All head canon all the time.
Part I.
Chapter 10.
Their shields clashed together and he pushed her lesser weight away from him. She wasn't trying very hard this morning. After his reveal the day before, she'd been unusually timid around him.
"You're not even trying, Ashara. Fight!"
She clenched her jaw and charged at him, her sword raised high. Still not trying. He turned her blade and thrust his own sword forward. Though she attempted to block the blow, he threw her off balance and brought her down.
He stood over her, the point of his practice blade at the delicate skin of her throat. "You know better than that, Ashara. Flank your enemies whenever possible. No one will remember how dramatic your failed frontal assault looked when you're slaughtered by a couple of bandits."
She grimaced and went limp on the ground. "Of course, Commander. I apologize. My mind is... elsewhere this afternoon."
He offered her a hand to help her back up, but she ignored it, rolling easily to her feet.
"Is everything alright, Inquisitor?" He dropped his voice low, though the practice yard was nearly empty at this hour. He felt better today than he had anytime while she was in the field, and he was hoping to make the most of their training session.
She shook her head, brushing dirt from her backside and avoiding his gaze.
"Ashara?"
She sighed now and wandered toward the water barrels. She filled her skin and climbed up to sit on the top rail of the low fence around the sparring ring. He leaned against the fence, close enough to her to catch her scent—citrus, flowers, and salt—beneath the fading perfume of her soap. She still avoided eye contact.
"Sorry, Cullen. I'm just really tired. I'm still recovering from the Fallow Mire, and I haven't slept well since... Haven..."
The air between them grew heavy.
"Then, well... You... telling me about the lyrium - that was brave, Cullen. I appreciate you sharing. Even if it was just for the Inquisition and not... whatever this might be." She waved her hand limply between the two of them. "And even though it scares the Void into me... Not that this is about me, of course! I really do respect and support your decision."
He was unsure how to respond.
"I think it's... immensely admirable that you're trying to build a new life, separate from everything you've known. And during such chaos. You're a remarkable man, Cullen."
His heart leapt and soared. Though he'd feared she might find the prospect of a man broken by his past and lyrium withdrawal off-putting, she was telling him...
"I feel like I should return the favor."
"My lady?"
She quirked an amused eyebrow at the reference to her nobility.
"You shared something deeply personal about yourself. I figure I should tell you something about myself."
"Oh! No, no. There's no need to-" He wanted to know everything.
She cut off his protestations with a gentle laugh and a hand on his vambrace. "I'd like to. But if that's too personal—if you'd rather keep this…" Her face fell and she pulled her hand back swiftly, as though his armor burned her.
Before he knew what he was doing, he grabbed her hand. "Not at all, my lady. I just don't want you to feel pressure to reveal any more of yourself than you feel necessary."
Well done, man. She actually looks touched.
She smiled shyly and squeezed his hand. "That's sweet, Cullen. Thank you."
They shared a silly smile for half a moment before she released his hand and pulled her sweat-damp chemise over her head.
"Ashara! I -" He turned his gaze away, blushing deeply.
Her laugh returned. "Cullen, it's okay. I'm still... well, mostly decent. But I want to show you something. And it's nothing you haven't seen before."
His mind reeled for a moment, called back when she nudged him with her shoulder. He turned back to see her, still perched on the fence, in the short, tightly-laced half-bodice she'd been wearing on her early morning run in Haven when they'd first bonded. She had shifted so that her right side was fully visible to him, displaying the tattoo.
The spiraling Free Marcher-style of the tattoo shaped a pale horse - a destrier, to be more specific - rampant, wreathed in flame, and crowned, it seemed, with a blade.
"I had this done in Llomerryn before leaving Rivain for good after... Dairsmuid... Things happened there, and I..." She trailed off.
"Ashara, you don't have to tell me anything you're not comfortable with. What the Chantry did in Dairsmuid was inexcusable."
She sat quietly for a moment, staring off into the middle distance before returning to herself. "You're right. It was. It's good to see that not all Templars aren't crazed zealots. Knowing that there are... good men..." She looked at him through her lashes and smiled shyly as she trailed off.
"Um..." She cleared her throat and shook her head as if clearing it as well. "Has Josephine told you much about my family, the Trevelyans?"
"I..." She had, hadn't she? All he could think about was that smile, the expanse of smooth, almond-colored skin and the muscular flesh beneath, built not unlike the powerful animal carved into her side.
"The Trevelyan sigil is a warhorse. The family has bred horses for generations now. It's the only thing they pride in themselves more than their 'piety'. As much as I may reject my family and its values, I still identify with them. How can I not? They made me who I am. Bred like prize horses, all of us, really. But that person has been purified by flame, made something new and different. I made her a unicorn: powerful but graceful, courageous but gentle. Capable of undoing grave harms. The person I hope to—try to—be."
Maker, she's incredible.
"That's a... that's poetic - I don't mean to sound dismissive! I... ah... I only mean..."
Her hand was back on his vambrace. "It's okay, Cullen. I know what you meant. Or maybe I don't, but I know you aren't making fun of me or anything."
She was smiling at him. He tried to smile back without looking like a complete fool, but unsure if he was pulling it off.
"The reason I'm telling you this is because I know what it means to try to build a new life separate from everything you've known, to throw off your past and everything about it that has defined you for so long in order to make your own way. Not that my choices and what I've gone through are anywhere near the... the challenges of leaving the Templars and the Chantry after more than twenty years and after living through the rebellions, but... Well... I only wish to tell you that I can sympathize. And I admire you greatly for what you're doing. Please, if there's anything I can do to help in any way... I'm happy to..." The earnestness in her voice complemented the soft, pleading look in her eyes.
He moved to stand in front of her, taking her forearms in his hands and looking directly into her eyes. She may or may not have been Andraste's Herald, but surely she was sent by the Maker to calm his heart.
"Thank you, Ashara. That... means quite a lot to me. I must admit that I've not been close to anyone since Kinloch - "
She made a sad noise in her throat.
"- and only Cassandra knows about the lyrium. I didn't expect you to be so understanding, so kind. Thank you."
"Is that Captain Curly!?" The familiar voice broke through the weak trace of sexual tension he was hoping to build with Ashara.
Hawke?
He turned, and there she was. Varric, the grin on his face more than just his usual shit-eating, was leading the snarky apostate right toward them.
"Someone you know?" Ashara whispered, hopping off the fence as their company arrived.
"Lady Inquisitor Trevelyan, meet Marian Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall. And a huge pain in my ass," he added, not without affection.
Both women's faces lit up with the introduction and they began showering one another with compliments and questions intended to confirm some of the wilder stories they'd heard from their mutual friend.
He wanted desperately to get out of there before Hawke could say anything too embarrassing. "I'll leave you two to discuss business. I have reports to deal with." He fumbled out a hasty goodbye to Ashara before half-jogging away.
Cullen took his time bathing and dressing again after he made it back to the safety of this tower. It wasn't that he disliked Hawke. She had certainly gotten really good at getting under his skin back in Kirkwall, but he had come to appreciate her efforts to keep Kirkwall from falling to chaos before it ultimately did. While Anders had manipulated her into helping with his plan to blow up the Kirkwall chantry, she brought him to swift justice and did more than anyone else to stamp down the resulting uprising. She helped him see through Meredith before things got too bad. And there were a handful of times when she and her friends had helped him blow off steam...
It was her remarkable ability to throw him off balance, and her knowledge of that time of his life that he didn't want brought up in front of Ashara. Beyond the embarrassment, he didn't want to think about the darkest parts of that dark time while he felt like his attempts to rebuild were still fragile.
Besides, there was almost certainly work for him to do...
Unfortunately, he'd been all too productive while the adventuring crew had been in the field. No new reports had come in since he'd left the office to train with the Inquisitor. Most of the logistical work necessary for Skyhold's repairs was done, and Gatsi and the workers had proven more than competent, taking initiative where he currently preferred they might need help planning the proper execution. The soldiers' meals were all planned and the larders sufficiently stocked—and the cook threatened him with a meat tenderizer if he poked in her business any further.
He was a bit surprised when he looked up to find that he'd wandered into the garden where he found Dorian staring over a half-played game of chess. Cullen hadn't bothered getting to know the young magister—altus. He was an altus, not a magister, Cullen remembered now, though what exactly that meant...
"Ah! Commander! And what brings you here this evening? Other than my illustrious self, of course."
He momentarily contemplated pretending he didn't notice Dorian's greeting, but decided he had shown too much surprise to be able to pull it off. That, and he had gotten a good look at the position the pieces were in on the chessboard.
Dorian had apparently opened with the Emperor's Gambit, and his opponent had responded with what looked like a clever twist on the Cunningham Defense.
"Who... Who are you playing with?"
"What? Oh, yes, this." Dorian hummed, then moved a rook. "Usually, I play with Bull. Or your darling Ashara. But they're off doing something far less interesting than consorting with devilishly handsome and wildly talented young men such as ourselves. Whatever it is, it must be good to keep my dear cousin from your company, ser knight..."
"Your... cousin?"
"Ooh! You must not know, not being part of the complicated web of Tevinter bloodlines. You southern Fereldans are blessedly remote enough to not be related. If only they were all such fine examples of manhood as yourself. But I digress—rather gladly considering the subject." He leered cartoonishly at the Commander, trying and failing to get a rise. "Ashara and I are cousins somewhere way down the line. And she fancies you, you know."
The blood rushing through his ears was deafening. He... knew, he guessed, that she was interested, she had as much as said so before everything fell to shit back in Haven. Hearing it from someone she had been spending a fair amount of time with was something different, though.
The mage was smirking at him beneath his thoroughly waxed mustache.
"Care to join me? Judging by the way you're eyeing the board, you're as intrigued by this little conundrum as I. Black or white, ser knight?"
The mage was no inconsiderable talent. By the time they'd wrapped their game—which passed, surprisingly, in almost complete silence—Cullen figured Ashara would have completed her conversation with the Champion. The sun had sunk well below the ridgeline, casting elongated shadows across the garden, and drawing out a few couples seeking the privacy of the gardens.
"Well played, Commander. I'd been looking for a way through that defense for years. Clearly, I haven't found it yet. Might I buy you a drink as your victor's spoils?"
He found himself agreeing to the offer before he could think up an excuse. It would be nice, really, to spend some time amongst the other members of the Inquisition. His withdrawal symptoms weren't preventing him as they usually might and he had rather enjoyed himself in Dorian's company. With any luck he might even get a chance to speak with Iron Bull about the bizarre tactic Bull had tried with the Chargers and every shield in the armory.
The Herald's Rest was bustling. Word had gotten out that Hawke was at Skyhold, and everyone but Cassandra seemed to be crammed into the bar. The Champion had taken up court in a corner, flanked by Varric and Ashara, who was flushed and laughing, her blue jacket unbuttoned and open all the way down to her...
"The Inquisitor is rather fetching, isn't she?"
"Hm?" He blushed, realizing he'd been caught staring at her.
Dorian released a dramatic laugh and clapped him on the back. "No worries, ser knight. She hasn't realized you're here yet. Give her a little more time, a few more drinks, and then once she sees you, she'll be in your lap and petting that absurdly gorgeous hair of yours."
Cullen stammered something about propriety and blushed deeper, thankful for the ability to hide behind the massive tankard the surly bartender passed him.
By his second ale and Dorian's fourth (or was it fifth?) glass of wine, the crowd was beginning to thin out and Cullen found himself rather liking the sharp wit and intelligence of his impromptu drinking buddy. While Dorian loved his country and its various charms, he was very critical of its politics and highly-regimented social order. Cullen even found himself agreeing with the mage on more than a few fine points about the direction of the Inquisition and its leader.
Not to say that he was disappointed when the Iron Bull caught Dorian's eye and waved them over to take two seats that had just opened when the scout and one of the Chargers who'd been getting increasingly handsy with one another finally decided to take their activities somewhere more private.
As they approached the table, Sera left her place beside Ashara to take one of the newly-opened spots, pulling Dorian into the other spot, and leaving Cullen no choice than to sit next to the Inquisitor. Not that he didn't want to sit next to her with every fiber of his being, but he'd been drinking and there were so many other people around, and Hawke was there and would be sure to say something that would embarrass him.
The Inquisitor slapped the end of the bench beside her as she and Hawke playfully jostled one another.
"Commander! Yay! Come sit by meeeeeee!" She must have been drinking for a while.
He gingerly wedged himself into the space beside her, careful not to sit too close and seem too forward with her.
A pointless endeavor as she immediately embraced him in an awkward one-armed hug, burying her face in the fur of his mantle.
"I was hoping you'd come join us tonight! I never get to see you outside of work-work-work and, oooooh I love the way you smell. Your cloak. Your cloak smells. I like it." She collapsed in giggles. "I'm so sorry, Cully. I've been drinking and I'm afraid I'm a bit silly."
"Cully"...
"A bit?" he teased under his breath, blushing but happy for the attention and hoping the dim light and abundant alcohol would hide it.
"You've got quite the Inquisitor here, Cullen. And not bad on the eyes, eh boys?"
Varric shook his head at the ceiling and Dorian laughed while Sera, Krem, and Blackwall toasted to the Inquisitor's beauty.
"Oh, Maker, you arseholes!" She buried her face in Cullen's mantle again, this time to hide her blushing.
He glowered at them all, trying to think up an appropriate response before Iron Bull added: "Let's not forget that she's saved all of our sorry asses more than once."
This time, the entire table and several nearby gave a cheer for their leader. Iron Bull gave Cullen a knowing look, which Cullen returned with a slight nod of acknowledgement. Despite his often-ribald humor and lack of manners, Bull had proved himself to be a gentleman in addition to an effective military leader. Cullen was grateful for the massive man's presence—and battle-axe—at Ashara's side.
"Oh c'mon, Boss. We've all seen the way you look at the Herald," Krem interjected.
Bull bristled. "I can appreciate a person's appearance as much as anyone. But the boss is off limits. Besides, I'm more into redheads."
"Inky's kind of a redhead," Sera slurred.
Hawke pretended to inspect Ashara's braids. "I guess you could call this red... In some lights..."
"It's really only when I'm wet - " As soon as the words left her mouth, Ashara's hands went to her face, as she realized the potential double entendre.
Which was not missed by her companions, who roared with laughter.
"I can help with that, Inky," Sera volunteered with a leer and a lewd hand gesture.
"I think she'd be more interested in the Commander's help," Hawke quipped.
They both blushed an impressive shade of red.
"Change of subject!" Ashara shouted over the raucous group. "Let's talk about Hawke. She's far more interesting!"
The next hour passed quickly. Cullen enjoyed hearing Varric and Hawke recount some of their more ridiculous adventures in Kirkwall, and found himself even more grateful for the loyalty and martial skill of Ashara's friends when the subject of the tales circled around to her exploits for the Inquisition. Before he knew it, most of the group had drifted off to their beds, and the barmaids were gathering up empty tankards and glasses.
"Well, I think it's time we get some rest, eh Hawke?" Varric rose, nudging his old friend.
"I couldn't agree more, my friend. It's been a long day. Ashara, it's been good to get to know you. I can't say I'm looking forward to working with you considering what—and who—is involved, but I'm certain that you'll be able to stop this madness."
The two women embraced warmly. They surely had plenty to bond over, and it made his glad to see that they'd connected.
"And Cullen, it truly is good to see you again. You seem to be doing well. I'm glad. You're a good man. I trust you'll take good care of my new friend here. Starting by making sure she finds her way to her own bed tonight?"
He and Ashara were both blushing now as Hawke left them alone.
He laughed nervously. "I suppose I should see you safely to your quarters, my lady."
He got that entire sentence out without his voice cracking once despite looking forward to the prospect of walking alone with her, maybe getting another kiss on the cheek.
In the half-moment it took for her to tuck her arm around his, the events of their last time drinking together played through his mind.
"I would appreciate that greatly, ser knight."
Her gently playful grin set his heart reeling.
It was cold outside of the tavern, and he felt privileged to once again wrap his cloak around her shoulders.
She hummed as she pulled it tighter around herself. "I love this thing."
He knew his grin was silly but didn't care. "It looks good on you."
She giggled.
She giggled.
"It's really warm. And it smells good. Like incense and leather and... you..."
She blushed prettily and pulled the mantle up to hide her face.
He was overcome with a tidal wave of emotion (propelled, of course, by a healthy serving of ale). He stepped forward and brushed a bit of fur away from her face.
"It smells even better after you wear it."
Well said, Rutherford. You might actually manage to not make a complete idiot of yourself in front of her!
"I believe, my lady, that I should be focused on getting you in out of the cold. It is my duty as a knight and servant of the Inquisition to ensure the safety and comfort of the Inquisitor."
She giggled again. He couldn't believe how easily the words flowed.
Maybe it was the fact that they'd both been drinking, or the relaxing effect of the day's camaraderie, or the way the moons reflected along the curves of her face and the flickering of the torches caught in the copper and gold of her hair, but he felt like he could be the knight in an old story, charming and courting the heroine.
"Cullen, you're too much. Or I drank too much." She breathed out a laugh. "Whatever it is, though, I like it. Don't stop."
She winked and snuggled against his shoulder, taking his arm in hers.
"Escort me?"
He smiled, unguarded. "Of course."
They walked slowly, partially due to her tipsiness, but mostly to make the walk back to the main keep longer, give themselves more time in semi-private company with one another.
'I'm glad you came out tonight, Cullen. It seems like you just live in that tower all by yourself. I've never really seen you having fun. I like seeing you happy. You're even cuter when you're happy..."
Oh, Maker...
"... Even cuter than when you blush, and that is just too adorable."
She bumped her hip against him. Something stirred deep inside him.
"I am glad as well, my lady." His voice was husky, thick. "I rather enjoy your company outside of the sparring ring and the war room."
She didn't respond immediately. A few steps farther, she reached down and squeezed his hand, wrapping her fingers around his.
The movement caused the cloak to shift awkwardly from her shoulder. She released his hand and over-compensated reaching to catch the heavy mantle and stumbled over her own feet.
"Oops!" she squeaked, right as he grabbed her and pulled her against him to steady her.
Her chest was pressed against his. He cursed his ever-present armor for preventing him from feeling the heat of her body, the soft swell of her bust. She looked up and their lips were mere inches apart. He wanted so to close that distance, to pull life from those pouty lips. It made his entire being ache.
But she was drunk, and acting more familiar and physically gregarious than she normally would. It wouldn't be right to take advantage of her intoxication. She wasn't herself right now, could not give the consent he needed to move their interaction in that direction. He could never violate her trust like that.
But, oh, the sound of her breath, so close...
Instead, he righted the cloak, wrapping her tight in its warmth again, never breaking eye contact.
Like pools of silver...
She reached up and traced the line of his eyebrow.
"Cully, your eyes are sooooo pretty. Like topaz... The stone for Firstfall..." She tilted her head and a new kind of smile tickled along her perfect lips. "Topaz represents virtue, did you know that?" She hummed. "My virtuous knight. Brave and strong and - "
She hiccuped and her heavy-lidded eyes popped open wide before she dissolved with a fit of giggles.
His heart went tumbling. She was the most wondrous experience he'd yet had. He would write poetry for her.
"Sorry!" She tried to straighten up, stumbling again. This time, he felt her heat against his unarmored thigh.
He struggled to ignore thoughts about the source of that heat...
Not now! Get her safely to her room. Be a gentleman. Then think about it when you're in bed.
He pulled himself together and shook his head clear. She was the Inquisitor. He shouldn't entertain such thoughts about her. Though it wouldn't be the first time...
"Careful now, my lady." He chuckled softly. "Let's get you home, shall we? Will I need to carry you?"
Another laugh. He could spend the rest of his life trying to make her laugh.
"I don't think that will be necessary, ser knight."
They shared a hummed laugh and resumed their walk, a warm silence settling around them.
When they reached the outer door to her chambers, he paused. How far should he escort her? Would it be too forward, inappropriate to escort her to the upper door to her room? That staircase might be a bit of a precarious venture for her at this point...
"Will you make sure I actually get to my door, Cull'n? I'm not sure how well I'm going to handle the stairs. And it's dark in there sometimes." She pouted a bit at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief and Antivan port.
"Is that... I'm sorry... I don't mean to..."
Seeing her stumble over her words sent a bolt through him. The Inquisitor was getting flustered around him.
"Not at all, Ashara. I don't want you falling over the railing. Or stubbing a toe in the dark."
He offered a reassuring smile and held open the door.
"After you, my lady."
It was indeed rather dark in the stairwell, with only one candle still burning in the candelabra outside of her bedroom door. When she opened the door, he could feel the draught blowing in. Had she left the balcony doors open? The final flight of stairs was pitch dark. Had no one left any candles burning for her? Where were the staff assigned to her quarters?
He took the only remaining lit candle, careful not to accidentally blow out the flame. He would have to escort her all the way up, then.
"It's so cold," she shivered. "Josie and I had a long talk on the balcony this afternoon while Varric was giving Hawke a tour of the grounds. I must have forgotten to close the doors behind us when we came back inside!"
"Do you not have a fire burning?" He had personally ensured the fireplace would be adequate for the room and had ordered a fresh supply of firewood be brought to her room at least once a day when she was on the premises.
"No... I gave the staff you assigned me the night off..."
"Ashara! You'll freeze! You shouldn't be lighting a fire tonight, as... stumbly... as you are right now. Should I send for someone?"
"No, no! I'm a big girl. I can light my own fire. I don't like people scrambling around to take care of me. I may be noble-born, but I am capable of taking care of myself."
There was a tinge of bitterness in her words that he would have to help ease before he left.
"Would you be amenable to me lighting a fire for you? I know how... capable you really are, but I would feel terrible if you burned yourself or fell asleep without a fire."
The thought of her being cold again, even if only a little, plucked a minor chord inside him.
"Well... I guess I can be alright with that." She smiled. "But the way you're holding that candle, I'm a bit nervous about you playing with fire now too."
"What?"
He looked down at the candle in his hand right as a thin stream of melted wax drizzled onto his hand. He hissed between his teeth at the mild burn. She responded with remarkable alacrity, grabbing the candle from him before he could burn himself again, and raising his burnt hand to her mouth with her other hand. She kissed the burned spot gently. Her lips were simultaneously cold from being outside, and sensuously warm from simply being part of her. His heart fluttered in his chest.
"Are you okay?" she breathed against his hand.
"I... I think I'll be alright."
"You sure?" Her eyes were playful again.
"I'm sure. It's a nasty burn, but with a little hope and a lot of ointment, I'm sure I can pull through."
She chuckled and pressed her lips to the reddened but hardly hurt spot again. "If you say so, my valiant knight."
He brushed her jawline with his thumb as he pulled his hand away and smiled. "Now how about I get that fire going so you can get a good night's sleep, hm?"
She hummed. "That sounds brilliant."
This got really long! I wanted to keep going, but had already gone on longer than I prefer for a chapter. Just means I'll get to start the next chapter with more fun sexual tension. Whee!
I hope you'll stick around for some more.