The tavern scene!

Kind of.

[CULLEN]

He stood on the edge of the sparring ring, his sword in his hand. He twirled it once; twice. She should have been there by now. He sighed, sliding his sword back into it's sheath. He debated whether to accept the open invitation to the tavern, or to go back to his tent to try to fall asleep, dealing with the sinking feeling in his stomach.

He didn't understand what was really going on with the woman. She was beautiful, no doubt, but she had this wild streak in her that always kept him off guard. Like earlier, when she had taken his hand, he had barely been able to form a coherent sentence, and when she had smiled at him, the feeling in his stomach had contorted uncontrollably, and how he had been thinking of how her lips would feel-all of it inappropriate, and he would crush these feelings accordingly. He shook his head, turning to walk back to his tent. He couldn't let anyone know; although Leliana had shot him a few looks and commented lightly about his seemingly growing infatuation with the Herald, but he wouldn't have it. He couldn't.

Yet somehow, he walked past his tent, into Haven, and found himself standing at the door to the tavern. It was quite loud inside. Maker's breath, what was he doing? He steeled himself for whatever lay inside, and opened the door against his better judgment. He was greeted with thunderous applause, making him blink in surprise, a smile creeping onto his face despite himself.

"Commander!" Iron Bull's booming voice rose above the din, "You made it!" the Bull was suddenly next to him, clapping him on the shoulder, almost making him fall over, "We thought you wouldn't!" and before he could respond Bull was steering him towards the bar, where Varric, the new elf Sera, and Elia were sitting. Elia and Sera were doubled over in laughter, Elia holding onto Sera to keep from falling off her stool, as Varric continued waving his hands about, telling some story.

"Oh but the Hanged Man, it is sooo filthy~!" he heard Varric's snobbish, lady like voice, which he immediately changed back to his regular voice "And then Moody, you know, the lyrium covered elf, as moody and just completely humorless as usual, was like "That's because it is filthy." Hawke burst out laughing as soon as we left, I don't know how she did it-Curly!" Varric was obviously not that drunk; however he couldn't say the same for Sera and Elia. Elia had put her head down on the bar, holding a mug of ale in one hand, her other hand on Sera's back as they were both still laughing.

"That's a load of shite ifin I ever 'eard one." Sera managed to get out, and Cullen felt completely out of place in this group among friends. Then the elf managed to get a look at Cullen, her face breaking into a huge smile as she leaned over to whisper something to Elia.

"Varric," Cullen said as lightheartedly as he could, trying not to feel uncomfortable, after all his soldiers had been the ones to raise the cheer when he had walked in. However, now he noticed that there was a small distance between this group and everyone else; even if she wasn't working, the Herald of Andraste still commanded respect without trying to. "Regaling everyone with tales of Kirkwall?" Varric's face broke out into a huge grin.

"You know me Curly, I can't stop telling stories." He said, before shoving a mug of ale at him. "Drink up, the Herald's paying tonight." Cullen barely grabbed the mug before it fell.

"I um, well-"

"Oh come on! The boss is hammered, she won't be sparring with you tonight!" Bull said heartily, before chugging his own glass before yelling for another.

"Sera you meanie," Elia's voice was slurred, "No he isn't-" but then her astonishingly green eyes met his, and she stopped mid sentence, staring at him. "Cullen." She breathed, her pupils dilated. She was drunk.

"Herald." He felt in inappropriate to use her name in front of everyone else, but he could see the hurt look in her eyes, already regretting having done so.

"I…" she swallowed, staring guiltily back at her mug. "I'm sorry I didn't make it…as I promised." She looked back at him, attempting to stand up, and she almost fell before he caught her. She was so small next to him…

"I think we'll leave you two alone…" Varric grabbed Sera and Bull, pushing them away despite their protests, and Cullen stared at him in disbelief, but all he got was a wink, and he felt his face burn. "Herald," Cullen continued to use her title, not trusting himself to use her name now that half the tavern was watching them over their mugs. She smiled up at him, her head resting easily on his arm. Her usually neat ponytail was coming undone, her hair falling in rivlets down her back, and for once, she wasn't wearing armor from head to toe; she didn't even have a dagger on her. She was wearing tan pants, no shoes, and a loose shirt with a large neck; meaning he could see her bare shoulders and the top of her chest…his mind took a dark turn, and he forced himself to focus on only her face. He stood up straight, his hand still around her waist as she leaned into him.

"Cullen," her voice was low, her breath hot on his skin, "I-"

"I'm taking you home before you do anything you might regret." He said suddenly, walking her to the door, ignoring the cat calls and whistles that resounded approvingly around them as he did so. However, before he left with her still draped over him, he stopped at the door, casting an icy look about him as he did so. The general chatter of the tavern died down substantially in that instant. "She is still the Herald of Andraste, and Maker help me, if I hear about her defamation of any kind…" he let the threat hang in the air before he shut the door behind them, taking the moment to sweep her into his arms, knowing it would probably be safer that way.

"Oh Cullen, they were jus' havin' some fun, is all…" she murmured, her head against his shoulder as he walked down the snowy streets of Haven to her tiny abode by the gates.

"I don't care." Came his heated reply, surprising himself with the emotion he held in his voice.

"An' why's zat?" she asked, innocently and yet not so. He glanced down at her, the small elven woman in his arms. He didn't answer immediately, keeping his eyes fixed on her house as he crunched through the snow.

"Is your door open?" he asked, and she nodded.

"You didn't anzer my question-" she said stubbornly as he pushed the door open, placing her gently on the ground. Yet she still clung to him, her hands clasping his arms, her eyes trying to search his. She was leaning on him heavily, and she stank of alcohol. Andraste preserve him-

"I don't need to." He said quietly, removing her hands gently from his arms. He wanted so desperately to hold her, to run his hands through her hair, to pull her close-

"I see." She said, removing her hands from his, taking a couple faulty steps back. "I…was wrong, then…" she hugged herself, turning away from him.

"Elia, what are you-" he took a step forward, but she raised a hand to him, her back still facing him.

"Don't." her voice was cold, colder then he thought he'd ever heard it. He felt a nasty twisting in his chest. He stopped mid step as she turned around. She took a shuddering breath. "Thank you, for bringing me home, Commander." Oh Maker, what had he done- "I would like to be left alone now." He stiffened.

"Very well." His voice came out colder then he had expected it to. He made a curt bow. "Good evening, Herald." And before she could say anything else, he spun around, leaving, probably slamming her door as he did so, but he found himself not caring at that particular moment.

Crush those feelings indeed…he would crush them with every bit of strength he had.

and that's why he called cliffhaaaaaanger~~~~

Anyway. I was going to add more, but thought this would be a good stand alone chapter by itself.

Please review! Your reviews help me keep going! :)