A/N My last chapter was very short. It was originally intended as one of a few "Moment's in the life of Cullen" but then I went crazy expanding on it. So the next chapters are going to be a bit longer, because I actually had started writing them later on. So one short chapter, more longer ones. Sorry for that, but I didn't have a good way to edit them, with so many words in my head :)

Also: Bioware owns all. I just play in their sandbox, and I don't make any money at all to do it. So, this applies to the first chapter too.

Cullen

Cullen unbuckled his sword belt. The weight of his weapon was a comfort. He trained daily, morning and eve, drilling his movements to perfection. He also read, to keep his mind sharp, even though his former comrades would heckle him. Reading anything but the chant was for mages of course, he chuckled.

As he pulled his shirt off, he turned his mind back to the Inquisitor. He knew she was the daughter of a nobleman. Merely being a nobleman's daughter was in fact enough for some people to be selfish and self absorbed.

He yanked his pants and smalls off, and waded into the warm water. As he sank in up to his chin, Cullen was absolutely sure her selfishness had nothing to do with being a noble. He was no mind reader, but she seemed pretty bitter about the mark on her hand. He did not know how he would react to being marked. It would be another duty, he guessed.

Duty. Cullen mused over the word. He had been doing his duty in Kinloch, and then in Kirkwall. That had caused some issues. Being tortured by demons. A commander who was driven insane. He had absorbed, analyzed, and changed his mindset based on new experiences and information. Perhaps, he thought, she might have trouble doing that. Maker only knew that women could be an enigma. With a frustrated grunt, he pulled his hands through his hair.

Cullen stood and began soaping his body, lost in thought contemplating the Inquisitor's behavior. So lost in thought, he did not hear this subject of his musings enter the bathhouse.

Trevelyan

Amylia sauntered into the bathhouse. She just needed 5 minutes alone, away from people asking her this or that. It wasn't enough they had to throw her in prison, after she had just gone through the worst experience of her life… Oh no! They had to make her the leader of their little "save the world" party because the worst thing she had ever experience also made her the only one who could "save the world".

Bitterness flooded through her. She would save the world, but she didn't have to be self sacrificing and happy about it, dammit. She frowned at her own thoughts. It wasn't like she wanted the world to explode. Amylia just didn't want to be responsible if it did, and she was now in that position.

Amylia yanked the thong holding her hair back, and looked up to see the most wonderful rear end the Maker had created. Oh Maker, oh Maker. She should leave, panic coursing through her.

She must have made a noise, because he turned around and their eyes met.

"I… Oh Maker… I was going to… uh, um.. I'll just leave now!" she stammered, and turned and fled, her face blazing red.

Now how was she going to live this one down. "I'm sorry I stared at your ass for so long Cullen, and by the way, send those troops to look for our missing soldiers." Amylia practically ran to her quarters and covered her face with her hands.

It was official. The handsomest man in the fortress, and she was acting like a girl with a crush. Which, yes, she had a crush, but she wasn't really a girl anymore. Pacing, she worked her thoughts towards how she could fix this.