"He really agreed?" Leliana watched the troops trudge through the mud as her eyebrows shot skyward. Elena stood beside her with arms folded across her chest. Her body ached from the hard ground and days spent in the saddle of a horse. Chills worked their way down her spine from time to time and more than once she had been left winded from a violent fit of coughing. The Healers assured her that it was nothing more than the common cold from her time spent climbing the Frostback Mountains ill-equipped.
"It was the Inquisitor's doing, Leliana. Not mine. I nearly lost us support from the entire Bannorn," she uncrossed her arms and turned to face her old friend. "Thankfully I managed to make amends with my unparalleled charm and good looks," the Mage smirked and dragged a gloved hand through her hair. Her bare fingertips were frostbitten from the unyielding cold and she longed to wrap them around a piping hot mug of cider and thaw her bones near the fire.
"Ah, yes. The very same two things that defeated an Archdemon if I do recall," Leliana offered a dark smirk of her own and turned to climb the stairs to retreat into the main hall. The space was littered with Orlesian nobility and Elena skirted around them. They graciously moved aside in their lavish gowns and silk doublets to make room for the Hero of Ferelden and the Lady Nightingale.
"You recall correctly, my friend. There may have been a few other unorthodox practices along the way, but really I charmed the poor beast to its death," she shrugged as Leliana pushed through the door and stepped into the space occupied by Josephine, pausing to turn and face Elena.
The spymaster opened her mouth to speak but thought better of her retort and pressed her lips together instead. "You must be exhausted from your travels. Go. Get some rest and we will meet again soon," it was a curt dismissal and Elena glanced between the two. Josephine looked up from her paperwork to offer a polite smile and Elena began to move backwards towards the door.
"Ah, yes. Inquisition, business. Later then," she felt foolish as she ducked her head and spun on her heel to move back into the main hall. The chandeliers had been restored and suspended high above her head and she looked up as the candles flickered brilliantly in their holders. Ornate tapestries had been donated and imported from Orlais for the viewing pleasure of the Inquisition guests. They depicted historical acts that Elena knew nothing about, although she was relieved to find that none of them told her own story. Her heroic deeds were not worthy enough for Orlesian standards and she was quite content with that.
She used her staff as a walking stick as she passed through the corridors, working her way back down to her own private chambers. But her feet carried her elsewhere and she found herself hobbling into the tavern and slipping silently into an unoccupied corner.
Iron Bull and his Chargers were entertaining a group of pretty serving girls, three of which sat happily on the Qunari's lap with rosy cheeks and bright smiles.
"Can I get you something, love?" The woman was stooped and her gray hair tied into a tight knot at the back of her head. Her face was wrinkled from too many days spent in the sun and Elena rubbed her hands together.
"Just a cup of warm cider, please," she tried to rub feeling back into her fingers and the woman nodded.
"You would be warmer by the fire, dear. The Qunari may be loud, but he doesn't bite," she said with a small smile before limping away to fetch the woman her drink. Elena swallowed her remark as she chuckled under her breath. Iron Bull was nothing like Sten and his stoic pessimism, but Bull would take a blade for the Inquisitor without a second thought just as her own Qunari companion. Elena could hear it in his voice and see it in the way he spoke to the woman. He regarded her with the utmost respect and it was admirable.
The cider appeared in front of her as if by magic and she caught a glimpse of a liver spotted hand disappearing from the corner of her eye. Without hesitation she peeled the gloves from her hands and wrapped them around the warm mug, letting out an audible sigh of relief. She would have dumped the entire mug over her head if she didn't run the risk of scalding herself from head to toe.
A cold gust of wind caused her to shiver as the door swung open as Varric sauntered inside, brushing snow from his sleeves. Sera bounced along behind him, her wide eyes brimming with excitement as she beckoned Iron Bull to join them. "Sorry, ladies," he boomed out a chuckle at their squeals as he lifted them from his lap and placed them onto the laps of his eager and waiting men. He straightened up and ducked beneath the ceiling beams to follow his comrades to a large table near the other side of the tavern.
"Care to join us, Chuckles?" Varric called out and Solas looked up from the tome he had been reading in quiet solitude.
Much to her surprise, he closed the large volume and tucked it beneath his arm as he stood to join them as well. They all began to trickle in as word spread throughout Skyhold like wildfire, bringing the Inquisitor's circle to one gathering spot with the news that Varric had challenged them all to a few rounds of Wicked Grace. It was good for the soul, he argued as Vivenne chided him but took her seat all the same. Elena found herself grinning as they laughed and joked, passing around pints of ale as the chairs began to fill one by one.
The door opened a final time and the Inquisitor crossed the room. Her very presence demanded that all eyes be on her and Elena shrunk against her seat into the shadows. Perhaps if she stayed still long enough until after their game began, she could escape without being noticed. But her plan was quickly foiled when Cassandra, Josephine and Cullen trailed in to occupy the remaining seats. "I intend to win the pants right off of Curly," Varric announced, casting Cullen a smug look as he settled into his seat. "Since he seems to think he's the best player in all of Thedas."
"I believe I said within the Inquisition. And you're about to find out," Cullen responded, leaning back in his chair and waving a hand through the air. "We're all here. Let's get this started."
"Here! Here!" Blackwall pounded his fist against the table top as the tavern patrons returned to their own drinks and conversations.
She watched the way his shoulders tensed under the friendly banter and the way he would turn his head just a fraction to the right before he made a risky move. The sound of his laughter rose above the others and she wondered how often he let himself relax in the presence of others, or even on his own. He was always so serious and so dedicated. He had always been that way, at least as long as she had known him. He had never strayed from his duties as a Templar and now he had given his life to serving the Inquisition. It was admirable and she found herself wondering how it would feel to actually be the reason for his dedication.
Her face flushed as she sipped at her now cold cider as their game continued. The tavern had long since grown quiet and Cole was now perched on the stairs, overlooking the table and muttering to himself. Every now and then his comments would cause Iron Bull to throw his head back with a chortle and the others would join in to create a chorus of belly aching laughter that drifted up to echo in the high ceiling. Their faces were flushed from too much ale and Josephine had already shocked her companions with a belch that put Iron Bull to shame.
By the end of it all, Varric had left with all but Cullen's pants, which he had fought like hell to hold onto. The dwarf looked smug as he called over his shoulder, "Don't worry, Curly. You can win them back next time!"
The Inquisitor howled with laughter as Blackwall hauled her from her seat to help her back to her chambers. His own rosy cheeks were bright as he chuckled along to her slurred words. They needed this, she had said as she passed Elena's table, they needed the laughs and the headache that would plague them all in the morning.
As the others filtered out, Cullen remained seated, recounting his failed tactics as he put off running through the cold to his tower. Confident that they were now alone ā save for the barkeep and the old woman ā Elena cleared her throat as she stretched her sore legs and shrugged out of her traveling cloak. It had been cool by the door, but he clearly needed it more than she and she draped it over his shoulders wordlessly.
Her fingertips brushed against his bare shoulders and she tried to suppress the shudder as a jolt of electricity shot through her body. Her skin burned and she let them drag against his skin a moment longer than necessary before pulling her hand away and letting it fall limply at her side. He lifted his head to blink at her and she could smell the ale on his breath as he drew the cloak around him. "Thank you. This is...embarrassing. I thought I had him. He's a slippery little bastard," but Cullen smiled fondly as he cursed the dwarf and his tricks.
"There were a few cheap calls," Elena agreed with a nod as she stifled a yawn.
"You were watching?" Cullen sounded surprised and Elena nodded carefully.
"The whole time," she said as she sunk into the chair beside him. "It was nice to watch you all having so much fun ā a reminder that you're all just...ordinary people."
He looked at the table and back to her, reaching silently for her hand and curling his fingers around hers. "None of us feel very ordinary. But you know that," his voice was softer now and she felt that familiar lump in her throat return. Her hand burned with the fire of a thousand suns and she looked down at her feet.
"We should get you to bed before you catch your death. They're putting the fires out and you've been drinking," Elena murmured. "Come on."
There was no resistance from him as she helped him to his feet and the trek to the tower passed on in silence. "Goodnight, Cullen," she paused just outside of the door and he nodded, shivering beneath the cloak in the cold night air.
She turned to leave and his hand shot out to grab her by the arm. It happened faster than she could even blink as he spun her back towards him and his lips crashed against hers. Somewhere in her ribcage there was an explosion and her senses went into a frenzy. Her heart hammered in her chest as he gripped her now by both of her arms to hold her in place. "I have wanted to do that for years," he breathed as he pulled away just enough to brush the tip of his nose against hers.
"It took you long enough," Elena stammered, swallowing hard as she gripped the front of the cloak to steady herself.
"I want you to stay with me tonight."
"Cullen, you're drunk," she reasoned as her eyes widened in horror. Stay with him? Maker, how she wanted to! But she was convinced the ale had clouded his mind and his judgement. Sober Cullen would not have made such a bold request. Or would he?
"No. Well, yes. But I know what I'm asking. Andraste's ass, Elena, we could wake up tomorrow with Corypheus at our doorstep. I have spent years watching you from afar and not knowing whether you were dead or alive. I refuse to spend another moment not knowing. If I am to give my life, I will not do so without reason. I will not do it without you."
She could feel her eyes welling with tears as he tightened his grip on her arms and she closed her eyes to push out a slow exhale. "Cullen, do you hear yourself?" She asked, unable to stop the few rebel tears that broke free to race down her cheeks.
"Tell me you don't care about me. Tell me you don't feel the same and I will bid you goodnight and never speak of this again," his voice was solid and she could feel it reverberating in her chest.
"Iā"
"Tell me."
"Damnit, Cullen. You have duties to the Inquisition, not to me. You cannot afford to be distracted. Not now. I want nothing more than to stay with you, now and always. But I..." She trailed off, losing her words as his expression crumbled and his shoulders sagged.
"So that's it? That's all you have to say? That I should dedicate everything I am to the Inquisition? Fine," he released her and she stumbled backwards, catching herself and recovering her balance. The cloak fell through her fingers and she shook her head as he began to remove it.
"No, keep it," she dabbed at her eyes and he hesitated before nodding and stepping further into the room.
"Thank you, Warden-Commander. And I will not bother you again with my foolishness. Goodnight," he didn't bother to wait for her response before closing the door with more force than necessary. She stood for several moments in silence, listening to him move behind the door. At the sound of something heavy toppling onto the floor she turned to leave, no longer able to bear the pain she had caused them both. She trudged back down the stairs to her own room and sunk down onto the edge of her bed to bury her face in her hands.
