A/N: Hello and welcome to my story! This is a sequel to The Happiness of Flowers, though I have endeavored to make it possible to read this one without having read the first, so don't be afraid. This is an unusual pairing, but one that has really taken over my mind, and hopefully it will do the same for you! I plan to update this three times a week, just as before. As always, thanks to everyone who reads anything I write, and I must especially thank KC Pendragon for giving me the idea to write a sequel at all. A writer is nothing without her audience, and you are all wonderful!
"Wake up."
Cullen rolled over and cracked a baleful eye at his bedmate. "It can't possibly be morning so soon," he said. His voice split and wavered as he spoke, and he cleared his throat before diving back under the comfort of the pillows. "It was only just dusk."
"I assure you that the usual number of hours have passed," said Cassandra with far too much amusement for his liking. They'd woken up together for over half a year, but he'd never learned her skill at mornings. "You snored your way through them most enthusiastically."
"I don't snore."
"Of course."
Cullen growled. Cassandra agreeing with him was almost worse than the alternative. She made assent sound so dubious. "Wives are supposed to find their husbands wonderful and perfect, not point out their flaws before the sun crests the horizon," he said. He knew his voice was muffled, but he couldn't summon up the energy to be more distinct.
She understood anyway. "Very well. I will only seek your flaws well after daybreak," she said, and the smile in her voice was still there.
He felt the bed shift as she rolled away. The familiar sounds of her morning ritual drifted to him in bits and pieces. The opening and closing of the small door that led to a washroom he'd asked them to build. The chests creaking as she selected her clothing. The thump of shoes on the floorboards when she dropped them. He reluctantly smiled into the bedsheets at the last. Cassandra did that on purpose, to wake him up again without risking another grumpy reply.
Cullen waited for the next stage, the buckling of her armor, but there was only silence. He gave in to curiosity and unearthed his head from the darkness of the pillows to the slightly lesser darkness of the room. He'd thatched the roof so it was whole and, more importantly, warm, but the burgeoning light shone through the remaining window in the ceiling with just enough illumination for seeing. She was lacing her boots, leather instead of metal, and her clothes were lightweight. Old clothes, suited for hard work, but not her usual gear.
At his quizzical look, she answered the unspoken question. "I will lead the newest company on their run of the battlements this morning. No mail yet for them."
"That doesn't usually stop you."
"Leliana tells me that it makes the recruits feel inadequate."
"I know how they feel," he muttered, but he grinned.
She glared at him. "It's vexing. I will not feel that I've properly trained, but I do not wish to dishearten the Inquisition's forces."
He bit back another teasing remark. Cassandra cared for the Inquisition more than anything but him, and Cullen admitted to himself that some days even that was a near thing. It had been her creation, hers and Leliana's. Aside from choosing him, a scarred and haunted Templar, to command its forces, she'd never done anything to jeopardize it. It would be cruel to make too much light of something that was so serious to her. The Inquisition was her child, one that had finally brought peace to the world.
Speaking of children. He propped himself up on his elbow. "I had a nice dream last night. If you need to tire yourself out to make your run challenging, I'd be happy to show you the highlights before you go," he said. The sheet covering him slid down in a way he hoped was enticing.
Her expression was still solemn, but the corners of her mouth tugged upward very slightly. "How altruistic of you," she said.
"I like to do my part," he said. "Besides, I'm led to understand that frequent sex is the key to having a child. I'm only following the laws of nature."
Instead of the usual softening of her eyes at the reminder, her face went blank. She bent down to fiddle with her boots, then straightened with a cough. "Actually, I am taking the herbs again. To prevent pregnancy," she said.
"You're what?" All traces of humor left him as he sat up. He tried to catch her gaze, which was currently located somewhere above his head. "Since when?"
"Yesterday."
"And you just decided that. Without talking to me?" He balled the sheet up into his fist. "I thought you wanted children," he said. With him.
At that she looked at him again sharply. The daylight was a warming orange halo above her. "Of course I do. But this may not be the best time for it," she said. Guilt flashed across her face almost too quickly to see. "And you know that I've always wished us to be known to be married before it occurs."
Cullen sighed. His foolish romantic notions were nothing but trouble. He'd asked her to marry him on impulse when they were travelling on Inquisition business, alone and happy. Back then he'd only just realized what he'd been gifted in her, a friend and lover he almost hadn't seen, and the terror of that knowledge drove him to the question. He'd needed her, and she'd given herself, and they'd had a small ceremony in a corner of Orlais with a willing, silent, Chantry conspirator.
That had been perfect. But, like all of his romantic gestures, it had rippled out into consequences he'd never intended. This one had the effect of making their marriage a secret, to avoid hurting the feelings of the family and friends they'd so been so fortunate to find and so heartless to exclude. It would disappoint the Inquisitor particularly. Ellana Lavellan had been a champion of their love before he'd known he held any, and she would be devastated to learn what they'd done.
But all of that would soon be over. "The surprise wedding Ellana's planning for us must be soon. My family will only be in Skyhold for another few months. She'll want them to attend," he said. His sisters, Mia and Alice, as well as Mia's husband and children, had all joined them for the winter. So far they'd been joy and terror in equal measures. "Also, that was still true the day before yesterday. What changed?"
He tried to keep his voice even, but he could hear the note of frustration in it. He loved Cassandra more than he'd ever thought possible to love another person, but her tendency to cut him out of the decision-making process at her whim chafed. It wasn't that she made poor choices, but he hated feeling like a spectator to her life when she was the only thing that had kept him together for so long.
She must have heard it as well, and she quickly circled around the bed to grip his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I wanted to talk to you about it, but you were with your captains all day and the decisions had to be made quickly," she said.
He was just opening his mouth to demand to know exactly what other decisions had been made when a cough came from the ladder down to his office. Cassandra whirled around, her hand dropping to her non-existent sword, while Cullen just tried to make sure he was decently covered. Cole's face looked back at them from underneath his wide-brimmed hat.
"Cole, we talked about picking the locks to my office," said Cullen.
"Only in emergencies," said the spirit shaped into a boy. He faded in and out of Cullen's vision, no matter how hard he tried to hold onto the memory that the boy was there, a sure sign that the Cole was embarrassed. "The Iron Bull said this was an emergency. He said if Cassandra is late, she will lose face. I don't want her face to be lost. It's a nice face."
Cassandra swore to herself. "He's right. I cannot be seen to be slack," she said. "Forgive me." Only he knew her well enough to hear the question, and the uncertainty, under the command.
"Go," he said. "But promise me we'll talk later."
"I do," she said quietly, and he nodded in acknowledgment. They didn't wear rings, but they carried those words with them always. "I love you," she added.
"I love you, too," he said. He didn't trust himself to say more.
She paused at the top of the ladder. "Do you wish to come on the run? It may be good for you. You haven't had a proper work out in some time," she said.
He winced and looked down at himself. His wife was blunt and correct, as usual. He could see the softening of his body as he spent more and more time behind a desk. Was this part of her decision? Less strength in him? Less appeal to her? He didn't know. "I wouldn't want to slow you down," he said, striving for humor but ending somewhere around bitterness.
Cassandra flushed slightly and turned away. Cole shifted to the side as she slid gracefully down the ladder. The door opened and closed, and Cullen stared at his hands angrily. He'd known there was a reason he hated mornings. They were nothing but trouble. The remnants of his all-too-real dream surfaced, and he screwed his eyes shut against them. He'd seen a family. Cassandra and a child that was theirs. Something even greater than the perfection that she already was. Something they'd both wanted.
Or so he'd thought.
"She likes it when you snore," said Cole from the hole in his floor. "Cassandra doesn't like secrets, but she likes that one. She's the only one who knows your music."
He didn't snore, he was certain, but it hardly mattered. "Thank you, Cole. Please tell anyone waiting downstairs that I'll be down in twenty minutes."
There were people in his office when he descended into the new day, but they weren't who he expected. Two blonde heads were just visible behind his desk, and he heard muffled giggles and shushing noises as he crossed the stone floor on quiet feet. When he was a handspan away, he cleared his throat. "Ladies."
The two heads crashed together with an audible thunk. He rubbed a hand over his mouth at their cries of dismay, but he made sure his face was stern and forbidding when they rose. It didn't seem to matter. Despite what surely must be a blooming headache for them both, green and blue eyes still sparkled at him with the glint of trouble.
"Good morning, Cullen," said Alice. His younger sister wore the easy smile that meant she was about to lie through her teeth, and he groaned inwardly. He loved her, truly, but he was in no mood to play the game of who-knows-what about weddings this morning. It was becoming difficult to track what he was and wasn't supposed to know. With luck, they were only setting up some embarrassing prank that would be over quickly.
He ran the last thought back through his mind and shook his head in resignation. That's what passed for luck, with them.
"Yeah, morning. Your nephew's a shite lookout," said Sera. Her tone was companionable, and her face revealed nothing at all.
"Peter?" he asked incredulously. His oldest nephew was not only serious and disinclined to pranks, but he was angling for a place in the Inquisition when he came of age. He'd never risk his position to help his aunt cause trouble. Light dawned. "Ah. Alistair. Yes, the morning pastries should have just finished baking a few minutes ago. If you paid more attention in my tactical lessons, you would have planned around that eventuality."
"Tactics is just a way of getting yourself killed on a schedule," said Sera. "I like random. If even I don't know where I'm going to be, how can the other assholes?"
"That explains the bewildered tone of the field reports I've been getting from the soldiers on your missions," he said. He circled around the back of the desk, and they mirrored him with shuffling steps. "So, what are you doing here?"
Alice gave him a look even sweeter than the baking pastries. "We just wanted to be the first to say good morning to you," she said. "After Cassandra, of course. Is she here?"
He ignored the question as he started poking around his desk. The chair seemed to bear his weight when he pressed on it, and the desk was stable and free of any sticky substances. Sera crossed her arms when he looked back at them. "Plus you get the best breakfasts, thanks to Her Glowiness," she said.
As if on cue the door opened, and a kitchen boy came in with a tray. He stopped short when the two women spun to look at him. Cullen couldn't see their expressions, but by the look of the boy's, they were predatory. "Should I bring more, Commander?" he asked.
"No, thank you," said Cullen. "I'm not hungry. I'm sure this will be adequate for the ladies."
The boy deposited the tray on the nearby low table with more haste than even a mage's spell granted, and he was already bowing out of the room before Sera could protest. The women settled on the couch, grumbling, while Cullen bent down to examine the desk's drawers. He frowned. There was nothing wrong with them that he could see. What in Thedas had they been doing?
"Hey, Cullen," said Alice, and he straightened quickly. He was just fast enough to see something flying at his head, and he grabbed it out of the air out of sheer instinct. He stared down at his hand. An apple rested in his closed fist, and applause came from the couch.
"Not bad for an old-timer," said his sister. He glared at her, and she raised her eyebrows. "Even grumpier than usual this morning. Did you and Cassandra have a fight?"
"We don't fight," he said. "And I said I'm not hungry."
Sera laughed. "Cully-Wully, your doors aren't that thick. We can tell when you're fighting and when you're fucking," she said. Alice nodded sagely, and Cullen reddened. Sera took a huge chunk out of a muffin. "Lucky for you it's usually the fucking," she said around her mouthful.
"Eat the apple," added Alice. "Unless you want to lie to her when she asks if you ate breakfast. Besides, you need it. You look awful."
"Thank you so much," he said. He bit a small bite from the apple and set it on his desk as he took his seat. If he asked them to leave, they'd only stay longer. Best to ignore them until they got bored. Mostly ignore them. "You sound more like Mia every day."
Comparing fun-loving Alice to their serious, motherly older sister was usually a guaranteed irritant. But for the second time that morning he failed to get his expected reaction, as Alice only giggled behind her hand. She whispered furiously to Sera, who was chewing and grinning widely. He sighed and turned his attention to the papers some unobtrusive messenger had dropped off for him after Cole's break-in. Bandit activity in the Arbor Wilds had their scouts concerned, and Leliana's people didn't spook easily. He'd bring it up with her later.
After a few minutes of sporadic laughter from the corner, Sera suddenly spoke again. "So I've been thinking about tactics. Maybe they're not so bad. You have a book about them, right? Fifty Fighting Formations?"
He stared at her, flummoxed. She shook her head in a quick little jerk that set her hair swaying. "Sometimes you're so boring even I can't tune you out," she said defensively. "Gotta see how bad it's going to get. Anyway, can I borrow it?"
"Of course," he said slowly, still looking for the game. He pushed back from the desk and made to stand. "Let me just grab it for -"
He stopped. Instead of standing in a smooth motion, the chair came with him, and he found himself leaning over his desk with a wooden chair glued to his backside. The laughter was no longer muffled, exploding into a new chorus of merriment. He couldn't see them from his new position, but he heard, "Quick! Run!"
Cullen sat back down just in time to see the two women dashing toward the door with their pockets full of his breakfast, giggling madly. Dorian stood in it unnoticed, but he jumped out of their way quickly. His shoulders shook, even as he gave Cullen a pitying look.
He ignored the mage. "Sera! Alice! Get back here!" He struggled against the glue that trapped him to the chair, stopping only at a small ripping noise from his trousers. The way this morning was going, he'd end up on the battlements in only his smallclothes.
"As delightfully authoritative as you can be, I think they hold the advantage here," said Dorian. The Tevinter man summoned his noble demeanor again, with only the barest hint of laughter in his voice to betray him. "This feels remarkably like a dream I've had, but I must ask. Commander, would you like me to help you out of those pants?"
In the end the pants were a total loss. Dorian cut Cullen out of them carefully, with a show of gallant modesty that was somehow more embarrassing than outright leering. When Cullen climbed back to his room to retrieve a new pair and toss the remnants of the old into the bandage pile, the mage's voice called up after him, "This is how you know it was a prank by Sera. She's the only one who would be foolish enough to plan something that got you out of your pants alone. Everyone else knows the shirt should be the first thing to go."
It was so like something Cassandra would say that Cullen chuckled against his will. He looked down at himself, and his smile vanished. "Dorian," he said as he descended again, "do you think I'm out of shape?"
Dorian gave him a speculative look. "Unless you plan to strip all the way down it will be difficult to make a true assessment," he said. When Cullen stopped at the bottom of the ladder and stared at him, the mage sighed. "From what I'm able to tell, your musculature remains quite prominent. Why do you ask? Planning to lead the vanguard against the next enemy we cultivate?"
Cullen snorted. "Hardly," he said. He leaned against the rungs behind him. "What brings you here so early? I thought for sure you'd be missing until dinner after your trip."
To his surprise, Dorian accepted the change in subject easily. "It's true that the Imperium is draining, but I promised our dear Ambassador Montilyet I would meet with her this morning, so I am somehow awake against all my better instincts. The Inquisition must have finally instilled me with its legendary discipline," he said. He struck a ludicrous military pose, the straps and silks of his clothing somehow multiplied from the usual finery, and Cullen smiled wryly. Dorian grinned in return. "Well, there's always the dream. And truthfully, a future Archon can't be too inflexible, can he?"
"So things went well in Tevinter?" asked Cullen.
Dorian shrugged. "Well enough. I must thank you for quelling the Venatori so very thoroughly. My countrymen are practically foaming at the mouth for a man with enough political pull to call your disciplined soldiers off," he said. "But you'll find out more soon. I'm here to fetch you to the War Table. Inquisitor's orders."
"At this hour? I hope nothing's fallen to pieces," said Cullen. He headed for the door, mind already turning over the possibilities.
"No more than usual," said Dorian, but he made no move to follow.
Cullen turned back and quirked an eyebrow at him. "I thought you were here to fetch me."
"Yes, well, I think you know the way from here," said Dorian. He smoothed a finger over his mustache. "And I'd heard tell that a new company of Fereldans are expected to arrive at Skyhold today. A gift from their generous sovereigns. Someone should be here to welcome them in your absence, don't you think?"
