The first time Cullen noticed the Herald – really saw her and not just another soldier in a battle – was during early morning training at Haven. He was in the middle of training the troops, but the sound of Cassandra attempting to hack the dummies into a million little pieces drew his attention away. And there she was. The first thing he realized was that he didn't know her name yet – there hadn't been time.

The second thing he realized was that she was beautiful.

He didn't have time to dwell on those thoughts, because a few moments later the Herald was speaking to him and he had to concentrate on answering questions and making sure he didn't stare. Andraste, it was like being in Lake Calenhad all over again, getting all hot and bothered whenever Solona Amell was in the room.

But he was older now and so he was able to get through the conversation without issue, at least not any that he noticed. Hopefully if he seemed distracted, it was just because of everything going on out there in this crazy world of theirs. Which would have been true on any of the days that came before it. Ever since it appeared, the Rift had monopolized his thoughts.

That night, however, no matter how hard he tried, all he could think of was her.


He lingered in the war room, under the guise of planning for his latest mission. On her way out, Evelyn glanced back at him and smiled. He smiled back, trying to ignore the stirring between his legs.

It would have been easier if he hadn't spent far too much of the meeting imagining what it would be like to take her there, bent over the war table. How her body would feel pressed up against his, how she would cry out with pleasure as he fucked her, map and markers scattered all over.

Again, it reminded him of those fantasies about Solona. In many ways, Eveyln was just like her: a mage from a noble family, raised in the Circle. But in so many other ways, the two women were completely different.

Or maybe it was just him who had changed.

Cullen gripped his cock through his pants, grinding against his hand and imagining it was hers. "Oh, Maker," he groaned. It had been too long since he had been with a woman, too long since he had wanted to be with one, and it was not long before he reached climax, her name unsaid on his lips.

He should not have these thoughts but he could not help himself from yearning for her, no more than he could stop the part of him that yearned for lyrium. Sometimes now when he woke in the middle of the night, he couldn't be sure if it was his past that haunted him, or the memory of her face.


He almost couldn't believe it, when Evelyn stumbled out of the darkness before collapsing in the snow before his feet. He'd had faith that she would try her best but it had been beyond him to hope that she might live through the battle with Corypheus.

As Cullen carried her back to the camp, there was an ache inside of him. And he realized that his feelings for her ran far deeper than attraction, deeper than anything he had ever felt before.


Many times throughout his life, Cullen had wondered if it was all a joke, the whole world playing him for a fool. It all seemed too much for one man to take. He'd seen Uldred turning Lake Calenhad into a blood-soaked nightmare. He'd escaped the insanity of Ferelden's Circle only to get caught up in Meredith's. And now here he was, fighting against what the Templars had made him in an attempt to become the man he wanted to be, the man the Inquisition deserved.

Maker, it was so hard.

There was a vial of lyrium on his desk, just beyond reach. It would be so easy to take it, to forget this mad plan to break his addiction and just surrender. He wanted it, ineeded/i it, so bad that his blood burned at the sight. His hand began to shake, reaching forward – but no. No. He would not succumb, he had to be stronger. He had to put the vial away and stop obsessing over it. He needed to think about something else, anything else.

And so he let himself begin to think about her again.

He closed his eyes and remembered earlier that day – Evelyn sitting on the Inquisitor's throne, listening to the cases brought before her. At first, she had been uncomfortable in the large red chair, passing judgement on those who had wronged the Inquisition, but she'd grown into the both the seat and the role. He felt proud and blessed to have been here to witness that.

He also, of course, felt other things at the sight. As he watched, he couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to bury his face between her legs, tasting her right there in the middle of the hall. Not in front of everyone but afterwards, sometime in the middle of the night when no one was around. Not that this was likely to happen but, by the Maker, it was his fantasy so logic be damned.

He'd start with just his mouth, parting her secret flesh with lips and tongue. At first, he would go slowly, to teasing every ounce of pleasure out of her, until neither of them could bear it anymore. Finally, her fingers would thread through his hair, pressing him in close, and he would greedily take all that he wanted.

The lyrium was all but forgotten now as he loosened his britches and freed his straining cock. He sighed as his hand wrapped around it, relief from everything coursing through his body with each stroke. He let his head loll back as he began to whisper her name like a mantra, his own personal chant of light.

The door opened. "Cullen, do you hav-"

He could only stare in horror at the sight of Evelyn standing there in the flesh, looking at him as he sat there with far too much of his own flesh visible.

Frantically, he tore his gaze away from her looked something to cover himself that wasn't an important report. As he grabbed the map of Ferelden and hastily placed it over his groin, he heard the door close and knew she'd run away in horror and who could blame her?

"Cullen."

He looked up slowly, so surprised to see her still in the room and walking toward him that he forgot to breath for a moment. As she neared the desk, he could see that her face was bright red, though surely not as red as his, but she was here. His hands trembled as they held the map and he wasn't sure if it was from lyrium withdrawal, embarrassment, or something in between.

"Cullen," she said again, "were you – I mean …" She glanced at him then quickly looked away before taking a deep breath. "I heard you saying my name."

"Oh Maker, I am so-"

"No, you don't need to … please don't apologize." She walked around the desk, standing just outside of reach. "Cullen, I care for you. As more than my commander, as more than my friend."

Once again, he found himself breathless. And speechless, as he couldn't think of any words to say as his deepest wish suddenly lay within his grasp.

She finally looked at him again. "Could you think of me as anything more than a colleague?"

"I could," he blurted out, finally remembering how to speak. "I mean, I do … think of you. All the time, but – I didn't think it was possible."

She took another step and reached out, taking hold of a corner of the map. "And yet I'm still here," she whispered before pulling on it. Cullen loosened his grip and let it fall away, feeling bared body and soul, which should have been mortifying but was instead the most liberating sensation he'd ever felt.

Slowly, almost shy, Evelyn reached out and touched him, first just fingertips grazing flesh. A moment later, her hand wrapped around his cock and he almost came right there and then.

His self-control was tested even further with every stroke and every gasp. But now that his dearest dreams were within his reach, he wanted more. He wanted – no, he needed to bury himself inside of her, now.

He stood up fast enough to make his head spin even more and pulled her close, pressing his lips against hers. She moaned against his lips and it was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard. His arms wrapped around her, lifting her up. He meant to set her on the desk but instead she wrapped her legs around him, pressing against him, and he thought of a better idea.

He'd had her pressed up against the wall for only a few, delicious moments when he heard a voice coming near.

"Commander! You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana's report."

Cullen leaned over to the door and locked it. "No more interruptions," he whispered, before kissing her again. And again.

And again.