Cullen was trying not to show his annoyance. He was fairly certain he wasn't doing a that great a job. He'd gone through 'Please excuse me,' to 'I don't wish to discuss this just now,' then, 'I really have to work,' and had even managed to make it to, 'Please leave my office,' and still Lady Dupin was pressing her case.

"But Ser Commander, surely you will consider this! You cannot simply leave these things until later. You saved our dear Empress' life, and you have not seen anything of the rewards you deserve! Ally with our family, and we-"

The door opened with rather more force than was strictly necessary, and Aine strode in, assessing the situation with a glance. She listened patiently to Lady Dupin's effusive greeting, then said, "Very kind. Now, I can tell from my commander's expression that the only reason you're still in his office is that he's too chivalrous and deferential to eject you physically. I have neither handicap. I don't appreciate you disturbing him when he's trying to work, and I won't have you interfering with the little leisure time he gets either. Stay out of this room, and if you bother him again I'll have you removed from Skyhold. Good day."

The fluttering of the lady's fan redoubled its velocity, and she drew herself up in obvious indignation. "Of course nobody wants to interfere with the commander's leisure time, Lady Trevelyan. Not when you take such a... personal interest."

"Yes, it's common knowledge that his leisure time frequently involves shagging me senseless. Leave."

Lady Dupin stuck her nose in the air and swept from the room. Aine shut the door behind her, with absolutely no more force than necessary. "Bitch. Which daughter was she trying to pawn off on you, Antoinette or Sophie?"

Cullen sank into his chair. "She was happy for it to be either one. Thank you."

She sat down opposite and propped her feet on his desk. "Still, you'll need to give some thought to it sooner or later. Nobody plays a pivotal role in saving an Empress' life and comes out without a title and some property when everything shakes loose. You can make a better match than the Dupins' third or fourth daughter if you try."

He stared at her.

She saw his expression, and frowned. "Cullen, you didn't actually think...?"

Shouldn't he say something? The words wouldn't come, and he wasn't sure he could breathe anyway.

Her feet landed back on the floor with a thump. "Maker, you did, didn't you? How could you think that?"

"You said... before we..."

"I said I wanted to continue our affair. We don't have to stop sleeping together just because we've married other people."

"I thought you..." He couldn't get it out.

"Loved you?"

He nodded.

She shook her head. "I do. I truly do. But Cullen, peasants get to marry the people they love. It's a small compensation for not having money or power. I have to think about what's best for my family and the Inquisition. I'm a sixth child and this whole thing has pushed my value up so far, my parents are playing dukes off against arls and even a couple of minor princes. Men who promise soldiers, mounts, ships, weapons. The Inquisition gains nothing by me marrying you."

"Your value? You're not a horse!"

"No, I'm a young, marriageable woman, with a fine pedigree, and I have a duty to use that for everyone's good." She sighed. "I've taken it for granted as long as I can remember that my marriage would be arranged. I assumed you understood. I – I should have remembered you were... I'm sorry."

Remembered you were a stupid low-class boy from Honnleath, he thought bitterly. With no pedigree to speak of. The difference in their birth statuses, which had seemed insignificant, was suddenly a yawning abyss so real, he half expected to see his desk disappear into it.

Aine got up and reached for him. He shoved his chair back, turning his head away from her with a jerk that made his neck hurt.

She hovered for a few moments, then sighed again. "You said it yourself, Cullen. Dragonbone heart. You knew I'd sacrifice your life and mine for the cause. Well, I have to sacrifice us. I'm sorry. Truly." He kept staring at the bottom shelf of his bookcase as her footsteps crossed the room and then the door opened and closed, and for a while afterwards. He couldn't make out any of the books' titles. They were too blurred.