She wanted to go to him. She wanted to pin his undoubtedly smug self to the ground and tell him the whole venture was ridiculous and he probably shouldn't write her any more unofficial letters. She wanted to leave him as breathless as he'd left her, kiss every stupid, perfect inch of his face, run her fingers through his hair, over his stubble, trace that damn scar as it quirked up into that half smile. She wanted.
Maker, but she wanted.
And Solas had interrupted that with a heap of do not want, causing her to stop in the rotunda to talk to him. That blasted elf wanted to discuss the anchor some more; if she felt her second Fade trip had changed anything, if she could sense Corypheus in any way, if the flares had gotten worse or better, if she had noticed rifts from further away.
Needless to say, the topic ruined her want.
His smirk when he finally allowed her to leave made her wonder if he knew he'd interrupted her determined march to her Commander's office. But no, Solas never showed any interest in her personal life. Only the anchor; always the anchor. She was pretty sure he wouldn't bother hindering her attempts to get into Cullen's breeches.
But he had, and time had slipped away from her. Cullen wasn't in his office by the time she traversed the small stretch of battlements, and a quick glance around the room gave her no hints as to how long he'd be away. His desk was a neat as ever, a fire roaring merrily in the hearth. Some scraps of parchment were still visible; kindling not yet exhausted. Evelyn wondered if they were previous drafts to the letter he'd sent - it was so easy to imagine him sitting at his desk, painstakingly ensuring each word was exactly what he meant as he printed his tidy handwriting to the paper.
Resigned, she decided to skip the rotunda and slip past the stables, through the kitchen to return to the hall, slipping through Josephine's office to check the war room just in case. Disappointed to find the room empty, she sighed, heading for her chambers, determined for a least a moment to herself before the morning was over instead.
The guard that Cullen had posted at the door shifted nervously at her approach, blocking the passageway, and she looked at him curiously as he cleared his throat and threw her a salute.
"Has Sera been up there, scout?" Evelyn was not in the mood to be the victim of a prank today.
The man shook his head emphatically before taking a breath. "No, Inquisitor, no one's been past me since you left. But I'm under orders to make you wait here a moment."
Her head tilted to the side as she looked at the man in front of her, barring her from her own rooms. And on orders, no less, that would have to be Cullen's. It begged further clarification that she tried to ask for, but was interrupted by another recruit calling for her attention.
Turning, she only had the chance to blink as the scout shoved something into her hands and raced off again. Evelyn was vaguely aware of her door guard moving aside as she stared down at the posy of delicate white elderflower blossoms she now held.
It kept happening.
There she'd be, minding her own business, running an errand or talking to someone. She'd hear her name, turn, and there the young woman was, shoving another posy into her hand and running off again. Evelyn was rapidly acquiring an entire elderflower bush as the day moved into the afternoon hours, despite her best efforts to find places for them that weren't her hands or her quarters. If this kept up there wouldn't be a single sprig of elderflower left in Skyhold - and she hadn't even known they grew any in the first place.
And at no point had she been greeted by the sight of her Commander. The flowers came with no note, no hint that he was the sender. His office was suspiciously empty when she stopped by, and her calls up to his loft met with silence. None of his troops seemed to know where he was though all continued to work with their usual diligence as if he were still watching them, and even Josephine was tight-lipped about when she might have seen him last. The Antivan had bashfully returned the note to her, though, cautioning that Cullen was determined to hear from her parents before doing anything further. Leliana simply laughed and shrugged, suggesting Evelyn check her own quarters.
She did, just in case, and was more than a little disappointed to find her room empty. Especially after re-reading the letter.
Barris and Rylen shrugged, claiming they had their orders and it didn't matter if they came from Cullen's desk or not, they were still his. None of Skyhold's internal messengers could account for his absence.
She traversed the length and breadth of her fortress more than once in the guise of running errands between her duties, and not once did she manage to locate Cullen.
Nathaniel lurked, any time she was in the hall or the courtyard. Always a respectable distance, but clearly watching, and she felt a twinge of pride every time she caught sight of the ugly bruise marking his face. His presence would have unsettled her more if that damn scout wasn't so talented at distracting her.
And the whispers. If she'd found the conversation that morning titillating, the whispers following her around the keep ran the whole spectrum of chaste to lewd. A great many people seemed to be actively betting on who her current admirer was, from the scout herself trying to sum up the courage to confess, to Duke Gaspard trying to get back into her good graces after his exile; from her unwanted fiancé attempting to convince her he was worthy, to some as yet unknown secret admirer within Skyhold's walls. Some of the troops that had been in the tavern the night before pointed out how close she'd been standing with Cullen, but they all laughed, dismissing the possibility as ludicrous. The man wouldn't know romantic if it shield bashed him, they joked, and he spent half his days annoyed with the Inquisitor, anyway.
In fact at no point did anyone directly suggest her Commander, and although it was tempting to ask why no one thought him capable of sending a woman flowers - never mind constantly sending flowers, Maker it was a good thing she wasn't allergic, and each posy was so carefully put together and small that it was no bother - she refused to acknowledge anyone clearly spreading rumours.
Which was probably why she found herself in the mid afternoon on the roof of the tavern with Sera, eyes trained on Cullen's tower as the elf lobbed cookies at random targets below them. The young scout had caught her on her way into the tavern, and another posy sat between them as Sera recounted her score.
"You didn't recognize her, did you?" Evelyn interrupted the game, her mind still trying to puzzle out the days events.
The elf shrugged, picking her next target. "Nah, not a little I've met, not a Friend. Maybe not even a little? Maybe it's a nob in disguise."
"Don't you start with the crazy theories, please. I've overheard enough of them today!" Sera cackled as her cookie missile found its mark, bouncing off a training dummy, and Evelyn lay back to stare up at the sky, a sigh escaping her with the effort. "Apparently I have a secret lover in the Deep Roads, did you hear?"
"Take that, raisins! Still don't get it, you," the blonde leapt on top of her in a straddle, staring her friend in the eye and punctuating her next words with a few pokes. "But Grumpy-Breeches likes you, Quizzle. Tits and arse and hair and face and squishy bits and pokey bits and the shiny bit; he watches all your bits. Some of the Friends, ones that have been here since Haven, they said he's watched you since he met you. Your weird glowy hand mostly at first, then you." She stressed the last word with a huff, pulling a face. "You watched him too, a bunch. Even I saw that."
Evelyn stuck her tongue out, pushing the slim elf off her and sitting back up. "And why are you discussing that with your Friends? Doesn't really seem relevent to your usual interests."
"'Cause." She pouted, glancing out over Skyhold. "You made me like you. You're all... human and stuff, right? The Inquisitor and Herald thing, that's you, but it's not you, not when you're with us. You're this actual person under all the names people give you and I like that person." Making a disgusted noise, she threw another cookie to the ground below without a second glance. "Even though you're a right stuck-up arse at times."
Evelyn chuckled, moved by the confession and unperturbed by the insult. "I'm very glad you're my friend, Sera."
"Right? You should be, I'm the best." She shot the brunette a lopsided grin before grabbing the posy, fingers working quickly to dismantle it. "He'd better be good. Maker's hairy eyeball, he's doing this stuff, you'd better be good," she cackled, weaving the small white flowers into Evelyn's braid. "I can give you lessons."
Evelyn shook her head carefully, letting the elf work. "I think I'll pass on your relationship expertise, thanks. I've heard the advice you give Blackwall."
Sera laughed again, remembering. "Bet he won't use it like a sword now, though!"
Cassandra let out a disgusted snort, fingers running across the spines of the books on the shelf in front of her before her hand dropped to her side again. "None of these are suitable."
From the comfort of his favourite chair in his nook of the library, Dorian chuckled. "No? Not a one speaks to your inner romantic? I find that hard to believe."
"There is a difference," she huffed, "between enjoying a story for yourself, and using someone else's words to convey your own feelings." The Nevarran moved to the next bookcase, heaving a sigh. "Why do we even have seven copies of this? It is useless Orlesian garbage."
"Probably the same reason we have forty-eight copies of Hard in Hightown." Dorian shrugged, paper rustling as he turned the page of the book he was halfheartedly reading. "You should try three shelves to your left, two down."
She moved to his suggested location, searching the titles, and the mage peered expectantly from behind his book, waiting for her reaction. He was not disappointed.
As soon as she saw the book he had in mind, she flushed, tentatively pulling it free from between its neighbours. "How- What- Who-" she spluttered, fingers tracing the title etched into the leather cover. "This is banned," she hissed.
"To the world's regret, I assure you." He shut his own book with a snap, setting it aside as he rose to join her. "I'm not quite sure how we managed to get a copy, but it is among the more enjoyable finds in these shelves."
"On aching branch do blossoms grow, the wind a hallowed breath. It carries the scent of honeysuckle, sweet as the lover's kiss," Cassandra quoted, her eyebrows raised as she flipped through a few more pages of the Carmenum di Amatus. "I'd hardly consider this scandalous."
"It's less the topic, more the writer, I think you'll find. Regardless, does it suffice?" Dorian fixed her with a questioning stare, awaiting her approval.
She shrugged, moving to his abandoned nook to hand the book to their as yet silent companion, distracting him from his paperwork. "It has... A certain tone that could be considered moving."
Rising, Cullen accepted the tome and flicked through it, moving to join Dorian in front of the bookcase it came from. "I'm not sure it works. I'm not sure any of these do." Cassandra rejoined them and they crowded together as Dorian tugged another book free from the shelves. "This is a fools errand, isn't it?" He mused, still reading the poetry tome.
"That depends on what your errand is."
All three jumped at the new voice and Cullen slammed the book shut, attempting to casually discard it by throwing it over his shoulder. Instead of the satisying thump of it hitting the ground, however, it landed into waiting hands and he turned slowly to confront the catcher.
"You have got to stop accidentally throwing things at me, it's becoming quite the habit."
Evelyn held the tome out to him, eyes sparkling as she teased, a smile tugging at her lips. Cullen cleared his throat nervously as he took the book back, hand wandering to his neck. "I'm sorry, Inquisitor. You surprised me." Curse her and her light step.
"Seems like that's going around today." She lent back against the circular railing, folding her arms as she looked at the three. "So, what are we up to?"
Dorian chuckled softly as Cassandra waved her arms. "Nothing, Inquisitor! Just... admiring the library." She scowled, then looked bemused as she stared at the woman in front of her. "What happened to your hair?"
"Sera got bored of throwing cookies and decided to try her hand at decorating," the brunette shrugged, running a hand down her usual braid, fingers careful not to disturb the delicate blossoms the elf had woven into it. Her eyes didn't leave Cullen. "I find I'm rather fond of it, even if it is impractical for the day to day. We apparently have an abundance of flowers, I might ask her to do it again."
"You're lucky she didn't use the same rusty butter knife she used on her own hair," the mage quipped. "But it does suit you, Evie, wouldn't you agree?"
It took Dorian elbowing him in the ribs to find the words, and even then Cullen winced as they escaped him. "I like it." It sounded more like a question than a statement, and he shook his head, ashamed of himself.
Dorian snickered, moving to link his arm with Cassandra's and escorting her a distance away. "We'll be over here if you need us, Commander," he threw over his shoulder with a wave, leaving Cullen to scuff his boots against the stone floor as he tried to think of something else to say.
"I do. Like it, that is." His tone was sincere, and the smile she graced him with was warm. Exhaling a breath he didn't know he was holding, Cullen shifted his weight from o ne foot to the other.
Pushing off the railing, it took only a few steps to place her in front of her Commander. She reached past him to grab a book off the shelf and started to peruse the pages, glancing up at him every now and again. "I was looking for you earlier, you know."
"I've been... busy," he shrugged, moving the book he held from hand to hand. She was close enough to touch, but he could already sense the curious stares in their direction, interested parties wondering who was courting the Inquisitor with such fervor, wondering why she'd be talking to him of all people. Maker's breath, why had he agreed to this courting thing again?
With a tilt of her head Evelyn stared up at him, exposing the curve of her neck with the action. Cullen swallowed, the memory of his lips upon that skin quite unwelcome as he stared back, and he tried to focus on something, anything else. Anything but the blossoms woven in her hair, the warmth in her eyes. "Busy reading poetry?" Her tone was soft and teasing as she glanced down at the page she was on.
"She walks in beauty, like the night ,
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;"
She read slowly, gaze flickering from paper to him and back again. He couldn't help himself, watching her lips form the words, quirking into a smile as she read. Pink tinged her cheeks and her voice was wistful.
"And all that's best of dark and bright,
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;"
If he could, were they alone, he'd pin her against the bookcase and untie her hair, letting the flowers fall to the floor carelessly as he tangled his hands up in it. He'd kiss her and make her forget to breath, forget how to speak. Make her drop that stupid poetry book and moan against him.
"Thus mellowed to that tender light,
Which heaven to gaudy day denies."
Maker, but he'd let her read all day and night if she did it with that smile on her face.
She glanced up and held his gaze and he prayed she couldn't read his thoughts in it. "I always liked this one. Orlesian poetry tends to skew carnal when dealing with love, but there's always something tender about the Ferelden poets."
"Oh... I'm not familiar." Cullen's hand rubbed the back of his neck as she resumed reading silently, eyes dancing across the page before shutting the book carefully, returning it to the shelf and trading it for another. She flipped through the pages as if searching for something particular to read and he shook his head to clear his thoughts.
Tugging the book from her hands before she could settle on a poem, he discarded it back on the shelf along with the tome he held. She stared up at him curiously, rocking on her heels as she did so.
No words came to him. Not until she opened her mouth to speak, and he stumbled over himself to cut her off. "I- I have to go attend to my duties." It's awkward, he's being awkward, and he rubbed the back of his neck again as he glanced away. "If you'll excuse me."
"Cullen," she grabbed his arm at the elbow, turning him toward her. "Are you avoiding me?"
He shook his head, reaching to cover her hand with his. "No, Inquisitor. Just... busy." It's the second time he's hesitated before saying the word, and she frowned, biting her lower lip and looking away.
"I thought... The flowers," she sighed, pulling her hand back to knead the anchor, doubt in her eyes. "You sent that note this morning."
"I did." He flushed slightly even as he frowned at her change in demeanor, wondering how he was ruining his attempt at romance this time.
"And now you're too busy for me?" She spoke softly, a small hitch in her voice as the words tumbled out.
"No, I-" He growled in irritation, more at himself than anything else, and pulled on her arm to drag her to the doorway leading to Vivienne's balcony and the stairs down, all too aware of people watching. But it was hardly the first time he'd lead her through Skyhold and he tried to maintain a stoic 'on important business' face until the door shut behind them. He lent back against the wooden barricade, tugging her into his embrace as he did so. Cursing his plate, he ran a hand down her cheek then tilted her head up to kiss her.
All too brief, all too chaste.
"I'm busy for you, Evvy." Confusion marred her face and Cullen sighed. "Courting you is hard enough, given that it apparently involves a whole host of things I am woefully ill-equipped to handle. The poetry, for one." He made a face, shaking his head. "I am merely trying to get through it as best I can."
"Oh..." She tugged him down for another kiss, still too brief. "Today has been lovely but you... You don't have to keep it up if you don't want to." It was hard to keep the disappointment from her voice. Extracting herself from his hold, she took a few steps back, distance ever her friend.
He smacked his forehead before running his hands through his hair. "I didn't mean- Evelyn," he growled her name, relishing in the way she stopped short, staring wide-eyed at him. "I want to do this. I wrote to your parents and- This doesn't come easily to me so I'm, well, I suppose I'm treating it like a plan of attack. One where it's easier to focus when I don't see you every five minutes. Maker's breath, do you know how hard it is to follow Josephine's orders and rules regarding courting when all I want to do is drag you aside and kiss you senseless? She made me read a whole book on what I could and could not do, and that is apparently a big no go."
Evelyn's mouth was slightly agape as she stared, dumbfounded for a moment. Then came the laughter, mirth shaking her body and causing her to double over, leaving Cullen to frown, an embarrassed flush creeping up his neck.
"Oh, oh, I'm sorry, I just," she covered her mouth and wiped a tear from her eye as she pulled herself together, giggles spilling out every few words. "We are the worst at this. There I was starting to worry you regretted the whole venture, and instead you were just trying to avoid the exact thing I've been trying to find you all day for?"
"Yes... Well." He shrugged, loosening the tension in his shoulders that he hadn't realized was building. "I'm glad you find my efforts hilarious. Cassandra was supposed to talk to you about it all, that I needed time to plan. I suppose we got distracted in the library."
Evelyn was back in his arms in less steps than it took to remove herself, insistent hands at the nape of his neck ensuring he had no choice but to accept her lips on his. Much less chaste this time, she bit his lower lip, sliding her tongue into his mouth at his gasp, a hand trailing down his chest to toy with his belt as his own hands rested on her waist. Fingers tapped out a rhythm on the buckle as she pulled back, a sly grin on her face. "I find your efforts charming. Even if I am now drowning in elderflower posies. Which reminds me, why elderflower?"
He shrugged again, a wry chuckle escaping him. "I have no idea what flowers you like, and roses seemed trite. We used to see it all the time near the farm flowering around Bloomingtide when I was a child, and I..." he trailed off, a hand reaching up to caress the small white blooms decorating the braid slung over her left shoulder.
She held her breath as his other hand tightened on her waist to spin her around so she was held against the door in his stead, exhaling slowly as their eyes locked.
"...I always imagined when I grew up the woman I loved would wear a crown of them."
They were quiet for a moment, both lost in thought, his thumb absentmindedly running over the petals with a gentle touch.
It wasn't until heavy footfalls sounded on the steps below that they moved apart, and he mumbled an Inquisitor, scarred lips quirking up into that half smile that left her a little weak at the knees before he tugged her away from the door. He slipped through, letting it shut quietly and left her to her musings.
A/N; poem shamelessly borrowed from Lord Byron :3