a love story, in five parts
i.
Cullen was a boy once. He had experienced young love before. That girl broke his heart. What a waste. He'd had the occasionally relationship after that. His career always took head. He was Templar first, lover second. That was on a good day. He'd never been one to bed a loose woman from the tavern. He was too much of a hopeless romantic. Some of his mates would mock him for it– mostly in a playful manner. He went where his duties took him. Now they'd taken him to Haven. There was a hole in heavens and he was called to aide in the mending of it.
He came to an agreement with Cassandra. He would stop taking lyrium. He did. But he kept a stash. Just in case - he reasoned - the withdrawals got too bad. Too bad there weren't sobriety chips for lyrium. Not that he would've cared.
ii.
The first time Cullen saw her, he was taken aback. She was too small to be a warrior. Certainly not a Mage. Sometimes he wondered what would've happened if she had been. She was an elf, a ghastly pale one. In the sunlight her flesh was nearly translucent. You could follow her trails of purple and blue veins if you focused hard enough. Even in wrist bindings she was beautiful, though she curled into herself, as if to keep away from the gaze of onlookers. He wondered if he would ever be the reason she was tied up again. He blushed at that though. The elf girl makes brief eye contact with him, gives him a smug grin. The blush spreads.
iii.
She's the Inquisitor now. More like queen of a castle. Cullen keeps that thought to himself. He's just settled into his quarters. Quietly, he rests a moment on his freshly made bed. He's been clean for months now, the withdrawals have only gotten worse. He rests his head in hands, lost in thought. Boots tap gently against the wooden floor. She leans up against his large desk and crosses her arms. He begins to shake, face still buried in his palms. The Inquisitor lazily climbs the ladder rung by rung up to the alcove that he and his bed reside. It's late in the evening; the sun shines warm across bed, giving him a soft glow. She shakes him slightly before stepping back to a more formal distance. He forcefully pulls himself back to reality but he still shakes subtly.
"Step into the sunlight..." He murmurs, nearly I audibly. He stands, nearly closing the gap between them entirely. His thumb traces a vein along her cheek. Even after all this time fighting battle after battle in the sun, she is still as pale as the moon. Cullen wonders if it's an elf thing. He pulls her into a sudden and tight hug. They stand like that for what feels like ages.
iv.
Even during all the chaos Cullen keeps his routine. The Inquisitor becomes part of it. When the evening sun shines through the window and onto his bed again once a day, she's there. She stretches out like a cat. Her untucked blouse rises up slightly. It exposes a creamy midriff. He rests on edge of the bed. Some days they talk. Many she prefers it when he reads to her. She likes to hold his hand when he does. He holds her hand when he needs it, too. Some days the withdrawals are so bad shakes rack his body uncontrollably and he sobs in pain. She's there for him. Even in his moments of weakness. He questions her about it one day. Cullen says she deserves a better person in her life. They argue, a fight so bad she slams his door and refuses to talk to him for hours. Finally she is coaxed out of her locked bedroom by his reading outside her door.
v.
Insecurity nags away at Cullen. Even if he knows that the Inquisitor is in love with him a part always knows that her heart belongs in the forest. He knows that her visits with her clan are few and far between now. He knows she will cry her face raw when a death happens to someone she once knew. He knows she clings to his built warm body the same way he clings to her small one. Sometimes they spend time in her quarters. It isn't as warm and the sun doesn't quite hit her bed. It's much more lavish than his room. Her bed is much larger however, and on the bad days they will sleep together, legs, hands, fingers, lips entwined.