Isabeau was growing increasingly fidgety, Cullen's attempts at distracting her with the scenery outside the carriage failing miserably. She's likely seen it a thousand times, you git.
Due to the great distance the Inquisition's party had to trek, a carriage and light cavalry guard had been arranged by Cullen, his and Isabeau's mounts currently lead behind the coach. Between the Civil War and pockets of Templars and Mages that remained embattled, they had been forced to travel the Imperial Highway south and then follow the sparse roads along the sea east; their party having cleared the Vinmark Mountains the previous evening. After catching some rest in Ostwick and then Markham, the procession was now approaching the lands of Hercinia.
Beautiful coastline of brilliant turquoise waters painted the windows to the right of the cabin; Cullen was so accustom to the dank waters of the Wounded Coast and Kirkwall Bay, he appreciated the striking view. Admittedly, he was as wary of their surroundings as he was impressed; Hercinia was as beautiful as it was deadly, merciless raiders plaguing its otherwise pristine coastline.
In addition to himself, several others of their companions had made the trip for Isabeau's sake. The reminder of their forces at Andoral's Reach had been split in half; one to garrison and the other following Cullen's party half-way before departing for Skyhold. While the situation at the Reach was far from peaceful, Cullen had to trust in Evangeline and his Generals. Though it had not been the figures Cullen had hoped for, they needed the bulk of their forces returned to Skyhold in order to train and integrate the Seekers, Templars and Mages that had enlisted. In the week Isabeau had permitted for her recovery and their preparations, only two hundred assorted assets were added to the Inquisition's ranks.
It's not enough.
Cullen hoped in time more would come, his enforcement of the Templar's Lyrium regulation being left in Rhys' and Evangeline's capable hands. He had to believe that, given time to even out, more of the Knight's would come around to the Inquisition's cause. If the abuse of the substance by their superiors was as persistent as he feared, perhaps more men like him would see the maltreatment for what it was. Cullen still had a hard time wrestling with his moral compass over his amputation from the Order, though it had dissipated some since the Inquisition really seemed to grab a foothold. He had to believe he was doing the right thing; there was terrific suffering on all sides, though Cullen was still wary of examining his true feelings on Mage freedom. Shared yet differently executed oppression was still oppression; to find a sense of empathy with the mages in that concept frightened him. Cullen was still ashamed to face how far the Templar Order had fallen.
"Charming?"
Cullen felt a bit stupid for even turning his head at Varric's voice, cursing himself every time he responded to the exasperating epithet. The dwarf was holding out a slice of apple, extended out on the tip of his dagger, as he waved it in front of Cullen. With thanks, Cullen took it and bit off half, chewing as he returned to brood at the sea.
"You know, this trips been awfully fun with you two rays of sunshine."
"Varric," Isabeau warned tiredly.
"What? Look Inks, I know you're worried but there were no birds in Kirkwall, Ostwick or Markham. Like you said, your mother would have sent word," Varric shrugged, Cullen cringing at their companion's attempts to placate the Inquisitor.
Isabeau yanked her head out of the hand she'd cradled it in against the glass, gaping at Varric in mild indignation. "Varric, there are hours... days worth of travel between those cities. I could have missed them," she tugged herself into a tighter ball, her forehead pressed back to the carriages window. "For once allow me to be both worried and sad. I still feel like a person, you know."
With a somber nod of assent, Cullen was relieved to see the dwarf relent. "Shit, I'm sorry, Trevelyan. There's just been a lot of crap lately and... I'm trying to be hopeful here." Varric's face grew soft as his hands anxiously preened at Bianca in his lap.
Her face softened as she sat back up, reaching to squeeze Varric's hand assuredly. "No harm done, friend. Besides, Bianca would never forgive me if I stifled her sunshine." Isabeau smiled kindly and then quickly plucked the remainder of the apple from Varric's lap, winking at him as she bit into it.
Solas let out a snort at Cullen's side, though when he turned to look at the elf, the man was feigning sleep. He nudged his elbow amiably into the mage's side.
"You're not fooling anyone, you know?"
A small smile tugged at the corners of Solas' lips, "You've found me out."
"Fiend."
"Ass."
Cullen leaned back with a soft sniff at their banter, his own lips tweaking slightly. Though the tension between them had been tightly wound prior to and during the battle for the Reach, in its aftermath Cullen had given in to his conscience, seeking Solas' quarters shortly after Isabeau's collapse.
"Come in."
With a soft clearing of his throat, Cullen pushed open the door to Solas' chamber in the west wing of the Reach's apartments. The quill in Solas' hand went still as he carefully set it upon the parchment, folding his hands as he somberly gazed at Cullen.
"Ser Cullen. Kindly have a seat," Solas rose and made his way to a small table cluttered with a kettle and cups. "Would you care for some tea?"
"Please."
The mage nodded and prepared their drinks, returning to place the cup in Cullen's open hand before sitting back behind his desk. The pair stared at each other as they each took measured sips, Solas' eyebrows suddenly perking.
"You and I are a very stark contrast, Ser Cullen; we have walked very different lives. It is something I think we need to reconcile."
"And how would you propose we do so?"
Tilting his head as he considered him, Solas sighed before explaining. "That way of living... of existing, has radically changed with the Inquisition," he stood and began to pace behind the desk. "What do we all have in common? We see a world suffering, a world where everything that is miserable and ugly infests the atmosphere, literally. What separates our plight from all the other atrocities raping Thedas right now?"
Cullen swallowed deeply as he leaned back further in his chair, turning his head to stare at the floor as he chewed on Solas' question. "A cause."
"The other's have causes, perceived or otherwise. What makes us different?"
A sudden clarity jolted Cullen, "The people. We are not choosing anything; we're saving everyone equally."
Solas nodded, "Precisely. We are not culling select groups. Closing the Breach could unite and save everyone. Quinari, Elf, Human... no matter the denomination." The elf pulled his chair from behind his desk to sit closer to Cullen, the knight somewhat taken aback by the action. Solas crossed his legs in front of him, "There's truly been... no better reason to rebuild burnt bridges."
"It is... a fortuitous time, I agree," Cullen began as he folded his arms before him. "I won't do our acquaintance injustice and pretend you don't know a great deal about me, Fade Walker. You willingly assisted me during a... greatly difficult time in my life. For my disrespect of your care, I apologize for my... temper, the other day."
"It was... something to be temperamental about, Ser. In a bid for good terms, I would have you know that you and I, in some ways, are not so different. As our Inquisitor rightly pointed out, we have been tormented by the same enemy for too long. It is... easy to slip into old habits in duress, though." Solas acquiesced quietly, their eyes meeting before both gave a slight nod at the other.
Since finding a place in the middle, Cullen had felt himself notably more relaxed around the mage; less strife plaguing him for his appreciation of the elf's on-going care for Isabeau. For the first three days Cullen spent making preparations with the others, Solas had placed Isabeau in a carefully monitored coma, her refreshment upon waking palpable. In their remaining days at the fortress, Solas had policed Isabeau, only allowing the Inquisitor to assist in the mobilization efforts after sufficient rest and food.
"We're not far from the city," Isabeau suddenly announced, sitting up straighter as shacks and various forms of housing began to pop up alongside the road. Soon after, the uneven, rocky sea road turned to smooth, white cobble stones, their convoy crossing a magnificently huge bridge that arched over the ocean below. The white marble of the bridge, and the remainder of the city's architecture, contrasted sharply with the blue of the skies and sea. Cullen pulled his eyes away from the sights of the passing city center to watch Isabeau, a soft but sad smile upon her face as her hand gently rested at her throat. She rocked listlessly with the carriage, her eyes occasionally widening at certain establishments they passed.
As they climbed a steep hill dotted with estates of various sizes and stunning horticulture, Cullen couldn't stifle his gulp of nervousness as they approached the gates to the Trevelyan Villa. He had always known Isabeau was a noble but in the Inquisition, her highborn status was overshadowed by her role as Inquisitor. Here, as they bounced up a long drive lined with various flowers, Cullen found himself decidedly uncomfortable with facing the proverbial truth. Templars were not usually permitted to marry, and even if he wasn't sure he could still call himself one, his birth would be the second toll of the bell.
Hang on...
Cullen frowned at himself, hushing his rambling thoughts as he fought his embarrassment at his own musings. Why he had bolted immediately to a topic he was in no way prepared to face, Cullen couldn't say. He filed the thoughts away and took a steadying breath as the carriage came to a slow stop. Clutching the door handle, Cullen jumped out and turned to assist Isabeau as she stepped down onto the cobbles, thanking him as she turned and faced the approaching group. A deep longing lined her features briefly before she broke into a smile, her arms going wide as she walked right into an older woman's embrace.
"Oh my darling girl," the lady wetly kissed Isabeau's cheek, pulling back in horror as she clutched at the Inquisitors head, gently tugging it aside to look closely at the scarred and ruined ear. "What in Andraste's name happened to your ear?"
"Battle scars, mum," Isabeau quipped but Cullen caught the bitter undertones. She then turned and introduced her companions to her mother, Katlein; each replying with their own polite greetings. When Isabeau came to Cullen, he felt her mother's eyes look him up and down, a slight nod of approval sending odd shocks through Cullen's abdomen. As one, the group made its way into the open and airy halls of the Villa, Cullen marvelling at the open concept chambers dotted with plant filled atriums and stunning sea vistas. After showing everyone to their allotted quarters, Cullen took a minute to appreciate his own bedchamber before leaving Isabeau to her mother. He made his way back to the carriage and assorted carts, assisting the servants with setting up their belongings and offices. Once complete and Isabeau was still yet to return, Cullen had joined Varric and Solas on a walk through the grounds, the three men finding a path that lead down the cliffs to the beach below. Filing its location away, they returned to the Villa after sometime, finding Isabeau and her mother chatting in the main atrium.
"Surely you are all very hungry after your trip. A feast will be served shortly in honor of your arrival. Should you have any needs, please do not hesitate to ask of our servants," Katlein implored warmly, beckoning them to join she and Isabeau in wine and the comfort of the plush settees.
"Your hospitality is more than sufficient, Lady Trevelyan," Cullen briefly felt odd saying her title after its prolonged use with Isabeau, "May... I inquire of your husband's health?"
Katlein's head dipped slightly in sorrow, "The Maker is generous to have sent you so swiftly, but, as I have explained to Isabeau, he is not long for this world I'm afraid."
"My sincerest apologies, my lady; I was too bold."
"Not at all, Ser Cullen; it is the very reason for your arrival. You have my gratitude for not only ensuring my daughter arrived safely, but arrived to say her goodbyes."
Isabeau stood then and poured herself a rose coloured wine from a nearby glass decanter, the intricately etched glass glinting in the setting sunlight that permeated the open rooms. A part of Cullen ached as he processed her features, thanking the Maker for allowing the mercy of their well-timed arrival. Their eyes met as she slowly sipped at her wine, Cullen watching her visibly sigh before she turned her gaze back out to the ocean.
"Shall we go to the dining hall?"
"Yes, Lady Trevelyan. Some nourishment would be most welcome," Solas said as he stood, Varric and him following Katlein into another room as Cullen rose to stand beside Isabeau.
"It's... not perfect, but it's better than what you feared." He soothed gently as he gave the room a quick glance, his hands coming to slowly rub her arms once assured in their privacy. Isabeau hugged herself in turn, her arms wrapping around her as her hands came to clasp Cullen's.
"I know it is true... I just wish it was different," She said sadly before squeezing Cullen's hands and pulling away from his embrace. "I'm going to have Solas see him but unless he has a miracle, the physician is not optimistic dad'll survive the week."
"I'm... so sorry."
Isabeau rubbed the back of her neck as exhaustion again lined her features, "It is a sad thing, but it is what it is. The honor of lighting his pyre was always to be mine... I take solace in being here to do it."
With that she turned and strode from the room, leaving Cullen to gnaw on her melancholy for a few minutes longer before he, too, made his way for the dining hall. After sitting down and filling his trencher, Cullen found some succor in watching Isabeau reunited with family and old friends. Katlein had an assortment of people staying with her on the massive Villa, many of them now joining in the feast while catching up with their long lost Lady. Some of the sadness managed to lift from Isabeau's face as she chatted amiably. One woman, with what Cullen felt was too much make up, tittered next to the Inquisitor now.
"The last we heard from you, you were en route to that dreadful summit in Ferelden. You can understand our... shock and relief at your safety."
"I was lucky when many were not, Lady Sersteen."
Cullen watched Isabeau's grip tighten around her goblet, nearly biting his tongue as he fought the urge to steer the conversation another route, Lady Sersteen continuing unabashedly.
"This dreadful Inquisition business of yours, surely life would have been much simpler had you been married to a nice Hercinian boy, no?" The young woman paused as she tapped her folded fan to her lips, "You know, it has been said in some circles Sebastian Vael remains a bachelor and grows in might. Starkhaven may truly be his again soon."
Isabeau suddenly cleared her throat, gently patting at her lips with her napkin before elegantly rising from her seat, "Pardon me, Lady Sersteen, but I suddenly am feeling quite ill; you'll all have to excuse me."
He watched as she disappeared deeper into the Villa, his eyes finding Katlein's as the woman pressed her forehead into her hands. The Lady Sersteen gave a great huff as she flipped her fan out, waving it at herself rapidly. The rest of the meal continued in a thick, uncomfortable silence; even Varric subdued as he picked at his food. When the others all made to excuse themselves, Cullen took his opportunity and went in search of Isabeau's chambers. The villa was vast and while he had become acquainted with the guest apartments, he tread less confidently as he meandered through the family's private apartments.
After thirty minutes of awkwardly hesitating outside doors in the hopes of hearing Isabeau within, Cullen had given up and made his way back to his own chambers. The sun had set, the hearth and various candles having been lit by servants prior to Cullen's arrival. Gingerly, he climbed up to sit on the sill of his window, only pausing in his sea gazing to reach down and slide his boots off his feet. Finally resigning himself to not seeing Isabeau again until the morn, Cullen pulled off the rest of his clothes and climbed into bed, a part of him hoping she would sneak into his chambers. Yes, in the dead of the night, under her dying father's roof. What are you, a horny toad?
Well, Cullen was one of those things and while far from innocent, it had been a great deal of time since he'd had a woman before Isabeau. His concern for her emotional state aside, their intimacy had become something he very much appreciated. Cities like Kirkwall that garrisoned a Templar population always had a booming brothel business; though Templar's were usually expected to remain celibate, recruits had the freedom to explore prior to their vigil. The Blooming Rose had been a prime example of that symbiotic relationship, Cullen resisting the temptation where his colleagues could not. It wasn't that he was a prude or, as he'd been teased in the past, a virgin; Cullen had been a recruit once, too. That need had been sated however, and the current of his life had steadily roughened, Cullen finding little desire to quench the need under the burden of his trauma and recovery. The desire was even less evident during his trials in Kirkwall.
Since having Isabeau though, a fire had been set alight within Cullen. He chuckled to himself as he recalled her apt description of 'awakened the beast', the blessed relief and contentment that followed their intimacies as enticing to the ex-templar as the acts themselves. Since bonding with Isabeau, he had noticed his broken sleeping steadily improve, less plagued by waking dreams or terrors when lying next to her. It went without saying that he had developed a connection that ran deeper than pure lust, but as Cullen laid there in the lonely bed, he found his hand gripping himself as memories of Isabeau's ministrations returned to him. He had been no older than seventeen when his fellow recruits and he had ventured to The Pearl in Denerim, the many years in between dotted occasionally with an overwhelming need... a need Cullen usually handled the very way he currently was.
With a groan he tilted his head back against the pillow, pumping slowly as he tried his best to lock away his worries and focus on Isabeau tight and wet around him. Just as he finally felt himself slipping into the sensation, there was a creak from somewhere in his quarters, his hand immediately ripped away to prop him up in the bed.
Isabeau tip toed over to him, a finger to her lips as she crawled into the bed next to him, Cullen feeling his face redden as his hard on rubbed against her thigh. With a slight sniff of amusement, Isabeau's hand slid between them to rub him as she nuzzled close.
"H-how?" Cullen croaked, his eyes closing at the feel of her hand.
"I was born here; was a teenager here... I'm the master of sneaking around this place," she purred, her teeth coming to bite at Cullen's ear lobe. He wanted to lose himself to their lust but he couldn't completely stifle the nagging voice at the back of his head; her tenacious affections, while not unwelcome, were uncharacteristic of her temperament lately.
"Are you... feeling alright?"
"Do you want me to stop?"
"Maker, no," Cullen breathed as she squeezed him, reaching to cup Isabeau's jaw in his palm. "I just want to make sure you... are not still too distressed."
Isabeau paused in her efforts to smile teasingly at him, "Cullen, my darling... this is me dealing with that stress. Now, be a dove and kindly shut up while I oggle your muscles and cock."
With a heat exploding across his face, Cullen acquiesced and laid back, entwining his fingers behind his head as Isabeau went to work on him. She ran her finger nails softly up his stretched torso and chest, leaning down to plant kisses across his prominent pectoral muscles before she straddled him, sliding further down his body as she kissed a trail lower and lower. Cullen's eyes shot open as her lips caressed beyond his lower abdomen, not able to speak once he felt her lips around him. A guttural groan exploded him his lips as she deepened her connection, Isabeau pausing to wickedly shush him before she returned to her efforts. In short work, Cullen was reduced to a panting mess as he whispered frantic curses and words of adoration, his capitulation explosive and incredibly intimate as Isabeau devoured him fully.
Wiping at her mouth, she crawled up his body to lay flat against him, Cullen still catching his breath as he wrapped his arms around her. When he moved to return her passions in kind, Isabeau had shaken her head, pulling herself tighter against him as she sighed.
"I am alright, Cullen," she whispered as she planted a soft kiss against the stubble of his cheek. "It pleases me to have pleased you, but I truly cannot linger for the night." Isabeau brought her lips to his and kissed him deeply before she stood, squeezing his hand as they said their goodnights, before turning and disappearing through the door.
Letting out a deep breath, Cullen ran his fingers through his hair, a guilty prayer to the Maker lingering at the fringes of his mind as he considered their wickedness. Having a daughter that was pure military probably did not fill Lord Trevelyan with any illusions, but Cullen still felt a nagging sense of guilt over his relations with her under the Lord's roof. Again, his mind maddeningly began to think of marriage, the socially hopeless aspects embattled against Isabeau's perceived freedom as Inquisitor. Being a Knight used to stand for something, but given current events, Cullen wasn't so confident it remained a position befit a lady's husband. At the least, Isabeau's involvement with the Inquisition offered the paramours the opportunity, one Cullen planned on taking advantage of for as long as he could.
Thinking of that advantage, Cullen fell back into the memory of Isabeau's lips around him, his hand guiltily returning to his growing hardness as he scoffed at himself.
Maker, but you have become a beast.