The vapid Orlesians closed in the minute his decorative boots returned to the ballroom. Hunters stalking their prey as they'd maneuvered the Commander into a distant corner away from the dance floor while droning on about earlier salons and scandals.
At first, Cullen thought he'd find pertinent information buried within rumors the nobles whispered out of earshot if he observed hard enough. He realized the error of his ways as it became plain the nobles knew far less than he gave them credit for. He'd opened himself up for discussion as Josephine threatened him to, not expecting the nobles to pursue him with the intensity they exhibited.
One man came close to ending up with an ornamental sword rammed beneath his Adam's apple after his hands wandered into places off limits. The Commander wasn't certain his blade was sharp enough to elicit blood, but he was impatient to confirm if he could stab with sheer force through the next violating noble that dared put their hands on him.
When he addressed the Ambassador, red-faced and aggravated, Josephine responded with enthusiasm much to Cullen's horror. She was pleased the nobles were enamored with him and the potential allies it could help them bring to the Inquisition. If I'm not careful, I'll leave Orlais engaged to a minor noble's youngest daughter to gain entry to their stables. We will have a frank discussion about my role in the Inquisition when we've returned to Skyhold.
Stuck in the corner, sweat running down the back of his stiff collar, he waited for a distraction to present itself. Minutes earlier an Inquisition messenger approached Leliana. Cullen's stomach sunk as the bard's face fall, color draining from her pale features. Without making eye contact with either of the other advisers, she exited the ballroom, covering her auburn hair with her hood at a running pace and had yet to return.
He trusted in Evelyn's skills as their leader and her skills with her daggers, but they were in dangerous unknown territory. Cullen knew how easy it was for the lives of talented soldiers to be lost in the heat of combat.
Evelyn. He tried not to dwell on the thought of her fighting throughout the palace walls but now struggled to think of anything else after watching Leliana rush out of the room. In a normal battle, he was lucky to be back at Skyhold with his general anxieties instead of the fear of knowing your loved one is fighting at this exact moment within your reach. At this point, he gave up any pretense of pretending to listen as the Orlesian nobles prattled on.
As the minutes ticked by, each of his heart beats boomed within his throat as it threatened to squeeze shut around him. His lungs fighting against every breath as the Orlesians continued to speak. Their voices cut him like shards of ice. Everything was out of control.
The ballroom spun around him while his feet remained stationary. The edges of his vision blurred as less oxygen made its way to his head. Gripping the edge of a dessert table, he counted each individual intake and exhale of breath until the spinning slowed and the overwhelming fear of hidden demons subsided. When his eyes focused on the nobles still clattering on, Cullen raised an annoyed eyebrow that none of his admirers noticed his sudden meltdown.
If he didn't see Ev, unharmed, with his own eyes soon, he would lose his mind.
Evelyn remained out of his line of sight their entire time here. She explained during their travel to the palace she would have a room near Grand Duke Gaspard as befitting her station and rumors of the Inquisitor and the Commander together could be disastrous to any attempts of Josephine's gaining allies through casual slips of the tongue in mentioning potential marriage alliances.
As ridiculous as it was, any questioning of the Inquisitor's purity could equal lives lost on the battlefield for them later.
It was disgusting. She was no one's property.
The whole build-up to the Winter Palace drained her to empty. While raised in the Game, everyone in the Inquisition knew failure was not an option. Someone must leave these talks in charge of Orlais if they were to weather the storm coming. Cullen's job here was to send orders to his Lieutenants and look pretty as Leliana pointed out to him on multiple occasions.
In comparison, Ev expectations were to be a leader, a warrior, a diplomat, an investigator, and a negotiator all while stabbing Venatori in a ball gown and high heels. Day after day she pushed herself too hard, and he knew if there were any mistakes in how the peace talks played out that Evelyn would take the brunt of the blame for her lack of preparation, regardless of her performance. He didn't envy her for one second.
She withdrew from him on the journey to the Grand Duke's Villa. Her behavior the night before their departure still bothering him until she dragged him by the hand into her carriage. Throwing herself into his arms before the door closed. As his lips parted her wine-flavored ones, relief bubbled up in his chest, releasing the sense of dread that culminated when she sprinted out of his office in the early hours of the morning with tear-filled eyes.
Cullen understood what it was like to live haunted by demons whether real or imagined. Evelyn needed time off after the peace talks concluded before her ability to do her job was affected.
Time off.
Just the phrase drew an aching longing from his chest. He loved his work, but there's only so long you can pour your everything into a goal before you have nothing left. He shook Cassandra's hand a broken man, fear, and anger filling his eyes when he joined the Inquisition. Years later, he'd made progress letting that fear go, made harder by giving lyrium up as he joined. Withdrawal still reared its ugly head at him daily, as a headache flitting over the edge of his brain reminded him, but he was closer to destroying that leash than ever before.
How much of his progress did he owe to Evelyn? To protect and advise her, Cullen dug deep into his broken spirit, finding a strength he hadn't known he could harness. When giving in to his addiction tempted him, it was the thought of her that kept his boots traveling in the correct direction.
Maybe after the palace, he could talk Evelyn into traveling with him. A way to thank her, taking the weary load off her shoulders for one day. Skyhold wasn't far from where he grew up and if he was convincing, the other advisers might allow Evelyn and him to travel to the area. There was a lake where he spent so many hours as a child he would love to take her to.
Closing his eyes, he could see her sitting on the edge of the dock. Boots and socks off, trailing her feet across the top of the water. A smile beaming on her face while the sun set the red of her hair on fire in its rays. Cullen always found her beautiful, but the thought of her dressed down and relaxed in the sun in his old stomping ground brought a content smile to his face in the middle of this parade of deceptions.
Opening his eyes, he groaned at seeing the waves of Orlesians still vying to get his attention. They moved closer to him, violating any common-sense knowledge of personal space. He prepared to give any excuse necessary when he saw a ponytail of pure moonlit hair moving towards him, weaving through the crowds.
Part of him relaxed to see an uncovered face among the throngs of beast-like nobles while his heart tightened when any Inquisition messenger approached. Idalya pushed her way through the crowd of his admirers and popped out between two women whose faces curled back with disgust at the proximity to an elf. From behind her, she pulled her arm trailing behind and a much smaller elf stepped out from behind her. Dark hair and similar dress to the Inquisition scouts- her eyes red from falling tears. Something was happening.
The Warden, just a servant to those surrounding them, didn't wait to be addressed first, as was proper in Orlais. "Cullen, this girl is a spy of Briala's. She knows dangerous information and almost lost her life to the Game once tonight. The Inquisitor wants her under your protection until testimonies." Cullen struggled to hear her whisper over the scoffs of the crowd who dispersed around him instead of risking being seen so close to a servant, much less an elven one.
I must thank her for that later.
The lines on the elf's face were harsh, a concealed anger brewing beneath the surface of her words as she held her composure. Cullen was floored by how beautiful she looked when he retrieved her earlier and now found radiating guilt from the weariness stripping away her vibrancy within these cursed halls. She should not have come here; she wasn't prepared for this.
Maker, I hope It 's time, we all need to leave here to reduce our losses.
"Thank you, Dal," his voice came out scratchy and parched. His fear taking hold in his throat growing tighter each moment as his fear for Evelyn's safety and his equal anger at her commands took hold. "Have you heard anything about the Inquisitor?"
The Warden flinched at Ev's title as though the mere thought of her burnt the elf to her core. She shook her head, not meeting his eyes, her hands fisted at her sides. Cullen sighed with a sense of guilty relief, knowing Leliana would have her beloved friend out of the building the moment Evelyn was hurt or lost. Cullen pushed the thought far from his mind. He needed to focus on the Empress they were there to save.
"Dal, head back to your station."
"No." She responded, a dark-skinned elf in servant's dress, with insubordination in front of a crowd of shocked Orlesians, her hand held in front of the other elf protecting her from an unseen enemy.
Cullen waited to see if they would call for guards or if they would let him deal with this developing situation. Cullen knew little of the Game, but most of what he learned from Evelyn, Leliana, and Josephine comprised someone knowing their place and regarding those of higher station with the respect their culture deemed fit.
When all the Orlesians remained motionless, it was safe to proceed. Dal being thrown into an Orlesian prison was the last thing the Inquisition needed. This was a country whose Empress burned down an entire alienage, killing hundreds of sleeping elves, to send a message to a political rival. What would they do to a defiant Elven servant in view of nobles from throughout Orlais? A sudden wave of nausea gagged him as he pushed out of his mind the image of his once savior being dragged to the hangman's gallows.
"Servant," he prayed to the Maker Dal understood what he was doing. "Both of you follow me." Channeling his "Commander" tone put the nobles at ease as the servant was put back in her place.
He squared his shoulders and marched towards the front doors praying no guards would follow. Idalya's expression was more reminiscent of Solas than of her more humorous self.
"I'm sorry about that Dal…"
"It's fine." She cut him off before he could finish, and he frowned, his concern growing over what caused this torment to his friend.
"It's not. Now that the whimpering Orlesians are gone- what's happened?"
Idalya looked down after his question, the creases in her face deepening as his eyes caught on the blood stains on her once emerald slippers. "Too many innocent lives have been lost today. The world has changed little in the decade I was gone. I'm ready for this to end."
That was something both could agree on.
It was a dangerous question to ask, but with Evelyn, he couldn't help himself: "What happened with the Inquisitor?"
A flash of rage poured over her as the words tumbled past his lips was immediate, but he needed to know Evelyn was okay somewhere in this monstrous building or he feared his own emotions would come apart at the seams at the thought of her broken body laying somewhere while the halls.
"She…," Idalya paused as she looked up into Cullen's eyes. It was frightening how much pain swirled through her lavender ones. "she was less empathetic about those lost."
He exhaled as his eyes closed, needing a brief respite from the cascade of emotion threatening to drown him. Of course, that happened. Idalya would risk her life to save everyone around her while Evelyn could name the number of people, on one hand, she would consider personal sacrifice for.
Cullen understood why she feared to let people in but couldn't help being frustrated as her advisor when troop losses were nothing but numbers to her logic. He pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger until the pain centered his focus.
"Okay, you can stay here with…," he stared at the dark-haired elf drawing a blank if Dal spoke her name.
"Sia." The young girl spoke up timid behind the Warden.
"Thank you, Sia," Cullen said carefully to acknowledge the girl who cowered behind Idalya. He turned back to the Warden. "Dal, stay here with Sia and make sure she remains safe. I believe the time for action is close. Are you prepared to fight if needed?"
Idalya cocked an eyebrow and slid her hand along the side of her skirts producing a thin Silverite dagger strapped to her thigh. A chill crested over his spine as the blank expression remained on Idalya's face. Whatever she experienced within the palace was dismantling the guard Dal kept up to the rest of the world.
The weight on the warrior's shoulders and conscience were tremendous, but she kept her sanity by surrounding herself with friends and her sense of humor. Now stripped of both, she concerned the Commander. He knew the dangerous look flitting through her eyes. That look of self-control eroding in a person as their self-destructive tendencies carried them through their grief and pain.
"Good." He swallowed roughly.
A blur passed by the corner of his vision and he tracked it to find the Spymaster standing in the entrance to the ballroom, a glare of annoyance directed at the Warden who knew she was standing behind her but refused to acknowledge her best friend.
With a nod to Idalya, he walked forward to greet Leliana. "Don't even ask," he mumbled upon arriving next to her as the two of them turned and surveyed the two elves.
"Idalya, keep your back guarded as the violence draws closer." The Spymaster spoke in controlled notes, her Orlesian accent thicker than usual. "The Templars will arrive soon to help… If they still live." That was what it took.
The blank expression dissolved from Dal's face revealing the compassion and grief she always held so close to her heart, her eyes filled with regret and guilt at her realization over how the rage had taken her away from herself.
Leliana stepped close to the elf, so they were only inches apart. "Don't let your grief let you lose sight of what still lives. Vengeance will distract you from protecting what is struggling to thrive." Her whisper hit Cullen like a shock wave.
A slight tremor ran through the Spymaster's body and Cullen realized Leliana's words spoke of her own regret of losing herself in her work for the Divine after losing her beloved warden. Every member of the Inquisition had lost something vital to their being, but they kept going because it was their duty, required of them. They pushed on, they kept fighting because Thedas depended on them doing so. Every day people in their company lost companions, lovers, and children- each piece breaking them a little more. Hundreds died as Haven burnt to the ground. But still, they fought.
Cullen let his vengeance and trauma consume him in Kirkwall under Meredith's command. Demonized those he vowed to protect. Cassandra and Leliana took a risk handing the Commander's helm to him. A man who cowered at the memory of who he once was and the man he could be. People called him a hero for standing up to Meredith at the last moment and in front of him stood a true hero who had laid down her life without question to save all of Ferelden.
Maker, I swear to you I will not let her end up on the same path.
"Can you do this? I understand if you cannot." Leliana's whisper drew him out of thoughts.
The Warden drew back her shoulders, rolling them in place to get her circulation restarted from her tense position. "I'm here." She sounded like Idalya again, her confidence reinstated, though her eyes spoke of the pain she would have to confront later. "Seeing death has a different impact after you've done it yourself."
A punch struck him in the center of his mass as he processed the weight of his friend's words. She was falling apart. Her time in the Inquisition controlled, protecting her until ready to face the Archdemon. Cullen couldn't imagine the fear gripping the elf as she stared at the dead. Seeing them with new eyes.
Mid response Dal's face tilted to the side, the look of once-faded anger taking over again. Evelyn was returning to the ballroom, Idalya's ears hearing her approach before any visible sign. A second later his eyes caught her fiery auburn curls as she marched her way back into the beating heart of Orlais.