A/N: Still not affiliated with Bioware, though the new Mass Effect looks wonderful!

Hey, everyone! I promise I have more written than posted! I know this is short so I'll try to tie up the next chapter and post it in the next couple days! I'm sorry this fic is so choppy. I may revise it someday. But, for now, it's just a nanowrimo fic that I was working on. I'm sorry to disappoint with the terrible quality. My other fics are normally much more fleshed out. :( Feel free to read those, as well.

I hope you guys enjoy this rather short conversation. I promise the next one will be humorous...I also promise someone getting punched in the face in a few chapters.

Chapter Four

He needed to wake up. These were the nightmares he dreaded most, the pleasantries they afforded him too much to bear. Aveline Trevelyan clutching to his bare chest, her breasts pressed against him. Her slender fingers traced the scars across his arms, her teeth teasing his throat. He wrapped his arms around her, reveling in the curves of her body. He knew he had to fight the dream, push her away, disrupt the demons who were praying on him.

But, he didn't want to.

She pressed her hips against him, aware of the way she affected him. How he wanted to grab her thick hair and pull her lips against his. She whispered his name, her melodic voice dripping with lust…

It took all of his strength to force himself awake, to not pull the demon closer. Damn the lyrium withdrawal! It was already causing him to descend into madness. He was covered in a cold sweat, but he knew his skin would be hot to the touch. At least he was able to wake up from the nightmare, to distinguish that it was not real.

He groaned and pulled himself from the bed, stumbling to his wash basin. This was ridiculous. Aveline Trevelyan was the Inquisitor. And a noblewoman on top of that. He rarely got to spend time with her unless it was in their war counsels or her occasional visits to watch the troops practice in which she seemed to purposely seek him out and question him. Not that he minded her distraction. She was a rather welcome one. It just seemed that she was scarcely ever in Skyhold. She was always off waging her own war. Even when the army could have just as easily handled a situation, it seemed that Aveline was always happy to lend her own magic to any worthy cause they encountered.

Perhaps, if he simply found an excuse to spend more time with her, he would be able to rid himself of this infatuation…

No. That was terrible idea. It was simple infatuation and it would disappear over time. She had little interest in him, he was sure. And to even approach her would be to draw more attention to his fascination than was necessary or appropriate. He threw the cloth he had been using to rinse the sweat from his body, though it missed his target entirely, landing on the floor.

He needed to forget these feelings he had for her. Perhaps even be cold to her. But, he knew that he could not allow her to consume his thoughts. He was the Commander of her army, a lyrium addict and an ex-Templar. He had nothing to offer her to even think of her as more than his superior.

What he needed was a distraction from his dreams. The sun had not yet risen over Skyhold. The training room of the armory would be empty, save maybe Cassandra who was as diligent in her training, as a Chantry sister. Destroying a few practice dummies would surely banish all further thoughts of her from his mind. Perhaps he would even be at ease enough to work on the reports that were quickly taking over his desk. The lyrium withdrawal had been affecting his ability to do his work the last few days. He needed to make sure that never happened again.

Cullen pulled on his armor, as quickly as possible. He would train and return to his duties after a quick bath. It was a simple routine he had repeated a hundred times. But, today, it couldn't be that simple.

He opened the door to his tower and found her, leaning against the battlements. Her hair was in a state of disarray, though she had clearly tried to pull it back into a braid, and her cheeks were flushed, streaked with drying tears. Even in the darkness of the morning, her bright blues eyes shone as they studied something on her hand. The Mark, maybe? She rubbed her eyes, throwing away another tear.

He could leave her. He learned from his sisters that it was sometimes best to leave a woman alone in a time of crisis. But, for whatever reason, he heard his promise to her "I won't leave you. I promise. Never." Somehow, he felt as if he were betraying her if he left her to face whatever this was by herself. He threw away the demons that had threatened him, forgot the lyrium he was craving. She needed someone with her more than he needed to forget her.

He approached slowly, trying his best to make noise and not startle her. He wondered what plagued her? She was strong, and beautiful...and there was so much hurt in her eyes. He stood at attention next to her and waited a moment. When she did nothing to acknowledge him, he spoke. "Did the Fade plague your dreams, as well?" She looked up at him, attempting a smile, but it was broken and forced. He frowned...and he watched as she dropped all of it aside and slumped back onto the stone barricades, defeated.

Aveline didn't look at him, as if she couldn' bit her lip and played with her fingers before she spoke. "Cullen...when you were in the Order...Did you ever speak to your charges in the Circle?" Cullen was taken back by the question. She wanted to know about his life as a Templar? The one subject he would rather avoid visiting in her presence and it was her interest?

Cullen straightened his spine. Mages disliked him on principle. Perhaps that was where this was leading. "We were expected to remain distant from the mages. I did have the opportunity to get to know a few of them, though. The Hero of Ferelden was one of my charges...I considered her a friend once."

Aveline smiled, bitterly. "Did she tell you how she found out she was a mage?" Cullen shook his head. Before he had the ability to say anything, Aveline's lyrical voice turned dark. "I was supposed to inherit my father's lands...his title. In the Free Marches, they didn't care if you were a woman. The eldest child always received the title after the death of their parents. My brothers were promised to the Chantry almost in infancy. And, Gaspard...Gaspard loved it. He wanted to be a Templar. He showed aptitude with a sword early and it was decided that the Chantry would take him in. But, Michael...he wasn't so lucky. He was always small and the other children were cruel."

Aveline shook her head and pushed a lock of hair out of her face. Cullen knew he was just meant to listen. This was something that she needed to be heard. And he could do that for her. "He used to tell me that I shouldn't get angry. He was going to be ok. He would be the best Templar in the Free Marches and I would be the most powerful noble and we wouldn't have to deal with it anymore. But, I didn't listen. I always had a temper. My family was entertaining Orlesian nobles when I found out I was a mage." Aveline laughed. "Their son was beating Michael. I watched as he kicked him over and over in the ribs. I got angry….and I tried to punch him. But my hand caught fire instead. I left an Orlesian noble permanently scarred and I was sent off to the Circle for my own protection." Aveline wrapped her arms around herself. "I haven't been home since I was seven years old. I used to see my brothers. Gaspard, especially. I used to be one of his charges. The first time I saw him in the Circle, I ran to him and embraced him. He slapped me, telling me to know my place." Tears were glittering in her eyes again. Cullen felt the urge to embrace her, to hold her until she pushed him away. She wasn't the Inquisitor, here and now. She was just Aveline. And she was fragile and beautiful and he...he couldn't stand to see the tears sliding down her cheeks. "I always wondered why I was such a monster that even my own family couldn't stand me."

Cullen gently touched her shoulder. "I think your family would be proud of who you are," he said, the only words of comfort he had. But, he knew she didn't need petty words. She was still worrying on her lip. Her pain made him unable to control his tongue and he blurted out half thought words that he knew he should regret. "I am proud of who you are. Whether you're a mage or not, you are brave and kind. I think you're the most impressive woman I have ever met."

That didn't have the desired effect. Far from making her feel better, he watched as she started laughing at him. He withdrew his hand and waited for her to attack him. Instead, her voice was soft through her laughter. "Cullen, that might be the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me."

Cullen was rigid as she turned toward him and quickly placed a kiss on his cheek. He felt himself turning a bright shade of red. "Don't be offended when I say, that you are the kindest Templar I've ever met." Aveline winked at him, clearly joking.

Somewhere, he felt a twinge of hurt. A Templar. She only saw him as a Templar. He was always going to be a threat to mages. He wished that her reaction had incited the death of his infatuation, that he didn't still feel enamoured by the way she moved her hair from her face or the way she tilted her head slightly when she was smiling.

He pushed aside everything. She was the Inquisitor. Nothing more. "My door is always open to you, Lady Trevelyan."

She took his hand and squeezed it tightly. "Thank you, Commander. You really are too kind to me. Please know that you are one of my few friends." The look in her eyes was desperate, as if she wished for some kind of validation from him. He wasn't sure what to say to her, then. He wasn't sure who I was speaking to anymore. She didn't seem like the warrior who cast magic without a thought, who rescued villagers from Darkspawn, and played with the children of her followers in every inch of Skyhold she could find to cause trouble.

She was just Aveline. Frail, beautiful, timid, and scared, Aveline. And all he could say was, "Thank you, milady."

She let go of his hand, her smile only slightly dimmer, and she turned to the sunrise. He watched the colors play on her face like a painting as she seemed to soak in the first few rays of sun as they came over the horizon. Abruptly, the moment was over and they returned to their separate worlds, once more. She was the Inquisitor and he was her Commander...and they were as separate as oil and water.

"I'm sorry to have taken up so much of your time, Cullen," Aveline said, at last. "I'll see you in the War Council this afternoon." She gracefully spun on her toes and walked in the opposite direction from the barracks. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe there were some women that truly were impossible to forget...

A/N: Comments bring me joy! Which bring you quotes!