Chapter Inspiration: Avril Lavigne - Keep Holding On

"Another!"

"Not sure ye should be havin anymore, yer Worship." Cabot warned.

"On th-the contrary, dear dwarf, I could use uhh- a lot more." Vaelyn slurred with drunken irritation, waving her empty cup around.

The tavern keep eyed her for a moment before steadying the Inquisitor's arm, pouring more ale into her cup, the excess sloshing over the edge and onto the table. The hour was growing late and the tavern was dead, very few patrons filled the tables; none dared to bother Vaelyn where she sat, closest to the alcohol, drinking herself under the table. In a rare moment of despair she let recent events get to her.

She gulped down the contents of the cup and promptly demanded more. "Another!"

"You'll be havin no more my lady, next supply shipment ain't gonna be in fer a few weeks and I'll not have the Inquisitor bleedin the tavern dry." Cabot said gruffly, "'Sides, it's not good fer a pretty lass such as yer self to be drinkin so much alcohol." He argued smartly.

"I've made plenty of sacks- sacrifices for the Inquisition, it's only right that the tavern sacrifices its precious ale to me." Vaelyn retorted childishly.

Cabot sighed in defeat as he poured the Inquisitorialness another cup, the final cup he told himself adamantly. He really shouldn't have been feeding her the ale in the first place. He'd seen plenty of recruits and seasoned soldiers come through here in a similar manner; drinking them selves into tomorrow to drown out the pain and the sorrow of war. He would not allow for such behavior to seed itself in this one.

He moved out from behind the table and made for the tavern's front exit. Luckily for him he didn't have to go far, an on duty solider was passing by.

"Oi, lad could ye do me a favor?" Cabot beckoned the young man over.

"Ser?"

"Go fetch the Commander fer me would ya, got a problem here in the tavern that'll be needin his attention."

"If you'd like I cou-" The young solider started politely before Cabot interrupted him.

"No lad, it's gotta be the Commander. Let him know that Cabot'll be needin his assistance" The dwarf insisted.

"Right away, Ser."

Cabot retraced his steps back into the tavern, ignoring the Inquisitor's demands for more ale as he walked back around the table. There was nothing he could do to console the Inquisitor, beyond making sure she had no more to drink. It was a familiar scenario for the aging dwarf; calling in the Commander to talk those high strung recruits down, or keep those cracking veteran fighters from falling apart completely. Cabot only poured the ale and kept the rowdy patrons at bay, he did not baby sit drunkards nor inebriated Inquisitors.

The dwarf didn't have to wait long before the tavern door was pushed open and the familiar visage of the Commander marched in. When their eyes met, Cabot jerked his head towards the slumped human sitting at his serving table. Vaelyn's arms rested on the surface and her head was bowed forward, seemingly disconnected from this world, dwelling in her own.

When he received the dwarf's familiar message, Cullen was prepared to give another one his soldiers the talk. He was not expecting that it would be Vaelyn that he'd have to give it to. He advanced to the table and sat in a vacant stool to the right of the Inquisitor. Cullen gave Cabot a curt nod and the dwarf disappeared into the back room, allowing them a bit of privacy.

"Inquisitor," he began, turning himself towards her and leaning against the table.

Vaelyn cocked her head towards Cullen and grimaced, "bloody dwarf tattled." she mumbled angrily, looking away again.

"He did the right thing, you shouldn't be doing this." He reasoned, thinking about the best way to handle Vaelyn. She was no soldier under his command.

"You're wrong," she growled, "this is exactly what I should be doing."

"I disagree, this is what people do when they run away from their problems." He countered.

"And what would you know about such things?" Vaelyn spat venomously, the alcohol clearly affecting her attitude.

Cullen's lips pressed into a hard line, trying to keep himself in check, not wanting to be baited into a ridiculous argument about who had it worse; him or her. She needed someone who understood what she was dealing with, their paths might have curved and twisted different directions to get to this point, but they both had their rough patches. He would have to appeal to her with his own inner darkness.

"You'd be surprised," he said evenly, "I have a great understanding of what you're going through, and I can safely say that drinking won't solve anything."

It had been a long time since the blight, the Circle, and Kirkwall, but the memories still burned under his skin and they terrorized his dreams every night, forcing him to relive every single second of them; each turning him to the sweet embrace of alcohol.

"It numbs the pain." Vaelyn said in a near whisper, each word filled with more sorrow than the next.

"For a short time yes," he murmured back, "but it returns ten fold and then you keep drinking, thinking maybe this time the ale and liquor will work, perhaps the pain will magically go away. Hoping...praying that the memories will fade away and you won't have to see the faces, or hear the screams any longer." Cullen admitted sadly.

Vaelyn was solemn, a contemplative mood rested upon her. She considered his words carefully under the drunken haze she threw herself into, but she found it hard to focus on the things she heard behind his wall, the things he hadn't spoken of.

The room began to spin, and whatever thoughts she had on the matter were lost, Vaelyn grasped her head between her hands and shut her eyes tightly. Her equilibrium was thrown just for a moment, but it was just enough to send her tumbling off her own stool. Cullen's reflexes were quick enough for him to react, shooting out his left arm to brace her fall and his right hand gripping her bicep.

"Ughh," Vaelyn groaned, all the spinning was beginning to make her sick.

"I think we should take a walk, you could use the air." Cullen suggested.

Vaelyn didn't protest when the Commander stood her upright again, nor did she protest when he kept an arm around her shoulders for support, just in case the dizziness returned. He guided her slowly out of the tavern, to Cabot's relief, and into the darkened courtyard. It was a bit cold, but the fresh air seemed to help clear some of the alcohol haze from her mind. The warmth that radiated off of Cullen was now distracting her, and when she shivered he unconsciously tightened his arm around her, bringing her closer to himself.

"Isn't very gentlemen like, not lending a lady your cloak." Vaelyn remarked.

Cullen snorted, "I'm not sure I can trust you with it, my lady."

She mumbled something under her breath that sounded like blame Sera, Cullen wasn't entirely sure.

He escorted Vaelyn the long way around to her quarters, going through the courtyard, around near the stables, and through the kitchen. The main hall was empty, but it was more so she could walk off as much of the alcohol polluting her system; he still expected her to have quite the hangover in the morning.

Going up the few flights of stairs to her room was rather entertaining for Cullen. The Inquisitor just couldn't seem to get the hang of them while drunk, he ended up carrying her over his shoulder the rest of the way. She protested the entire journey.

When they were in the privacy of her quarters Cullen dropped her back onto her feet, steadying her before stealing a spot at the end of the sofa. He sat on the edge and dropped his elbows onto his knees, clasping his hands together and resting his chin upon them.

"If you need to talk, Vaelyn, you know I'll listen." He encouraged, staring up at her with those warm amber eyes.

The sound of her name upon his lips sobered her, she let her gaze slip down to his and held it. "Who am I to decide who the Emperor or Empress of Orlais should be? Why am I the one who must stop a country's civil war when its leaders aren't even capable of doing it themselves?"

Cullen could hear the Inquisitor's voice crack as she continued on with her venting, watching as she started to pace, moving her arms animatedly as she went.

"Is this just a game to them? To play with people's lives as if they are pieces on a chess board, to tear their lands up and crush its people under foot..." Vaelyn made a disgusted sound and plopped down onto the sofa next to Cullen. "Emprise du Lion was a mess, I can't even begin to express how much I wanted to run Mistress Poulin through." She admitted shamefully.

Cullen knew first hand how awful the debacle in the Winter Palace had been, though he did regret not taking the chance he'd been given to dance with Vaelyn.

The rest of what she spoke of he'd only read in her reports, he couldn't fully imagine how brutal the lyrium quarry in Emprise du Lion was; the idea of someone selling land to the Red Templars in the first place was appalling. The bulk of the civil war taking place in the Exalted Plains fed the army of undead that had been arisen thanks to demons, the thought brought back memories of what he had experienced after the Temple of Sacred Ashes was blown into the fade. Too much death for an eternity.

"This...everything is just... so overwhelming." Vaelyn sighed heavily, the weight of the world that she carried seemed to force the air out of her body.

"I know." Cullen placed his hand on her back, rubbing gently in small circles.

"When I agreed to this," the Inquisitor started again, bringing her fade scarred hand up to stare at it bitterly, "to finish what was started, I'd only thought about fighting Corypheus. Never did I realize I'd have to solve everyone's problems."

"You should see the paper work sitting on my desk, then. It multiplies every time I walk into my office." The Commander chuckled, earning a small smirk from her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to complain Cullen, you're just as busy as I am, with troubles of your own."

"You don't need to apologize." He smiled, "You clearly needed to vent, and alcohol isn't a very dependable friend."

She looked away in embarrassment, "I only meant to have one."

"I know."

"Cabot will never let me have another drink again." she snorted.

"It's probably for the best anyway. I'd like to never have to see you in such a state again, Vaelyn." Cullen admitted truthfully, his hand sliding up to squeeze her shoulder lightly.

An idea popped into Cullen's mind then, Vaelyn watching as he heaved himself up off the sofa to stand in front of her, one of his hands held out, beckoning her. She stared at it curiously, unsure of his intention.

"Humor me." He smiled.

Vaelyn took his hand tentatively, and he pulled her up and away to the more open space of the chamber, a strong arm hooked around her waist bringing her in, his other free hand took hold of hers; and then he began, leading them into a dance.

Her mind reeled, not expecting such a thing from Cullen, but the effect was instantaneous. All her worries and sadness and pains were stripped from her, leaving her unburdened.

"I thought you said you couldn't dance." She asked as he spun them around.

"Can't and won't are not the same," he laughed, "I had no desire to dance with those maddening Orlesian nobles."

"I suppose not." She laughed with him.

They fell into a content silence, their dance eventually devolving into a slow swaying motion, Cullen holding her in his arms, her head resting in the crook of his neck; enjoying each others company.

"I really don't deserve your kindness," she murmured, her breath tickling the sensitive skin of his neck, causing him to shiver.

"On the contrary, you deserve all the kindness I can spare." He confessed. "You are important to the Inquisition, and to me. Let us be the rock you lean on when the world starts bearing down on you." Cullen cursed himself inwardly, not wanting to make such an admission so soon.

Vaelyn's heart raced as his words sank in. "I-...Thank you."

The sun slowly crept its way into the chamber through the windows, the birds chirped happily, and the residents of Skyhold bustled around outside with purpose below.

Upon the sofa Cullen sat slumped in a corner asleep, his armor, cloak, and boots shed upon the floor leaving him in his shirt and breeches. Pillowed against his side, and head upon his chest lay the Inquisitor, she too deep in restful sleep.

Leliana smiled at the picture that lay before her.

She'd let them be, the war council could wait.

She left as quietly as she came.

Notes:

So a couple things here.

I hate how the Dragon Age developers made Dwarves. I hate it. They are literally just short chubby humans, and in just about everything ever, where Dwarves are present, they have their own Dwarvy accent, and thus I made Cabot have one in this chapter.

The other thing is I strongly disliked how the Winter Palace things played out if you romanced Cullen, and the cut scene was horrendous as well. I wanted to stay as close to cannon but I just couldn't let myself be OK with that for this story.

Lastly, Alcoholism is bad kids. Don't do it.