"Sandal, no!"
Isabeau cringed and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, unable to watch as the curious dwarf went toppling over the balcony's ledge. When she chanced to open an eye, she looked down and watched as Sandal released his grip on the heavy fabric of a hanging banner, solidly but safely landing on two feet in the yard below. She blew out a sigh of exasperated relief, looking down as she triumphantly tossed her trinket in the air before catching it again.
That boy makes off with all manner of my things. Am I the only one he torments? She rolled her eyes as she went and placed the random statue back in her solar, rueing the start to her day. The Inquisition had been burdened so long with an endless slew of responsibilities that Isabeau had balked with shock at her advisor's combined reports earlier that morn. She was surprised to find all three in agreement for an intermission during the lull, Isabeau unable to truly find argument with giving her companions a rest.
With their morning council ended, Isabeau had walked somewhat aimlessly about the Keep, not entirely sure what she would do with her sudden leisure. It was as she headed for her apartments that she had come across Sandal, the prize in his arms distinctly familiar as he had careened past her, exuberantly shouting 'shiny!'
Well, chasing Sandal about Skyhold certainly filled some time.
In the month following the disastrous trade envoy, Isabeau had been at the Keep very little, a flurry of obligations and diplomatic engagements nearly swallowing her whole. Bodahn and Sandal had arrived just before her departure to deal with the troublesome Reds, the boy's enchanting skills well appreciated by Isabeau. Even if he did drive her a tad batty at times. She had only just finished the arrangements for Herren's funeral when she had been called to the Bannorn, leaving the memorial in Josephine and Cullen's capable hands.
Speaking of…
Isabeau had seen Cullen very little since their rebellious evening, wondering if he had fared any better in its aftermath than she. While on the road and in the privacy of her tent, Isabeau had frequently recalled the night with fondness, finding it increasingly easier to silence her chastising conscience. Cullen had willingly bared something very private, Isabeau moved by his readiness and trust in her. More and more the reservations she'd painstakingly harbored began to diminish; memories much more treasured steadily supplanting the demons' place in her dreams and thoughts.
Laughter interrupted those thoughts now as it echoed down the towering hallway, Isabeau smiling in anticipation as she made her way into the main dining hall. Dorian, Varric and Sera sat with tankards brimming with ale at a table nearby, laughing loudly as Varric regaled them with what was surely another tale. Bull also appeared from the buttery, noticing Isabeau and waving her over to the table, setting his second tankard before her. Isabeau gave her thanks and took a deep swig.
"Come on Sera, just one?"
"Don't be a twat, Varric."
"Think of the profit!"
Sera grimaced in playful revulsion, "Feck off! If you think I'm mad enough to provide you with story fodder, you're a special kind of git!" She nodded towards Isabeau, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, "Go on, have a go at her again."
Isabeau raised her hands and tankard in wary surrender, "Varric…"
He scoffed dramatically, "Come on Sera, I need fresh material!" He leered at Isabeau then, "No disrespect, of course, Inks."
"I'm devastated."
Varric gave a lazy shrug, "Eh. Commander and Conqueror had a good run."
Ale exploded from Isabeau's lips to her companion's immense amusement, "I beg your pardon?"
Dorian smiled cheekily at her then, sipping at his goblet of wine as he cocked an eyebrow at her, "You've not read it? I know it's a favourite amongst Skyhold's denizens; even I couldn't put it down."
"I read it for the sex," Bull nonchalantly declared, finishing the last of his tankard in three deep gulps.
Isabeau groaned into her tankard, taking another generous swig before face planting into her arms upon the table. Her companions seemed to take great joy in teasing her about Cullen, sometimes filling an entire trip on the road with the light-hearted banter. Isabeau knew, or at least wanted to feel like she knew, Varric would never actually write a filthy novel about she and Cullen's blooming friendship. Privately, when she over-analyzed their mischief, she wondered if they weren't entirely wrong. Even if I am cultivating anything, they certainly don't need to know about it.
"Terribly sorry to disappoint but no, I haven't read any books of late that involve randy Templars," she raised her head and countered, finishing her last sip of ale before tugging her legs from the bench. She stood and crossed her arms, bending forward a bit as she rocked on the balls of her feet, "And I certainly have not read anything about sexually frustrated Inquisitors."
She made her exit to the sound of raucous laughter, bouncing down the stairs that led to the Keep's main yard. Her speedy consumption of the ale had left her with a pleasant lightness, Isabeau deciding to stop and chat with the assortment of laborers and soldiers populating the bustling yard. She had sadly noted Wade and Herren's absence as she approached the smithing pit, opting to discuss steel with one of their apprentices instead. As she chatted amiably with the young man, she caught sight of Cullen striding from a gate opposite her, his sparring attire giving away where the templar was spending his down time. She hastily excused herself and jogged to catch up with him.
"Lady Trevelyan," he said in greeting, stopping as she came up beside him, one hand rubbing a cloth at the sweat upon his neck. "I trust you're enjoying your day."
"I have no idea what to do with myself," she airily confessed, digging the toe of her boot into the ground. "My biggest excitement so far has been chasing Sandal."
Cullen quirked an eyebrow at her, "You… chased Sandal?"
"He's not a dwarf, he's a bloody magpie. This is the third time I've caught him knicking things from my rooms!" Cullen chuckled at her misfortune before offering his arm to her, Isabeau looping her own through it as they walked in companionable silence.
"You're looking much improved, Cullen," Isabeau said as she playfully knocked her shoulder into his, "I am happy to see it."
He gazed down at her beside him, smiling in thanks, "It is kind of you to say so." He then paused and turned to face Isabeau, a wily grin uncharacteristically sharpening his features, "If the lady is bereft of activities for the day, I could… have a potential solution, if she were so inclined?"
Isabeau tilted her head, pressing a finger to her lips in facetious contemplation, "The lady is listening and considering her inclination…"
The corners of Cullen's eyes wrinkled as he beamed at her. "Permit me time to change into something more suitable, then I will find you at the stables," he inclined his head and turned to leave, Isabeau shaking her own head in bemusement as she made her way to gather their saddles.
She kindly waved away the stable hands who intended to assist, taking enjoyment in the task of readying hers and Cullen's mounts; the latter's impressive destrier nipping at her now for carrots. She held her palm teasingly flat, sniggering as the horse's soft, agile lips nibbled at her one hand while her other buckled the straps of his bridle. Goliath was a great beast with an obsidian coat, his billowing mane and tail beautifully long, Isabeau delighted by the soft black feathers around his hooves. Her blue roan palfry, Vita, did not have the size of Goliath, but she was a sure footed thing, Isabeau finding her ambling walk quite comfortable during long journeys.
As she finished tacking the two horses and lead them out into the yard, Cullen came bouncing down the stairs across from her. He was dressed in a simple long-sleeved tunic, with a wide leather belt cinched about his waist and knee-high riding boots snug upon his solid legs. A fur-trimmed cloak of deep green billowed behind him, his hand resting on the hilt of the sword buckled to his side as he walked towards her. Isabeau unabashedly admired the sight of him dressed so casually. She deliberately looked him up from down as he gently took Goliath's reins from her hands, absently wondering if his ears had ever been that particular shade of red before.
"Does the lady find my attire unacceptable?" He smiled intriguingly as he asked, climbing into the saddle as Isabeau hauled herself atop Vita.
"There's a distinct lack of fur I'm not sure I approve of."
"Ah, well, I shall have to kill some helpless creatures today to remedy that."
Isabeau barked out a laugh as they made their way through Skyhold's impressive main gate, lazily loping across the expansive bridge that connected the Keep to the opposite cliffs. She cocked an eyebrow at Cullen beside her, "Are you going to expand on this 'solution' of yours now?"
"And lay ruin to your unbridled anticipation? Absolutely not..." Cullen jested before he unexpectedly spurred Goliath, taking off at a gallop as the great animal kicked up pebbles and snow behind its powerful legs. Isabeau urged Vita after him, the pair recklessly pounding the hard mountain paths as she took chase. She revelled in the cool air whipping through her hair, the agile Vita easily matching Goliath's pace as Isabeau cried out in delight behind Cullen. They careened around a sharp corner, their horse's hooves slipping slightly on the loose gravel, before shouts of alarm and panic ripped Isabeau from her exuberance. Cullen and Goliath had hugged the pass's natural walls, avoiding any collision with the approaching caravan, but Vita was at full-stride in the center, Isabeau leaning forward in the saddle as the nimble beast leapt and soared over a cart in their path.
Cullen chanced a quick look back in the saddle, smirking competitively at Isabeau as he yet again took the lead. Isabeau gave Vita another spurring, making herself as small as possible as she raised herself from the saddle, releasing her grip on the reins to clutch the horse's mane as she gave Vita full control. They raced down Skyhold's mountain passes, the pair finally exploding from the path's entrance at the base of the highlands, Isabeau shooting her arms out wide in exultation as she went flying past Cullen.
Falling forward in the saddle, she affectionately hugged Vita's powerful neck, patting her flank in appreciation as they slowed. She took the reins back in hand and turned her palfry to find Cullen and Goliath trotting towards them. A hand ran through her now tangled tresses as she smirked triumphantly at the approaching knight.
I must look positively wild.
"Do you accept defeat, Ser?"
Cullen tugged at the reins, steering Goliath towards the path that lead to the small village at the bottom of Skyhold's mountains. Isabeau followed, watching as Cullen seemed to consider, "What are the lady's terms?"
"Forgive me, but I will have to defer to my advisors' before we can treat further," she jested, Cullen's throaty chuckle rolling over her as they made their way along the populated road. All manner of people had flocked to Skyhold's lands, the small village becoming increasingly settled as more refugees and tradesmen flocked to the Keep's doorstep. As they ambled past, numerous folks greeted her with various titles of respect ranging from 'Inquisitor' to 'Your Eminence'. If Isabeau were to be honest, she still had a hard time adjusting to the reverence some bestowed upon her.
Better than the alternative. They could be lopping your head off.
They stopped and tied their hoses to a post outside the lone tavern of the town, Isabeau taking the arm Cullen again extended, before strolling to peruse the various stalls of the small market. As she appreciated the trinkets of one merchant's wares, Cullen broke from her and moseyed off towards a scribe's various texts. Isabeau's eyes fell upon a rather imposing necklace, its band of thick, woven black leather paired with a sparkling chunk of quartz. The stone had been cut into many impressive facets, Isabeau handing over her coin to the vendor as thoughts of Sandal's escapades returned.
This should keep the little bugger occupied.
"Lady Inquisitor?"
Isabeau turned at the young man's voice.
"Ser Keran, well met," she said as she extended and shook the hand of the fair knight who had approached her. Keran had been a part of Cullen's original templar constituents from Kirkwall, a green but dedicated young man who had taken up the Inquisition's cause. He scratched idly at the back of his head, nodding his own greet.
"Good day, my lady. Are you in town on Inquisition business?"
She softly chuckled her dissent, "Ah, no. It... is a day of rare quiet for the organization. Ser Cullen and I deigned to spend it wisely."
"Ser Cullen?" Keran coughed into his hand, "I won't keep you then. Best I return to my duties..." He trailed off, Isabeau amused by his bashful restraint.
"As you were, Ser Keran."
The young lad gave a swift bow before promptly walking towards the perimeter of the village, Isabeau shaking her head amusedly at Cullen's potency. As she made her way to the tables crowded with assorted texts and tomes, a young woman with raven hair approached her with a wide-eyed baby nestled into the crook of her arm.
"Maker bless you, Inquisitor."
"And you," she replied with a respectful bow of her head, giving the young woman's hand an encouraging squeeze before coming up beside Cullen, her hip leaning against the stall. She crossed her arms and took in the sight of the small but bustling community, a satisfied smile spreading across her lips as she felt a swell of affection for those she protected. She sidled her hip over slightly to bump it into Cullen's thigh, a sudden rush of saucy boldness taking over.
"So... partake in the commerce, perhaps get a bite to eat... and then we rampantly rip each other's clothes off?"
The book that was open in Cullen's hand promptly snapped shut as he looked up and stared ahead in bewilderment, "I beg your pardon?"
Isabeau snorted and pushed off from her lean against the table, "Come on then, that ride's left me a tad famished."
Cullen nodded his head compliantly, exchanging some coins for the book that yet remained in his hand. He tucked it under his arm as he followed Isabeau to the doors of the tavern, the pair slipping past patrons as they made for a bench in the back corner. The alehouse was positively buzzing with activity, numerous troops of theirs drinking merrily amongst themselves and scattered civilians. Isabeau covered her smile with a hand as a particularly buxom tavern girl was humorously pulled into the arms of a bearded soldier, the two sharing in their revelry; the girl's breasts almost bubbling out of her bodice. As the young woman disentangled herself from the embrace, she ambled over to where Cullen and Isabeau sat, her eyes widening in shock.
"Inquisitor! You honor us!" she bowed reverently as she hastily straightened her bodice and apron, "What can I bring you?"
Isabeau raised two fingers, "I would ask two tankards of your best mead firstly," she began before quirking her head in curiosity, "and what is currently roasting on the spit?"
"Leg of lamb, your eminence."
She turned her head to look at Cullen, the quiet templar nodding his head in agreement.
"That will do nicely."
The girl blusteringly bowed again and stalked off towards the back of the establishment, returning shortly after with two very impressive and very full drinking horns. Isabeau raised hers; Cullen mirroring her as the two clunked them together, drinking deeply of the pleasant brew. The horn remained cupped in her hand as she thoughtfully regarded Cullen.
"Feels a bit... surreal, doesn't it?"
After swallowing another careful sip of his mead, he nodded in agreement, "We have certainly lacked for... well, normalcy." He paused as a rather large pair of teats levelled at his forehead, the tavern's curvy mistress returning with their meal. She placed the trenchers carefully before them, thanking them for their patronage before bustling away.
Isabeau absently hummed her consensus at Cullen's remark, picking a steaming chunk of turnip from her trencher before savoring its butter-slavered goodness. She looked at Cullen evenly as she finished chewing, "And how fare your current efforts at the endeavor?"
"I have done well resisting any... temptations, if the lady is wondering. Yours and Solas' aid besides, our increasingly regular engagements with the red templar's are usually good for a swift kick in the arse."
Chuckling into the horn of her mead, Isabeau drank to her relief. The victory over Cullen's enslavement was yet young, but she respected his labours and wanted to trust in his abilities. The progress so far bode well, Isabeau having long since thrown herself to the mercies of their novel rapport's current. The informality to their interactions, when outside Inquisitorial duties, had since fallen into a comfortable rhythm; though, they saw each other little of late. She had endeavoured on her time away to relinquish her nerves, at least over her and Cullen, knowing she had a modicum of control in the dilemma. Though the other matters had to be left to the fates of time, the cautious exposure of Cullen's own intentions had given her a starting point.
They finished their meals in relative silence between them, several drinking horns having made their way to their table by the time they finished, the tavern's patrons now aware of her identity. When a group of bards began to play a bouncing, lively tune, Isabeau had relented to the respectful advances of a young soldier, pulled from her seat and into the crowd to dance and sing. As she spun and drank, she made sure to catch Cullen's eyes occasionally, her advisor's own smiles plain to see.
"To the Inquisitor!"
Someone cheered loudly, horns and tankards collectively raising high throughout the tavern. Isabeau cheered enthusiastically in turn, tipping back her horn to chug down the remainder of her mead within. She had made the rounds after, making an effort to visit with each group's tables, when finally she caught the hostess, pushing a pouch of gold into her hands.
"For your troubles tonight; kindly see they're well watered and fed," she said before striding back to where Cullen still sat, wondering how he was reading his book in the poor light.
"Not much for dancing, are you?"
Cullen took a measured sip from his horn, "I believe yours sufficed for the both of us."
"Are you saying I'm a poor dancer?"
"Yes."
Isabeau plucked the book from between his hands, gently rapping him on the head with it in retaliation. She tapped it against her palm several times before flipping it over, reading the finely embossed letters, Commander and Conqueror...
"Oh, fuck off," she cursed, dropping the book from her gaze as she gaped incredulously at Cullen. The usually stoic man burst into a fit of hearty laughter, reaching to take the book from Isabeau's hands before peeling off the false cover. Now calm to see the tome was actually a relatively normal title, On Demons, Isabeau flung herself back upon the bench, admiring the duplicates craftsmanship. She shook her head in pleasant disbelief before raising an eyebrow at Cullen.
"You and Varric? Truly?"
Cullen sniggered into his fist a little longer before clearing his throat, "He, ah, caught me when I passed the dining hall. You can't ever say he's not... opportunistic. When he learned of my intentions for our afternoon, well..."
"I don't even think I can be mad. In fact, I'm a little amazed," she teased, reaching to intertwine her fingers in his. Cullen paused in his efforts to drink, his eyes falling on their clasped hands. He tilted his wrist and raised their hands to his lips, gently kissing her palm as he steadily met her gaze. The sounds of the booming tavern seemed to die away, a bard's quiet, somber tune teasing her ears as Isabeau felt every inch of her redden from more than the mead.
"Cullen," she began, but he abruptly set his horn down on the battered table. He rose, and with their hands still clasped, came about to her side of the table. She rose and followed him into the crowd, rushing warmth spreading from her chest as he pulled her close, her head resting on his shoulder. Cullen had not released her hand, instead he lead her with it, the dance in no way intricate but lovely all the same. She turned her head so her nose nuzzled into his neck as they rocked back and forth.
Oh, just be out with it you fool.
Isabeau swallowed thickly, her one arm sliding up Cullen's ribs to grasp at the shoulders of his cloak as their torsos pressed tightly together. She allowed herself to sink into his embrace, unabashedly appreciating the knight's bulk. As she opened her mouth to speak, Cullen tilted his head down, gently brushing his lips at the nape of her neck.
"I've grown... fond of you, Trevelyan."
She sucked in a shallow breath, her fingers twitching as she clutched his shoulder, "And I you, Ser Cullen..."
They continued to dance silently until the melody ended, Isabeau feeling flushed again as they broke apart, several of the tavern's patrons smiling knowingly in their direction. She laughed shyly, grasping Cullen's forearms in her hands before she released them and stepped back, "We... should head back, before the paths grow too dark."
"As you will, my lady."
They sombrely made their way to where Goliath and Vita had been watered and tended, climbing into their saddles before plodding down the pebbled road. After they had made their way out of the village, their journey up the mountains in the eventide was adversely different from the trek down earlier. Isabeau distractedly admired the way the setting sun stained the snow-caps a rich salmon colour, she and Cullen greeting the various soldiers they happened upon during the incline.
By the time night had arrived, Skyhold's main gate appeared in the distance as the couple crossed the Keep's expansive bridge, Isabeau sighing in relief once within the confines of its walls. She slid off Vita, two stable hands already taking the reins of her and Cullen's mounts, smacking at her breeches to rid them of accumulated dirt. She ran a hand through her hair as Cullen intently strode toward her.
"Would you do me the pleasure of joining me in my solar, Lady Trevelyan?"
Isabeau blew the rebellious wisps of hair from her face, her heat beating loudly in her ears, "Ah, y-yes, might I just head back to my apartments to... freshen up from the ride?"
Cullen inclined his head before turning and making for his own quarters. Isabeau numbly patted at Vita's thick neck as she watched him leave, the timid stable boy looking at her quizzically.
"Lady Inquisitor? If - well, iff'n you don't mind...?"
"Oh, yes! ...Sorry," sheepishly she pulled away from her horse, both hands now rising to rake through her hair, one clasping the tie of her pony tail. As the tresses tumbled around her neck, she strode quickly towards her apartments, near-crashing through the door as she made for her wardrobe. Much to Vivienne's constant dismay, Isabeau was not a woman of finer tastes; it was at that moment, with the wardrobe's doors open wide, that the Inquisitor could oddly empathize with the stylish mage.
As she dug through her various combat oriented articles, she cried out in frustration at her decidedly unfeminine wardrobe. She rocked back onto her heels as she stared dejectedly at the clothing vomited across her floor, a stroke of desperation sending her shooting for her door as she jogged to Leliana's apartments.
"Inquisitor?"
"I need help!" She sighed at the sight of Leliana's surprised features as they appeared from the other side, barreling into the bard's solar before pacing back and forth by its hearth.
A faint titter escaped Leliana's lips as she ignored Isabeau's dramatics and made for her bed chamber. When she returned, she coughed until Isabeau looked her way in attention, a fine but simple cotehardie draped over her arms. The long, burnished red garment had delicate gold dandelions embroidered along its low-rising bodice, its belt a string of matching medallions meant to accentuate her hips. Isabeau felt her jaw drop as she lunged for the garment, raising her eyes to smile in appreciative astonishment at her advisor.
"You... are truly amazing," she beamed, affectionately hugging the red head.
Leliana gave a rare smile in return, guiding Isabeau towards her bed chambers, "It is the least I can do for my friend. You will wear it well." They quickly stripped Isabeau and got the dress upon her, Leliana kind enough to tame Isabeau's wild tresses into an elegant Orlesian twist. As they stood before a looking glass, Leliana smiled almost sadly at the reflection, Isabeau in contrast agape with Leliana's efforts.
"Keep it. We need something for the Orlesian parties, no? Now go, and revel in his awe... It would be a shame not to," the spymaster said as she fondly adjusted the belt before her hands softly guided Isabeau to the hallway. Isabeau turned to quickly squeeze Leliana's hands in thanks before she made her way to Cullen's quarters. She came to a stop at the heavy wooden door of the knight's solar, her hand hesitating as she went to knock.
Right, revel in his awe... and Maker, allow me this one comfort.