a/n: (see a/n in chapter 5 regarding armor) Because Hawke definitely has better things on her mind than documenting the various pieces of Cullen's armor. And since this story is kind of, more-or-less, from her third person point of view, that's my excuse for taking shortcuts. Also, there's more sex here, so. Y'know, if that's not your cup of tea…. Fair warning.
t w e l. v e
With passion'd breath does the darkness creep.
It is the whisper in the night, the lie upon your sleep.
Transfigurations 1:5
Alice had pulled Hawke aside in the early afternoon to let her know that the assault on Adamant was planned for the following day. Hawke had asked a few brief questions, and said she'd leave first thing in the morning to meet up with Stroud so they could get a more current view of the situation with which to update the Inquisition's forces.
"Take care of yourself," Alice told her. The sympathy in her eyes made Hawke smile.
"Y'know, Inquisitor," Hawke said, "Varric makes my story out to be much more tragic than it is. Everyone worries about me, but I've handled myself this far. I'm sure you've been through your fair share of anguish. You were, after all, at the Conclave. Nothing about that situation was any good. And I'm sure that while we could draw all sorts of parallels between that and what happened in Kirkwall, I'd still rather face Meredith than Corypheus any day of the week."
Alice shrugged a little, and looked over the courtyard. "I suppose I have been through a lot."
"More than me," Hawke agreed. "And you're handling yourself quite a bit better through it all, if I'm honest. If you don't mind my asking, did you lose anyone at the Conclave?"
The blonde frowned. "Yes, I did."
Hawke put a hand on her shoulder. "Alice." The woman turned to look at Hawke, and Hawke gave her a small smile. "You're a stronger woman than I am. When I lost the man I loved, I spent a week wallowing in grief before trying to pick myself up again. From what I hear, you tumbled out of the Fade and immediately starting working on putting the world back together. I admire you a great deal for that."
"Thank you," Alice said, smiling in spite of herself. "It's an honor to hear that from you."
"You should be honored that you have nearly an entire continent that looks up to you," Hawke corrected. "I'm but one woman, despite what the stories claim otherwise. You are one woman with a world ready to bow at your feet. Whatever happens at Adamant, just know that you will always have my respect."
Though only words, Alice was elated to hear the Champion say it. She had always thought that the stories of what Hawke had done in Kirkwall painted a woman larger than life, and even meeting Hawke herself hadn't truly changed her opinion on just how much sway a single mage had on history. As a mage herself, Alice had found that she was inspired by what Hawke had done. She was a reason for mages everywhere to strive to be something more, and proof that tragedy shouldn't limit you.
They parted ways, and Hawke wandered towards the tavern. If it was going to potentially be her last night in Skyhold, she thought maybe it was a good time to try her hand at telling the story of her defeat of Meredith. It sounded like something out of a twisted nightmare, and held exactly the amount of shock value to ensure a captive audience.
She had been with the Inquisition for just over two months. Though Alice had been doing her best to expedite troop movements and scouting relating to Hawke's mission with the Wardens, Hawke knew that there were dozens of things that required the Inquisition's attention and so found herself content with the days of downtime. At first, she was anxious spending more than a two or three day stretch in a single place, but as events had unfolded, Hawke found she became more and more complacent with spending three then four then five days at a time within Skyhold's walls. She would still travel down the mountain pass once in a while to nearby wilderness or villages to see what else she could be doing - killing demons, helping travelers, entertaining the children in the refugee camps - but never stayed away for too long. Maybe it was because she wanted to be kept up to date with the Inquisition's plans regarding the Wardens, but more likely, it was because she was finding that she had friends to keep her anchored.
Varric was always around whenever Hawke wanted to talk or play cards or just waste some time, and it was nice to fall back into old habits with a good friend. Alice was an interesting conversation partner as well, and Hawke enjoyed hearing about her days at the Ostwick circle. Iron Bull had given her more insight on the Qunari, and Hawke admitted to him that regardless of what had happened in Kirkwall, she had always found the Qun to be an interesting way of life. Dorian had offered her some passing thoughts on the Qunari as well, and they had spent a number of hours discussing Tevinter's view of magic. Sera had taken an immediate liking to Hawke - despite some initial hesitation regarding her magic - especially when Hawke had offered her a handful of ideas for pranks adapted from adventures she had had years ago. Vivienne's opinions about the necessity of the Circle had piqued Hawke's interest, and even though the First Enchanter had been doubtful of her intentions at first, Hawke had managed to convince her that she, too, agreed that the Circle was a useful institution; though she added that the harsh restrictions in the Gallows represented everything wrong with such an institution. Cassandra had been a pleasant surprise, nothing like the brutish interrogator that Varric had led her to believe had swiped him from Kirkwall without warning; ...okay, maybe just a little like what he had described, but only in the best ways, as the Seeker was - underneath it all - decidedly mortal and fallible, just like everyone else.
And of course, Cullen. Certainly, Hawke had not been expecting to reunite with a man she once considered more of an irritation than any level of acquaintance. But she had been happily startled to see that Cullen had, indeed, changed from her memories of frowning disapproval and thinly veiled threats. He still had a healthy distrust of most mages at first - a distrust that Hawke had come to see as necessary, considering the apostates she had met her in travels, most of which had attacked her out of fear - but he had accepted her, regardless of her abilities. Hawke thought that maybe, just maybe, she held a sort of lewd satisfaction that he was - had been - a Templar, and the whole idea of mages and Templars in "forbidden" relationships was always a popular topic in fluffy romances; however, the truth of the matter was simply that he knew what she had been through, because he had seen his fair share of agony.
When the sun set, Hawke bid her audience in the tavern farewell, assuring them that yes, everything she had just finished telling them had, indeed, really happened (of course, with some well-placed embellishments, for storytelling's sake). She went to Cullen's office to find him in the middle of a discussion with a few men and women she recognized as Leliana's agents. So she stood silently at the back of the room. He had glanced up to see her, doing his best to hide the smile that surfaced.
"One more sweep of the surrounding ruins wouldn't hurt," he continued, pointing at a map, "but the primary focus should be the tomb. The Inquisitor mentioned a few lingering corpses, but nothing you can't handle. And tell Sister Nightingale that she needs to trust my soldiers to do their job as well. I've told her numerous times, but maybe she'll actually listen to you. Dismissed."
Cullen followed them to the door, and closed it behind them. "Leliana still as stubborn as ever?" Hawke guessed, snaking her arms around his neck. "I think I hear you complaining about her more than anything else these days."
"Her network is useful, but I still think she refuses to look at alternatives," he said, sounding exhausted. "I don't know how many times I have to tell her that our troops can do just as much as her agents."
"Oh, but they aren't as quiet," Hawke pointed out. "She's just trying to avoid unnecessary bloodshed."
"She's trying to do everything her own way," Cullen countered with a sigh.
Hawke chuckled and leaned up to kiss him. "Then let's take your mind off of work, Commander. I have a few ideas that mostly involve getting you out of this armor as quickly as possible."
He smiled, leaning in. "I'd like that."
Hawke pulled away, but tugged him over to the ladder. She started up it, and Cullen was close behind. When they reached the top, Cullen pulled her close and kissed her with an intensity matched only by her own. She was already working on taking off whatever piece of his armor she could reach, giggling when he broke away to help her out. One of the straps was caught, and after a brief moment of struggle - during which Hawke taunted him rather mercilessly - he finally managed to shed the bulkier pieces. Hawke pushed him towards the bed, pulling off his gauntlets as they moved. With a quick kiss, she put a hand on his chest and nudged him onto the edge of the bed, where he sat quite obediently. "I," she began with a smirk, shrugging off her own - albeit much lighter - armor, "get to be on top tonight, Commander."
"We'll see how long it lasts," he told her with a smirk as she tugged her leggings down, wiggling her hips a little.
Once she stood naked in front of him, she put a hand on her hip. "I think," she said, "that sounded like a challenge."
"It might have been," Cullen agreed airily, motioning her forward. "I'll let you have a head start, though."
"Oh my," she said breezily, walking towards him with a sway of her hips adopted entirely for effect, "how very kind of you, Commander." She helped him out of the rest of his clothing with another teasing round of comments about how quickly she had managed to get him out of his clothes. As usual during her more sarcastic remarks, Cullen ignored most of it, and pulled her onto the bed with him.
She fell on top of him, pushing him onto his back, and trailed kisses along his shoulders and neck. His hands ventured over her skin, brushing over scars new and old and tickling the spots he had discovered made her giggle.
"I'm surprised," she whispered into his ear. "Usually by now, you've grabbed my hips and had your way with me."
"I did say I'd give you a head start," he reminded her with a smirk.
Hawke giggled and sat up, keeping her hands on his chest and stomach. "I should take advantage of this boon, then," she said, letting her nails rake down his skin as she trailed them down to his cock. "After all, this might be my last night with you. I would like to ride you to completion just once."
Before she could do anything further, Cullen sat up, forcing her up onto her knees. He embraced her, kissing her deeply. She put her hands on his cheeks and pulled away slightly. "What was that for, Commander?"
"You're right," he murmured, holding her tightly and kissing her again. "This could be our last night together."
"Does that change anything?" she asked with a light smile.
"I don't want to waste it," he told her, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I've come to rather enjoy our time together, Hawke, and-"
She cut him off with a wet kiss and slowly lowered herself onto his cock. "Sh," she told him when he moaned. "Don't ruin this with words, Commander. Just let me fuck you."
He didn't argue and kissed her again, fierce and hot and messy, moving his hands to her hips to facilitate the process, helping her roll her hips further and slide up on his cock higher. Hawke kept one hand on his jawline, caressing his cheek and scratching at his stubble; she wrapped her other arm around his shoulders to ensure there was little to no space between them. Amid the breathy moans, Hawke would periodically steal another kiss; each elicited a renewed grip on her hips and a quickening desperation.
Even though their sex was still quick and urgent, not entirely quiet, and certainly fun, something was different between them; Hawke couldn't help but notice. Cullen's hands were more gentle, his kisses more tender, and the way he held her was somehow softer. It was familiar. It wasn't the kind of fucking she had expected, the kind where you're just trying to get off and have a good time. This was…. It was passionate and affectionate. It was a means to express what couldn't be said in words. It was gripping her heart with forgotten sentiments, and made her own actions… desperate.
"Hawke," Cullen managed through a kiss. "Hawke- I'm-"
"Sh," she urged him again and crushed her mouth back to his, burying herself on his cock as he wrapped his arms around her and pushed into her, releasing inside her, moaning onto her lips. She didn't break away immediately, letting her hands caress his face with careful kindness. "I told you," she breathed when she did break away, "not to ruin it with words."
He chuckled, and reached up to touch her face. Then his smile turned to a frown, and he ran his thumb over her cheek. "Are you crying?"
Hawke pulled back very quickly, her hands flying to her face. "What? No, I-" But she felt the tears on her cheeks. "N-no, I wasn't…" Crying? She pulled up much too quickly, making Cullen wince a little, but ignored it and stood, turning away from him, hands still on her cheeks. "I-I'm sorry, I just- I must have-"
"Hawke." Cullen stood as well, reaching out a hand to put on her shoulder. But she pulled away, still refusing to look at him. "Hawke, it's all right."
"No, it's not all right!" she snapped suddenly, spinning back around. Tears had spilled from her eyes, and they were wide, shocked; she looked like she was one step away from breaking down entirely. "I'm supposed to be enjoying the night with you, and we were going to fuck, but then you were holding me like that, and it-it was soft and gentle, and you aren't supposed to care like that, Cullen! I was supposed to be having sex with you, but all I could think about was how, how he used to hold me, and-"
Cullen moved forward before she could back away again and wrapped his arms around her. "Shh," he told her, even when she struggled against him. "Hawke, it's all right. I'm here for you."
"But you aren't supposed to be," she sobbed into his chest, finally settling in his arms. "I've been alone for so long, and I'm used to that, and you aren't supposed to be here and caring about me."
He just held her for a moment while she took a few shaking breaths. He kissed the top of her head, and pulled back to smile at her. "You could use some air," he told her.
"Wh-what?"
"Well," he corrected himself, and let her go to retrieve a towel from the bedside table, "first, you're… er, dripping," he said, handing it to her, "and then we should probably put some clothes on. And then you could use some air. It gets stuffy in here, doesn't it?"
She hesitantly took the towel, looking at him as if this was some kind of trick. But she did feel a slow drip inching its way down her leg, so she reached down to wipe it up. When she looked back up, Cullen had pulled his pants on and was proffering her leggings. She wasn't used to this, but she recognized the tactic. Because this was something she often did with her friends when they started panicking over whatever it was they were worried about at the time. Sometimes it was better not to address a topic head-on, but to let it work itself out, using fresh air or a walk as a vehicle to get the conversation back on a track that didn't involve tears or yelling.
She put on her leggings and tunic in silence and let Cullen lead her down the ladder and out onto the ramparts. "The weather's been nice," he commented vaguely, looking up at the sky.
"Oh, Cullen, no," Hawke said, feeling herself grimace with just a hint of a smile. "No, you were doing so well; don't start with the weather."
He chuckled, and moved a little closer to her, letting his hand brush hers as they walked. Hawke looked up at him, but he was glancing out over the mountains. She sighed and took his hand, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said as they eventually slowed to a stop. Cullen turned towards her, taking her other hand in his as well. "I guess I just… freaked out," she explained, looking down at their hands. "I was expecting sex. But you apparently had other plans, so."
He chuckled and kissed her forehead. "I had no such plans, Hawke. But it's hard not to come to care about someone like you."
"Mm," she hummed, sounding unconvinced. "That's what I keep hearing."
"Hey." He reached up and tilted her head up so she had to look at him. "It's true."
A very slight smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and Hawke pulled a little closer. "Cullen. Can I tell you something?" she asked.
"Of course."
"Once, back in Kirkwall, you said something about how mages aren't people."
"I- what?" he cut her off.
But Hawke just chuckled. "You said that they - we - are weapons that could light a city on fire in a fit of anger. Don't worry," she assured him when he started to say something else, "I'm not bringing it up to hold it against you. I mention it because you were right. And that's all I've ever heard about mages, that at the slightest provocation, we could turn into abominations and terrorize our way through a city. But somehow, when you said it, maybe just the way you said it, it seemed to be true. And I actually believed you, because it was true.
"I've never considered using my magic to 'rule over man', or whatever it is that the Chantry so fears about magic. I had never even entertained the few demons I encountered when they offered me riches or fame or… one offered me virgins, actually. Almost sad I didn't take him up on that one."
Cullen snorted, and Hawke smiled. "Really."
"Of course. A dozen virgins at my beck and call? Who could say no to that? But I'm not trying to tell you about virgins."
"Mhm," Cullen agreed.
"I'm trying to tell you about what happened a year after I left Kirkwall with Anders," she continued. "One night, I had a dream about Kirkwall burning. I could hear the screams of civilians, and I could see buildings collapse around me, and I could smell the fire and burning bodies. And it was pretty terrible.
"But then I was at the Gallows, with the city burning behind me. Do you know who was there, too?" she prompted.
"Who?" Cullen asked.
"My sister, Bethany." Hawke smiled a little. "She died before we could make it to Kirkwall, but she would have hated you. She was a mage, too, and always got twitchy around Templars. But anyway, in the dream, she was so angry with me. That's how I knew it had to be her. She chewed me out something awful, pointing to the city and asking me how I let it get like that, and didn't Father teach me anything about magic? I tried to explain that I had done my best, but she wouldn't hear any of it. Finally, she took me by the arm and led me into the tower. And she took me to where Orsino's body lay. And she told me that she had seen what happened, and that she finally understood why mages aren't treated like people, because when backed into a corner, we have options that no one else does.
"Then she punched me and told me to get my shit in order, because bandits were about to raid our camp."
Cullen's brow furrowed when he looked down at her. Hawke laughed. "They were," she said. "I woke up suddenly, but just in time to see a scout running away. He had triggered one of the wards, and Anders was just barely stirring from the commotion. So I grabbed my staff and hunted the bandits down. Luckily it was a small group, just six of them."
"But- the dream?" Cullen asked hesitantly.
"What? No, the story was about bandits," Hawke said mockingly. "I'm going to tell you about the great chase we had, and the ensuing battle in which I absolutely obliterated them, and- of course it wasn't about the bandits," she said, laughing, when Cullen gave her a rather skeptical look. "In my dream," she continued when her giggling subsided, "Bethany said almost the same thing you had said years earlier. I thought that was interesting. But it also made me realize that if she could agree with a Templar, maybe that Templar wasn't such a bad guy. So. What I'm trying to say is. I'm… glad I got to see you again." Hawke reached up to touch his cheek. "And I'm really glad you didn't hate me after what I did to your former commanding officer."
"She had it coming, I think," Cullen said, leaning forward to put his forehead against Hawke's. "But I'm glad to hear that you're happy."
"Quite happy, indeed," Hawke agreed. "Thanks, in no small part, to you, Commander."
He kissed her lightly. "I'm happy to help."
"Good. Because," she said, wrapping her arms around him and pulling closer, "I can name a few things I might need some help with. But back in your bedroom."
"Do any of them rhyme with 'ducking' or 'decks'?" he asked with a smirk.
"Many of them might, yes," she agreed with a cheerful little giggle.
