Inquisitor Adaar—or was he now allowed to use her first name?—and her band of misfits left early the next morning to start their return journey to Skyhold. Good thing too, or she would have caught Rylen wandering around the keep with the stupidest fucking grin plastered across his face for the entire day. Many recruits asked him about it, but he only answered them with a shrug and a simple, "It's a lovely day out." Rylen could only laugh at their baffled expressions as he walked away and left them to their ragged hangovers. He knew good and well that in the Western Approach, lovely days plain didn't exist, and that made his private joke all the sweeter.
He was unspeakably giddy, being given another go at their beautiful leader before she left and he rode that high all day. Nothing brought him down. Not the reports that the nearby cliffs were infested with a pack of hyenas. Not that raiders were wandering too close to Inquisition caravans. Not even the sweltering, oppressive heat wiped the smile from his face.
In fact he rode his lingering high for a great many days, and as things steadily slipped back into business as usual, Rylen thought the feeling had finally left him entirely.
Except that it didn't. In actuality, it had only shifted.
He noticed the change the moment he received a raven bearing a missive from the Inquisitor. A foolish hopefulness reared up in his chest and swelled to bursting. At least, until he read over the slanting words of her letter. They were expressionless, doing nothing but detailing a movement of Venatori into his area that needed dealing with.
Rylen crumpled the letter in disgust, too disappointed to be rational and cursed himself.
Well, what the fuck did you think was going to be in it? The stupid anticipation that had blossomed in his heart had gone, dropping straight to the pit of his stomach in humiliation. He cursed himself over and over witheringly. What the fuck did he even want to be in that letter, anyway? Was he expecting some declaration of undying devotion from her? No, not a declaration, but a…a…what? A "thank you"? An "I miss you"? A—oh, sod all of it! He sneered at the turn of his thoughts and ran his fingers angrily through his shock of black hair, storming away from the messenger cages, fuming.
"A reply, Ser?" the timid boy attending to the birds called after him.
"No! I don't fucking think so," Rylen snapped over his shoulder.
It wasn't the boy's fault, he told himself. It wasn't anybody's fault, but the jumbled mix of disappointment and self-depreciation boiling in him made him too-short tempered for anyone's good. The boy was just his first victim. And if he had any say about it, there was going to be many more. The soldiers he was about to drag out of bed weren't going to thank him, but at this point the sheer absurdity of thinking her letter might have actually been a letter for him made him not care in the slightest. He was going to be unnecessarily snappy, he was going to strike down that band of Venatori, and woe to anyone who stepped in his way.
Rylen attacked his folly again. And why would you even think that? he spat at himself. Why would he believe that a few long conversations and some sex would make a woman like that write to him? Stupid! It was fucking stupid! And he felt the idiocy of it so deeply, it stung.
Keram—Inquisitor Adaar—was another woman that had come to him during a celebration for a bit more fun, nothing more. Andraste's ass! He'd done it before on several occasions himself! A bit of mindless fun, maybe a distraction, that was all those things had ever meant to him. Why then did he feel like he had just received a punch to the gut? Rylen knew that he shouldn't have been as shocked and hurt as a young Chantry Sister spurned by her Revered Mother, but somehow he did. In his younger days, he had made a bed with a woman for a night and then left in the morning without batting an eye. He did so just as surely as Keram had left him a week ago. Now the sick churning made him wonder. Did those girls back then always feel this kind of…abandonment?
With a scowl, he tried to wave the feeling away, swallow the bitterness that made his mouth go dry as he reached the barracks. Rylen slammed his helmet on his head and grimaced. He was a soldier, damn him, not a blighted bleeding heart. He had work to do and now was not the time to stand around wanking over a woman, talking in circles about his stupidity. Rylen snorted and pushed the barracks door open.
He was just an idiot and he knew it. There was nothing else to wonder about.
"Up and at 'em, you lazy sods! We've got Venatori fuckers in our desert and they are late for an appointment with the Maker!"
"It was short work, only a few wounded. Feel free to label that a victory. Tell 'em the Varghests are getting territorial. Additional reinforcements for that would be great."
Rylen eyed the scribe who took down his words, his foot tapping impatiently. Reports took double the sodding time to send in, now that the Spymaster insisted that they be coded. She was afraid they could be intercepted by Corypheus' agents. Rylen figured that any agent who had the patience and ability to wrestle a fucking bird from the sky deserved to read the Inquisition's stupid grocery lists. He had tried writing them himself in the beginning, but gave up. The code the Spymaster used was complicated as all hell. It wasn't worth his time or frustration just so the Commander could read Rylen's own messy scrawl.
His stomach growled and he glared up at the sky irritably. Hot. It was still hotter than mage-fire here, even in the evening. Weren't deserts supposed to get cold at night? Why was everything fucked up in Orlais?
As the boy continued scribbling, another raven fluttered down from the sky. Just as before, the bubbling anticipation bloomed over him regardless of how hard he tried to stamp it out. That letter is not for you. That letter is not for you. Get over yourself, Rylen! The boy untied the letter carefully and read over it. Rylen couldn't help watching his face hopefully for any hint of reaction.
"Uh, Ser?"
"What?"
"It's the Commander. Your presence is requested at Skyhold."
On the one hand, Rylen thought miserably as the gates to Skyhold opened up before him, he wasn't in the desert any more. On the other hand, he was going to have to see the Inquisitor at some point during his stay and he had no idea what in the world he would say to her. Would he even say anything to her? Was there even anything to say? He couldn't honestly be sure.
The bout of nervousness that erupted in his stomach had him staunchly swearing, no, he would not speak to her about it. He would do anything if he could kill the sudden desire he had to talk to her again. He felt foolish and young, with no desire to ever be either again.
When his mare was met by the waiting Horsemaster Dennet and Commander Cullen, Rylen had firmly decided—after much arguing with himself—that he would leave the situation be and try his best never to encounter the Qunari temptress during his stay.
He and Cullen exchanged wide but tired smiles as Rylen dismounted. "I see that desert has done nothing to brighten your mood," Cullen chuckled as shared a quick embrace.
"What are you talking about? I'm always in a good mood."
"Of course you are."
They strode together towards the larger courtyard of Skyhold, Cullen explaining that the stonemasons had—yet again—managed to not touch the repairs on the stairs closest to his office. Rylen offered his condolences, wondering aloud if they were all lady-masons and were simply looking for an excuse to parade Cullen's pretty face around the courtyard. He made a show of grumbling, though in truth, Rylen could use the stretch of the brisk walk after sitting astride a horse for the better part of four days. He was certain he was probably walking oddly and would continue to do so for at least another day. He let himself appreciate Skyhold despite his personal misgivings. In the late afternoon, the sun barely filtered over the mountaintops, and even then, its rays were only just barely warm. After being stuck in the blasted Approach so long, the weak sun was a welcome change, but his new problem became his leathers that couldn't keep the Frostback's chill from reaching his skin. Always something for him to find fault in, wasn't there? At this rate of change, from the ice-encrusted Haven that froze his nipples off, to the chilled Skyhold where the snow couldn't stick because of the biting wind, to the sweltering Western Approach that cooked him in his armor, he would never fully acclimatize to anything, and that made him miss Starkhaven for the first time since he had left it. Rylen couldn't suppress a shiver as they made their way towards Cullen's office, exchanging overdue pleasantries.
"Ser Barris will be waiting for us upstairs. It was his intel that led us to the Venatori detail your men so effectively handled—"
As they neared the steps next to the training area, an entirely new spectacle drew Rylen's attention away from both Cullen and his own shivering.
Two hulking Qunari, a male and a female, sparred against each other in the training ring. Their grappling and dexterous sword play had attracted a following of cheering fans. Rylen's eyes widened at the large, shirtless, limber bodies spinning away from each other, thinking that they were far too big to have any right being so graceful. He was enraptured with their flowing movement, the strikes against each other that could probably shatter his bones, and he watched the female admiringly, if nothing else but for her sheer power. Until the lady Qunari wielding a training sword like a staff spun so he could actually get a good look at her. With an audible gulp and a twinge of nerves, he recognized her as Keram.
She tossed her mane of wild black hair over her shoulder and twirled her makeshift staff behind her, circling the other Qunari, the one that was almost always in her party, the Ben-Hassrath, the Iron Bull. Keram sneered at him and shot some kind of taunting remark Rylen was too far away to hear but it must have been something fiery; many of the soldiers shouted for her. The giant Charger countered with a wide smile, flexing his muscles at her, and received an almost equal chorus.
Then with a shout, Bull charged, and Rylen felt himself tense up as he watched Keram stand immobile on the other side of the ring. Move, lass... But, he needn't have worried.
At the last second, Keram knocked Bull's blow aside, tensed her powerful muscles and with a crack that echoed against the walls of the castle, she met his charge head on. The crowd burst into loud applause. Their heads bowed, the two Qunari locked into a battle with their horns, attempting to shake each other, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the other's glistening grey skin. Rylen was reminded of the rams that roamed the steppes of Starkhaven, except that these rippling creatures in the ring laughed and spat words at each other. The snorting, however, was still much the same. All the sinewy muscles of her neck and back flexed taut, Keram lurched aside with a mighty toss of her head and Iron Bull stumbled backwards. Before he could regain his footing, the mage-warrior had charged again, her head bowed, and knocked Bull flat on his back.
The cheering that followed became next to deafening.
Cullen chuckled lowly from beside him. His tongue clicked as he shook his head and said, "They amaze me. How the Qunari haven't taken Tevinter yet is beyond me. With only a ship-full of soldiers they had nearly taken Kirkwall!"
"I know I sure wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that," Rylen agreed. His eyes wandered perhaps too appreciatively over Keram's sweaty body again and recalled when he had felt those muscles tense against him in an entirely different set of circumstances. The tightening in his breeches had him gasping before he could stop himself. Andraste's fucking tits! Those were not the images he wanted to conjure when he had already sworn himself away from her. Damn it, stop!
"Shall we continue?"
"I..."
Rylen froze mid-step and watched the two Qunari, fury shooting suddenly through his body.
The crowd dispersed, Bull and Keram conversed with far too much touching for Rylen's liking. Then as Keram moved to take their practice swords back, he watched as Bull's hand tangled into her loose hair and yanked her back to his body. Rylen saw the man's hungry smile as his face leaned towards Keram's exposed throat, his other hand running from her thigh, up over her stomach, briefly squeezing a breast and then coming to rest tightly over her throat. Rylen grew unfathomably furious, his lip curling. Hot anger rolled off him in waves, and he shook with the overwhelming desire to charge forward and smash his fist into Bull's fucking face without any regard for how much bigger the Qunari man was. He just barely managed to keep his fists clenched at his sides, trying to tell himself that he had no fucking right to Keram's personal life. However, his voice of reason was being completely overshadowed by the one that snarled, Get your fucking hands off of her!
And then Keram reacted in a way that stunned Rylen with what could only be called pride.
She elbowed the Iron Bull sharply in gut and when he coughed and doubled over, she used the hand that had travelled her body to yank him into a punch that nailed him square in the nose. As he fell to the floor groaning, she hit him so hard with the practice swords, they snapped in two over his back. She tossed the pieces carelessly at him and stalked away, leaving him curled in the dirt.
Now that is a woman! Rylen felt the strangled release of laughter catch in his chest, but he was too busy being shocked to remember how to open his mouth.
Keram caught sight of him standing beside Cullen and suddenly changed direction. Rylen's heart, much to his disgust, picked up an erratic pace.
"Ah, Captain, you've made it," she said as she stopped before them, her hip rounding alluringly to one side. What he wouldn't give to smooth his hand over the enticing curve again— Rylen caught himself staring and snapped his gaze back up to her face. Maker take him, this was going to be more difficult than he thought.
"Yes," Cullen replied after Rylen let her words linger in silence for too long. "I was about to brief him about Knight-Templar Barris' findings before we brought him into the War Council to report."
A loud half-groan, half-laugh came from where Bull was left in the ring, "Awhaw, no, Boss, come back!"
Rylen felt the heat of his anger return to him as he looked past the Inquisitor to glare at the cross-legged fiend laughing in the dirt. Much to his annoyance, the Qunari man didn't look the least bit shaken from Keram's very physical rejection.
"Don't look at him, Captain. That only encourages him," Keram said shortly. Rylen's eyes found hers and he felt the ground drop from beneath him. She graced him with the tiny upturn of her lips which he returned with his lopsided smile. Such a small gesture, he realized, and he was turning into a pitiful disgrace with how badly he yearned for the curve of her lovely mouth. What a wretch he was! A cursed and tiresome thing, compared to her. Her smile stirred inside him, and what did he have to offer her in return? Nothing, and yet somehow he still hoped she would have him. Fucking stupid.
Cullen seemed completely unaffected by the tiny movement that had given Rylen new life and instead of gasping as Rylen had, he laughed. "It's always good for any leader to find themselves on their backs now and again."
Rylen immediately thought of that exact position, the one he had had their Inquisitor in not too long ago. He coughed uncomfortably, the chill of Skyhold quickly becoming a nonissue for him.
"That it is," Keram mused in a tumbling laugh. Rylen didn't fail to catch the swift glance in his direction. "Just name a time, Commander, and we'll see which of us is in the dirt."
"And humiliate myself in front of my men?" Cullen replied amiably, totally oblivious to how badly this turn of conversation was affecting Rylen. "Perhaps not. I'd very much like to keep some shred of my dignity intact."
Keram laughed. "Suit yourself." She dipped their head to each of them. "Until the meeting then?"
They made to part ways, Rylen raising his praises to all the gods he knew of for delivering him from that fantastic woman before he did something he would regret, until Cullen paused.
"Ah, Keram?"
I'll kill you for this, Cullen, Rylen swore as the stunning Qunari fixed them both with her emerald gaze again.
"After our briefing, we were going to head to the Herald's Rest. Would you like to join us?"
Rylen just about had a heart attack.
Keram sighed heavily. "Would that I could, Cullen. But our ambassador is dead set in transforming me into a proper Orlesian lady, frilly dress and all, before the ball at the Winter Palace." She pulled a face that told Rylen exactly what she thought about that. He found himself laughing, perhaps a bit too loudly. He snapped his mouth shut, feeling the blighted embarrassment creep over him again. "It's a lesson in etiquette for this barbarian tonight, I'm afraid."
Cullen laughed. "How unfortunate. Best of luck then."
"Beware the dreaded frills, lass. If you don't watch them, they'll get you as surely as any blade," Rylen found himself blurting. He immediately made a face at how stupid what he said had sounded. Beware the frills—What the fuck was that even supposed to mean, Rylen?
But Keram either didn't care, or was polite enough to keep her snide comments to herself. She laughed at him, encouraging heat to blossom in his chest. "I will keep your advice close, Captain. You have my word that I will never wear a frilly dress. I don't care how much Josephine yells at me. That's not happening."
Rylen had to agree with her. A frilly, Orlesian-style dress was one he could never picture the towering woman in. However...a satin one? One that clung over all the luscious curves of her body, perhaps with a long slit running all the way to her upper thigh—
Andraste preserve his sorry soul. He needed to shove his head in a horse trough before he drove himself mad!
"As long as you are the focus of Josephine's wrath, and not me," Cullen chuckled. "Now, Rylen, shall we?"
"Please." Before I make an even bigger ass of myself, he finished silently.
They nodded their goodbyes at one another before Rylen followed closely on Cullen's heels, adjusting his armor uncomfortably and wondering just what the fuck he had done to deserve this shit.
