AN: I'm starting to reach the boundaries of what this website will allow, but we're still in the M rating, so I'm good, for now. AKA, some smut ahead.

Chapter 14: The Storm

Errol stomped out of her room and made a beeline for the main doors, ignoring everyone who greeted her. The nerve of that man! How could she have been so blind? It was all him, his twisted fantasy, all of these months - the robes, the longer hair, the fucking ears—

"Argh!" she exclaimed out loud, startling a pair of nobles who were gossiping about the sad state of the entryway.

Electricity was running under her skin. She needed to get it out.

She needed to fight someone. Now.

It was still raining as she splashed across the muddy courtyard. Iron Bull's huge figure was easily identifiable as he swung at a dummy, especially as the rest of the recruits were avoiding the miserable weather. Dorian sat nearby under an awning, sipping wine and watching Iron Bull with mild interest and more than mild appreciation.

"Hey, Bull!" she shouted as she got closer. "You wanted to spar? Let's do it now."

He turned, his Ben-Hassrath training quickly taking in her aggressive stance, the look in her eyes, the fact that she was standing in the pouring rain screaming at him. "Boss, I'm not so sure…"

"We're doing it now. You got a problem with that?"

He shook his head. "No, no. Sparring is good."

"Great. Here's the rules." Errol moved to the center of the courtyard where there was a wide open space. "No weapons, but you get to use your full strength and I get to use magic." He opened his mouth as if to protest. "You don't go easy on me," she snapped. "I won't go easy on you. Got it?"

"Whatever you say, Boss," he said. "Just don't blame me if you break something important."

"Do you two really think—" Dorian started, but she swung on him.

"Dorian, I'm going to need you to put up a barrier so no stray magic gets out. Can you do that for me?"

"And get all wet?" he asked, mock upset, then sighed. "All right, but I'm breaking this thing up if it looks like you're going to get yourself killed."

"Sometimes you just need a good fight," Iron Bull said, tossing his weapon aside. He crouched and waited as Dorian cast the barrier. "You sure about this, Boss?"

She crouched as well, and let her hands ice over. "I won't go easy on you."

"You do what you gotta do. Get it out. That's what I'm here for."

The barrier was complete. Errol lunged.

He slammed her into the muddy ground easily but she blasted him in the face with ice, temporarily blinding him and flipping him over. He was up in an instant and she had to scramble away; he narrowly missed her flames and caught her in the legs, bringing her down hard. She kicked and was up again and on the attack, screaming curses as she fired lightning with her hands.

"Fuck you… motherfucking… son of a…. bitch… go… fuck… yourself… you… argh!"

Iron Bull brought her down again and pinned her arms so that she couldn't use her hands. "You're done," he said, but she growled and closed her eyes and electrocuted her whole body.

It blasted him off so that he hit the barrier, hard, and they were at it again.

By this time they'd attracted onlookers, who were watching their Inquisitor fight the giant Qunari with awe. Cullen stood away from the crowd, a small frown on his face. What had made her so upset?

Cassandra put a hand on his arm and he jumped. "When this is over I will speak with her," she said. "Clearly something has happened."

"Clearly," he said. "Let me know what you discover. I worry what this kind of display says about our Inquisitor."

"I believe the people enjoy it," Cassandra said, and he looked around, surprised to see that she was right.

Back inside the barrier, Iron Bull had her pinned again. "You're done," he growled. "Your energy is almost spent. Any more and you'll hurt yourself. Concede this fight, Errol."

He so rarely used her name. She nodded. "I concede. Thank you, Bull."

He stayed on top of her a moment longer, his huge hands pinning her wrists, even after the barrier vanished, and his look of worry became a suggestive smirk. "Hey Boss, are you as turned on as me right now?"

She scowled at him. "Off, Bull."

He reluctantly got up, lifting her and putting her back on her feet as he did. "Just remember, if you ever need to work out some more energy…"

Errol laughed. She really did feel much better. "I know, I know, Qunari sex god. Now go." She pushed him lightly in the direction of the tavern.

Her good mood vanished when someone took hold of her elbow. She turned to see Solas standing there with a thunderous expression on his face. "A word, Inquisitor?"

His grip looked light as he steered her back inside but it was actually like steel. He maneuvered her to his circular room. It was silent except for the ravens; the tower's usual inhabitants were all finding their pleasures somewhere else in the rain, either with friends or in their rooms or the tavern.

"Solas, I'm covered in mud and blood and it's not even all my own, can we please—" she started, but he swung on her with a look in his eyes that he normally reserved for the Fade.

"Tell me, Inquisitor, what exactly were you hoping to achieve with that little display?"

Oh shit. She lifted her chin. "I wasn't trying to achieve anything. I was upset and needed an outlet."

"And you thought that the best way for you to express your frustration was to publicly use your magic in an aggressive and violent way in front of the whole of the Inquisition, even knowing what you are?" he asked, his voice rising.

She narrowed her eyes. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Think, Errol! Your magic is different from a mage's! What if it went out of control? We don't know what you can do, what your capabilities are! What if you exposed yourself in the heat of the moment? You must be more careful!"

"How was I supposed to know that?" she snapped, her voice also getting louder. "You need to tell me these things!"

"Perhaps if you didn't run off the instant things turned disagreeable to you—"

"Oh, so it's my fault I'm upset that you've been using me to get your rocks off in the Fade?"

"You always revert to your childish otherworld expressions when you can't deal with facing reality here—"

"You hate that I'm human!" she shouted. "You want me to be some kind of perfect spirit elf that you can accept being with! Well, I'm not going to let you change me like that!"

He threw his hands in the air. "This argument is irrelevant! You keep acting as if you are a human! You're a spirit! You're mutable, you can exist as many things! You cannot deny your nature!"

"And you can't deny that you want my nature to be an elf!"

"You stubbornly cling to what you used to be as a safety blanket when you could be so much more!"

"Why is this so important to you?"

The distinct sound a sword being pulled from its sheath disrupted their argument. They spun around to find Cassandra standing in the doorway with her sword drawn, her arms shaking, face white as a sheet.

"You— you're—" she started, but couldn't get the words out.

"Cass—" Errol said, taking a step toward her, but Cassandra turned her sword on her with a snarl.

"Keep away from me!"

Errol stared at her friend in horror. "Cass…"

Then Cole was there. He waved his hand in front of Cassandra's face. "Forget," he whispered, and the terror faded from her eyes, leaving only blankness. He gently helped her resheath her sword. "Fear, falling, false, everything I have done is wrong, believed is wrong, a lie, a demon." He shook his head and waved his hand again. "You came looking for her but couldn't find her. Go back to the tavern for a drink and don't think about this anymore."

Dazed, Cassandra turned and walked out. Errol just stood there, swaying like a leaf in the wind.

"Errol," Solas said softly, but Cole took her in his arms and turned on Solas with a snarl.

"You're not helping! You're hurting!"

Solas' eyes widened at the proclamation. "I… apologize," he said. "I'll take my leave."

When he was gone Errol threw her arms around her fellow spirit. He held her tightly, because he could sense that's what would help the hurt.

"You were right," she whispered.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't want to be right."

"Say you won't leave."

He hugged her tighter. "I won't leave. I will always be here to make them forget." He paused and started to panic. "Wait, why did that just make you feel worse?"

"Humans are confusing, Cole."

"But you're not a human." A beat. "Now you feel even worse! What am I doing wrong?"

Cullen finally found her in the gardens.

He had been worried when Cassandra never reported back to him. He'd found the Seeker in the tavern, drinking with an oddly vague look on her face. When he asked her what happened, she told him she'd looked but hadn't found Errol, and it slipped her mind to inform him of that fact. Very unlike Cassandra. Something about it rubbed him the wrong way, but she'd just shrugged and gone back to her beer, so he'd gone searching for the Inquisitor himself.

She wasn't in her room, or Solas' room, or the library, or the battlements, or his own office (that was wishful thinking), or the tavern. No one had seen her. Solas was missing too, but the way they'd been glaring at each other, he doubted they were together.

He hadn't expected to find her sitting in the gardens. It was still pouring rain and she was shivering, water dripping down her face, staring vacantly ahead. It looked like she had been crying but it was hard to tell with all the water. From the look of it she had been there a long time - the rain had washed all of the mud and blood from her earlier fight away, leaving only a few bruises and scratches.

"Errol?" he asked tentatively. She didn't answer. He sat down next to her and brushed wet hair away from her face. "Maker's breath, you're freezing," he said. He cupped her cheek with his palm and turned her face toward him. "Errol, are you all right?"

She blinked, and it was like he was watching her come back to life. "Oh, Cullen," she said, her voice flat. "What are you doing out here? It's raining."

"I could ask the same of you. Do you want to go back inside?"

"No!" she said immediately, then more quietly. "No, I… I can't go back in there just yet."

"Well, you can't stay out here. You'll catch your death." He hated even saying those words, but it was true: she was noticeably shivering and her lips were tinged blue. He had to get her out of the rain. He held out his hand. "Here, come with me."

Errol eyed him suspiciously, and it hurt him a little. He wondered what he did to warrant such suspicion. "Where?"

"My office," he said. "I have supplies there, a change of clothes… and we can finally play that game of chess."

A smile blossomed across her lips, and she took his hand. "I'd like that."

"Excellent." He tucked her arm under his, trying not to show how worried he was. "Shall we?"

Cullen paced his office, leaving wet boot marks across the floor. This was… not the situation he had anticipated when he went looking for her. She was upstairs, drying off in his bedroom, changing into his spare clothes, while he was down in his office waiting for her to finish.

He'd pictured her in his bedroom many times before, but never exactly like this.

She's ill, he told himself. She's ill and upset and you are better than to think of her like that at this moment.

Still, she was up there right now, possibly sitting on his bed, peeling the wet clothes from her body…

He sat down on his desk with a groan. He hadn't been this frustrated since he was a teenager.

"Are you all right?"

He looked up to see her climbing down the ladder. She was wearing one of his tan shirts and a pair of dark sleeping pants knotted at the waist and rolled up many times to show her bare feet. The shirt was knotted as well, showing a sliver of flat stomach, and the sleeves of it were rolled to her elbows.

"I know, I look like an idiot," Errol said when she reached the ground. She pulled a towel from her shoulder and began rubbing her still-damp hair. "I never mastered those handy drying spells - I always light my clothing on fire. I couldn't even find a belt that would fit, so I had to raid your jammie drawer to find pants soft enough to knot so they'd stay up. You are a tall guy, you know that?"

Cullen barely heard her. He was waging an internal battle with himself. She's ill. Stop it. (She doesn't look ill anymore. Her cheeks are flushed again. She's wearing your sleeping pants.) Yes. That's good. She's wearing pants. (She could be wearing no pants. It would be very easy to undo that sloppy knot and they'd fall right off. I wonder if she's wearing anything underneath? Probably not. Her small clothes are probably soaking wet.) No. She's still upset. She's putting on a brave face. (You could make her feel better. Much better. She's also obviously not wearing anything under your shirt, and she's still cold.) Maker, you're right… No! No. You're a gentleman. He tried to focus on what she was saying. Maybe that would help.

"You know you have a massive hole in your roof, right? Water all over the floor. Luckily not over the bed. I plugged it with a barrier but that will degrade over time."

(Bed. She said bed. Errol in his bed. Errol in his bed naked. Errol in his bed naked, under him, writhing—) No! Stop it!

He stood abruptly and turned away, using the excuse of rummaging for something in his desk. "I…" He struggled to remember what she had just said. "Thank you. For the barrier."

"Of course. Are you… all right?"

"Yes." He paused and adjusted his pants. Get it together. "Yes. I'm just looking for— ah, here it is." He turned and placed the chess board on his desk. "Shall we play?" I need to sit down.

"Of course," she said. "But you're still soaked. Why don't I send for food while you change?"

"Oh, of… of course." He wanted to smack himself in the face. Idiot.

"You're sure that's okay?" she asked. "My sending for food. People might talk. I mean, I don't care, but I know how you are about appearances."

"Send for the food," he said wearily. "Let them gossip if they care to. I'll… be right back."

Cullen climbed the ladder and then stood for a moment in his empty room, listening to her move below. Her wet clothing hung from a drying rack in the corner - including her small clothes. He flushed and looked away. Damn. It was just his luck that the first woman he'd be this attracted to in a long, long time would be from another reality, the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste.

He changed without thinking, removing his armor and wincing as he eased off his trousers. He was going to have to be very careful to keep her from noticing his situation. Damnit. Why was this happening now? He'd been attracted to her for months, but for some reason it had worsened in the last days, like the relief of seeing her alive after the attack on Haven and the unbelievability of finding Skyhold had freed his mind to consider the once-impossible thought of being with her. And it had, in every possible way and position.

Cullen stopped and took a deep breath, drawing on years of templar training and meditation. He cleared his thoughts, imagining a candle burning steadily in his mind, the blue at the center of it. Slowly he relaxed, one muscle at a time. You can talk to her about this later, he reminded himself. She's vulnerable now and she needs a friend. You can be that for her.

Finally he opened his eyes. Yes, he could do this.

He climbed back down the ladder in bare feet, and turned to see that she had set up the chess board on the floor, and that the food had come. She was sitting cross legged on the ground, eating a strawberry and drinking wine.

"Can you believe it?" she asked with a grin. "Strawberries in this weather!" She popped a red fruit between her lips and licked the juice from her fingers.

Cullen followed her tongue with his eyes as the tip of each finger disappeared inside of her mouth. Oh, fuck me.

He wasn't playing very well. Errol frowned at him. "You know, I don't appreciate being allowed to win."

"Hmm?" Cullen said, glancing up for only an instant before looking back at the board, his brow furrowed. "Right, of course. I apologize, I'm not… I'm just distracted."

Rain lashed at the windows and lightning flashed. What had been a miserable day had turned into a full-fledged storm. Errol wished he would open up and be normal because otherwise he was looking very sexy in his loose pants and shirt and bare feet, his hair still damp and ruffled. "I'm glad we sent for food," she said, trying again to make conversation. "If this doesn't let up we'll be trapped here all night."

"What?" he asked, looking up at her and sounding suddenly panicked. She crossed her arms.

"Cullen, what's the matter? You've been monosyllabic all evening and I'm winning, and I haven't played since I was twelve. What's going on? Are you upset? Is this because I was jeopardizing my health or something?"

"What?" he asked again, finally looking her in the eye. "No, not at all. I'm just lost in thought tonight. Why would you think I'm upset with you?"

She shrugged and pointed to her hand. "People are always trying to make sure the warm body that carries the Anchor is healthy. I know it was dumb to sit in the rain. I had an… argument. I had to get out of the building. I know it sounds crazy but I didn't even realize it was raining that hard until you showed up."

"I'm glad I did," he murmured. "Errol, you are more to me… to all of us than the Anchor. You must know that."

She blushed and looked down. "Maybe," she said, not convinced.

He shifted like he was about to say something else, then just sighed and moved his Queen. "You're leaving for the Western Approach soon."

"Yes, in three days."

He seemed shocked. "I didn't realize it was that soon. I thought you were leaving in a week."

"We have an unexpected stop to make along the way. Cole's talisman, it doesn't work. Solas—" she was so angry she had a hard time getting his name out— "he thinks there's a way we can overcome this."

"You and Solas are… close."

"We're really, really not," she said harshly, moving her Rook, which he immediately took with his Knight. "Hey, how did you… oh, I see. Damn."

"I told you I wouldn't let you win," Cullen said. He seemed happier somehow. "Once you return it won't be long before the ball at Halamshiral. Fancy dresses and all that."

"Yay," Errol said flatly, her fingers hovering over a pawn. He made a 'tsk'ing noise.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

She glared at him. "Why not?"

"Look at the board."

She stared at it. "Yeah?"

Gently he took her hand and mimed moving the pawn. "If you move here, then I move here, then you'll go here, and I'll do this… see?"

His hand was much larger than hers, and warm, and he was bending his face very close to explain. His breath was pleasantly tinged with the scent of strawberries and wine. "Y… yeah," she stuttered. "I get it."

He leaned back, satisfied. "It's still your move."

She moved the pawn.

He looked outraged. "What are you…?"

"I like to defy expectations." She stuck her tongue out at him.

"You best put that tongue back in your mouth," he said in a husky voice, and Errol had to fight to repress a full-body shiver. Cullen was staring at her for the first time all evening, his eyes dark, and the intensity would be unnerving if she didn't want it so badly. She wavered, then decided to jump off the cliff.

"What if I don't?" she asked, and leaned forward, knowing that it would give him a direct view down her top.

He groaned, just a little in the back of his throat, then pulled her in by the front of her shirt and kissed her.

It was hot and needy, all teeth and tongue. Errol grabbed the back of his neck and let him fall on top of her, knocking the chess pieces aside. He cushioned her head with his hand and pressed the hard length of his body against hers, weight heavy and comforting, kissing her breathless, like he had been starving for her. His tongue delved into the inside of her mouth, sweeping and tasting, angling her head back for better access. She moaned, one hand fisted in his messy curls, the other scrabbling desperately at the front of his shirt as if to tear it bodily off of him. When he finally moved from her lips he rained hot kisses down the side of her neck, nipping and sucking at the skin before soothing it with his tongue.

"Maker," Cullen breathed, trailing his free hand along her stomach before unknotting her shirt and slipping under it, where he cradled her breast and ran his thumb over her nipple, the feeling like an electric shock. "You taste so good." He moved his mouth slowly down her body while she twined her fingers in his hair, urging him on with little whimpers. He paused to lavish attention first on her pulse point, then the hollow of her throat, his teeth lightly scraping her collarbone, until he finally pushed up her top and replaced his hand with his mouth, swirling his tongue along her nipple before sucking hard, drawing it fully into his mouth.

"Cullen," Errol whined, so wet for him that she ached. She arched her body and hooked her leg around his, grinding on him, his erection pressed against her core with only thin fabric separating them. She took his hand and moved it to the waistband of her too-loose pants, urging him pull them down. He started to, far too slowly, the knot slipping apart with a tug, his hand warm and calloused against her soft skin. "Please, please."

Suddenly there was a pounding at his door. "Commander," a voice shouted. "Permission to enter."

"Permission denied!" he yelled, his face still buried in her breasts. "Go away! That's an order!"

"Sir, it's about the Inquisitor. She was last seen in your quarters. She needs to be informed that the schedule's changed. She's leaving tomorrow."

Cullen stopped what he was doing. "Tomorrow? Who approved this change?"

"Leliana, sir. She says the Warden issue is too important to risk the side mission taking longer than expected. We need the Inquisitor debriefed immediately and ready to leave at daybreak."

He groaned and rolled off of Errol. "I'll relay the message," he said. "Consider it done. Just leave. Now."

"Yes, sir."

They just laid there for a moment, staring at the ceiling. Then Errol began to snicker. He looked over, scowling.

"What's so funny?"

She just laughed harder, pulling her shirt down and her pants up. "I think I'm already debriefed!"

He sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head on the floor. "Maker's breath, what timing…"

"Hey," she said, and when he opened his eyes she was hovering over him. She leaned in and kissed him, slowly, with a gentleness that hadn't been there before. He reached up and cupped her face, slowly tracing the line of her cheekbone with his thumb.

"I guess we were both a little… pent up," he said. She grinned down at him, feeling giddy.

"Cullen, I've been hoping you would jump me for months."

He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. "You're telling me all of this time I've been suffering, and we could have been—"

She beamed. "Yup."

"Why didn't you say—"

"Why didn't you?"

He smiled at her self-deprecatingly. "We're hopeless."

"Mmm, we're basically the worst," Errol said, trailing her hand across his chest. He caught it before it could go any lower.

"We… you… we should wait. You have to leave at first light, and there are issues we must discuss if we are to enter into anything…" He stifled a gasp as she leaned in and took his earlobe between her teeth, gently sucking on it. "Maker, Errol, you must stop."

"Oh, I must stop, but your hand is on my ass," she murmured, and he flushed and quickly removed it. She sighed and shifted off of him. "As you wish, Commander."

Cullen visibly swallowed. "The interruption was likely a… good thing," he rasped. "It will give us time to… process before… jumping into anything. We should… we'll continue this after you return from the Western Approach, Inquisitor." He sat up, clearly uncomfortable. "I should, ah, see you back to your chambers."

"In this weather? No use both of us getting wet," Errol said, reknotting her shirt and pants. "I'll just sprint for it. Maybe arrange for a hot bath. Lie in it… think about you." Errol arched an eyebrow and was rewarded by a hitch in his breath and his fists clenching. She wasn't usually this forward but he made it too easy, and he was so wonderful when pushed past his limits. All of that pent-up energy unleashed… she licked her lips.

"I will think about you tonight as well," Cullen promised in a low voice, and now it was her turn to blush. She imagined him in his bed, undressed and alone, his hands wandering…

"Maybe I should go," she said, her voice breathy, and he smirked.

"Your clothing is still upstairs."

She halted on her way to the door. "I'll… get it next time. I won't need it on this trip. It's all wet anyway."

He came up behind her and ran his hands down her arms, like he couldn't resist touching her. "As are you," he said quietly into her ear, and she shuddered, spun around, and kissed him, pressing her whole body against his. He lifted and pushed her against the still-closed door, cupping her bottom with his hands, his tongue warm as he drew her lower lip into his mouth. She whimpered and dug her nails into the back of his neck, pulling him closer, kissing him like he was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.

Cullen finally stepped back, his pupils dilated, and lowered her to her feet. "By your leave, Inquisitor," he gasped, opening the door behind her. Errol pulled him in for one last kiss, then turned on her heel and ran barefoot into the pouring rain, trying to ignore the slick heat between her thighs and the adrenaline that shook her whole body.

She reached her room in record time and collapsed in a wet heap by the door. She was definitely going to need that bath.