “I’d much rather be having a drink and talking about literally anyone else, if you gentleman would like to join me. Hawke,” she turned to the other mage, “Maybe you can tell me a bit more about your adventures in Kirkwall, minus Varric’s lies, before everyone else arrives.”
“Hey,” Varric protested as Hawke extended his hand to Ara with a flourish, much to her amusement, “They’re embellishments, not lies, and they make for a good story.”
Hawke clasped Ara’s hand in his and gently pulled her in the direction of the Herald’s Rest, “They make for good sales, you mean.”
“Same thing!”
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Ara’s back slammed against the wall of the staircase leading up to her rooms, Hawke’s hands sliding down to her waist as they kissed frantically. Ara’s head was cloudy with lust and drink, and she marveled at how she’d ended up in such a position.
Going to the tavern with Varric and Hawke had been…enlightening, to say the least. The man had regaled her with stories of their Kirkwall exploits, continuing through the game of Wicked Grace they shared with Dorian, Bull, and Sera. He’d also flirted, not incessantly, but just enough for her to know the interest was there, should she reciprocate it. He’d kept his hand on hers any time she rested it on the table, and over the course of the game he’d scooted closer and closer under the guise of helping her with her strategy. Not that it mattered in the end— Varric wiped the floor with all of them, as always. By that point, Ara’s nerve endings had been on fire from the press of Hawke’s firm thigh against her own. She had gone up to the bar for one last pint to cool off, and Hawke had followed, one hand pressed to the small of her back as he whispered from behind her, “Tell me if I’m being too much, and I’ll leave you be.”
Ara had swallowed hard and thrown caution to the wind, too tired of not being desirable to anyone for so long, “I don’t want you to leave me be. Quite the opposite, actually.”
He’d steered her out of the tavern after that, and they’d scarcely made it out the door before his lips were on hers. Hawke was demanding, his mouth prying her own open with no hesitation, his tongue painting bold strokes into her mouth. It had lit Ara’s blood on fire, and she was quick to suggest they make their way to her rooms. Hawke had smiled wolfishly and gestured for her to lead the way.
That brought them to the stairwell leading up to her quarters, and Ara bit back her nerves as she grinded against Hawke through their kisses. He had her pinned to the side of the stairwell as his hips moved against hers, his mouth dropping down to nip and suck at her neck. Ara moaned and dug her nails into his shoulders, so consumed by the feeling that she almost missed the sound of someone approaching the stairwell. Actually, she fully did miss the sound of someone approaching the stairwell because Hawke chose that moment to shift from her neck down to her cleavage, and the feel of his teeth on the curve of her breast had breathy gasps leaving her in quick succession.
“Inquisitor? I’ve reports on what you’ll face in Crestwood, if you would—Maker’s Breath!”
Ara’s eyes popped open as she nudged Hawke back, her eyes falling on Cullen as he stood in the doorway of the stairwell, an expression on his face that she couldn’t quite read. Hawke, on the other hand, was very easy to read as he kept an arm wrapped around her as he turned to face the Commander as well. He scowled and opened his mouth to say something inflammatory, no doubt, but Ara spoke first, her voice strained, “Commander, is it truly urgent?”
Hawke rubbed little circles into the skin at her hips, exposed by the antaam-saar she’d chosen today. It was more than a little distracting as she tried to keep her composure and maintain eye contact with Cullen. The Commander scowled, “I was told that you needed them posthaste to prepare for the journey, otherwise I would have had a messenger brief you in the morning.”
Hawke interjected, “I can brief the Inquisitor on Crestwood tonight, given my experience there, and perhaps your reports can wait until we rise?”
It did not escape Ara that Hawke said “we”, implying they’d rise together. She watched Cullen turn an interesting shade of red at that, though from embarrassment or anger she could not tell. He cleared his throat, “I do not need much of your time—“
“Commander,” Ara interrupted, her frustration showing through, “I doubt that eight hours difference in when I go over the briefings will make a difference in our preparations, given that no work is going to be done in the middle of the night.”
She rather hoped she would be the one getting done in the middle of the night, and it was straining her patience to have to deal with the object of her frustrations while a man that desired her was still softly stroking her waist. She wasn’t sure why Cullen was hand delivering briefings in the first place, and she certainly didn't know why he hadn’t made his excuses and left as soon as he realized what he’d walked into. For his part, the man was glaring at Hawke like his gaze alone could eviscerate him. Ara cleared her throat, raising an eyebrow at Cullen expectantly. He finally stopped staring daggers at Hawke, his gaze landing on Ara as he looked at her intently before sighing and nodding at her, “I’ll take my leave then. Rest well, Inquisitor.”
Cullen spun on his heel and vanished out the door while Hawke snickered. Ara turned to him, “Something funny?”
Hawke shook his head and pulled her to him once more, “Only that he came here empty handed, claiming to have reports for you.”
Ara’s brows pulled together as she realized that Cullen had not, in fact, been holding any papers when he arrived. She looked at Hawke, “You’re right— I have no idea what that was about, but I’m glad it's over now.”
Hawke trailed a finger over the swells of her tits as he looked up at her, “Your Commander has a jealous streak.”
Ara barked out a laugh and moved her hands to the waistband of Hawke’s pants, letting her fingers dance over the sensitive skin, “Not over a mage Qunari, he doesn’t. I wouldn’t know about anything else— we’re not close, and I have other priorities at the moment.”
Hawke moved to cup her breasts in his hands, planting kisses along her neck as he whispered, “Anyone who doesn’t see you for who you are instead of what is a damn fool.”
Ara sighed in pleasure as his thumbs circled her nipples through the fabric of her top, “You don’t really know who I am, Hawke.”
He looked up at her as he undid the tie of her shirt, “I can tell you that your companions adore you, and Varric sang your praises. He’s a pretty good judge of character when they’re not family. Or, well, Bianca.”
Ara held back a gasp as her naked torso was exposed to the cool air of the stairwell, “Right— no more talking about Varric, or the Commander, or anyone else for that matter.”
“Oh,” Hawke grinned at her as he ran his hands up her sides, fingers skating along the curve of her breasts in a tantalizing tease. Ara growled and curled her fingers into the collar of Hawke’s shirt, “Bedroom. Now.”
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Ara made her way to the War Council the next day with a scarf carefully wrapped around her neck, and she prayed that no one commented on her sudden change of fashion. Josephine and Leliana were already in the War Room when she arrived, hiding knowing smiles as they took in her appearance.
“Good morning, Inquisitor. I trust you found your evening with the Champion of Kirkwall to meet expectations?”
Ara blushed at the question delivered in Leliana’s light Orlesian lilt, “I uh, yes. It was rather illuminating, and he had more information about the lead in Crestwood. You’ll be interested, Leliana— it involves the Grey Wardens.”
A furrow appeared between the spymaster’s brows as Cullen stormed in, the door to the War Room nearly slamming shut behind him. Josephine startled, “Commander, do try and approach your surroundings more gently— I nearly spilled ink all over the war map.”
Cullen inclined his head, “My apologies, Lady Ambassador. It was a…trying night, and I dare say training the recruits has not improved my mood.”
Ara snorted, “Were they that bad?”
Cullen scowled at her, dark rings visible under his golden eyes, “They are farmhands and stableboys with swords in their hands— they certainly weren’t that good.”
Ara rolled her eyes, “Everyone starts somewhere, Commander, and I have faith in your ability to whip them into shape. Now that we’re all here, shall we discuss Crestwood?”
They went over what intel Hawke was able to provide about the undead and Warden situation in Crestwood, and Ara had to hold back a groan at the thought of going through the Fallow Mire Pt. 2. She firmly preferred the dead to stay below ground, but when had anyone ever asked her? They decided that she’d leave the next day, with Hawke and a small party, to meet with Warden Stroud and figure out what the hell the Grey Wardens were up to and what that had to do with Corypheus. Cullen looked like he ate a lemon anytime Hawke’s name came up, and Ara wondered just what he had against the man. For all that Cullen had warned her, Hawke didn’t seem inclined to besmirch his name at all. Though, she and Hawke hadn’t done much talking after his interruption that night. She got shivers down her spine just thinking of everything they’d gotten up to, and she felt immensely satisfied that the experience had wiped out whatever hurt feelings had remained after Cullen’s rejection. Besides, she’d always favored brunettes.
Lost in her thoughts, she jumped a bit when Leliana clapped her hands together, “I believe we have a plan of attack. Josephine will continue working on finding the Inquisition a way into the Winter Palace and I will send Scout Harding to Crestwood ahead of you to get the lay of the land. Commander, anything to add?”
“I’m still looking into Samson and where that damned red lyrium is coming from,” he turned to Ara, “Inquisitor, I’d like to discuss it with you if you wouldn’t mind staying after this War Council concludes?”
Ara raised an eyebrow but nodded, and with that Leliana and Josephine made their way out of the War Room, leaving her alone with the Commander. She turned to Cullen, “What did you want to discuss? Have we picked up any leads besides those letters you asked me to look for? Because I’m still working on that, and with Crestwood needing attention—“
“It’s not about that,” he said, looking rather upset, “It’s about Hawke. I was under the impression after our last conversation that you were taking anything he had to say with a grain of salt.”
Ara arched an eyebrow, “I was under the impression after our last conversation that you wanted me to speak to you if Hawke disparaged you, not that I should distrust the man based off of your history.”
Cullen frowned, “That isn’t what—Inquisitor, I’m merely concerned that your personal interests may cloud your judgement.”
Ara laughed and rounded the corner of the war table, making her way to the door, “I assure you, Commander, my personal interests in Hawke have nothing to do with my judgement. The man wants to help us, and he happens to be attracted to me. It doesn’t mean more than that.”
Cullen blocked her path, frown deepening, “And you do not find it in the least suspicious that he arrives at Skyhold and immediately sets his sights on the most powerful person to seduce?”
Ara scowled, the words hitting a sore spot. Of course the Commander couldn’t imagine someone meeting her and immediately being attracted to her, not when he himself had seemed appalled at her previous interest.
“I realize that it may come as a surprise to you, but not everyone finds my kind so repulsive,” her voice dropped as she brought her face closer to Cullen’s, “And frankly, I’d be shocked if he was able to fake last night.”
She moved away from him with that, daring him to respond. Cullen’s face was red and he was clearly having difficulty looking her in the eye, but he continued nonetheless, “Hawke has done a lot for Kirkwall, but chaos follows him like a loyal dog. I would see to it that he does not draw you into the storm.”
Ara sighed, “From what I can tell, the chaos in Kirkwall was already rising when Hawke arrived. And the point still stands that he had nothing to gain by seducing me and everything to lose coming here to help us. What I don’t understand is why you’re so stuck on his motives— “
It dawned on her then that perhaps Cullen wasn’t worked up over her personal encounter with Hawke so much as worried about what he could’ve said to her in that time. She remembered the way he’d followed her around until she’d reassured him that Hawke wouldn’t change her view of him, and she opened her mouth to follow up when a messenger burst into the War Room.
“Your Worship! Please, you must come with me!”
Ara stared at the breathless scout, “Is it that urgent? We were in the middle of a discussion.”
Cullen grunted in agreement and glared at the poor messenger, who nodded his head vigorously and spoke, “It’s Seeker Pentaghast and Master Tethras, Your Worship, they’re—“
Ara was already pushing past him and following the sound of Cassandra’s shouting as she swore under her breath. Hopefully she’d get there before Cassandra managed to commit murder.
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Cullen’s head was pounding and had been from the moment he rose and realized the Inquisitor was leaving for Crestwood…with Hawke. Hawke, who had been wrapped around her like a vine on a tree when Cullen had seen him last. Hawke, who knew the worst of Cullen’s sins and had already earned the Inquisitor’s good favor. It set Cullen’s teeth on edge, imagining the two of them together.
And he had absolutely no right. He remembered the way her face had fallen at his rejection in Haven, despite her best attempts to smooth over her expression. At the time, he hadn’t paid much mind. The Herald of Andraste being a Qunari mage had been a hard pill to swallow for him, and he’d been genuinely surprised when he met Ara and found her company…not displeasing. She had asked insightful questions interspersed with personal ones, and he’d found himself resenting her presence less and less as he became accustomed to it. That hadn’t prepared him for her to ask him if he’d taken any vows of celibacy, and when he’d realized why she was asking he’d been quick to put a stopper on it. Not displeasing company aside, he hadn’t found a Qunari attractive…well, ever. But he had grown to enjoy her companionship, and he had tried to make his rejection gentle.
After the invasion of Kirkwall, it was hard to see them as anything besides violent and territorial. Cullen had tried his damndest not to tar Ara with the same brush, but that was leaps and bounds away from reciprocating whatever affections she’d developed in Haven. Not that it was a problem now, he thought to himself, considering she’d done as she’d said that day in the library and gotten over someone else. And it shouldn’t have bothered him, the idea that her interest in him was so shallow and fleeting that a romp in the sheets with anyone would clear her mind of it. Frankly, he should be grateful to Hawke for diverting Ara’s attention. But his mind was stuck on seeing Hawke’s dark head buried in the crook of her neck, Ara’s eyes closed and pink skin flushed as Hawke kissed her. The image left him angry, and Cullen wanted to deny the truth that had dawned on him that day.
He was jealous. Plain and simple, he was jealous that Hawke had so easily swooped in and stolen attention that had once been Cullen’s. Not that Ara had been giving him very much these days— since his rejection, their burgeoning friendship had cooled significantly, Ara resorting back to his title and no longer seeking him out when she didn’t have to. It had hurt more than he thought it would, but Haven had been full of work enough for him that he could bury himself in it and forget while she rode off on all sorts of missions.
Then, Haven had fallen. And Ara had put her life on the line to allow them their escape. Cullen could still recall the look on her face before she went out to the trebuchet, ferocity gleaming in her dark eyes as her lips pressed into a firm line. She’d looked beautiful then, Cullen had thought, wearing her traditional armor and facing her death. For hours after she’d set off the avalanche, Cullen had patrolled the edges of their camp, looking for ivory horns and long dark strands. He’d been unable to accept that she was dead— the mere thought had sent intense panic lancing through him. Stupidly, it wasn’t until he and Cassandra found her that he realized why. He liked her. At some point, without him realizing it, his respect for her and what she was doing had grown into something else. Cullen Rutherford, former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, had developed some sort of feelings for a Qunari mage.
Not that it mattered now, he thought bitterly to himself as he sifted through the thick stack of reports on his desk. Ara had continued her avoidance of him through their arrival at Skyhold, and she was only further out of reach after being named Inquisitor. Hearing her and Dorian in the library had given him a moment of hope that perhaps her feelings had not passed, only to be dashed by her follow up and desire to sleep with someone else. And it had to be Hawke of all people.
His head popped up from the papers he was dealing with as Rylen entered his office, giving him a smart salute before handing him yet another stack of reports. Cullen sighed, prompting his second to laugh, “Maker, Commander— it’s almost as though you aren’t happy to see me.”
Cullen grunted, “You are fine, the increasing paperwork I could do without.”
Rylen shrugged, “More recruits, more training assessments, better for the Inquisition, right?”
“In theory, Captain. If they don’t learn which side of the blade is sharp soon, I fear those numbers will become much smaller.”
Rylen laughed, “Speaking of those leaving us— a wee birdie told me the Inquisitor and the Champion of Kirkwall may be sharing a tent on their journey.”
For not the first time, Cullen cursed the gossips of Skyhold. If Rylen had gotten wind of it, that meant it had likely already made multiple rounds through the barracks, and if no one had disproved it…Cullen felt his his hands tighten on a stack of reports, and he forced himself to relax as he replied, “The Inquisitor often shares a tent with her companions. It’s not as though they only fit one person.”
Rylen raised an eyebrow at him and lounged against his desk, “That may be true, but the same birdie mentioned seeing them go up to her rooms together the other night…followed by the Commander himself not too long after.”
Cullen groaned. He should’ve known that Rylen was getting at something, given that the man used his position as Cullen’s closest friend to needle him endlessly. Rylen had been in earshot of Cullen’s rejection of Ara when it happened, and he’d made no bones about how stupid he thought Cullen was being. At the time, Cullen had dismissed it, thinking that the matter was resolved and he had no interest in Ara. Now, he knew he was in for a rough time if Rylen decided to dig his heels in on this.
Rylen chortled, “So it’s true! The lass finally decided you were a lost cause?”
Cullen scowled at him, “I believe she’d decided that awhile ago, Rylen. It’s just now that someone else has caught her interest, as was inevitable.”
Rylen stared at him for a second before shaking his head, “You’re just going to let her ride off with Hawke? Wow. I would’ve thought you’d put up more of a fight than that, Commander.”
Cullen slammed the reports back onto his desk, frustration leaking from his voice as he grit the words out, “I tried. I told her to consider his motives, and she in turn told me that not everyone was repulsed by her, so I only succeeded in worsening her opinion of me, if anything.”
Rylen looked at him in disbelief, “You…told her to consider his motives—Maker have mercy, Cullen that’s not putting up a fight, that's putting your foot in your mouth.”
Rylen made his way to the door across from Cullen, calling out a parting shot as he left, “If she gets bored of the Champion, tell her my motives would be honest.”
Cullen shook his head, though the image of Rylen and Ara bothered him more than he cared to admit. He wondered if she would be more receptive to the outgoing Starkhavener, the way she seemed so receptive to Hawke’s similar nature. For all the man’s flaws, he was charming— a trait that Cullen knew he lacked. He heard bells going off, signaling the start of the next hour and also the Inquisitor’s impending departure.
Sighing, he got up and made his way down to the stables, where Ara was loading up her horse as her companions made final preparations for the journey to Crestwood. In addition to Hawke, she was taking Cassandra, Bull, and Dorian, all of whom were gawking at the Champion of Kirkwall as he played with a strand of Ara’s hair while she smiled at him. Cullen felt something tighten in his gut, but he kept his composure and joined Leliana and Josephine in their customary positions to see Ara off. He saw her stiffen as her eyes landed on him and he nodded at her, gesturing for her to come towards the advisors. She squeezed Hawke’s hand as she passed him, stopping right in front of Cullen with a defiant tilt to her chin,
Her voice was perfectly even as she spoke, “Anything I should know before we head out?”
Leliana and Josephine shook their heads, the former mentioning something about reaching out to the Hero of Ferelden when they came back with more news on the Wardens. Ara turned to Cullen expectantly and he hesitated, thinking of his conversation with Rylen. He finally responded when Ara cleared her throat impatiently, “Nothing to note, Inquisitor. Just wishes for you to have a quick journey, and to return to us safely.”
“Not too quick, I hope,” Hawke quipped as he slung an arm over Ara’s shoulders, “I’d hate to cut our time together short.”
Ara smirked at him, shrugging his arm off as she walked back to her horse, “Better make the most of it, then.”
Leliana and Josephine watched the interaction with avid grins, obviously enjoying the newest gossip surrounding their leader. Cullen wished he could say the same, but every time Hawke touched her he had to resist the urge to hit something. You have no right, he reminded himself, even as his blood grew hot watching Hawke help Ara onto her mount. He watched as the party made their way out of Skyhold, Cassandra giving him a nod of acknowledgement as they disappeared out the gates.
Leliana sidled up to him and cast him a glance out of the corner of her eye. Cullen sighed, “Just say it.”
“Say what?”
He glared, knowing damn well that nothing ever got past the Nightingale.
She let out a tinkling laugh, “I was merely appreciating that our fearless leader has someone to keep her nights occupied. Affection is hard earned in times like these, and no less necessary for the difficulty. We are still people, after all.”
Cullen clenched his jaw at the reminder of Hawke in Ara’s bed, but he resigned himself to get used to it. After all, she was over him now, and Maker only knew what would come of her entanglement with Hawke. With his luck, the mage would decide to declare his undying love and force Cullen to bear witness to their affection for the lifetime of the Inquisition. The thought turned his stomach, and he quickly bid Leliana a farewell as he retreated to his office.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Ara collapsed on her bed with a pained groan, her body aching from the hard ride back to Skyhold. Crestwood had been illuminating— and it had also been the fucking worst. After meeting with Warden Stroud, he and Hawke had decided to make their way west to investigate the false Calling and whatever other inevitably horrible nonsense the Wardens had gotten into under Corypheus’s influence. That left Ara and her companions to drain a lake, close a rift, capture a keep, and also send word to Skyhold about Crestwood’s runaway mayor. The man had killed half the village to keep the blight from spreading, and Ara’s stomach still churned at the thought of all the bodies they’d found under the lake. Cassandra in particular had been disgusted, declaring that there were some means that no ends could justify. Ara had been inclined to agree, and everyone was more than ready to leave by the time they made their way back up from the drained lake.
They’d ridden hard and fast to get back to Skyhold and their warm beds, and Ara was reaping the consequences of that as she winced at the stiffness in her thighs and calves. She heard the door to the stairwell open and considered throwing something at whoever was about to walk up and bother her, but sat up and tried to look vaguely presentable instead.
“Inquisitor?”
She heard Cassandra’s voice echoing in the stairwell and she yelled down to her, “I’m here, you can come up!”
The other woman’s armor clanked a bit as she ascended and entered Ara’s quarters, having the decency to look a little reluctant to disturb her. If Ara was being honest, Cassandra might’ve been the one person she wouldn’t have minded intruding on her, even now. The other woman rarely acted inconsiderately without reason, not to mention they’d become good friends over the course of their many missions together. The Seeker was blunt and stalwart, but beneath that was a genuinely kind woman with a love for horrible smutty novels. Ara had never met anyone who radiated…goodness… the way that Cassandra did— even if she had threatened her when they first met. She beckoned the Seeker to join her as she propped herself up on the headboard and folded her legs up, no need to maintain decorum with just the two of them.
Cassandra perched on the corner of the bed and faced Ara, a frown on her face as she spoke, “We need to talk.”
Immediately alarmed, Ara straightened, “What is it? Has something happened with Corypheus? Do we need to have a war council?”
Cassandra grunted, “No. This is a personal matter.”
“Oh,” Ara relaxed, “what is it, then? You know I’m always here to listen.”
Cassandra locked eyes with her, “I do not think you should pursue an…entanglement with Hawke.”
Ara raised her eyebrows, “We’ve tangled plenty, Cassandra, but I wouldn’t call it an entanglement. It’s just sex, and now he’s out in the Western Approach anyways.”
“But we will no doubt encounter him again,” Cassandra insisted, “And I do not believe it is wise to engage in a relationship with him.”
Ara sighed, “Is it because I’m the Inquisitor? I’m just not allowed to feel or indulge any natural urges? Even Andraste got to have sex!”
“That is not what I meant,” Cassandra started, “I simply do not think he is the correct choice.”
Ara was at a genuine loss. She never would have expected Cassandra to give a damn who she slept with, much less to the point of confronting her in her quarters about it. And she couldn’t figure out her reasoning, either— if there was anyone who understood being in her position, it was Hawke. Plus, the man was generally kind and funny— he’d made their journey to Crestwood that much more lively, and even cracked a smile out of Cassandra here and there.
“What’s wrong with him,” she asked rather flatly.
Cassandra sighed, “Hawke was once the lover of the same apostate who was responsible for the Kirkwall chantry explosion.”
“I’m aware— I did read Tale of the Champion along with everyone else.”
“Yes, well—“
“Wait, you don't like him because he likes men, too? Cassandra—“
“No! I have no biases towards whom one chooses to love! I simply think that he has shown questionable judgement in his choices—“
“Including me?”
“Maker have mercy—no! Ara, I am simply trying to say that I believe his lapses in judgement could cost you dearly, should you grow closer.”
Ara calmed down at that, running a hand across her face as she peered at Cassandra, “Well, you can relax— it was just sex. We didn’t say a word about anything more.”
“Well you made plenty of noise without speaking,” Cassandra grumbled, though she was blushing.
Ara blushed too, recalling how intense the sex had been some of the nights she and Hawke had shared a tent. It had made Crestwood nominally more tolerable, and she had missed it on the return journey. They had done their best to muffle their cries, but evidently that had not been good enough for poor Cassandra.
“Was that all?”
“No,” Cassandra suddenly looked very hesitant, and Ara got a bad feeling about where this was going, “I still do not think you should continue sleeping with Hawke. Your heart has great capacity, Ara, and I think you waste it by indulging in such triviality. Once, you told me you wanted the Commander. For more than sex.”
“Yes,” Ara arched a brow, “And then he turned me down rather spectacularly. I think a girl is due some good sex after that.”
“I believe perhaps your feelings do not remain unreciprocated.”
“Cassandra—“
“You did not see him when he watched you and Hawke, in the stables when the advisors came to us off. He looked pained every time Hawke touched you, the man cannot hide a single emotion.”
Ara sighed, “I wasn’t paying attention so I can’t confirm that. What I can say, though, is that one rejection is more than enough for me, Cass. Even if, somehow, miraculously he doesn’t mind the horns anymore— I don’t want someone who had to come around on liking me. Hawke showed up and immediately expressed interest, and it felt great. I’m not settling for scraps from Cullen.”
Cassandra’s dark brows pulled together, “So your feelings have simply, what, vanished now that you have had Hawke?”
Ara wanted to say yes. She wanted to say the sex was so good it wiped her memory clean of any affections she may have held for the Commander— because it was pretty damn good sex. But, she couldn’t lie when her gaze still lingered on him in the war room when she knew he wasn’t looking. She still stopped on occasion during her walks of the battlements to watch him spar, heart pounding at the way sunlight gleamed off his sweat-soaked muscles, power evident in every move he made. Part of her missed the time they’d spent getting to know each other and talking strategy back in Haven. It was a shame it was all colored with the embarrassment of his rejection.
Her silence must have been enough of an answer, because Cassandra nodded, “As I thought. I believe the Commander may surprise you still.”
And then Cassandra got up, patted Ara on the shoulder twice, and left her with her conflicted thoughts.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Cullen was rather used to people bursting into his office in a tizzy, but it was usually Scout Jim, not Skyhold’s resident author. Varric was in quite the mood as he threw open one of the doors to Cullen’s office, hard enough that it slammed against the wall before closing behind him. He was still sporting a bruise on his chin from his tussle with Cassandra after she found out about Hawke, adding to his upset countenance. He pointed at Cullen, “You.”
Cullen’s brows furrowed, “Me?”
“Yeah, Curly, you. You need to fix things with Spitfire.”
Cullen had always found Varric’s nicknames to be rather annoying, but he couldn’t deny Ara’s was rather fitting, given her affinity for pyromancy and her well known temper.
“And what exactly do you mean by that, “ Cullen bit out, suddenly anxious that Varric knew far too much.
That was sadly confirmed with the dwarf’s next words, “You need to kiss and makeup. She can’t fall for Hawke.”
Cullen sat down heavily at his desk, rubbing his forehead as he asked, “And why can’t she? As you seem to know, I’ve already burned that bridge.”
Varric sighed, “Hawke is my best friend, Curly. I’d lay my life on the line for the guy— but he lost part of himself when Anders blew up the Kirkwall chantry. He loved that man with everything he had, and Anders betrayed his trust. You don’t just get over that. I don’t think he’s good for Spitfire long term, I don’t think he’s ready. And I don’t want her to get hurt.”
Cullen raised his eyebrows, “You must care deeply for Ara if you’re concerned enough to approach me over this.”
Varric snorted, “Yeah, well, unlike you— some of us have seen how special she is from the jump. She’s got a heavy load to bear, and she doesn’t need a broken heart on top of that.”
“And how am I supposed to fix this? She doesn’t care to be in my presence, not anymore.”
Varric shook his head, “Admitting defeat this early, Curly? We all saw how you looked at her when you found her in the snow, and I have it on paper that you stayed next to her until the healers kicked you out of her tent.”
Cullen sighed, “And it was too little, too late. I interrupted her and Hawke the other night— she sent me away. I fear that whatever fondness she once held is long gone.”
“Thing is Curly, I don’t think it is. It’s only been what, a little over a month since Haven? And she had this crush for a while before she said anything to you— she and Cassandra used to talk about it— so it stands to reason her feelings haven’t just up and vanished. Maybe she’s pushed them away, but I bet they’re still in there somewhere. Plus, I bet she wouldn’t still be avoiding you if she didn’t care at least a little.”
Cullen pondered what Varric was saying. It was true that his and Ara’s friendship had deepened over several months at Haven, and it had only been six weeks since his rejection of her. It stood to reason that someone as emotionally invested in things as Ara wouldn’t move on so fast, not fully. Cullen felt a small kernel of hope unfold in his chest as he looked at Varric, “And say I entertain this idea— what do you suggest I do?”
Varric laughed, “Oh Curly, I thought you’d never ask.”
And that was how Cullen found himself playing chess in the gardens with Dorian, awaiting Ara’s arrival, as was promised by Varric. Truthfully, he was enjoying the game— Dorian proved a surprisingly adept opponent, when he wasn't cheating, and it was a great distraction from his anxious thoughts. Of course, Dorian’s own thoughts had to be voiced and brought their own share of anxiety.
“So, Commander, why is it that you are only now doing something about how lovely our dear Inquisitor is? Could it have anything to do with her affair with a dashing mage, perhaps?”
Cullen moved a piece on the board and flicked his eyes up to Dorian’s, “Yes.”
“I just think it’s funny— wait, yes?”
Dorian made his move and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at Cullen in question. Cullen coughed, “Hawke’s arrival played a role, yes. As did nearly losing her at Haven— I was a fool, and wrote things off for unworthy reasons.”
Dorian watched him closely as he moved another piece forward, taking one of the mage’s own, “At least you are far more adept at chess than with women. I must admit, I was hesitant to offer my help when Varric came to me saying you wanted a second chance. Ara seemed more than happy to get over you.”
Cullen flinched, “I’m sure she was. I hope to change that.”
Dorian peered at him as he played his turn, “Yes, I actually think you do.”
They continued to play for some time, exchanging barbs while Dorian cheated in sloppier and sloppier ways as Cullen gained the upper hand.
“I must say, Commander— I do hope you move our troops more effectively than these pieces.”
“Gloat all you like,” Cullen smirked down at the board, “I have this one.”
”Are you sassing me, Commander? I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Why do I even—“ Cullen jumped up, his eyes catching Ara’s as she approached their table, “Inquisitor!”
He moved to stand up, only to be interrupted by Dorian, “Leaving, are you? Does this mean I win?”
Ara laughed at Cullen’s obvious indecision between wanting to act respectfully and wanting to thrash Dorian in chess. She was smiling as she spoke, “Please, don’t stop on my account.”
She leaned against a pillar and settled in, seemingly intent on watching them play. Cullen sat back down, “All right,” he gestured to Dorian, “your move.”
They played back and forth a few more times, pieces rapidly moving off the board.
“You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory, “ Dorian said as he twirled the end of his moustache, “You’ll feel much better.”
Cullen smirked and moved a final piece, “Really? Because I just won. And I feel fine.”
Dorian looked down at the bored, seemingly aghast but with a twinkle in his eye, “Don’t get smug. There will be no living with you.”
Dorian got up and walked over to Ara, squeezing one of her arms and whispering something in her ear that made her laugh before making his way out of the gardens. Cullen couldn’t help but watch her for a second, taken in by the way the sunlight in the garden made her pink tinted skin glow, her ivory horns almost seeming to shimmer amidst the dark waves of her hair. He looked away before she could catch him, “I should return to my duties as well. Unless, “ he cast a glance at her, “you would care for a game?”
Ara chewed her lip as she scrutinized him, seemingly thinking something over. After a moment, she nodded and took Dorian’s seat, “Prepare the board, Commander.”
Cullen felt his heart soar a bit at her acceptance, eager to make any kind of forward progress. As far as he was concerned, her agreeing to spend any time with him was worth however Varric had gotten her out here. He let her make the first move before he started talking, hoping she’d follow in kind.
“As a child, I played this with my sister. She would get this stuck-up grin whenever she won—which was all the time. My brother and I practiced together for weeks. The look on her face the day I finally won… Between serving with the templars and the Inquisition, I haven’t seen them in years. I wonder if she still plays.”
Ara tilted her head at him as he moved a piece on the board, “You have siblings?”
“Two sisters and a brother.”
She made her move, “Where are they now?”
“ They moved to South Reach after the Blight. I do not write them as often as I should. Ah, it’s my turn.”
Ara leaned forward, eyes intent on the game, “All right. Let’s see what you got.”
They played several turns back forth without a word exchanged between them, but the silence felt companionable to Cullen. He was more than happy to sit quietly and watch her face of concentration as she pored over the board. When she focused, she chewed her bottom lip, and his thoughts grew distracted as he wondered how soft that berry tinted mouth would feel against his. The sun highlighted the red tones in her dark hair, and she looked every inch of her nickname as she kept up with him in the game.
“This may be the longest we’ve gone without discussing the Inquisition—or related matters,” Cullen hesitated before he continued, “To be honest, I appreciate the distraction.”
Ara looked at him from under her lashes and snorted, “We don’t spend any time together without discussing the Inquisition, Commander, so that isn’t saying much. Though I believe you about the distraction— Maker knows you don’t rest enough.”
Cullen moved a piece on the board, taking one of hers as he spoke, “Perhaps I would rest more had I amenable company.”
He held his breath as she looked at him sharply, but she still made her move before responding, “In that case, I hope you find it. I was surprised when you asked me to play, considering you’ve made it more than clear how you feel about my company.”
Cullen sighed. He’d known that she was too straightforward not to bring this up, especially with how his behavior today was at odds with the rest thus far. Ara simply wasn’t one to let things lie— it was one of the things he’d come to admire about her, the constant desire to understand everything she could. He made his move and thought carefully before replying, “I am a man who has made a great many mistakes, Ara, and they’re not all limited to Kirkwall.”
Ara moved a piece and leaned back in her chair, “Mistake would imply you didn’t mean it, and I’m fairly certain you did. I’ve no desire to make you uncomfortable, Commander—“
“You used to call me Cullen,” he said softly.
Ara fiddled with one of the many rings she wore only on her left hand, “That was before.”
Cullen sighed, looking into her eyes, “And what if I was wrong, before?”
Ara got up from the table, pinning him with an intense look as she moved away, “What if?”
She turned and left without another word to him, and as he looked down at the board he realized that she’d won the game in her last move.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Ara was a generally difficult person to upset, or she liked to think. But her most recent trip into Redcliffe Village to check on Sister Tanner had yielded the most unwelcome fruit. She and Dorian were quiet the entire way home as Cassandra and Bull watched them almost warily, though they too carried a certain level of disgust. They’d scarcely stabled their horses before Ara was making her way to the tavern. Cassandra caught her arm as she passed, “Inquisitor, perhaps we should discuss—“
Ara snapped, “Discuss what, Cassandra? Discuss the barbaric practices we subject mages to, for the crime of existing with magic? Shall we discuss the cruelty in turning someone into an amenable houseplant, for the sake of the “greater good”? Or shall we discuss how all those poor souls got their fucking skulls emptied by the Venatori, because the bloody Templars left them vulnerable!”
She stomped off, muttering under her breath as Dorian followed her without a backward glance to either of their companions. Cabot nodded at her from behind the bar as they entered the Herald’s Rest, already pouring a whiskey and a glass of red wine for the two of them. They collected their glasses and sat in the corner of the bar, both quiet as they nursed their drinks and reflected on the day.
Ara’s head was still spinning a little as she thought of the dingy little cabin they’d discovered in Redcliffe, the walls lined with Tranquil skulls that had yet to become Ocularum. She had vomited at the sight, disgust roiling hot in her stomach. Now, she felt angry. Angry at The Order for creating Tranquility, angry at the Venatori for their atrocities, angry at the world for treating its most vulnerable like trash. Her grip on the glass of whiskey was painfully tight as she knocked it back and got another. Dorian looked up as she sat back down, uncharacteristically solemn as he spoke, “I joke about Southern barbarity, but it was my own countrymen that did this.”
Ara shook her head, “And it was Southern practices that allowed them the opportunity. I doubt you see much of Tranquility in Tevinter.”
Dorian inclined his head towards her as he sipped his wine, “You weren’t in a Circle— have you seen much of it? You must have seen Templars at some point.”
Ara sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind one ear, “My magic got my parents killed, so I learned with blades and kept the rest hidden for a long time— the Templars we interacted with when I was with the Valo-Kas could never tell that I was a mage, or kept quiet if they suspected. The first time I ever really interacted with Tranquil was when I joined the Inquisition.”
It had creeped her out the first time, she couldn’t lie. The hollow quality in their gazes still sometimes sent a shudder down her spine. It was like looking into a mirror of the worst version of what her life could have been, had her parents and then the mercenaries not hidden her so well.
Dorian stared into his glass, “In Tevinter, Tranquility is reserved only for mages whose actions directly undermine the Imperium— the magisters had no desire for Templars to gain an advantage over them, so I rarely saw a Tranquil.”
He polished off his glass and stood, sighing heavily, “Much as I’d love to drink the day away with you, dear, I’m afraid there are some frustrations for which there is only one outlet, and it isn’t drink.”
Ara raised an eyebrow at him as she took a gulp of whiskey, “You’re going to fuck Bull after the shit we saw today?”
Dorian shrugged, “He has a way of taking my mind off things. Ropes tend to do that.”
Ara’s mouth fell open and she was gearing up to ask more questions when she heard heavy footsteps behind her, and the familiar scents of oak moss and elderflower entered her senses. Dorian nodded at the person behind her, “Commander, just in time— I was about to take my leave, but I’d hate to leave our dear leader to drink alone.”
Cullen slid into Dorian’s seat as the mage made his goodbyes, his hands wrapped around a mug of ale as his eyes met Ara’s. She looked back at him, face blank. Whatever his game was now, she thought to herself, she was making no first moves. Cullen cleared his throat, “Cassandra informed me of what you all found in Redcliffe today.”
Ara laughed without humor, “What a sanitary way of saying she told you we found the skulls of Tranquil, lined up like trophies in that shitty little cabin.”
Cullen looked down at his ale, “What you discovered is horrific, and I am sorry that—“
Ara interrupted, “You were a Knight-Captain in Kirkwall, right? Have you ever made someone Tranquil?“
She held her breath as she waited for his answer. She knew Cullen to be a fair and kind man, despite his aversion to Qunari. Perhaps she was even willing to believe his feelings had changed. But she knew, deep in her heart, she could never look at him the same if he answered wrong.
Cullen sighed, “I have not. Knight-Commander Meredith took a sick joy in wielding the brand herself. At the time, I was grateful not to have to do it myself. Now, I’m still grateful I didn’t, but not for the same reasons.”
Ara nodded, relieved at his answer. She played with the rings on her left hand as she stared at the pockmarked table, “I’d rather die, I think. Death would be better than being reduced to…that. And I know we have Tranquil here, and that they’re taken care of, but…”
“But,” Cullen prompted her to continue, his voice gentle.
Ara sighed, “But the idea of losing all real will is terrifying. I’d rather meet the Maker than be trapped in my own body.”
Cullen nodded, “Once upon a time I thought it was saving mages from themselves with the least amount of bloodshed.”
“And now?”
“I think,” Cullen’s voice was soft, “that the Order did much in the name of a greater good that was only ever going to be good for certain people.”
Ara leaned back and analyzed the man in front of her. She’d known that Cullen was deeply marked by regret even in Haven— it was one of the things that drew her to him, despite his former Templar status. Now, she watched his eyes unfocus as he drifted through memory, and she felt a pang in her chest for him. Ara had never had the luxury of feeling like one of the good guys, not until the Inquisition. Growing up on the run and then being taken in by a band of mercenaries meant that she rarely had the opportunity to consider good and bad instead of, well, surviving or dying. Cullen, on the other hand, had been a chantry knight since he was thirteen, and she was sure that watching the corruption of the Order had left its mark on the man. After all, Templars were treated like the cream of the Maker’s crop— and now they were slaves to an evil Tevinter magister. Part of her wondered at the chantry’s ability to take the desire to do good and twist it into the horrible acts she’d seen committed. Despite living as a mercenary, there had been lines that the Valo-Kas didn’t cross, and she wondered why a sellsword group had stronger morals than the entire damned Chantry. Her silence must have discomfited Cullen, as he began to shift restlessly in his chair across from her.
Ara tilted her head, “Why did you join the Templars?”
Cullen looked sad when he responded, “I wanted to protect people, mage and mundane alike. I was far too young to realize that control was the true prerogative.”
Ara nodded and looked down at her whiskey before looking back at him, “I was seven when I came into my powers. Far too young to realize what it meant for me.”
“How’d it happen?”
Ara snorted, “My parents were getting dinner ready—this was back when we lived on the outskirts of Denerim— and I wanted to help. Set the whole chicken on fire and watched them panic as they tried to figure out what to do with a mage daughter. The Qunari aren’t kind to their mages, if you haven’t heard, and they were already on the run.”
Cullen nodded, “I saw some Saarebas in Kirkwall during the invasion,” he shook his head, “what they do to them is beyond cruel.”
Ara agreed, thinking of the way the Qunari sewed the lips of mages shut and bound them to a keeper, forever under watch and never getting a lick of freedom lest they threaten the Qun. She shuddered to think of what may have become of her had her parents not abandoned the Qun long before her birth. She also realized her glass was empty, as was Cullen’s ale, and neither were making any moves to disrupt the conversation and get another.
“I missed talking to you like this.”
Cullen’s voice was so quiet that she almost didn’t hear him, but her ears burned as she processed what he said, “Like what?”
“Like…friends. I thought we had become friends, once.”
She nodded, “Once.”
Cullen shifted in his chair, “Is it too much to ask for the chance again?”
“Commander,” Ara sighed, “I can’t be friends with someone in good faith who thinks less of me for what I am.”
“I have never said—“
Ara glared down at the table, “You have. Rejection I can handle, but staring at my horns while you stutter out some line about “our many differences”? What else is that supposed to mean, Commander?”
Cullen leaned back and frowned, “I didn’t realize…I suppose you aren’t wrong. I had not intended for you to see that. I fear I am not known for my diplomacy, or a way with words. But I was wrong, Ara— I let my past color the way I saw things, and it clouded my judgement.”
Ara shifted her glare from the table to him, “And you only realize this after I find some respite in someone else? Are you toying with me? Do you find it entertaining to push and pull at my feelings?”
Cullen laid his hands on the table, “I realized this the moment you ran out to give your life for our escape, and I thought I’d never see you again. That I’d never get the chance to apologize, never get to tell you that I do think of you, and often.”
Ara scoffed, “I didn’t realize you found suicide missions so attractive.”
Cullen scowled at her, “It wasn’t the mission— Maker’s breath, I find you attractive. It was only prejudice that prevented me from seeing that from the start.”
Ara raised an eyebrow, “And this has nothing to do with Hawke?”
Cullen's scowl deepened at the reminder of her former lover, “I would rather not hear about you and Hawke, if it’s all the same to you.”
Ara barked out a laugh, “Wow. You’re actually jealous? You turned me down, remember?”
Cullen glared at her, “How many times must I tell you that was a mistake? A mistake made all to clear to me when Hawke arrived and immediately stole your—“
Ara laughed, louder this time, “He didn’t steal anything, it was freely given.”
Cullen responded rather grumpily, “And you accuse me of doing the toying. I rather think you’re better at it.”
Ara quieted, a little chastened by that. She couldn’t deny getting a little pleasure out of dangling her affair with Hawke over Cullen’s head— in a way, his jealousy felt like proof he truly wanted her. Between that and the alcohol, Ara was beginning to feel quite warm sitting across from him.
“I’m sorry,” she offered, “that was unkind of me. I guess I still find it hard to believe you feel enough for me for that to bother you.”
“I think you'll be hard pressed to find any man who wouldn’t be bothered seeing the woman he cares about in another man’s arms. Your silence and the distance between us could be tolerated, if only because I had hope it would end. But seeing you with him? That was…”
His voice trailed off and his brows furrowed as he looked at her beseechingly. She cut him no slack, “That was what?”
“Painful.”
His voice was a deep rasp as he met her eyes, the honey of his irises deepening with emotion. Ara was captivated by them, scanning his eyes for what he could be feeling. What she saw shook her a little bit. Regret, that was for sure, but also want. For better or for worse, Cullen hadn’t been lying when he said his feelings had changed. But still, she needed more.
“Do you want me?”
She tried to keep her growing hope out of her voice, and was pleased when the question came out in a perfectly neutral tone. Her composure was still shaken, however, when Cullen’s gaze seemed to intensify, “More than you know.”
Ara held her breath, debating if her next move was brave or foolish. But fuck it, she thought to herself, if she was getting the chance, she may as well take it. Even if he regretted this the next day, she’d have the memory to assuage her feelings. She leaned forward over the small table, close enough that she could feel more than hear Cullen’s sharp intake of breath.
“Prove it.”
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
“Prove it.”
Cullen was transfixed by the smirk on Ara’s lips as she spoke the two words she should have known would shatter his self-control.The last word barely left her mouth before he was out of his seat and holding a hand out to help her out of hers. Ara gently placed her hand in the one he offered and Cullen tugged her up and kept his hand entwined with hers as they walked out of the tavern and in the direction of his tower.
Neither of them said a word on their journey, though Ara did pull her hand away once they’d left the tavern, much to Cullen’s chagrin. She softened the blow by winking at him and nudging his shoulder slightly, staying just far enough away to avoid gossip but just close enough for him to smell the blood lotus oil she used as perfume. He’d noticed it back in Haven, shocked that she used such a volatile thing for its scent. She’d explained that the oil was harmless, and it reminded her of the water.
When they arrived at Cullen’s tower, he gestured for her to enter first, shutting and locking the main door behind him and then locking the side doors as well. Ara perched on the corner of his desk as he went about the task, teeth buried in her bottom lip again as she watched him unabashedly. Cullen turned to her after locking the final door, “Are you pleased with what you see?”
Ara arched an eyebrow at him, “I always have been, as I let you know.”
It was a dig at his prior rejection as much as it was a compliment, and it tested Cullen’s patience. He frowned and walked towards her, wordlessly grabbing her thighs and pushing her further onto the desk. Ara squeaked at the sudden contact and tried to cover it with a cough, which made Cullen laugh aloud as she glared at him.
She leaned back on her elbows and pulled Cullen down with her, keeping one hand on his neck and the other arm behind her for support. She stopped just short of kissing him, her lips so close to his that he felt her breaths puff out against them. She whispered, “I believe I asked you to prove something, Commander.”
Cullen snapped, crossing the distance between them and claiming her mouth with his own. He bit her bottom lip and swept his tongue inside her when her mouth fell open on a moan, giving one in answer when she sucked on his tongue. He let some of his weight rest on her, pressing them together from chest to groin as she grinded against his rapidly growing length. He used one arm to prop himself up and the other moved to the buttons on her linen shirt, which proved difficult to undo with one hand.
She smothered a laugh with his lips as she shoved his hands away and quickly undid the shirt herself, untying the knot of her breastband right afterwards. Cullen’s breath caught in his throat as he took in all that lovely pink skin, bare from the waist up and spread out for him on his desk, of all things. Her hair was spread out around her head as she laid down fully on the desk, her horns peeking out amongst the waves. He wondered how he’d ever found that unattractive, as thoughts of holding onto those ivory horns while fucking her mouth filled his mind. But first, he had her laid out for him like a feast, and feast he would. He yanked her tight leather pants off her tall frame after fiddling with the button for longer than he liked, bringing her smalls down with them.
“Eager, are we?”
Her voice was sultry as she looked up at him, completely bare for him as she teased.
Cullen smiled wolfishly, “I have the woman I dream of underneath me— eager doesn’t begin to cover it.”
He buried his face in the crook of her neck, licking and sucking and biting his way down to her generous chest, his hands coming up to cup and squeeze her breasts. She moaned underneath him, continuing to move her hips against his as Cullen wrapped his lips around one nipple and sucked hard. Her nails dug into his shoulders where she clutched at him, and he continued to toy with that nipple as he moved his mouth to the other. When both were cherry red and she shivered at the slightest touch, he continued his mapping of her body with his mouth.
Cullen moved down her stomach, leaving open mouthed kisses in a trail leading to where she was dripping wet for him. When he reached her pussy, he didn’t put his mouth on her immediately. Instead, he held her open and blew on her slightly, relishing in the way she jolted and moaned, begging for more. He pressed a kiss to her outer folds first, and then—much like kissing her mouth— he slowly slid his tongue into her slit. He kept his licks shallow until her hips twitched of their own volition, and then he licked her with force, broad sweeping strokes that ended at her clit, where he would suck slightly and give it a flick as she shuddered above him. He established a rhythm that had her shoving her pussy further onto his face, and he responded by sliding two fingers into her.
She arched and wailed, “Maker, Cullen—please make me come, please please please.”
Eager to fulfill her demand, Cullen began pumping his fingers in and out of her at the same time as he sucked her clit, crooking his fingers up to ensure he rubbed against a spot that made her scream. It didn’t take long for her to finish after that, barely a minute of his attentions and she was clenching around his fingers with a shout of his name.
He slowly pulled his fingers out of her as she caught her breath, expecting her to need a little time to recover. Much to his shock, he’d barely pulled his fingers out of her before she was pushing him up and sitting up herself, hands working furiously at his belt and he thanked the Maker that he hadn’t put on his armor to find her at the tavern. She yanked his pants down, taking his smalls with them, and wrapped her right hand around his cock.
“Maker,” he croaked out, “Go slow, please— I don’t want this to end without me inside you.”
She grinned at him and kissed his cheek as she gave him long, slow strokes, “Then it’s a good thing I’m waiting on you to fuck me, yes?”
Cullen pushed her back down gently, pulling her legs open wider and lining himself up so his cock laid right between the lips of her pussy. He pushed through her wetness a few times, slickening himself with her arousal. Ara was moaning continuously under him, and the sound went straight to his cock. Finally, he locked eyes with her as he slowly, slowly pushed into her tight embrace. Ara let out a pleased sigh, “Fuck, I knew you’d feel amazing inside me.”
Cullen groaned at her dirty words, giving a sharp thrust of his hips. Ara wrapped her legs around his waist in response, and he settled into a rhythm of hard thrusts broken up with longer strokes, keeping her on the edge. He could tell she was close and had been for a while by the way her legs quivered around him and how her flush had extended down her chest, and he started truly slamming into her.
She was slick, and hot, and so fucking tight that Cullen was doing his damndest not to give in to his own pleasure, but he was determined to feel her come around him. He kept one hand on her hip as he fucked into her with deep, unforgiving strokes and moved the other to her clit, rubbing in slow circles to contrast his rapid thrusting. Almost immediately, he felt Ara tighten on his cock as she hit her peak with a scream, and the feel of her pussy clenching down on him pulled him over the edge with her. He buried his face in her shoulder, muffling his cry by sinking his teeth into the muscle there. Ara took deep breaths underneath him as he collected himself and hauled his body off of hers. She sat up and they looked at each other for a moment, neither saying a word until Cullen finally broke the silence, “There’s a bed upstairs.”
His voice was hoarse, strung out from the sounds she drew out of him. Ara looked at him, biting that damn bottom lip before she spoke, “Up for another round?”
Cullen grinned, “Multiple.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
When Ara awoke, it was to Cullen squirming in bed next to her, muttering under his breath with his eyes still closed.
“No…leave me…please…”
She wiggled out of the bed without disturbing him, to the best of her ability, and scurried around his loft trying to find her clothes. All the while, he continued to struggle in his sleep, and Ara felt concern rise in her chest as she shoved her legs into her pants. She sat at the edge of the bed and considered soothing him, perhaps waking him from what was clearly a nightmare. But waking him would likely mean having to talk about the night they’d just shared, and Ara just wasn’t ready for that.
Selfishly, she left him to fight his dreams as she crept down the ladder. She had made it almost all the way to the door of his tower when she heard rustling coming from the top level, followed by Cullen calling out, “Ara?”
She whipped the door open and slipped out, shutting it as quietly as she could while she booked it across the battlements, praying that the time of night held no witnesses. She had no idea how she was going to face Cullen at the war council in the next few hours, but her first concern was making it to her quarters. She’d successfully crept through Solas’s rotunda and the quiet great hall, scampering up her stairs and throwing a spark of fire onto her hearth as soon as she entered. Then she screamed.
Dorian sat in one of the two armchairs she’d requisitioned, one eyebrow raised as the fire illuminated his face.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”
“Have you lost your mind? How long have you been waiting in here?”
Dorian laughed, “I came up a few hours ago, hoping you would accept a little nightcap, and perhaps to find out how your conversation with the Commander went. But considering you’ve returned sans breastband, I can tell for myself.”
Ara immediately wrapped her arms around her chest and blushed— Cullen ripping her smalls had been hot in the moment, but rather inconvenient after. Still, she was surprised by Dorian’s commitment, “You’ve been sitting here for hours?”
Dorian coughed, “Well, I did drink the nightcap by myself at some point, and then…fell asleep. But you’ve rather heavy footfalls, and I woke up when I heard you coming up the stairs.”
Ara collapsed in the chair opposite him and ran a hand over her face, “If I hadn’t already drank plenty today I would be a little upset about the nightcap.”
“Respectfully, my dear, fuck the nightcap— what happened with the Commander?”
Ara stared blankly into the fire for a second before looking at Dorian, “It was the best sex of my life. I don’t think I should do it again.”
Dorian spluttered, “That makes absolutely no sense. Elaborate.”
Ara sighed, “It was amazing, Dorian— I’ve never come that hard or that much in my entire life. But I like him for a lot more than his dick, not sure if I ever really stopped, and I can’t take the chance that his mind will change again. It’ll crush me.”
Dorian stared at her for a second, “Ara— you had the man confess his feelings, fucked him silly, and now you’re just going to resume the status quo?”
“If he wants to talk about it we can talk about it— but yeah, pretty much.”
Dorian groaned, “I do not see this going the way you wish, my dear, but a lady’s prerogative is her own.”
He got up and stretched, squeezing Ara’s shoulder as he walked to the stairwell, “Oh, Ara— if you happen to fuck him again, do tell me all the details. You aren’t the only ones who’s wondered what’s under all that armor and fur.”
Ara groaned as she heard Dorian’s laugh echoing in the stairwell, and she got up and stripped out of her hastily secured clothing. She crawled into the lovely Orlesian bed that Josephine had special ordered for her height, and she did her damndest not to think of Cullen as she closed her eyes and drifted off.
When Ara next awoke, she was alone. She felt a pang of relief at that, and tried to ignore the corresponding pang of loneliness. She rose and dressed in her usual tight linen shirt and leather breeches, tucking the ends of her pants into a pair of worn leather boots. She made her way to the war room, stopping in the great hall to say good morning to Varric (definitely not because she was trying to avoid seeing Cullen for as long as possible). Leliana and Josephine were, as usual, already in the war room with tea and pastries when Ara walked in. She greeted them and snacked on a fruit tart and a strong cup of Antivan coffee as they waited for the Commander. Minutes ticked by until suddenly the war room doors burst open, Cullen stomping in with a ticked off look on his face.
“My apologies for running behind, ladies, I do hope no one was too inconvenienced by my absence.”
Ara stared down at the table, a blush rising to her cheeks as she took in his emphasis on the last few words. Clearly, he was making a point about waking up alone— what she was supposed to say during a war council meeting, she had no idea. So, she cleared her throat, “No worries, Commander. May we begin?”
“Certainly,” Josephine piped up, nearly shaking with excitement, “I was able to secure invitations for the Inquisition to Orlais’s peace talks at Halamshiral!”
Ara smiled, “That’s excellent, Josephine! How’d you do it?”
“We will be attending as honored guests of Grand Duke Gaspard— his representatives were most eager to have us present after I happened to mention the growing forces of the Inquisition.”
Cullen scoffed, “Of course a chevalier would only consider military might in an ally.”
Leliana laughed, “Careful, Commander— it was you that recommended Gaspard over Celene, on the basis of military might.”
“At any rate,” Josephine interjected, “the ball takes place in a mere two weeks. There is much to be done before then— dance lessons, etiquette lessons, lessons on the nobility—“
“Sweet Maker,” Ara muttered as she rubbed her temples, “Are we stopping an assassination or attempting to marry me off?”
Leliana raised an eyebrow and grinned, “We can do both, if you’d like—“
A resounding “no!” came from both Ara and Cullen, the latter surprising the three women in the room into silence. Cullen immediately began blushing, stuttering a bit as he tried to explain,”F-forgive my outburst, I simply— I meant that the Inquisitor has far greater responsibilities, and a marriage would only be a distraction from our goals.”
Ara coughed, “Your concern is noted, Commander— but marriage is rather far down on my list of things to do before Corypheus snuffs me out like a light.”
“Inquisitor! You should not say such things,” Josephine admonished, but Ara just chuckled and waved it off, “I’m a former mercenary, Josephine— I’m used to those odds.”
“Regardless, I ask that you reserve three hours of time following dinner each evening to review dancing, etiquette, and the nobility in attendance at the ball.”
Ara nodded, though she wasn’t happy about it. Frankly, it sounded like the worst way to spend three hours, but she’d put on a nug suit and dance the remigold if it would prevent the future she saw in Redcliffe. Then, Josephine turned to Cullen, “Commander, I ask that you join her.”
Cullen damn near squawked, “Excuse me?”
Leliana chimed in, “Josephine and I have discussed this— both you and the Inquisitor lack experience at court, and especially in the Game. It makes sense to have you attend these lessons together— Commander, you can serve as her escort.”
Ara choked a little, “What? Why do I need an escort?”
Leliana and Josephine exchanged glances before the latter spoke gently, trying to cushion her words, “It is…unprecedented for a Vashoth to be a welcome guest at court. Many will have gripes and concerns— but some could be quieted given your escort be above reproach in their eyes.”
Leliana picked up there, “And who better than the man who stood against Meredith Stannard and tried to bring order to Kirkwall? Orlais sees you rather kindly, Commander, and it could work in our favor.”
Ara blanched. The subtext was loud and clear— Cullen had withstood a Qunari invasion, albeit with Hawke doing most of the work, and her being at court would feel like an invasion to them. Still, she couldn’t argue with the logic. She glanced at Cullen, expecting to see a frown and a refusal ready on his lips; she was surprised when she met his gaze, as he was already looking at her with an intensity that took her breath away.She bit her lip and looked down at the war table as she answered, “It’s up to the Commander. If I’m leveraging his reputation, it should be his decision—“
“Yes.”
Cullen answered almost before the last words left her mouth, and he blushed as they all stared at him for a second before Leliana and Josephine grinned while Ara refused to look anyone in the eye.
Josephine cleared her throat delicately, “I am taking that as agreement to the lessons as well, Commander. You both must be impeccable if we are to succeed.”
Cullen sighed but nodded as well, and Ara tried not to look like her head was going to burst, because it sure felt like it would. Three hours a day in close quarters with the man who’d made her see stars, over and over again. A man who did that and who she genuinely liked as a person, to top it all off. And she couldn’t have him, couldn’t risk her heart on such a recent change in his.
She felt like her head was full of cotton for the rest of the meeting, vaguely aware as they went over the latest news from Hawke and Stroud (no luck thus far), discussed her latest missions (thank the Maker Solas had returned after their jaunt in the Exalted plains), and planned their next moves. Most of their plans were on halt as they focused on preparing for Halamshiral, as well as awaited news from Hawke. Ara dismissed the meeting absentmindedly, staying behind and fiddling with pieces on the map as the others walked out. Or at least she had thought the others had all walked out, but when she felt already-familiar hands on her hips, she jolted and spun around.
Cullen had her pressed up against the table, an interesting position given she was a solid two inches taller than him. Ara cleared her throat, “Can I, uh, help you, Commander?”
“Do not resort to titles in an attempt to pull away from me, Ara, “ he damn near growled out as he moved a hand to her hip once more, rubbing little circles on the exposed skin right above her waistband. Ara resisted the urge to lean into him, instead raising an eyebrow imperiously, “I still don’t know what you want.”
“For you to stay in my bed instead of creeping out like a thief in the night.”
Ara sighed and looked down, unintentionally bringing her forehead to Cullen’s. Startled, she went to move away, but he threaded a hand through her hair and held her in place. Nevertheless, she stuck to what she’d decided, “Cullen, it’s not going to happen again.”
Cullen brightened up at that, confusing the hell out of her until she realized she hadn’t been clear.
“Any of it, I mean,” she took a deep breath, “I won’t run out on you again because we can’t have sex again.”
Cullen frowned at her, “Sex is hardly the only thing I want from you— I thought I’d made that clear before clothes came off.”
Ara sighed, “Yes, you say you want more and I’m sure you think you want more, but a year ago you never would have looked at me if you ever saw me somewhere. Not a chance. This…attraction of yours is a very new development, and I-I don’t want to be your experiment, Cullen. I don’t want to get my heart broken if you realize you were wrong and can’t be fond of a Vashoth mage after all.”
Cullen looked at her astonished, “Maker, I had you in ways I’d only ever thought of in fantasies, I’ve practically begged you to stay in my bed next time, and you still don’t believe I am fond of you?”
“No,” Ara groaned and put a hand over her eyes, “I’m sure you think you’re fond of me. But you changed your mind on Qunari very recently, Cullen, and for lack of better phrasing, I’m not sure it’s going to stick. Especially given your past—“
“You were not in Kirkwall,” Cullen bit out, “And I understand that—Maker’s breath, how can I prove to you that I mean it if you won’t give me a chance?”
Ara shook her head and pushed him away, moving towards the doors. She stopped with one hand on them before turning around, “You have nothing to prove to me, Commander. And I advise you not to try otherwise.”
She left the war room immediately after that, keeping up a brisk pace as she walked through Solas’s rotunda and up the stairs to where she knew Dorian would be lounging with a book. She held back tears the whole way, convinced that seeing a crying Vashoth would send the people of Skyhold into shock, no matter how accepting they’d been. When she got to Dorian, she sat down gingerly in a chair across from him and said nothing for a moment. He took one look at her and set his book down, sitting up straight as he demanded, “Who do I need to maim?”
That was all it took for the tears to start flowing, and Dorian angled himself so that she was mostly hidden from any casual library-goers. She whispered between stifled sobs, “H-he t-t-thinks he wants m-more, but Dorian— I j-j-just can’t take the chance.”
She took a deep breath and continued with a clearer voice, “I can’t wake up one day to him looking at me and seeing something other again— if he didn't outright think I was a monster when we met.”
Dorian sighed, “Darling girl, I will always support what you want to do— but obviously you care for him and enjoy his…company, why deprive yourself? The future is many things but it is not today’s problem.”
Ara laughed without humor, “Everything is today’s problem, and I like him too much to casually take a risk. I probably fucked up by sleeping with him, to be honest. Because now, we have two weeks of three hour long lessons every day and I can’t stop thinking of how good he looks naked!”
Dorian nodded sympathetically, rubbing her back as he spoke, “You’ve survived an avalanche, my dear— I know that you can survive one man.”
Ara sighed, her tears finally having ceased, “I sure hope so, Dorian. I sure fucking hope so.”
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Ara was going to spontaneously combust. It had been a week and 6 days of lessons with Josephine— a week and 6 days of pretending that those three hours a day spent within mere feet of Cullen wasn’t driving her insane. And sweet Maker, the dancing— every time he took her in his arms, she had to resist the urge to kiss him soundly and beg him to take her back to her quarters.
At least Josephine had been happy with their progress, she thought to herself as she mentally braced for the last lesson before Halamshiral. She wandered through the halls of Skyhold until she reached the tea room that Josephine had commandeered for their lessons. She swore under her breath as she realized that despite being early, Cullen was already there— which meant 15 minutes alone with him before Josephine was due to arrive.
Cullen stood up from one of the chaises when he spotted her, “Inquisitor! How do you fare?”
Ara suppressed a frown at his formality— it was, after all, her fault that they were resuming it, anyways. Cullen looked happy to see her— he always did— and it made her stomach twist a little when she thought of how she’d been abjectly avoiding him outside of these lessons. She sat down in the chair he so kindly pulled out for her, noticing how he scooted his own closer when he sat back down as well.
She answered his question, “Well enough— how are you?”
Cullen shrugged, “The withdrawals hit when I least need them to, but they’re tolerable with those new healing runes you gave me.”
In the past week, Cullen had come to her with a confession. She’d worried it was of a romantic nature, and then she’d worried because the damn man had quit lyrium unsupervised. She’d gone to Dagna immediately when she found out and had her craft runes using some of the more complex pain-relief spells that Ara knew—not that she’d told Cullen all that. She’d simply dropped the runes off one day with a note.
She smiled weakly at him, his proximity dizzying, “I’m glad to hear it—er, glad to hear the runes are working, not that you’re still in pain.”
Cullen laughed, “Yes, I assumed so.”
His eyes were warm as he looked at her, and Ara felt herself leaning forward as she watched that scar on his lip twitch when he smiled. Cullen leaned in too, drawn to her like a magnet before she caught herself and pulled back, leading him to do the same. They sat quietly for a moment until Ara took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak—
“Ah, excellent! You are both early, so we may be able to finish today’s lesson quick enough to discuss our arrival at the winter palace.”
Josephine whirled into the room, writing pad in hand and already speaking a million miles a minute. Ara sighed and settled in for a long three hours.
And long they were, she thought to herself as she made her way to her quarters. They’d finally run out of small rules and minor nobles for Ara and Cullen to memorize, which left more time for the dancing. Feeling Cullen’s arms around her and being able to do nothing about it had fried all of Ara’s nerve endings, and she was practically buzzing with tension by the time she made it to her room. She face-planted into her bed with a groan before heaving herself up to check that she had packed everything she needed.
They were leaving for Halamshiral the following morning, and despite most of Ara’s wardrobe being handled by other parties, she liked packing some things herself. It made her feel a little more at home in all the strange places they ended up, and she had a feeling she would be desperate for familiarity at the winter palace. When she was done, she crawled back into bed and yanked the covers over her head, partying for sleep to come fast.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
“There you are.”
Ara heaved a sigh, and turned from where she stood leaned over one of the palace’s many balconies, “Here I am— is someone looking for me, Commander? I dare say I’ve played my part in this whole charade.”
Cullen gave her a sympathetic look as he came to stand by her side, “I was worried for you, tonight.”
Ara barked out a laugh and gestured at her torn and bloody dress, “Maker only knows why, given the, oh, I don’t know, assassins and Venatori and treasonous duchesses.”
Cullen sighed and looked out at the gardens underneath them. She used the moment to take him in, the Inquisition uniform fitting him like a glove and showing off broad shoulders that tapered into a trim waist. A memory flashed through her of digging her nails into those same broad shoulders as he moved inside her, and Ara shivered in the cool night air. Cullen faced her again, “You did well, despite it all. Celene lives and we’ve thwarted Corypheus’s plans for another day, which I believe defines the night as a success, no?”
Ara sighed, thinking of all the servants and civilians who had died in the crossfire of both political machinations and the assassination attempt, “A success by any other name, perhaps. At the moment, I don’t feel particularly like celebrating— I want to go back to Skyhold, where blond women do not dance with me and then try to kill me, and collapse in my own bed.”
Cullen laughed, “Ah yes, your Orlesian monstrosity of a bed. Forgive us for depriving you of it for so long.”
Ara scowled playfully, “Hey, Orlesians aren’t good for much outside of bed, so they make the best ones.”
Cullen’s smile disappeared as his voice dropped an octave, “And how would you know that, exactly?”
Ara gulped, aware of their proximity and the ample tension that always seemed to buzz between them these days. She answered honestly, however, “Sometimes the Valo-Kas took contracts from Orlais, and sometimes I was looking for a distraction when the job was done. Not that many people in Orlais would stoop to sleeping with an “ox man”, as I’m sure you know.”
“With the way they talked about you in there, that seems counterintuitive,” Cullen grumbled. Ara shrugged. Having Cullen as her official escort had done wonders for her reception at the winter palace, but it had far from dissuaded the tittering nobles from making sly comments about keeping her as a pet, or whispering about holding her horns during sex, or any other strange fetishized acts that they wanted to embark on with her. She’d done her best to ignore it, but she’d seen how Cullen’s jaw clenched tighter and tighter as he no doubt heard the comments too.
For now, at least, there were no gossiping nobles to interrupt the small peace they’d managed to find. Music filtered in from the open door of the balcony, and Cullen glanced at Ara before looking down at his hands, obviously working something over in his head. Ara waited patiently until he spoke, extending a hand to her as he asked, “I may never get this chance again, so I have to ask— my lady, may I have this dance?”
Ara giggled at him, “You’re not sick of me stepping on your toes after all of Josephine’s lessons?”
“I don’t think you’ve stepped on my toes even once, and I would happily let you trample them if you’d accept.”
Ara placed her hand in his as an answer and allowed Cullen to pull her close, far closer than anything they’d practiced. He wrapped his hands around her waist as she twined her arms around his neck, and they swayed softly to the music. Ara let herself relax into his touch, deciding that she deserved it after the evening she’d had— even if it couldn’t lead anywhere. She was more than happy to empty her mind of thoughts and just enjoy the sensation of dancing with the boy she fancied.
Cullen apparently had different ideas as he brought his mouth to her ear, “I’ve thought of holding you like this so many times.”
Ara shivered, “Commander, I—“
“My name,” Cullen admonished sternly, “Our titles have no place in this conversation.”
“Cullen,” she sighed, “You can’t say things like that.”
“Why,” he challenged, determination burning in his eyes, “Is it because you like the things I say too much?”
Ara’s hands tightened on him before she forced herself to relax, “Yes, damnit— you’re making things harder for both of us.”
Suddenly, Cullen spun her around and had her pushed against the wall of the balcony, hidden from anyone in the ballroom. His gaze was intense on hers as he rubbed slow circles on her waist with his thumbs, “Harder for you, maybe— I’ve been a wreck since you left my bed, and I’m tired of pretending otherwise, Ara. Why must we play this game?”
Ara scowled at him, “It isn’t a game! I’ve told you my reasons for not wanting to take this leap.”
Cullen scowled right back and kept her back against the wall, “My feelings for you have been the only constant in this debacle since the bloody Conclave exploded— Maker have mercy, Ara, what will it take to convince you?”
Ara exploded, “I don’t know! I don’t know how to trust that,” her breath caught in her throat as she tried to get the words out without her voice cracking, “That you mean it.”
Cullen released her and stalked to the other side of the balcony, running a hand through his hair as he laughed without humor. Suddenly, he spun back around to look at her, sincerity burning in his eyes, “I thought of you, in Haven. I didn't know why, then, didn’t understand what it meant. But I thought of you, relentlessly. I wondered what you were doing when you were gone, if you were taking care of yourself and if you’d return quickly. I wondered what it would be like to wake up next to you, even after I told you I couldn’t…engage with you. Maker, if I’d known how big of a mistake I was making when I turned you down— I’d do anything to take it back, Ara. Anything to convince you that I…I love you.”
The sound that came out of Ara at his whispered confession was somewhere between a squawk and a honk, and it surprised both of them as she slapped her hand over her mouth and stared at Cullen, wide-eyed. For his part, Cullen was bright red and didn’t seem likely to say anything anytime soon, he just kept staring at her. There they stood, like a couple of idiots, when Josephine’s voice came through the open doors, “Inquisitor? Commander? Maker, where did they go now?”
Ara opened her mouth to call back to her when all that came was a squeak, because Cullen had pressed further into her and clamped a hand over her lips. He glared at her, but without heat, as he whispered, “The Lady Ambassador can wait— I cannot. Tell me now, Ara, if this is a fool’s errand,” his eyes scanned hers, looking straight through her, “Or if there is even the slightest chance you could feel the same for me.”
Ara whimpered, the pressure of his body against hers making it more and more difficult to deny his effect on her. She felt heat from the top of her horns to the tips of her toes, and looking into Cullen’s earnest, loving eyes— Ara could deny herself no longer. She took a deep breath and kept her eyes locked on his, “I could. Feel the same, that is—“
Her words were cut off by Cullen crushing his mouth to hers, his breath hot and desperate as he groaned into her mouth. She deepened the kiss, sliding one hand up to his golden waves as Cullen reciprocated by pulling her closer by the horns, his tongue painting lewd patterns against hers. Words leaked out of him between kisses; “Maker’s Breath,” a rock of his hips against hers, “I’ve never,” a slow grind pulled a moan out of him, “I’ve never felt like this before, for anyone.”
Ara giggled as Cullen dropped his head to the crook of her neck, the laugh turning into a sigh as he mouthed at her pulse. She still responded, “I haven’t either, Maker, but you drive me crazy, Cullen. I can’t get enough of you.”
She proved her point by wrapping one leg around him, bringing his length flush with where she burned for him, even through their layers. Cullen hissed out a breath at the contact, his grip on her hips tightening as he moved her over his growing erection. One hand left her waist to cup a heavy breast as he sucked a bruise onto the skin between her neck and her shoulder. Ara moaned, her hips moving of their own volition as he set her body on fire.
She had no idea how far they would’ve gotten, because a throat clearing rather loudly jolted her out of her lust-fueled haze, and she bit back a curse as she made eye contact with Josephine and Leliana over Cullen’s shoulder. The Commander was still fully occupied palming her chest and nibbling her neck, so she had to push him away, leading him to look up at her with panic in his golden eyes as the fog cleared.
“Maker’s breath— forgive me, Ara, I did not mean to get so carried away—“
“Commander,” Leliana interrupted from behind them, “kindly let go of the Inquisitor so we may take our leave. We’ve been awaiting your return— it’s horrible form to disappear without saying goodbye to your host.”
Ara raised an eyebrow as she slid away from Cullen and set herself to rights, “I was under the impression our host was currently sitting in a cell Maker-knows-where.”
“Thus, Celene and Gaspard will suffice to bid our goodbyes,” Leliana responded smoothly, “Unless you wish to offend the most powerful people in Orlais, I’d recommend saving your affection for when we return to our accommodations.”
“After all,” Josephine chimed in, “You will be sharing a room, given that you are here together as far as anyone knows.”
Cullen coughed, “We are not returning to Skyhold?”
Leliana shook her head, “No, given the events of the night, Celene has offered the Inquisition rooms at a nearby estate also owned by the crown.”
Ara snorted, “Nice, save an Empress and get rewarded by having to stay longer in Orlais.”
Josephine smiled, “You did well tonight, my lady. History will look upon this moment fondly.”
Leliana nodded, “The Game is precarious on a good day, and you handled it with grace on a very bad one. Come, make your goodbyes so that you may rest.”
Ara sighed and followed the two women back into the ballroom, Cullen trailing behind them. As they made the requisite excuses to Celene and Gaspard, Ara let herself think about the night that awaited her— a night with Cullen, a whole one without any scampering off in the middle. She felt something brush her hand as they walked out of the winter palace, and she looked down to see Cullen’s pinky brushing hers as he stared straight ahead, a smile playing on the edges of his lips. Ara bit back her smile, holding her head up high through the throngs of cooing nobles. She could give a damn what they thought of her now, not with what the night promised ahead of her.