Winter was terrible in Skyhold. Cullen noted as he pulled the fur around his neck closer to keep warm. He was constantly cold these days, the lyrium withdrawal left his blood cold and his bones ache. The headache was so familiar nowadays, he hardly remembered when his mind was clear. Clear of demons, of shame that plagued him anytime he looked at the Inquisitor. But at least he welcomed the pain. It kept him grounded. And the jar of salves, the cat, the small stool that had a bit of dried blood on it was a treasure to him on his harder night.
Maker, but Inquisitor Trevelyan was beautiful. And his heart had ached for her since the moment he saw her on the mountain. And his infatuation only grew when she kept bouncing excitedly around him on the training ground back in Haven. All the months there, and as if she had brought warmth to his cold body. Then it ran cold again when the attack happened.
She almost died. Because of him. Because of the failure he was, unable to protect her and the others. So many died, because of him. And their screams added to the pile of things that haunted his nights.
And to think she worried for his life, that she was glad he made it out alive. Not whole, but alive. He wasn't worthy of her affection let alone her attention.
He was just a shell left of only broken faith and terrors.
And she was a mage.
He hated himself for thinking of her in that perverse way. Hated himself wanting to taste her lips, her touch, her love.
What he had done back in Kirkwall, what he had said, what he had let happened because he had truly believed back then that they had all deserved it.
He has been a monster, a coward, still was. And once she found out, Cullen would be brand as what he was. She would look at him with disgust. And that, he was worthy of.
Cullen had been avoiding her and it broke his heart every times the Inquisitor looked at him and pleaded him to tell her what was wrong. Cullen had tried his best. He had. But that still didn't stop Elise from bearing sadness and confusion in her eyes each times he saw her in the war room. So Cullen's memories of her every since they came to Skyhold had always been just that. A reminder of what a terrible human being he was.
The cat was practically brutal, and nowadays, he couldn't walk straight without broken out sweat when the clothes rub on his self-inflected wounds.
This, or going back to Lyrium to stop everything. He had thought that. Had almost tried. But thank the stars for all those scouts running to his quarters. They were all Leliana's.
Maybe Cassandra wasn't the only one.
He didn't think anything in Skyhold could get past the eyes of their spymaster.
It brought him a new change of air when the Inquisitor smiled and got all excited preparing Skyhold with Josephine. The decor, dinner, everything had to be perfect and that had the Inquisitor running around all day. They couldn't blame her.
The new Teyrn of Otswick, Viscount of Kirkwall, Marquis de Lacroix came. Impressive titles for a man senior only a few years to Cullen. And the brother Elise hadn't met since she had been sent to the Circle. Another thought that quenched his heart in shame.
Teyrn Trevelyan came with the promise of an army to add to the already stretched thin of the Inquisition. And Cullen had been worried, because according to Leliana's reports, the man was a cold and calculating man. He had already succeeded in seizing Kirkwall in his hand. And even Sebastian had backed out from his promise to attack the city. (Cullen wondered if Aveline was doing okay with the changes. He should write soon.)
But the way Elise had been describing him with awe in her voice had painted him in a completely different light. He was courageous, he was proud, he was kind. Cullen had thought back then, perhaps he was indeed a honorable sort deep down.
But of course, that was just wishful thinking.
"Sister dearest," He had said, voice calm and detached of any emotion. "We haven't met in almost twenty years. What made you think I would gladly give you my army for nothing in return?"
The whole table had been silent then, waiting for the man to wave it off as a joke. Or perhaps that was what the Inquisitor had been wishing. Her companions must have seen it coming.
"Just because we share the same blood of a man?" He had said it, staring straight at Elise's bewildered eyes and Cullen had been furious when her lips quivered as she searched for something, anything to indicate that her half-brother was only joking. He wanted to strangle that arrogant and cruel man for giving Elise that look. The look that he had given her when he said he couldn't return her feelings.
If not for Josephine and Leliana, he might have. Dorian might have as well from the look of it. Probably Sera too.
Cullen's mouth twitched when he spotted the Teyrn quietly sitting where Cullen and Dorian usually had their match of chess. His raven hair was no long being kept in place by careful grooming like in the afternoon anymore. And if Cullen could concentrate past his headache, he would be able to imagine the way those beautiful golden eyes sizing him up and down.
He had planned to turn away and left the man alone, wanting nothing to do with him when Trevelyan lifted his head, golden eyes shone under the moon like a cat. And if not for the ten years of age apart from him and his sister, one would think they were twins.
And there was something in the Teyrn's eyes that made Cullen's foot planted to the ground. And the air was too thick and heavy around him as Trevelyan opened his mouth. "Commander." He greeted, simple and polite, still void of any emotion. His hand still holding the white queen in midair. Cullen realized the man must have been playing chess by himself. With his set.
Sensing the commander's attention on the chess board, Trevelyan put the chest piece in its planned position. A sacrifice. "My apologies, I saw the board lying around and got a bit carried away." He said and moved to rearrange the pieces, and maybe it was because how the match was being played that Cullen protested. Just maybe.
"Please, I-I would like to see how it plays out." And Cullen was impressed. If he was at the other side of the board, he might not have much a chance of winning.
Trevelyan gave him a small smile and gestured to the seat in front of him, "It has been awhile since I had had an audience."
Cullen swallowed and surprised himself when his legs moved on its own accord to the offered seat. Once he was seated, Trevelyan returned his attention to the board and silence fell upon them.
Soon, the distraction from the chess board soothed away his headache and Cullen didn't realize when his hand had moved on its own, dancing around the board with the pieces. And Trevelyan let him.
Watching a man playing chess could tell a lot about him. Trevelyan moved his pieces with surety, never one shown emotion, it was like the man was playing a dangerous game of Wicked Grace. And that was the thing, Trevelyan seemed to have a dark delight in courting danger. His pieces were put in various dangerous positions that could put him in a disadvantage. But they were just decoys, and while his opponent busying themselves with catching those decoys, they fell into his endless traps and pitfalls.
Cullen's tactic were a complete opposite of him. They were carefully planned, straightforward, avoiding any moves that could put him in danger. He valued his pieces and while sacrifies were necessary, it was always last resort for him.
Maybe that was why he had failed. Because he didn't dare to take risks, because he took too much time to think and not act. Maybe if he had been like the Teyrn, maybe if he was there instead of Cullen, Haven wouldn't have fall.
"Stay in the moment, Commander." Trevelyan hadn't even bother to lift his eyes from the board but instead his gloved hand were on Cullen's shaking one, stilling him and pulling him back to reality.
"My apologies, your lordship." Cullen said and Trevelyan nodded, but his hand stayed. And Cullen debated wether or not he should say something about it.
But Cullen had thought, this hand would be perfect for the cat. Strong arm putting strength in it. He would feel the pain for days. He awkwardly pulled out in the end.
Trevelyan didn't say anything but the corner of his lips lifted in amusement and Cullen felt his cheeks heated in the cool air.
Mistakes were made, nothing he could do about that now, Cullen thought as he watched the game ended. Trevelyan used a pawn. And he could picture it, a King died at the sword of a soldier and history shall paint him as another embarrassing failure, retelling his worst hours in short, casual sentence. And all the glory would lay in the hand of his enemy, not at that soldier who just followed orders.
Trevelyan finally looked at him, silently watching his face and Cullen felt breathless under the weight of his gaze.
"Whatever you think I might have done that could save Haven, Commander," Trevelyan started, voice even but the deep and low octave of his voice made Cullen gulped down only to feel uncomfortable at the dryness of his mouth. "You are wrong." And Cullen opened his mouth. He had expected arrogance words, jabbing at his failure. He had expected the man to be cruel and Cullen would be outright insulted and Cullen would endure it because Cullen deserved it. Stupid, pathetic Cullen.
"Should I drop a smite and check if you are a mage or a demon?" Cullen jokingly said what he assumed a normal human being would say and he would like to state that his voice didn't break.
"But you don't know if you can anymore, aren't you?"
"Pardon?" There was it again. The fear of being found out. It happened with Leliana's subtle furrowed brows, or that small ache of eyebrow from the Bull.
Trevelyan rested his back in his chair, his legs crossed and his posture radiated power and control that made Cullen unconsciously straightened his back. "The Trevelyan has close ties with the Chantry. Every young child that is not planned as an heir would be promised to the Order. Meaning, I don't need a spymaster to know you are on withdrawal."
Cullen stiffened, his knuckles white as he held tight onto the armrests. He could already feel cold sweat dampened his tunic, burning his wounds and the headache fading back, making itself known.
When Cullen didn't respond, Trevelyan leaned forward, arranging the chess board again. "We are all in difficult time, Commander," Trevelyan said, so casual he could have been talking about the weather. But Cullen knew better. "The Chantry fails in resolving the conflict between mages and templars, there is a hole in the sky spitting demons, and the Sunburst Throne is still empty." Every pieces were in position except for the defeated king. "All eyes in Thedas are now upon the Inquisition, as you well know. So if I were to provide your army with my troops, that would make me your ally. I would be known to have the support of a powerful, Maker-willing organization." He paused for effect and Cullen swallowed. "Or, I could be branded as heretic. My power would be stripped from me in no time, I would be murdered in my sleep." Trevelyan picked up the white Knight, Cullen's Knight and made a show of examining it and Cullen could manage to breath a bit when Trevelyan's heavy gaze lifted from him.
"Divine Justinia authorized for..." Cullen said, rolling the words on his tongue when Trevelyan gave him a look that said he had already heard this speech. Cullen swallowed, his hand moved for the hilt of his sword, which of course, wasn't there. "We will do good, your lordship. The Inquisition has already successfully stopped Corypheus' plan in taking control of the rebel mages, and the rift is no longer expanding."
"But you lost the Templar in this so-called Corypheus' clutch. That alone, has already put you in bad graces with the Chantry." Trevelyan said.
"With all due respect, your lordship, I don't give a damn about what those clerks think." He gritted his teeth. The withdrawal was making his irritation grow, Cullen knew that. "We are out here, risking our life everyday to save Thedas while they cozy up behind high walls and pretty silk and they think they can judge us? Without us," Elise appeared against before his eyes, staring down Corypheus and his heart clenched, "Without Inquisitor Trevelyan, none of them would even be breathing."
To his surprise however, Trevelyan nodded and pushed himself off the chair. "Thank you, Commander." The man seemed to pause for a moment too long as he arranged his words. "If you were to succeed in your feat, your Inquisition shall have immense power. And should you fail, well, there would be no soil left for us to walk."
"Does that mean..?" Cullen asked, unsure at the man's change of heart.
"Nothing comes without a price, Commander. My aid demands a favor." Trevelyan's sudden fox like grin worried Cullen. "You speak of the Inquisition with such strong faith. It makes me wonder, would you do anything for it?"
Cullen gulped, he knew he was walking in a trap but he couldn't do anything. He was already falling in it. "I will."
For the Inquisition. For Inquisitor Trevelyan.
Cullen could feel waves of anxiety washing over him, wishing to drown him. But he held his ground, stood there like a statue with its eyes glued to the ground.
Leliana's and Josephine's stares were heavy on him. Were they judging him for his choice? Was there pity in their eyes? Or disgust? Cullen knew the latest was impossible but a part of him insisted upon it. Or maybe it was just him being disgusted by himself.
"Cullen..." Josephine was the first to break the silence and Cullen felt like someone just reached their hand down to pull him up from the filthy hole he was bathing himself in.
"Please..." He said, ignoring the shaking edge of his voice. "The Inquisitor, she must not know."
"There must be some other way!" Josephine hurriedly added, her voice wasn't steady either. "I can... I can somehow persuade the Teyrn to-"
"She will not know." Leliana cut her friend off, her voice calm and quiet like it has always been and it brought Cullen a sense of security.
He closed his eyes, thankful for his friends and nodded. "Thank you. I... I will inform the Teyrn personally to go through the details of his troops."
Josephine opened her mouth, wanting to protest but Leliana's hand was on her shoulder, stopping her and guiding her to the heavy wooden door. "Very well. Then we shall leave you to your duties." She said as a goodbye and opened the door, when Josephine was carefully pushed outside, Leliana whispered to the wind. "Come to us whenever you need. Do not shut us out Cullen." Enough so that her words would reach his ears.
He found Trevelyan at the chess board again, busying himself with papers rather than chess pieces this time around.
Cullen's feet suddenly got heavier, like there was a giant rock chained to him, holding him back. Nerves were getting to him again. He had been reminding himself, from sunrise to sunset, that he was not selling himself out, he was performing his duties, filling the empty barracks with more soldiers. Well-trained soldiers, not pilgrims and farmers.
"Your Spymaster has her crows on top of the library, you know that?" Trevelyan said, eyes still on his papers.
Cullen jumped at the suddenness of Trevelyan's words. Steeling himself, the Commander resumed his pace, stopped when he was in front of the Teyrn. "We didn't have much choice on the matter. She wasn't really up for constructive criticism. I can arrange..."
Trevelyan nodded his head, and Cullen could catch that small lift of his lips. "It's fine. I'm not exactly welcomed amongst your friends. Staying in your quarters would be enough."
Cullen widened his eyes in surprise and lifted his head to stare directly into those golden orbs. But then he realized something. The Teyrn wanted to be in his quarters, of course. Cullen swallowed hard. But he should be thankful, if it were to be him moving to Trevelyan's, eyes would be on him, and Maker knew how fast gossips spread around here.
"Right..." Cullen managed, suddenly aware of how dry his throat had become. "I'll... I'll arrange for your staying at my quarters."
Trevelyan lifted his eyebrow in amusement for a brief second, "Thank you, Commander." He nodded, stood up and picked the reports sprawled over the table. "I will have my personal belongings move to your quarters tomorrow morning. For now, I will make do with what you have."
The small trip to his tower wasn't pleasant for Cullen, the fear of someone seeing them, of pointing fingers and whispered words. But luckily aside from the patrolling guards focusing on their duties, no one took a notice at him.
Standing in front of his door, a sense of alacrity rose in his chest, bumping his heart to full speed that he felt dizzy when he pushed the door. It gave a creak and the cold, dark room greeted them. So quiet aside from the wind howling, Trevelyan's slow and calm breath behind him seemed so clear, so close.
"You have a hole in your bedroom, you know that?" Trevelyan commented, amusement dripped from his voice as he made a round in the closed quarters. He breathed in deep as he took off his royal blue coat, laying them on the bed. Cullen swallowed as he realized the intimacy of the act. "Maybe that is why I can sense little of the lyrium in here?" Trevelyan turned around, watching the Commander who stood by the leg of the bed, sweating and flushing.
Cullen lifted his head, realized that Trevelyan was waiting for a response, a sense of deja vu washed over him as he cleared his throat. "I... you know why."
Yes, Trevelyan knew why. How easy the man broke out in sweat, how often the line between his eyebrows creased in, how his hands couldn't seem to stop shaking. "Come here." Trevelyan beckoned and Cullen followed, allowing the moonlight to shone on his face. Exposing him to the Teyrn. "Kiss me."
Cullen abruptly lifted his head and immediately regretted it. Headache pushed in, and dizziness swayed him on his feet. But strong arm wrapped around his waist, hoisting him up. Cullen could smell the lyrium from afar and it had made him itch. But this close to that authoritative breath, it was toxic. Like a leash reminding him that he could never get out, that the damages were already done. But the warmth, something he hadn't felt for so long. A body closed to him, a breath running down his face, filling his nostrils, golden eyes so bright it outshone the moon. Henry Trevelyan was beautiful. Not in the innocent, pure way Elise was, but in a raw and wild way. A hypnotize way. Cullen was being hypnotized.
He needed the cat.
"Kiss me, Cullen." Strong, deep baritone broke out again, the sound of his name ringing in the quiet night sending shivers down his spine. And Cullen had already closing in before he knew it. Warm lips against his cold one, tasting delicious with some expensive Orlesian wine, intoxicating with a distant taste of lyrium that made Cullen hungrily lapped against it.
Trevelyan chuckled at Cullen's clumsy kissing, arms pulling him closer, he took the control, driving his tongue inside, licking every corners, tasting the sweet surprised gasp that Cullen let out.
Cullen reached up, grabbing at Trevelyan's forearms, feeling his strength, his breath being sucked out. And his mind felt like it was melting, headache temporarily forgotten, coldness dissipated.
Only the wanton need for warmth. And pain. Maybe if Trevelyan was pleased enough, he could ask for it. Ask for the man to take the cat and punish him.
When they broke apart, pulling a shining silver string indicated the intimate act they just committed, Cullen felt himself unable to stand on his feet. But Trevelyan's arms were still around him, still holding him close. It was nothing like what he had imagined a kiss would be. And his breath couldn't even seem to calm down, he felt like he was hyperventilating.
Trevelyan leaned in close, lips on his ear lobe and Cullen shivered, his hands unconsciously clung harder onto the man strong arms. Maker's breath, it would be perfect.
"Where did you keep it?" Whispered words breathed in his ear. Cullen was confused for a moment there, turning his head slightly to look at the man. "I can see dried blood here, Cullen."
Cullen froze up, his knees trembling as he looked at Trevelyan with horror. Then he realized they were so close to the bed, where straight line of blood decorated the sheet where the blanket had slipped off, menacingly glaring at him. He had forgotten that some nights he went to sleep without treating the wounds.
Trevelyan must have caught a glimpse of it when he threw his coat on the bed, making the blanket shifted.
"Tell me, Cullen." He said again, kisses pressed to the side of his face. "Where do you keep the cat?"
Cullen swallowed hard, "Un-under the bed." His voice was shaking, forming words seemed to be a hard task at the moment. No one had discovered this side of him yet. Not Leliana, not Bull, not Cassandra. Just Samson.
Cullen remembered when he first came to Kirkwall. So shaken up and scared. He had known then he was beyond repair. Like a broken vase, too many pieces to glued it back together.
And then Samson had introduced him to it, guided him through the process of punishing himself. How to swing it so it could hurt the most, where to hit so it would hurt for days.
When Samson was discharged, it was one of the hardest time for Cullen. There was no one there to punish him, to monitor him. And the constant fear that Samson would come back, using that secret to get a hold of him. Or that one day he would walk in the barrack and the recruits would be laughing at the desperate, broken Knight-captain who begged other to hit him harder.
But Samson didn't. And when he had been recruited back, Cullen felt like he had had a friend who he could confide in. Then red lyrium happened.
Cullen broke out of his initial shock when the cold hit him as Trevelyan moved away. "Show me your wounds." Tension coiled through him at the command. He nodded slowly than began to peel away layer by layer. Trevelyan's gaze never left him and Cullen felt embarrassment burn through him, he must be shaking so bad now that pulling away the strings on his shirt took great effort.
He heard a subtle suck of breath when he showed Trevelyan his tattered back. Cool wind breeze through combined with the knowledge of Trevelyan's focus on the wounds made him broke out in cold sweat.
No one had seen it, aside from Samson. Cullen had made sure of it. Even bathing in the middle of the cold night when everybody else had gone to sleep and thanks the Maker that he didn't catch a pneumonia.
"Maker's breath." Cullen felt bitterness rise in his chest. He squared his shoulder, salvaged what was left of his dignity as he waited for the disgust on Trevelyan's face, for a thrown of his clothes at him, for Trevelyan to demand him hide away his ugly body. But none of them ever came. Cullen almost jumped when he felt warmth lips pressed on his wounded back, trailing up his spine until they stopped at his nape. "You are beautiful."
"Wh-what?" Cullen couldn't believe in his ears, he tried to turn back but Trevelyan already held him tight in his arms. "Your Lordship?" It felt weird saying that when they were this intimate. When his skin were being caress by calloused palms.
"Don't act like that." He heard Trevelyan whispered behind him, his voice small and desperate. "Don't act like you don't even know me. It hurts." The words went smaller and smaller, until it was only a ghost against his skin. "It hurts, Cullen."