"Solas tells me your treatment is coming along smoothly," Isabeau commented before tearing off a greasy morsel of her honeyed duck, popping it between her lips. Cullen had stoically committed to the reduction regiment Solas and Isabeau had instituted, their follow-up meetings eventually evolving into dinner when convenient. As the weeks had progressed, Isabeau had noted little change in Cullen's demeanor when upon his daily tasks. Occasionally she had caught herself scrutinizing the man's face during war councils, searching for any signs of duress. To her immense inconvenience, Bull and Varric had both regretfully come to notice her lingering eyes, embarrassing consequences following in the wake.
"He is kind to say so, though I fear my nightly doses have become increasingly sparse. I do not think it long now," Cullen explained, reaching for his goblet of wine. He swallowed deeply and placed the goblet back down, lifting his knife and cutting off a large piece from his own portion of the savory duck. Isabeau caught herself staring at the way his jaw moved as he chewed slowly, the slightest hint of grease at the corner of his scarred lip. Her eyes trailed along the sharp contours of his jaw as the grease glinted in the flickering candlelight, only snapping from her stupor when Cullen wiped it away with back of his hand. She cleared her throat and took another generous swig of her wine.
"Solas has said as much," she confirmed, biting into a fried string bean, chewing thoughtfully before continuing, "He proposes tonight to be your final dose. Are you ready for that Ser?"
Cullen put his knife down on the table beside his trencher, leaning back and draping an arm over the back of his chair. His gaze met hers before he turned his head and stared at the flames in the nearby hearth intently. If Isabeau were to be honest, she had come to enjoy the almost casual familiarity that had developed between them in the days since. While their chats over occasional meals and tea had not usually gone any deeper than his progress, sometimes they would find themselves with lighter discussion; there was an undeniable change to his demeanor when in the privacy of her solar.
He smiled warmly at her now, "Yes Inquisitor, I am prepared."
Isabeau let out a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding, "Well enough. Now, tell me how the recruits have been faring? I understand the addition of Teagan's bannermen have proven an asset."
A soft chuckle escaped Cullen's lips as he leaned forward, his elbows now resting on the table as he clasped one hand in the other, "Have you become acquainted with any of our latest recruits, my lady?"
"I have attended a few drills and melees this past week, yes. Not enough however, to recall individuals if I am honest," she took a sip of her wine, "The truth of it? Half the time I step in the ring, it's like they think I'm made of ruddy glass. I suppose I can understand it but, next to Cassandra? Having Bull to have a good spar with can leave oneself… tender. Usually ends with me on my arse."
This time Cullen's laugh was more akin to a bark, "Yes, I can believe it. However, in time the recruits will come around the more they find you as their opponent in the ring. I understand the lady's regular duties do not leave much opportunity, though." He took his goblet in his hand and gave the wine a swirl before bringing it to his lips.
Isabeau smiled at the sight. And just how many times were you there to see me land on my arse Ser Roar?
"Is there something or someone I should know of in this latest batch, good Ser Knight?"
"There's this one, actually – Rowan, his name is. He's a right character but it's uncanny what the man can do with a falchion. Usually to the detriment of his opponent," the crow feet crinkled at the corners of his eyes, an amused grin spreading across Cullen's face. "Of course, I can't let the other lads know I secretly share a little chuckle with myself when a victory dance occasionally follows -"
He leaned forward then, raising his eyebrows in a cheeky manner.
"- You know… I can put golems to shame when necessary. Part of the whole Templar package."
Isabeau nearly choked on her wine biting back her snort. Whether he was aware of how incredibly suggestive the words had come out or not, the rare display of flippancy made her burst out laughing. A tiny stream of wine dribbled out from the corner of her lips in her attempts to avert the snort, the dark liquid halfway down her chin. As she raised her head and went to wipe it away, a snarky remark on the tip of her tongue, she caught Cullen's gaze. His eyes had softened, his lips gently pursed as he regarded her thoughtfully. Oh, I'd say a little more than thoughtful. A word Varric usually sprinkled liberally when in the deepest throes of romantic prose came to mind. Is that… is he smoldering at me?
Her intentions for sass now long abandoned, the words died on her lips. She felt a blush teasing her chest, awkwardly rubbing her thumb along her chin and lip until dry, feeling contrite over her ill-advised ogling minutes prior.
Cullen coughed into his hand and pushed his chair back from the table, "The hour is late my lady and I'll need my rest for the coming days."
Isabeau jolted and rose from her own seat, joining Cullen as he walked towards the door, "Of course Cullen. Thank you for coming tonight, I appreciate you are an encumbered taskmaster as it is."
"You are… fair company, Isabeau. It is no task at all," he replied courteously, "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Ser Cullen."
As she closed the door behind him, she reached up to run a hand through her near-white hair. As more days were invested towards Cullen's recovery, each of their sessions had allowed whatever awkwardness that remained from their shared ordeal to dissipate. At least in person; the nights alone on the other hand… Isabeau was finding it difficult to get some sound sleep. Flames, screaming and a perpetually present song had been disrupting her dreams for quite some time since Cassandra had found her. Eventually they had blessedly diminished in their frequency but since entering the Fade for Cullen, they had returned in force. The newest addition to her nightly ritual usually culminated in Isabeau awaking to a sickening assortment of revulsion and arousal, the images of her naked body and Cullen fading as she willed her beating heart to slow. The combined onslaught dotted with cold sweats and panicked leaping out of bed had plagued Isabeau so desperately she sought Solas for herbal remedies, a nightly tea prescribed with a gentle jab about the benefits of mages and dwarfs. Isabeau had been so exhausted she hadn't had it in her to stick around and argue about her lack of magic or stone sense.
It was that very tea Isabeau was now ladling from the pot over the hearth, the hot drink warming her hands from the chill of Skyhold's location. She sat down again before her trencher at the table, idly sipping and popping a few more pieces of duck into her mouth. She stared at the glove covering her left hand.
Not especially placated with this bloody thing on my hand. If I enter the Fade every time I sleep, could the mark amplify it in some way? At least she had been relatively successful in keeping the intrusive memories at bay, especially given the recent and more intimate regularity of Cullen's presence. Sometimes, if she was not vigilant enough with herding her roaming thoughts, Isabeau had curiosities and speculations rampantly explode. When agonized over enough, she could uselessly confess to fretting over whether the man could take her seriously anymore; shame at him seeing her naked form agitating her to no end if she'd let it.
And to the Void with this accursed blushing! Since when was I rampant with maidenhood at any age besides twelve?
Isabeau audibly groaned after her last gulp of tea, standing and making her way to the boudoir. She tugged at the laces of her bodice and breeches, shrugging out of them and opting to sleep in her chemise. She pulled the thick quilts and coverlets over her, tucking them between her thighs before staring at the opposite wall, reflecting on the evening. The next few nights would be particularly rough for Cullen. Solas and she had worked out a schedule between them to supervise between the days and nights, Isabeau eagerly offering to cover the evening shifts. A little too eagerly, actually.
Obvious sleeping habits aside, Isabeau couldn't deny her desire to be involved in the man's recovery. For all of her own chaotic emotions over what she had witnessed, it must have felt incredibly invasive for Cullen to find her in his own personal hell. She felt an obligation to him, not just as his leader and comrade, to assist in whatever capacity possible. To his credit, Cullen had dedicated himself to his orders in no different a fashion than his other responsibilities. It was the gradual reveal of who Cullen was as a person that had Isabeau smiling alone in the dark now, the even temperament increasingly peppered with glib wit, expected and yet utterly not.
On one occasion the pair had spent one of their meetings out on an afternoon ride. Isabeau had decided to do some falconry from the saddle as they lazily loped through the drifts of snow and rocky paths. Skyhold's name was well deserved and while she occasionally found herself lamenting the lack of grass, the crisp air did wonders for the lungs. They had decided to make a point of stopping at the various outposts tucked into the perimeter of the Keeps surrounding cliffs, checking on their men and supplies. When they had stopped to water their horses, the two had chatted over skins of wine and hard bread with cheese. Cullen had surprised her when he unexpectedly began asking of her person, how she herself was resting and managing the weight of her station.
"If I said anything other than 'with extraordinary poise and stalwart resolve', would you believe it?" She had smiled diffidently at him then, bringing her skin to swallow deeply of some wine. Cullen was sitting before her, one long leg stretched out while the other bent at the knee, his arm idly tossing crumbs of his bread at some nearby cliff swallows. A small gathering of the little birds hopped delicately about in the distance, Isabeau double-checking her falcon was hooded and tied securely.
"I might, though I feel I can attest better than most the value to a veneer of stone. It certainly had its uses in Kirkwall…" he trailed off, tearing a tough piece of crust from his bread.
Isabeau worried at her lip, "Everyone has heard the before, no matter the variation… To be frank, I've always been curious of the after. You were acting Knight Commander for a time, were you not?"
Cullen sighed, "Indeed. The battles with Meredith and Orsino were… brutal, the destruction of the Chantry devastating. Had the Captain of the City Guard not been the committed and just woman she was, I fear the ensuing aftermath could have turned out much worse. It will be many years before it is fully restored to order; if ever at all given current circumstance."
Isabeau pulled her knees to her chest, hugging her arms around her shins as she carefully considered her words, "Surely Cassandra had spoken with you before confronting Varric?"
"Actually, no - I was not even alerted to the Seekers presence until it was too late to intervene. Aveline and I both were forced to wait with the seneschal at the Viscount's Keep," Cullen took a deep breath, its exhale sending a puff of vapor billowing from his lips in the chilly air, "Kirkwall's Circle was nigh deserted then, the mages who remained… they were not dangerous people, but a frightened mage can be. When the mass dissolution of the Circle's hit, it was all my men and I could do to stem the tide of chaos again. We lost what few remained to sword or to escape, so when Cassandra approached me, there were no... limitations."
"You must have commanded a great deal of loyalty for so many of your men to have joined you in those fledgling days."
Cullen smiled ruefully, "You're kind to say so, my lady. It was not an easy decision."
"None of them ever are," she agreed, the pair slipping into a comfortable silence, Isabeau turning to watch the swallows Cullen continued to feed. She enjoyed seeing the little creatures take wing, hearing their lovely little chirps as they scuttled about. She considered what Cullen had said.
"It's… quite the change, is it not?"
"Pardons, my lady?" Cullen looked at her, an eyebrow arched quizzically.
"Those critical junctions where you realize you have to be the one to make those decisions? I have found the cushion of command that we can oft times take for granted becomes rapidly appealing then ," she picked at her fingernails and smiled at Cullen, "I can't say there hasn't been a day when I wanted to say bugger it all."
Chuckling, Cullen inclined his head in agreement, "I can imagine. I've… spent a significant portion of my life putting faith in my superior's decisions. Believing they would do what was just but necessary. Unfortunately, I've come to learn the lines between the two can blur in horrific ways."
"Between you and me Cullen, those lines are being blurred on all sides of this war," Isabeau stood and made her way to her horse, tucking the remnants of their meal into her saddle bag, "I need you to help me keep them as defined as we can; I'm not keen on joining the ranks of your previous superiors."
Cullen took the reins of his own horse and guided it on foot to Isabeau. She fought a jump of surprise when he reached and squeezed her arm in his gloved hand.
"It's my duty to see you don't, Lady Inquisitor."
Isabeau met his gaze as they stood amongst their horses, Cullen's large hand remaining upon her arm. She slowly reached up with the other and placed her hand over his, the tips of her fingers slightly tucking under his palm.
"Your helm is well-chosen, Cullen." The compliment tumbled from her lips and she felt her flesh heat through the cloths and furs that were protecting her from the frosty mountain air. As Cullen moved to step closer, Isabeau released her grip and spun, deftly climbing up into her horse's saddle. She caught a glimpse of Cullen blinking as he stared at her previously occupied space, before turning her horse in the direction back to the Keep. The sound of hooves behind her soon followed, Cullen falling in on his destrier to canter beside her palfrey.
"Forgive me, my lady, but I believe you still haven't answered my original question," he began tentatively, giving her a sidelong glance, "You are quite the interrogator but permit me this brief exchange of roles."
What could Isabeau say? Cullen wasn't looking for opinions on their strategy or which nobles she had danced the Game with. "Which would you prefer first, Ser Knight? Shall we examine my incredibly abysmal sleeping schedule? Or how about that sometimes when I find Bull has yet again raided the buttery or larder, I seriously examine my ability to toss him from a parapet?"
Cullen snorted, attempting to mask it with a cough.
"I'd be most impressed if you could, but neither, my lady. Forgive me if I assume too much, but I would know if your… memory of the temple has improved at all?" He shifted in his saddle, the leather groaning in protest as he readjusted his grip on the reins, "It seemed to have troubled you quite a bit."
"Arguably, I would say it troubled me too little, Ser. But no, I have not regained much more than was last discussed…" she trailed off as her face darkened, recalling her first few steps from the Fade but little and less of her time within. "If I am honest, I have abstained from further attempts. It is far easier, and more welcome, to remember home instead."
"And what was home, Inquisitor?"
Salty sea air was suddenly on her lips, the crashing of distant waves and gentle rolling fields of day lilies and sea oats flashing then at the back of Isabeau's mind."Hercinia, of the Free Marches, but… it has been a long time. I have a new home, Cullen. My mantle is a heavy one but I am blessed to not bear it alone. Whatever home was, it is now Skyhold and its people. My people. It is Fereldan, Orlais, and the Marches. Whether I am on the sea in Antiva or amongst the ruins of the Dales, I will be home. To consider otherwise sort of makes this endeavor of mine a tad folly, you see."
She didn't catch Cullen's private smile.
She didn't remember falling asleep.