Chocolate and Valentines
by R2s Muse
Disclaimer: The Dragon Age setting and its characters belong to Bioware. I'm just borrowing!
A/N: This was written for the 2016 Valentine's Day prompt on the BSN Cullen Thread. It's part of my Chocolate and Sex series, following Chocolate, Sex, and Roses. Thank you to my beta, meanie, for reading this for me while on death's doorstep.
The prompt:
"Did you see it yet?" Sera asked Cullen, biting her lip.
"See what?" he responded suspiciously.
She grinned. "You should head to the tavern." She sauntered away, but over her shoulder, added, "I didn't realize it was Valentine's Day."
"Modern day Thedosians celebrate the Feast of St. Valentine often without knowing its deeper historical roots in Tevinter. While today it consists of ostentatious demonstrations of affection between lovers, the feast commemorates Valentine Amatius, a priest known to help slaves escape from Tevinter. His tireless efforts to end slavery were overshadowed by romanticized tales of shepherding rogue lovers from the strictures of Tevinter society. When he later escaped south himself and joined the Orlesian chantry, the bards of Val Royeaux immediately popularized his tale. Now he is considered the patron saint of lovers, and once a year, his feastday is recognized in Orlais, Ferelden, and parts of the Free Marches with the exchange of too-expensive gifts and chocolate. The more lavish celebrations wane, but the chocolate remains."
- Brother Genetivi, Holidays, Celebrations and Ritual Bloodlettings in Modern Thedas
Cullen hated being predictable. He tried to ignore Sera's pointed suggestion that he go to the tavern and the rather obvious signs that she was about pull some new prank on him, but his curiosity finally got the better of him. As he yanked open the door to the Herald's Rest, he was still cursing himself for his gullibility, even if Sera's mention of Valentine's Day suggested that the prank might have something to do with Agnes.
His fledgling relationship with the Inquisitor was something he was still navigating very carefully. After months of wordless tension and coy interchanges around the War Table, their working relationship had taken a decided turn toward the torrid with that incident involving Varric's story and the molten chocolate. Fondue, he remembered it was called, smiling to himself at the reminder. After that night, their interactions had remained warm—very warm—but tentative, like neither of them was sure what the next steps were.
With Valentine's Day approaching, he had known he should do something for her, but what was an utter mystery. Fereldans still took the feastday far too seriously for his tastes, and the extravagant, often vulgar, gift giving expected from lovers was incommensurate with the deep regard he felt for Agnes. His best and only idea felt mundane, especially since he had already gifted Agnes with the Fereldan wild roses that Cook grew in her vegetable garden for him.
Sera meddling with anything that had to do with him, Agnes, Valentine's Day, or any combination thereof could only spell disaster.
He took a deep breath as he stepped into the tavern's taproom. Upon first inspection, everything appeared like normal. The bard Maryden played a soothing song about lost love. Drunken patrons chatted merrily at Cabot, the bartender, who ignored them with his usual charismatic charm. The Iron Bull held court with his Chargers.
Cullen did a sweep around the perimeter of the room, dodging between patrons who would notice belatedly that he was the Commander and step out of the way. He passed near the bar but, seeing nothing suspicious, started toward the stairs, when Iron Bull suddenly appeared in his path.
"Cullen! What brings you here?" The mercenary-sometimes-spy smiled affably.
"Nothing much. Sera suggested I come by. For some purpose," Cullen said sourly.
Iron Bull chucked him in the shoulder, almost making Cullen stagger. "Ah, she's always trying to get you to be more sociable, huh? I heard Boss was looking for you, though. I think she was headed to your office."
"The Inquisitor? She was here?"
"No. No. I said she's headed to your office," Bull said quickly.
"I see," Cullen said, scanning the room again. As his gaze passed by Cabot, the bartender's arm shot up, wordlessly pointing upstairs. Cullen frowned. "I see," he repeated, brushing past Iron Bull.
"Cullen?" Iron Bull called after him, but Cullen continued up the stairs.
The second floor was mostly deserted except for Sutherland and his gang sitting at their usual table, drinking and swapping tales.
Cullen circled the landing, slowing as he approached Sera's chaotic bolt hole in the corner. Her tumble of books and collected oddities had grown since the last time he had been compelled to visit her. He braced himself at her door, waiting for . . . something. But nothing happened, and the elven jokester was nowhere to be seen.
After a few minutes, he circled back to the stairs on his way to the third floor, when Sutherland jumped to his feet.
"Commander? Is there something we can do for you?" Sutherland blurted somewhat breathlessly.
Cullen only stared at Sutherland, who swallowed violently under the scrutiny and started to fidget. Cullen grunted and moved to bypass the man, but Sutherland stepped in his way again.
"But ser—"
"As you were, soldier," Cullen growled, and stormed ahead to the stairs, forcing Sutherland to quickly scramble out of his way.
The third floor had remained a deserted shamble since the Inquisition had moved to Skyhold. Piles of construction materials gathered dust and a stray leaf or two from the poorly sealed roof of the tavern. One additional guest room had been under construction for months in an attempt to expand the tavern to serve the growing influx of visitors they received at the fortress. Curiously, the door to the room stood slightly ajar and a splash of light spilled out from it.
Cullen approached the door slowly, senses heightened for anything Sera might throw at him, literally, given that time she had pelted him with cookies from the roof. He heard someone rifling around inside, but as he reached out to push the door open, it opened of its own accord and suddenly he was face to face with a wide-eyed Agnes.
"Oh, Cullen!" Her cheeks flamed bright red and she immediately fumbled behind her and slammed the door shut at her back. "Um. What are you doing here?"
He gave an awkward huff of laughter. "I'm starting to wonder that myself. What are you doing here?"
She looked around, avoiding his attempt to catch her eye. Wisps of hair had escaped the untidy bun on top of her head and she had a smudge of something silver on her cheek that glittered. "Nothing. I, um, Cabot had mentioned th-that his guest room might be ready for visitors. I thought I'd make sure it didn't embarrass us. In front of anyone, um, important. You know." She cleared her throat self-consciously.
"Oh? Do you need a second set of eyes?" he asked while reaching past her for the door handle. She immediately sidestepped and his hand bumped into her hip instead. He snatched it back and his pulse sped up. They weren't quite at the casual displays of affection stage. He didn't think.
"No. No, actually, I was just leaving. As I'm sure you were, as well. So why don't we both go. Together." Her stammering was rather adorable, but the more she tried to fob him off, the more curious he became. Whatever she was helping Sera plan in that room, now he was determined to find out what it was before he fell for it.
Taking another tack, he leaned a hand on the door beside her head and said nothing for so long that finally she couldn't help but glance up at him. Her eyes softened helplessly and a small wrinkle formed between her brows. She knew she was caught. "Sera sent me here," he said, feeling clever. "I wonder why."
Her eyes flashed. "That little prat," she said. "She knows I'm not ready yet."
He leaned in closer, still holding her gaze. "Ready for what?" he murmured.
As she searched for a response, he slipped his hand to the handle and opened the door. She fell backwards into the room with a soft cry and he followed, looking around with widened eyes, dumbfounded.
The guest room was mostly finished now, and, in contrast to his own room, the hole in the roof had been finished as a proper skylight through which the afternoon sun streamed. Sunlight dappled a shiny red satin coverlet across the giant four-poster bed against one wall. Across the floor was an incomplete path of rose petals and beside it, an untidy pile of half-denuded roses. On the one table near the door was a pile of sparkly silver stars, string, and other odds and ends, along with a small cage holding three white doves, the purpose of which was not readily apparent.
"You weren't supposed to see it yet," she said in an anguished voice.
He realized that his mouth had fallen open in astonishment, and he closed it with a snap. "This is . . ." he started, uncertain what to say.
"Dorian told me that this is how they celebrate Valentine's Day in Ferelden. He said that the animals were particularly important for some reason. I don't know, I've never done this before." Agnes wrung her hands, and averted her face, which had turned an even darker shade of red.
He gave himself a shake, chagrined now that he had ruined her surprise. He gathered her unresisting form in his arms, but she still wouldn't look at him. "It's perfect," he murmured.
"It's not! It's not finished. I'm not dressed yet." She put a self-conscious hand to her hair. "You weren't supposed to see it yet."
"It's perfect," he asserted again. He leaned in closer. "No one has ever done something like this for me before. No one has ever . . ." he paused and traced a fingertip along the smudge of glitter on her cheek and down to her upper lip, which glistened from her exertions. "No one has ever gone to this much effort before. Just for me." He cupped the side of her face and ran his thumb over her cheek. "Thank you."
He kissed her gently but earnestly, and she finally relaxed against him. He allowed himself to linger, savoring the soft touch of her lips for a moment before sighing. "I wish I had a surprise as special for you."
She chuckled. "You showing up just now was already quite the surprise."
"I'm sorry," he said, grimacing. "I should know by now not to fall for Sera's manipulations." He looked away and for the first time noticed a familiar heavy ceramic bowl sitting on the table near the window. "Maker's breath, is that what I think it is?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly.
She followed his gaze and then smirked wickedly. "I borrowed it from Dagna. The rest," she said, waving at the decorations and birds, "I can take or leave, personally. Especially the nasty wildlife. But the chocolate part of the tradition I think I like."
"I must concur, Inquisitor." He tightened his arms around her waist. "Especially as it becomes part of our tradition."
"Our tradition. I like the sound of that." Her lips curled into a foolish smile, which he knew must be the mirror of his own. Her eyes lit up playfully. "So. Why don't you pretend like you haven't seen any of this, and meet me back here at the first dinner bell?"
He regretfully let her go and then nodded curtly. "Inquisitor," he drawled, drawing on another tradition from their long courtship and making her practically glow.
He turned to leave but she grabbed his arm, pulling him back into a passionate kiss that made his knees go weak. With her arms still wrapped tightly around his neck, she murmured, "Happy Valentine's Day, Cullen."
A few minutes later, Cullen was strolling across the first-floor taproom again toward the exit, unable to stop grinning.
"Um, Cullen."
Cullen turned to see Iron Bull motioning at his own cheek. "You've got some . . . glitter . . ." the mercenary said.
Fin