Chapter 2

Cullen sat at his desk sulking. He drummed his fingers on the wood. His tapped his foot impatiently. It was dark. The day's work was done. The evening meal had come and was left largely untouched at the corner of his desk. Not so for the bottle of whiskey in front of him. He rarely drank. He blamed her.

Evelyn should have appeared by now. She always made her way to his office at the end of a day and lingered; the two eventually finding themselves tangled together in his bed upstairs until morning. Why she seemed content to bed down with him here each night instead of insisting he join her in her quarters was beyond him. If she asked, he would go. Maker knew, when she was within the walls of Skyhold, he'd be damned before they slept alone. They spent enough nights apart as it was. But they both seemed content to sleep here. There were good memories for them in his bed. It had become comfortable and neither of them seemed eager to change their habits.

But now, she was late. He knew it was deliberate after what that devious trio of harpies had pulled on him this morning. All three of them managed to avoid him all day. He had passed Josephine in a corridor earlier, however. It wasn't at all pleasant. It wasn't even civil. He'd expected no less. Her even-tempered and magnanimous exterior was a diplomatic veneer that she could shrug off when it suited her. And after his decision to go against her recommendation regarding the tournament, it suited her to expose her wrath to Cullen; even if he had been manipulated into agreeing with the other women. Sometimes he thought that if the lyrium withdrawal didn't send him to an early grave one of these women would.

He wondered if he should go and find Evelyn. Would his position seem stronger if he sought her out or if he forced her to come to him? If she thought she'd be participating in the tournament, she was sorely mistaken. It would probably be best if he told her that straightaway. He decided he would go find her.

He made for the door, but it swung open before he reached it. Evelyn stepped in. A smile spread across her face. She walked over to him, all soft curves and soothing warmth. She embraced him, nuzzling her face against his jaw and laying tender kisses there.

He must remain strong.

"Evelyn..." He used her name as an admonishment.

"It's late," she whispered. "Can't you reprimand me upstairs, Commander?"

He was sure that was exactly what she wanted, the little minx. He must remain strong.

"No." He replied forcefully. "We must address this now."

She hung on his neck and looked up at him with innocent eyes. "Was Josephine very cross? I'm sorry she took it out on you. I promise to make it up to her. I'm sure there's something she's asked me to do that I've been avoiding. I promise to make it up to you as well, if we can go upstairs..."

She pulled herself up and kissed him. It was wanton and hungry and obvious. He almost wanted to roll his eyes at the blatent attempt at distraction. Her fingers creeped up into his hair and tugged gently with need.

He tried to speak, he must remain strong he told himself again, but most of what he said she muffled with her mouth. "Josephine giving me an evil eye and cursing at me under her breath in Antivan hardly warrents my notice anymore. We must address the fact that this tournament is for the soldiers, not you."

She ignored him and deepened her kiss in order to keep his mouth fully occupied. She started rubbing her leg against his and then her hands moved slowly downwards. They found his own hands that he stubbornly kept fixed at his sides. She pulled them up only to lay them on her hips. His fingers clenched into her on reflex and she let out a little moan. Like it was second nature, he shifted his grip around to her behind and pulled her up closer to him. She whispered his name.

"Cullen..."

He must remain...he must...

He must take her upstairs immediately.

He let out a frustrated grunt. "You win. Upstairs." He conceded. She broke away from him and hurried up to bed.

She could have this round. He stood to gain more anyway. He fully intended to have her thoroughly 'make it up to him.' And then he could start this conversation again afterwards. It was nothing for him to stay awake all night. He would often lay awake anyway, just watching her sleep, if he was unable to find rest or a nightmare woke him. She, on the other hand, was accustomed to resting as much as she could while at Skyhold, never knowing what her next trip outside it's walls would bring. He could keep her up until dawn if he had to, arguing or doing...other things. He followed her up the ladder.

He took his time. When he reached the top he walked over to the far wall and just leaned on it with his arms crossed. He watched her undress, then he let her undress him. She had become quite good with his armor. She never wore heavy armor of her own, so the first time she helped him out of his was a new experience for her. He remembered her blushing in the firelight as he guided her hands through it. He remembered having to temper his fervent need to take her. He remembered her hesitant touches growing bold and testing his restraint.

But now he let her take control. Pulling him to the bed. Pulling him underneath her. He was content to lie there and let her pull deep moans from him as she moved over him. She was slow at first, then she grew hurried. He watched her unravel above him as long as he could bear to. She was slick with sweat, her hair coming undone in pieces and falling about her shoulders. When he was unable to hold back any longer, he grabbed her up swiftly and switched their positions. She cried out her relief as she let go and surrendered beneath him, letting him carry them both over the edge.

He hovered over her, still deep within her as they both caught their breath. She recovered first. "You're not going to let me go to sleep are you?"

He rolled onto his back and pulled her up to sit astride him again. She was smiling. At least they were done playing games now. "Correct." He replied.

"Well, do you have a specific objection, love, or are you simply opposed to the whole concept?"

"Both. And you know it." Where should he even start? "It is unbecoming for you as the leader to enter into a competition like this. You should be held above such things. It is dangerous to chance that you could be hurt in some way, despite all precautions being taken. You risk yourself unnecessarily too frequently as it is, and don't think I don't hear about it constantly. You stand to insult the Orlesians more than we will be already by participating yourself. Not that I give a damn personally, but I can appreciate their importance. Shall I go on my lady?" He raised a smug eyebrow at her in challenge.

"I'm not completely reckless. We did discuss all of these issues. But it was advised by several people that it can also be good for morale to have officers and the like participate so that we can be seen interacting on equal footing and not always be the people above giving orders. It makes us and our cause more accessible and thus more worth fighting for."

He actually agreed that argument had merit but he wasn't done yet. "And what makes you think you will, in fact, be treated as an equal? Anyone you fight against could just as easily give up the match not wanting to cause insult and then the whole purpose of the endeavor is invalidated. And another thing. Who exactly advised you about this in the first place?" He was afraid he already knew the answer.

"Varric, for one." She offered quickly. "And the Iron Bull." A long pause after that. "And Sera..."

Cullen rolled out from underneath her to sit at the edge of the bed. She fell backwards in a heap on the sheets behind him. "Of course they did." He complained with not a small amount of sarcasm.

Varric had more common sense than most people and the best interests of those he considered friends was important to him. Bull was a good leader, if a bit reckless, and his crew was loyal to a fault, demonstrating he was worthy of respect. But Sera...Sera! He hated that woman and made no effort to hide it from Evelyn.

She ignored his exasperation and continued. "And Varric came up with an ideal solution for making sure everyone competes to the best of their ability despite the rank of their opponent. We're offering coin to anyone who unseats someone of higher rank. The prize being proportionate to the rank and generally accepted skill level. It's been decided that besting me will be worth five sovereigns. Cassandra is worth eight." He saw her pout a little at that out of the corner of his eye. The foolish girl was actually upset she wasn't worth more, it seemed. "Bull said he wouldn't fight unless he commanded at least ten, so that's his price."

He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could shut out the world that had clearly gone mad. "Is it supposed to make me feel better that you've essentially put a bounty on your own head?"

She wrapped her arms around him from behind and rested her chin on his shoulder. "Varric said you'd be worth ten as well, if I could persuade you to join us..."

"Evelyn, you're out of your mind." He replied without hesitation.

"But think of how much it would mean to the troops, your troops, if their Commander was willing to do this. They trust you immensely, Cullen, and they respect you. This would only help reinforce their loyalty and commitment."

Cullen hung his head and rubbed his face in a pained gesture with his hands. He realized he had lost this battle even before it started. He had no choice really. Not only had he failed to talk her out of this but now he was trapped as well. He let out a long and tortured sigh before he replied...

"Fine."