Chapter Four

Painful Truths

Valina was already sitting on her horse when Cullen came down from his quarters. The soldiers strapped his pack to the saddle, along with a small travel tent. They had enough supplies to last the four to five days it would take to make the return trip for the mission. Although they could easily make the journey in a day with Master Dennet's fine steeds, the meeting was not for three days. They had time to travel and to conduct a quiet search of Ser Cormont's land for anything suspicious before they met with the man.

Valina smiled at him as he climbed onto his horse, and he was surprised to see that it wasn't her usual smirk.

'Ready, handsome?' she asked, throwing him a wink before she pulled her hood over her head and masked her face, not waiting for his reply before she took the reins.

They set out into the mountains, riding steadily for a few hours before they agreed that the horses needed a break. He found himself watching her as they travelled, and when they set out again, they began to talk, just as they did when they played chess. Valina never revealed much about herself, but Cullen enjoyed listening to her voice, her crisp accent and the sultry tone that wove through her words as she told stories of various mercenary jobs she had completed in the region. In many ways, the manner in which she recounted the tales reminded him of Bull and the Chargers, though she had always worked alone.

'You've never worked with a team?' he asked after she recounted a particularly risky adventure.

'No,' she said with a shrug, 'there's been no need. It's not the most efficient way to work when you mostly deal with covert jobs and personal manipulation. And the occasional assassination.'

'Isn't it… lonely?'

'Oh handsome, I'm never lonely if I don't want to be,' she said, glancing at him with her wicked green gaze, 'it might be a little tight to fit both of us in one of these tents, but I can keep you company tonight if you want.'

Cullen coughed, snapping his eyes forward even as he felt his body warm at the suggestion. They were well into the Hinterlands now. It would be dark in another two hours.

'We should make camp soon,' he said, trying to ignore the warmth in her lingering gaze, 'I thought it would be best if we spend tomorrow scouting before the meeting on Thursday, but if this is a trap, I don't want to give them more opportunities to kill us than we need to.'

'Now who's thinking like a mercenary?'

He glanced at her. 'I'm practical,' he said, looking around, 'I know a place, another half hour ride from here. We'll set up camp there.'

He led on. Valina had travelled through much of Ferelden, but she had only been near Honnleath a few times. Most of her business in the Hinterlands was conducted closer to Redcliffe.

As they rode, the sun began to dip below the horizon, and the clouds above glowed with the dying light. When they neared a lake, Cullen stopped his horse, tying the steed to a tree. Valina followed, pulling her mask and hood off. It was warmer now that they were out of the mountains, and the humid breeze smelled sweet.

They each set up their tents: the simple short-term travel tents were designed to tie between trees with treated cloth draped over the rope. Although not cosy by any means, Cullen quite preferred the open-ended design, knowing he could reach outside at any moment.

Cullen found a short handled axe strapped to his gear and split a fallen tree to make a fire. They ate together, though they hardly talked. Valina used the time to observe Cullen over the fire. For most of the day, he had seemed relaxed while they talked, swapping stories and memories. He was quiet now, lost in his thoughts, his brow drawn as he absently ate some bread with his eyes downcast.

When the sun dipped fully below the horizon, the moon shining brightly between the clouds, Cullen stood abruptly. He glanced at her, and a nervous smile briefly touched his lips as he said, 'Come with me.'

He did not wait.

Intrigued, Valina followed Cullen to a small pier that extended into the lake. He stopped at the end, leaning on a tall post. He gazed out at the still water in the lake and a calm settled over him. His shoulders softened as she came to stand beside him. His face was relaxed, a rare occurrence for the busy commander, and for a moment he closed his eyes and breathed deeply of the surroundings as if trying to will the serenity of the lake into his very soul.

'I grew up not far from here,' Cullen said, his tawny eyes shining softly in the moonlight that reflected off the lake, 'this place was always quiet. As much as I love my family, I would come here when I needed to get away from my siblings. They were... loud.' A small smile lit his lips, spreading to his eyes. 'The last day I was here was the day I left for Templar training. With all that has happened, with this war, I hadn't thought it would still be so peaceful here now.' He reached into his pocket. When he withdrew his hand, he opened it to reveal a small silver token. 'My brother gave me this that day. I think it just happened to be in his pocket, but he said it was for luck.'

'I didn't think Templars were allowed to carry tokens.'

Cullen nodded. 'Our faith should see us through.'

'In my world, a little luck never hurts.'

'Yes, I guessed that when you recounted some of your adventures earlier.'

Valina smirked. 'I think you were lucky too.'

She knew that they had both held back when they had talked, but Cullen had revealed a lot in the emotions that crossed his face.

'I should have died in the Circle, or in Kirkwall,' he said, turning the coin in his hand, 'even Haven. But I'm still here, somehow.' He tucked the token back into his pocket. 'I misled you when I suggested we make camp down here. While it is convenient that we don't alert Ser Cormont to our presence before we wish to, I knew we were close, and with everything that has happened, I…' He looked down, searching for words. 'I wanted to come somewhere that I remember feeling... I know it's selfish, but this place always made me happy. It still does.' He glanced up. 'I'm sorry, I–'

'You don't have to be sorry. I understand; I had a place like this near my home,' she said, staring out at the calm water of the lake, 'I'm sure Josephine has filled you in with all the saucy details of my family history.'

'No, actually,' he admitted, 'she's only mentioned a few things.'

'You're in for quite a shock, handsome. You see, a long time ago now, my mother, who was to inherit the title Marquise when my grandmother passed, married a Tevinter mage for love,' she said, glancing sideways at him, 'it caused quite the scandal, both privately and publicly.'

'That part I had heard.'

Cullen saw shadows creep into Valina's gaze but wondered if he had imagined them. He had never been able to read any of her emotions beyond what she chose to show him. He doubted she would drop her defences even an inch to let him in, but as she continued, he found himself hoping for even the smallest glimpse into her mind.

'My grandfather nearly disowned my mother, but my grandmother made him see reason, eventually. They both died within weeks of each other.'

'I'm sorry, that must have been hard.'

She shrugged. 'I wasn't even alive, yet. But I guess it's what happens, sometimes. They both lived long lives, and my grandmother's death made my father understand why my mother's choice was so important. He would have given anything to spend another lifetime with my grandmother.'

'True love?'

'Very much so,' she said, glancing at him for a moment, 'A lot of people in the court knew about my grandparents and that they accepted my father into the family before their deaths, but it was such a scandal that no one cared if my mother and father had ultimately received my grandparent's blessing. So, the real sordid details are on my father's side, but no one seems to dare discuss those, even now. You don't hear about how my grandfather on my father's side, a Tevinter Altus with high standing even among his class, tried to have me killed. You don't hear about the number of times I woke up to an assassin at the end of my bed. In his eyes, I was the bastard child of a traitor. Even the potential that I would have magical blood was enough to sentence my parents and me to an untimely death, all because that power would not be in the hands of Tevinter.

'The first time I remember, I was three. I was too young to have an actual memory of it, but I have fragments, and I distinctly remember the smell of burning flesh when my father discovered the assassin in my room. The second time, I was five. Then I was six, then seven. Each time, I was lucky enough to have a father who slept lightly two rooms down from me. When I was eight, my parents began to fear that they would see no end to the anger of House Navorr. I still had no signs of magic, though, so they hired the best trainers they could to teach me how to defend myself.'

Valina reached to her back, drawing one of her blades. She traced the edge with the pad of her finger. Cullen clenched his fists tight, barely resisting the urge to snatch the weapon from her hand when blood welled on her skin.

'I have only a few scars, but even magic cannot heal the nerves when they no longer feel. By the time I was fifteen, I had lost most of the feeling in my hands. I was trained to do whatever was necessary to defend myself, even if it meant taking an attacker's weapon by the blade,' she said, and a shiver rolled down his spine at the thought, 'I became the assassin. But when I turned twenty-three, my grandfather died. The attempts stopped. By then, all I knew was how to manipulate, how to fight, and how to kill.' She glanced up at him. 'Perfect mercenary material, right?'

Cullen could find no words. Throughout all the time they had spent together so far, she had never shared something so personal.

Sometimes hope is all we have…

'Now that we know we're both extra fucked up, is this the part where you tell me that the real reason you brought me here was to be alone with me?' Valina said, sheathing her blade as the shadows in her eyes seemed to scatter. She cleared her throat softly, and he could feel her raising a wall between them. There would be no further discussion on the dark subject, and he would not press her on the matter.

When she glanced at him again, light had returned to her eyes, her serpentstone gaze shining with wicked intent. He was thrown back to that morning in his quarters, to visions of her wearing his surcoat, her nimble fingers tracing the furred shoulders. He felt something hot flare inside him, his tawny gaze reflected in serpentstone as their eyes locked. Heat rippled through his irises like molten gold, and she felt her skin prickle with heat.

'The thought had crossed my mind,' he admitted.

'Well, Commander,' she said, shrugging off her weapons. She hung the sheaths on one of the posts, then stripped her coat, 'I best make that thought stick.'

She kicked off her boots, and he realised what she planned to do as she flashed him a wicked smile. She turned toward the end of the pier and dived into the water, emerging a few feet away. She splashed him, and he flinched, automatically covering his face as the droplets hit his skin. He stepped further back along the pier. He laughed with a soft chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest, as if he rarely allowed it to creep past his lips; she couldn't help but join him.

'Isn't it cold in there?' he asked, smirking at her as he stepped towards the end again.

She swam closer, lifting herself back onto the pier. Water dripped down, splashing softly on the wood at her feet. She swept her dark hair back from her face as she closed the distance between them.

'You tell me,' she said, a sultry curl in her lips that drew his gaze down. The heat in his golden eyes warmed her.

Cullen sucked in a sharp breath. The light fabric had gone sheer in the water; it clung to her sun-kissed skin, tracing every curve and dip on her toned body. His eyes settled on the soft curve of her breasts, unable to move past such a breathtaking sight. Even in the pale moonlight, he could see that she wore no smallclothes, her dusky nipples straining against the soft material. He moved as if to reach for her.

'Valina…'

Cullen's voice was rough, a note of hunger in it that she desperately wanted to satisfy. She felt a shiver roll down her spine, but then she glanced down to his fists. His hands clenched at his sides, balled tightly enough to make his leather gloves squeak. She knew what it meant, knew that he was fighting to control himself, and, ultimately, he would win. He would not act on the desire that burned in his gaze. His restraint was not out of chivalry; if it had been, she would have broken it during her first two days at Skyhold. Something deeper stopped him from reaching for her, something that even she could not understand.

'One day, you'll work out what you want to do with me,' Valina said, her serpentstone eyes finding his once more. She held his gaze for a moment before she turned to collect her weapons and coat. As she walked back down the pier, she looked back. He stood at the end, and she knew that he would not follow. She forced a smile onto her lips, as she had so often in the past, even though she found herself cold. 'I look forward to that day, Cullen.'

Cullen watched her leave. He felt frozen to the pier as emotions warred inside him. When she was out of sight, he punched the post. His knuckles throbbed with pain at the impact, but he didn't care. He leant on the sturdy wood, feeling his chest tighten.

Something had changed in her eyes before she walked away. The normal brilliant shine had dulled, and he had seen sadness creep over her beautiful face, even when she smiled. She had let him into her world, revealing something that pained her. He doubted she had let even those who had been intimate with her see that part of her, but she had chosen to share it with him. She had trusted him, and she had trusted in the peace he felt in this place. For the first time, after so many meetings and games of chess, she had shown a vulnerable part of herself, and he had thrown it back in her face.

He tried to calm himself before he returned to camp. His heart hammered as he approached, but she was already in her tent, her clothes hanging on a branch near the fire that slowly burned down to ash.

He ducked under the cover of his tent, roughly stripping his clothes in his anger. When he lay down, he knew he would not sleep. Whenever he closed his eyes, his mind filled with her serpentstone gaze. But her eyes no longer sparkled; their shine had dulled, filled with the quiet sadness he had caused.

The guilt Cullen felt when he woke the next morning after what little sleep he had managed was almost crushing. His head ached worse than normal, a hammer on the inside of his skull in time with the beat of his heart. His nightmares were getting worse, becoming more vivid. He was beginning to fear that one day he would not wake from them.

When he left his tent, the bright sun was painful in his eyes. He forced them open, shielding his face with his hand. The fire was completely burnt out, but there was enough kindling and wood piled beside it to start a fresh one. Valina's clothes were gone, but she was nowhere to be found on the campsite. Both of the horses were still beside the tree they had been tied to, happily nibbling on the grass at their feet. He found a note tucked into his saddle written in her fine script.

Gone north to scout. I'll be faster and quieter on my own. Prepare for the meeting. I'll return before sunset. - V.

Cullen crumpled the note in his fist. He thought he should be out there with her, but he knew that she was right. In his state, he would only slow her down, and stealth certainly did not come naturally to him. More than that, he doubted she wanted anything to do with him after how he treated her the night before.

He forced himself to find the reports that Josephine and Leliana had compiled for him. He read through each one, making notes as he went. While he worked, his headache eased, his body grateful for a distraction. Ser Cormont had indeed been dipping his hand into questionable business dealings: most of the people he dealt with, if not all, were tied in some way to the Venatori cultists, though admittedly indirectly in many cases. It would be difficult to convince him to cut the most concerning business ties, but from what Cullen read, there was no indication that Ser Cormont himself had Venatori sympathies.

As the day began to disappear, Cullen felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. He knew he had no right to worry about her, but worry he did. He strained his ears, listening for her return, but in hours of listening, he heard nothing but the soft sounds of nature.

The sky grew darker, and he stoked the fire. When he looked up he nearly jumped; across the flickering flames, Valina appeared from the shadows. Relief flooded him as she approached. She handed him a thick scroll of parchment. He wanted desperately to speak, but words failed him. He looked up at her, but her face was hidden by her mask. He found her serpentstone gaze, but the canvas within them was blank. He took the paper, and she turned from him, disappearing into her tent without a word.

Cullen rose to follow, but the weight in his legs stopped him. He sat back on the log, staring at the side of the tent. His fists tightened for a moment, and he dragged his eyes away, returning to his work, an ache creeping back into his skull.

The sun had barely risen when Valina and Cullen set out for House Cormont. They had spoken quietly over a small breakfast, but only to form a plan. Although the meeting was set for the late afternoon, they wanted to surprise the noble. Valina would make the initial approach, and Cullen would reinforce with a threat if necessary.

They tied their horses to a fence post at the gate to the Cormont land, the large house a short walk up a shrub lined path. Although modest in size, even the outside was well-appointed, built by the hands of a skilled craftsman. When they reached the door, Valina shifted subtly beside him. She was irritated that Josephine had recommended she wear more neutral attire but had admitted that it was a good idea. Over her dark leather pants, she wore a soft white jacket accented with gold clasps. Cullen suspected she was angrier that he had told her to leave her weapons with her horse. He had his sword at his side, enough to reinforce their position. It was all they would need to deal with a negotiation with one noble.

Cullen knocked, and after a short wait, a neatly dressed man opened the door. His hair was immaculate, and although the lines on his face betrayed his age, he was still handsome. His slim build looked almost fragile, but he carried himself proudly, his head high as he led them into his home.

They sat in the lounge, a low table with a tea set between them. Ser Cormont poured out a cup for each of them, sipping slowly at his tea while they talked. Valina's demeanour had changed the moment the Lord had opened the door, a soft smile curving on her lips. She quickly charmed the man, and Cullen felt jealously prickle on his neck as they laughed.

'Lady Voclain, it is such an honour to have you in my home,' Cormont said, 'although your family conducts business quietly, tales of yours and your mother's beauty are common in Redcliffe, but they do not do you an ounce of justice.'

Valina laughed politely. 'Ser Cormont, you'll make me blush with such sweet words,' she said, glancing down with a soft sweep of her eyelashes, pink dusting her cheeks, 'you're making it ever so difficult to concentrate. I am here as an ambassador for the Inquisition, after all.'

'Of course, my Lady, of course…'

Within half an hour, the Lord was tripping over himself to meet her every request. As much as Cullen was frustrated by her methods, he could not deny that they were effective.

After cementing Ser Cormont's support, Valina excused herself, keeping up the appearance that he had flustered her with his attention. She quickly swept the house, finding nothing that most would consider incriminating. In fact, the entire residence was almost spotless. Suspicious, in the house of a Lord who had no staff.

Valina crept into the office, quickly searching for any papers. She approached the wardrobe, glancing at the floor. Something dark and wet dripped slowly from the bottom of the doors, pooling beneath the frame. She opened the doors quietly, and her gaze hardened as she stared inside. Dull eyes stared back.

The man in the wardrobe was stocky, and a dark neatly trimmed beard framed his face. From the marks on his skin, he had been tortured; she noted half healed bruises on his arms beside fresher scratches. His throat had been slit, his mouth still hanging open with his final breath.

Valina rushed back to the lounge. With the real Cormont stuffed in a wardrobe, there would be no alliance gained. She found herself wondering what they would do with the impostor. She knew the Inquisitor had the power to judge people for crimes, but identity theft seemed too small to bother Malakar. She supposed that Cullen would deal with the matter and hand the man to the appropriate authorities.

As Valina approached on the impostor's side, she noticed that he had changed his stance. He was leaning towards Cullen now, his hand tucked beneath the table between them. Among their words, she heard the soft click of a blade leaving a sheath. As she came closer, his eyes darted to her, and she saw a panic set in.

This wasn't just a case of identity theft.

Valina twisted her hands at her waist as if nervous, tilting her head casually. 'Have you fine men wrapped up the last of our business?' she asked, smiling softly.

The ruse failed. Valina cursed in Tevene when his hand shot up, and he lunged for Cullen. She sprinted forward, tackling the impostor with as much force as she could muster in her petite frame, getting him as far from Cullen as physically possible. He hit the floor hard, a crack sounding as his head hit the floorboards. She thrust her knee into his throat, a strangled sound escaping him, but he still had hold of the dagger. She heard the fabric of her jacket rip as he slashed blindly. She slammed her palm into his nose and grasped the blade just before it sank into her side. It ripped at her hand, but she wrenched the dagger from his grip just as the tip grazed her skin.

Blood poured from his face, and with a final shuddered breath, his limbs fell lifeless to the floor.

Valina dropped the blade. Although she could not feel much of the pain her hand bled profusely. She stared at her hand with a scowl. 'Kaffas,' she breathed as she stood. She turned to Cullen. He had risen from the lounge, a stunned look on his face. Although it had felt slow for her, she knew that everything had probably occurred quicker than most people could follow.

'Maker's breath,' he said, 'you just killed a Lord.'

'No, I killed a fake,' Valina said as she stalked from the house. She ripped a piece from her torn jacket, wrapping her hand as she walked. She glanced down at her hip, but there was only a small line of blood along her skin. It would not even scar.

'What do you mean, a fake?' Cullen asked as he followed her.

'I mean the real Cormont is stuffed in the wardrobe upstairs,' she said with a sigh, 'whoever that man was that we just met, probably a Venatori spy, slit Cormont's throat ear to ear sometime last night.'

'Show me.'

She turned abruptly, and he nearly walked into her. 'Why?'

'Because… because I need to confirm it.'

She tried to catch his gaze, but he glanced away. She felt the blood in her veins turn to ice.

'After everything I have done, you still don't trust me. Fasta vass, I helped you secure the Orlesian court and end a civil war! But then you got greedy; you and your Inquisition sought me out, remember? And even though I could have just killed your incompetent scout and brushed my hands of this, I brought him home in one piece and even offered my talents for your cause. I have spent weeks bringing in new alliances and support that you didn't have the resources or influence to secure, and I have told you things that I…' Her arm felt hot as she clenched her fist tight, blood dripping from it now. 'You know what, Cullen. Next time someone tries to kill you, I'll just let them slit your throat and stuff you in a wardrobe. Maybe you can keep Cormont company.'

Valina reached her horse and found her blades. She cut the rope and climbed into the saddle, riding off into the distance.

Cullen kicked the dirt roughly as he marched back up to the house. He bypassed the lounge and checked every room before he climbed the stairs. Everything seemed normal. Even the office was immaculate, but for the partially open wardrobe. As he approached, he saw a pool of blood on the floor, mostly hidden beneath the frame. He opened the doors.

'Maker's balls.'

He reached down, touching the man's cheek. His skin was cold. He'd been dead for hours.

Cullen noticed a thin gold chain hanging around his neck. He reached for it, pulling hard to break the clasp. The Cormont family crest was engraved on the medallion, and he cursed again. It had all been a trap, and he had missed the signs. He had only noticed the blade when the imposter had drawn it, preparing to attack. If Valina hadn't been so quick, if she had returned a moment later, Cullen would probably be the one on the floor in the lounge with blood pooling around him.

He sprinted down the stairs and out to his horse, hoping Valina would return to Skyhold.