Welcome back! Hope you're enjoying the story, and can't wait to hear what you think of the new chapter, now that we're getting into more Cullen-y stuff.
On a different note, some of you may have noticed I've added trigger warnings to the chapters containing material discussing Taranari's sexual assault that occurs prior to the story's opening. This was due to a request from a guest reviewer (who I'd like to give a shout-out to: thanks for the suggestion, whoever you are!), and will be continued with all future chapters containing said material.
I would also like to apologize to anyone who is still following this story who has been negatively affected by the passages discussing the sexual assault; I had not considered that possibility previously. In an effort to rectify this, if anyone still reading has been made uncomfortable by such passages but wants to continue with story, please PM me and I would be happy to send you edited versions of future chapters containing said material, with a G rated summary of the offensive sections. I hope this solution is agreeable to everyone :)
Thanks! Back to the angsty goodness.
Chapter 6 – Doubts
"Maker, protect her," Cullen whispered a prayer, watching the red haired woman slip out the side door.
She was leaving again, this time for Empress Du Lion, determined to liberate Sahrnia from the Red Templars that had overrun the area before the Orlesian ball they were all dreading.
As much as Cullen agreed that it must be done, he struggled watching her leave again, when she'd just returned from the Hissing Wastes a few days before. Having read her reports of riding for hours through vicious sandstorms and parching heat to root out the sparse Venatori activity in the area, and knowing that Empress Du Lion was a frozen, ice-scape just as treacherous, he wished she'd had more than a few days of fitful rest and piles of paperwork in between the two. However, it couldn't be helped.
And she's the Inquisitor, he reminded himself. She can handle herself.
He was constantly fighting with himself about that, constantly trying to reconcile the woman he'd met beneath the glow of the Breach with the woman she'd made herself into out of necessity, the Inquisitor. She'd been softer when they met, had an innocence to her that watching Haven burn had stripped away. She used to oversee the recruits with him, spar with him to demonstrate the adaptations you had to make when fighting someone trained in speed. She'd smile maddeningly when she won, even moreso when she lost, making him promise her a rematch.
Now… her smiles were much rarer, and fleeting. She never came to the training grounds except to talk to Cassandra or Iron Bull, and when he reminded her once of the match he owed her, she reminded him of all the work they both had to do.
But what bothered him most was the look in her eyes when he got too close to her.
The fear.
He wondered if she knew what had happened at the Circle tower, if she was afraid he was mentally unstable, and that's why she flinched away from his casual touch. He saw how she interacted with the other men; she'd hook arms with Solas, dragging him out of his mural walled atrium into the fragrant garden, she'd train with Iron Bull, letting him teach her Qunari fighting techniques, and she'd playfully tug on Blackwall's beard to get him to lighten up if he was brooding over his dinner. Varric and Dorian also were treated with the same easy affection, and she practically doted upon Cole at times.
Yet, she recoiled from Cullen.
Perhaps it's that they travel together. She just doesn't know you as well, he tried to reason with himself, a conversation he'd had many times.
He had been trying to maintain a professional distance, to respect her boundaries, but he found that he missed training with her, her easy smile, the way her eye jumped when she was irritated with someone… He had to practically wrench himself away from thoughts of her sometimes, in order to get any work done.
Especially after she'd stammeringly told him she was happy he'd made it out of Haven safely.
That little nugget had led to him making her more uncomfortable than ever before, practically throwing himself at her in apology for letting her stay behind, to potentially die to save them all. He'd seen the way she swallowed nervously when he instinctively tugged on her arm to pull her closer to him, trying to convey how torn he'd been. The anxiety she'd felt became apparent as her breath began to heave through her small form, and he immediately released her, apologizing for his impropriety.
Cullen blushed at the memory, ashamed of his behavior. He needed to work out whatever was going on between them before he made more of a fool of himself. She obviously no longer either wanted or could handle the comradery they'd shared before the move to Skyhold, and he had to accept that and stop dwelling on it all the time.
Or at least, that's what he told himself.
Pushing away from his over cluttered desk, he made his way down to the stables to see her party off. He hoped that knowing who she was taking with her would ease his mind somewhat.
As he approached, he could see Blackwall (whose courser was saddled and tied to a nearby post) helping Varric to saddle his mare, the only mount they had taught to kneel so Varric could climb onto her back. Dorian was already sitting atop the Imperial Warmblood he'd named Tevi (because he said she reminded him of home), and the Inquisitor was saddling her hart – the slender, white one she called Elgar.
She flicked a piece of dark red hair out of her eyes, cooing to the antlered animal and rubbing its neck as she tightened the straps around its stomach. Cullen noticed she didn't put a bridle or bit on it, and he saw her eyeing the stirrups dubiously.
"Too good for reigns, I see!" he called, closing the distance between them, but leaving several feet of space for her peace of mind.
An unexpected smile lit up her face at his interruption, and warmth spread through his chest at the sight of it. "I never use them," she replied, walking around the animal to where he stood. "Elgar here," she scratched the beast affectionately between his ears, "hates bridles, so Dennet helped me train him to respond to vocal commands."
Cullen's jaw practically dropped. "You…what… How did you find the time?" he sputtered, amazed. She'd only purchased the animal a few weeks ago and had been in the Hissing Wastes for half of that time.
Taranari laughed, pulling herself onto the back of her steed. "He's a quick learner."
Taranari, he mulled over her name in his mind, realizing he liked the way it sounded. He longed to say it aloud, even though propriety dictated he could not.
Varric, having finally gotten into the saddle of his own horse, steered her over, interrupting their conversation. "To what do we owe this send off, Commander? I thought Red just got back from telling you we were leaving." There was a wicked smirk on his face, and his eyes glinted mischievously.
Cullen knew that whatever Varric was up to, it wasn't going to be good for him. "So she did. I came down to discuss the possibility of acquiring more mounts from Amaranthine with Master Dennet," he said flawlessly, having practiced the line on his way to the stables.
Taranari's smile faltered a little at that admission, but Varric merely rolled his eyes, as if he knew that was not entirely the case. "Mhmmm," the dwarf muttered dubiously, shooting a pointed look at the red haired elf, the meaning of which she didn't seem to catch.
Cullen decided it was time to take his leave, before the man felt the need to clarify his suspicions.
"My lady," he said in parting, nodding, as he rounded their band to enter the main portion of the stables, having been standing at the entrance. He had every intention of fulfilling his excuse for seeing her again before she left, so as not to incur further embarrassment for himself.
"Commander," she murmured, nodding in kind, her expression clouded and inscrutable.
He thought she sounded almost sad to see him go, but knew he must be deluding himself.
Empress Du Lion was a nightmare. The place was positively crawling with red lyrium addled Templars, who also happened to be kidnapping people from Sahrnia, under the command of some damned demon who (according to Michel de Chevin, the chevalier they met outside of the town) was calling himself Imshael and masquerading as human. Michel's information had been good, based on the documents they'd found clearing out the mines, and Tara was ready to move on Suledin keep once reinforcements arrived. Unfortunately, all of the correspondence she'd sent to Skyhold hadn't been answered.
They'd been sitting in their forward most camp, established adjacent to an abandoned tower used to monitor enemy movements, for three days waiting for word from Cullen and Leliana. Tara knew that it should have taken two days at most for the messenger she'd sent to reach Skyhold, and only a few hours for one of Leliana's ravens to return with a reply.
She was worried.
What had happened? Was the messenger merely delayed? Or was something more serious happening at the hold? Did Corypheus attack while she was away?
She'd been chewing on her fingernails for the past several hours, locked in indecision about how she should proceed.
"Well, Red, we're going to have to make a move at some point. What do you want to do?" Varric asked, plopping down on the cold bench-like slab of stone beside her.
She shot him a disapproving glance. Everyone else had noticed her tension and left her well enough alone; Varric just couldn't resist butting in.
"What?" the dwarf said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Don't skewer a poor dwarf for pointing out the obvious!"
She narrowed her eyes, as if to say, If it was obvious, then why did you have to say it?
Varric sighed, putting his hands on his knees and leaning forward. "We need to do something Red. Those Templars aren't in there planting daisies. People are dying while we sit out here and wait." He was being unusually candid with her, and she wondered when he began criticizing her so openly. She wasn't sure whether to be pleased that he respected her enough to do so, or irritated that he picked the worst possible moment.
"You don't think I know that?" she snapped, rubbing her temples. "But moving forward without back-up will risk all of these," she motioned to the encampment of Inquisition scouts and soldiers," lives. I'm not doing that. I just… I need…"
She trailed off, catching sight of a black blob alighting at the top of the moldering tower next to their camp.
"That," she announced, breaking into a run. She was almost positive it was one of Leliana's ravens.
And she was right.
"Just in time for the party," Varric wheezed as she removed the message from the bird's leg. He'd followed her to the top of the tower, but the stairs combined with his shorter step had left him quite out of breath.
Tara ignored him, unrolling the parchment with shaking fingers. Scanning it, a tremendous burden lifted and she sighed gratefully.
"The messenger I sent was attacked by bandits," she read with an inappropriate amount of relief. "Thankfully, one of Leliana's scouting parties found him and relayed the message back to Skyhold." She turned to Varric with a grin. "Reinforcements are on the way!"
Tara pumped a fist in the air, much to the dwarf's amusement, before quickly penning a reply and releasing the raven back through the half collapsed window it had entered through.
"Is Cullen coming with them?" Varric teased as they made their way back down the stairs.
She was in such high spirits from the news, that she completely missed his choice of title or the emphasis in his voice. "How did you—" She stopped abruptly, having glanced at his face. "Oh." He had the sneakiest of smiles fixed there.
"So he really is coming?" he snickered.
Tara's face reddened considerably. "The Commander is bringing a group of newly converted former Templars to help lay siege to the keep, yes," she said curtly, trying to conceal the embarrassment in her voice.
Varric wasn't convinced. He never was. "And he needed to accompany them, why?"
The message from Leliana had not given an explanation. "He wanted some personal experience with the Red Templar threat, I suppose," she provided. It hadn't sounded nearly as hollow in her head as it did when she said it aloud, and watched the skeptical dwarf's reaction.
It convinced her that, if a look could shrink someone down to the size of a pin, Varric would have been incredibly useful on Corypheus' blighted dragon.
As it were, he just made her feel small and utterly foolish.
"He doesn't trust me to do the job," she concluded, head hanging with the realization. She felt so stupid. Why had she expected they would let her handle the capture of such an important asset on her own? Wasn't she just sitting there, waiting for word from them, to tell her what to do?
Varric groaned, turning to her as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "You're hopeless, Red," he sighed, shaking his head as he exited the tower, leaving her to her doubts.