#;Tris Trevelyan | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

baku-usagi · 2 years ago

Text

interpersonal hygiene

a one shot fanfiction

pairings:blackwall/F!trevelyan

summery: Lady Trevelyan decides to try and help romanced blackwall get the others to stop calling him unhygienic and it gets a little steamy

CW:smut, Fluff, mostly smut

(Authors note:I wrote this in like 4 hours flat and its just a lot of sex and softness :;T so ya know hope you enjoy or whatever. blackwall in my head is not stinky, or dirty, he just smells like men smell which i personally enjoy)

Lady Trevelyan made her way down the stairwells from her room into the common room of skyhold, passing by the mighty throne she used to judge those who had transgressed against the inquisition and managed to survive, with slight butterflies she worked her way down the steps toward the stables, which sat in the soft glow of afternoon light just over the path.

She could hear the soft nickering of the horses and the chuffs of the other mounts faintly as her soft steps quickened.

the horse master tended the horses, and just past him, leaning against the edge of the door, was Blackwall. The sun hit his raven hair casting almost blue hues from his locks, his cheeks retained soft, warm color from the weather, his lips slightly chapped.

He hadn’t noticed her approach yet, he seemed to be having short, polite conversations with the horse master about proper riding technique, and what saddles made for better long distance travel.

He was so handsome, she could feel her stomach tighten and her cheeks flush, her gaze passing over the plush of his tunic that she knew hid his taunt, muscular arms, his hands calloused from years of wielding a sword waved about in his description of some type of leather or another to the horse master.

He paused as she got closer, his face lighting up with a soft, and welcoming smile that cut through the harsh edges of his normal resting expression.

Maker, his eyes were so kind.

“My lady” he greeted her, his voice holding a secretive lilt that suggested flirtation.

“Inquisitor” the horse master greeted as well. “I hope I’m not being a bother,” she said, her own voice sounding girlish and awkward in her ears.

“I just need to borrow your conversation partner for a moment” Blackwall raised an eyebrow at her thoughtfully, though she saw it from the corner of her vision as her gaze was still set on the horse master “Of course. Whatever you need him for I’m sure it's more important than our idle chit chat” In a way she wondered if that was true, given that her plans were more for leisure, not so much more business.

She nodded, unable to find her voice in a way that wouldn’t reveal her giddiness. She tried terribly hard to remain put together, a leader who didn’t feel nervousness, a respectable leader.

She tilted her head to Blackwall now “if you don’t mind” she offered, gesturing for him to walk with her in a sweep of her arm toward the keep

“As you wish, my Lady”. His tone was once again, restricted, a wave of curiosity just beneath the obedience.

Once they had gotten out of ear shot, he broke the silence of their walk “is everything ok? I haven’t done something to get you in trouble I hope”

She laughed a bit at that “perish the thought, I just have a surprise planned for you”

She had no idea if it was purposeful or not, but he had drifted closer to her, his footsteps in tandem with her own like a soldier's march, his shoulder almost touching hers.

She could feel the warmth radiating off him, the soft salty smell of sweat on his uniform, with the underlying smell of him taking her over as they walked through the doors of the keep.

He was a rugged man, he kept his hands surprisingly clean, nails trimmed and washed beneath, but past this, he did tend to carry a layer of sweat and grime from the hard days work.

His hair was a little greasy, and, as she’d noticed before, his lips chapped. Oh but to stop him for a kiss here in this open space, to press her lips to his as if that would heal them.

She could hear Lady Vivienne chastising her for her image, trying to kiss Blackwall in the middle of a crowded room like hapless schoolyard lovers.

Despite his level of unkempt, she found he didn’t smell, not bad at least. A little like sweat, hay, and smoke, a woodsy and masculine scent she enjoyed more often than not. It often had the undercutting of flowers, he was so quick to interact with nature, to bring a bloom to his face, or a bundle of wild flowers to her door.

“I’ve no problem going wherever you need to take me” he spoke, the curiosity peaking more now “but it feels a bit…uncouth to walk unchaperoned to your quarters for all eyes to see”

She knew some of the general public would take notice of them walking to her room, but most of the general public did know they were together, scandals be damned if she wanted time alone with him without the smell of horses. “We aren’t children” she nudged him gently with her elbow.

Before she could elaborate further, one of the servants met her at the end of the stairwell that led to her quarters. “Ah my lady, perfect timing” they chimed, seeming to flush at noting blackwalls presence. “I’ve finished with the preparations like you asked, should you need anything else, feel free to give the bell a ring”

“Thank you, your work is appreciated” Trevelyan smiled softly, stepping away from Blackwall to make space for the servant to leave, before leading Blackwall up the stairs.

“Now I am really curious” he quipped as he walked, his hand snaking around to find hers, wrapping her fingers to lace between his. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears, hoping that the initial surprise wouldn’t be a let down, or worse, offensive.

They walked through the main room, past the bed. She opened another door, and the soft humidity and floral scents immediately filled the air.

There was a pause as she formulated how to properly announce the occasion, but he spoke before she could “a bath, my lady?” he seemed to be flushed, almost embarrassed and she bit her lip, wincing at the hint of hurt on his face.

“I was hoping we could…together” she cleared her throat. “I’m sorry if that was presumptuous, you work hard and I thought I could, you know…”

He stepped to her now, not in hostility but fast enough to cause her to stumble back, against the open door that bounced a bit at her weight, but only for a moment because he was there just as quickly, strong hand steadying the door in a vice grip, his face close to hers and his breath on her lips.

“My lady” his voice was soft “i would be a fool to reject such an invitation and one so thoughtfully prepared” he brushed his thumb against her cheek, pressing her face into his palm as he closed the gap.

She felt a moan escape her throat, her embarrassment swallowed up by the feeling of his chapped lips, and his mustache tickling at her nose.

He deepened the kiss, tilting her head back further with his hand, and offering his tongue against her teeth.

She parted them, running her own tongue against his with jolts of exuberance. He tasted amazing.

He pulled away, breathing a bit heavy.

“Shall we?” she offered after catching her breath.

“Of course” he spoke even as he began disrobing.

Oh maker, fuck. His body glistened, a mixture of sweat and steam from the tub, the hair on his arms and chest twisted in adorable little curls from the dampness.

He paused as he noted her appraisal, holding his uniform balled up in his hands.

“My lady, I know the others seem to think..well you know they’ve commented about it before so-” he was a bit awkward now, fidgeting with the fabric “ I do my best to stay..” he pauses again, his face a bit flushed. “I’ve been on my own for so long now it didn’t really matter but, when you started to..see me, like that, I..”

“I don’t care what the others say” she spoke with a laugh interrupting his attempts to convey his fears of being unhygienic for her. “but-” her tone grew soft “I do worry how it might bother you, for them to pick at how you keep yourself and I figured, yes, you’ve been on the road so long, who knows when you last had the chance to pamper yourself…” she bit her lip, “or be pampered” she offered, allowing herself the chance to languish looking him up and down.

He seemed to unravel into putty, his tension melting away as he let out a heavy emotional sigh. “Oh thank the maker” he breathed running a hand through his hair to slick it back further. “My lady, you are too good for me. He walked back to her side, dropping his uniform and pulling at the buttons of her top, popping them with concentration. She could watch the muscles move in his forearms as his fingers deftly pulled her outerwear open.

The fabric rested softly on either side of her breasts, her own skin damp with sweat from the day. He seemed to sink down as he undid the last button, kissing her sternum, down to her belly button. He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin just below her belly button now, looking up at her with adoration.

“I have had little time to focus on bathing rituals beyond the basics” he spoke, his facial hair and breath tickling her skin with every word “but if this is what it can be like” he kissed her hip, his eyes darting up at her from beneath his eyelashes “I would soak away your pains, your guilt” she replied softly “I would have you here with me like this, every day, to feel comfort”

The words were embarrassing but true, and she felt her core tighten with desire as he let out a rumble, one that vibrated against her skin from his throat.

“You spoil me. I cannot repay this ""I can think of a way or two” she smirked now,running her hand through his hair, giving it a firm grasp at the back, forcing his head back so he was looking up at her. He let out a soft needy chuckle “I can think of nothing i’d want more”

She allowed her shoulders to fall, her top rustling to the ground, even though the room was warm, and humid she felt her nipples harden at the touch of the air.

“Finish undressing?” a command disguised as a question “as you wish my lady” he breathes.

She releases his hair before stepping out of her pants. When she finished undressing, she turned to see him wiggling his boots and pants off as well.

Down to the last bit of pant leg, he was standing right next to the tubside, trying to lean on it for balance, she sauntered to him,grabbing a part of the pant leg with one hand, he looked at her a bit confused before she pushed him playfully into the tub, the soapy, petal laden water sloshing about as he slipped in, his pants still in her hands.

She laughs hard as he emerges, long black hair strewn about his face. “Ha ha” he quips, after a gasp of air

“It wouldn’t be so funny if i’d clonked my head and drowned now would it” he tries to sound serious, but a real laugh prickled its way through his last few words.

“I’ve watched dragonlings wallop you upside the head harder than you would have hit the tub” she retorted as her laughter died down.

He watched her with a warm smile for a moment, a devious look flashing his gaze before fast as lightning, he reached out pulling her in after him by the wrist. “Oh blackwall wait- no-”she tried to protest but was swiftly dunked into the hot water next to him, emerging with a gasp of her own.

“Now that's just- I am your inquisitor you know you can’t just go du-” he kissed her, pulling her body to his. It was now that she could feel how hard he was against her thighs as she mumbled one last protest into his lips, before returning the kiss, pulling herself even closer, their chests flush to one another. His chest hairs soft against her breasts, he clumsily grasped for the edge of the tub as he propped her beneath him in the water, her arms tangled around his neck holding her afloat.

They parted and stared at one another, he pressed his forehead to hers and she felt a droplet of water hit her cheek,she looked to see it was in fact a tear.

“Thom?” she inquired softly. “I’m sorry” he laughed, his voice thick with emotion. “I am just. Maker, it's embarrassing but I’m so happy, you make me so happy I- I would have never dreamed a man like me could have… this” he looked about, her, the tub, the room even as he tried to pinch the tears back. “I’ve spent so long running from my past, and I deserved punishment for my cowardice, but somehow the makers blessed me with my whole future” he shakily grabbed one of her hands, shifting his hips beneath hers to help her stay afloat, before pressing her hand to his heart which pounded wildly. “You’re my whole future”

She felt tears burgeoning at her own eyes now. “I’ve made you cry now” he stated flatly, “what good am I right?” he tried to jest.

She shook her head and let out a half laugh “Oh Thom, you keep on about how you don’t deserve me but” she paused, allowing more tears to slip “It is I, who feels they don’t deserve you. You my loyal, my faithful, you who would follow me to the end.”

He nodded “if you’ll let me” he added, “even if no one else does”

“Oh enough of this” she scoffed, her smile coming back full force, and with it his as well in all its radiance “the waters gonna get cold.” she grabbed at the cloth folded neatly on the tray beside the tub, and one of the expensive orlesian washing soaps.

“Turn around” she demanded even as she lathered the soap into the cloth” he raised an eyebrow but obeyed, releasing her reluctantly to turn, resting his weight on his knees folded beneath him.

She took the cloth to his back, scrubbing him gently before passing it forward to him to get his chest while she messaged the lather into his shoulders and back with her hands.

She could feel the years of knotted muscles from sleeping in armor, on hard forest floors,and she wanted to work it away, she kissed the back of neck softly, and he let out a sigh.

“My lady..”he asked softly

“Yes?” she responded as she grabbed the shampoo.

“I want to touch you” he spoke as if he was mentioning the weather, normal and even, but the words burned her ears.

She didn’t respond and he didn’t move, allowing her to continue working the shampoo through his hair.

“Lady Trevelyan. Please” he spoke again, his voice thick with desire and passion.

“Wait, “ she replied softly. He grimaced as she retrieved one of the many buckets of heated water off the grate of coals that kept them warm, dumping it over his head slowly as she worked the shampoo out.

His eyes were closed, and he had shifted to having his legs in front of him. Bent at the knees which he had one of his forearms rested against.

As She repeated the process with the conditioner, she noticed the soft movement of his other arm beneath the water. Andraste's knickers, was He touching himself? She dismissed it as him simply cleaning, but she could feel herself getting hot even as she began brushing the conditioner through his hair with a comb, reaching around from behind him to massage the conditioner into his beard as well.

He tried to stifle a little moan, her hands in his beard and her breasts pressed against his back as she worked, she rested her lips on his shoulder. Watching his arm beneath the water still a bit and tense.

At this point, she drained the old water, watching Blackwall shift a bit in the cold air, moving both hands to rest on his knees.

She had asked in advance for the servants to heat plenty of water for rinsing. She stepped from the tub, feeling his eyes watching her intently, hearing his breathing hitch as the light from outside bounced off the glossy wetness of her body.

She had bathed this morning and didn’t truly need the scrub down, but would still need to rinse the soapy water away from them both.

“Stand for me, please” she inquired, he hesitated and she tilted her head curiously.

“I am..” he started clearing his throat “In a state.”

“Are you hurt? Was the water too hot before?” she asked worriedly.

“Hah, no my lady, I should be so lucky.” he stood as he said this and she was met with what she knew had been present most of the evening, a raging hard on.

He cleared his throat again, trying to shift a bit. Lady Trevelyan watched it throb for but a moment, interrupted by him saying “It's not the worst feeling to have you inspect me, my lady but I am at my wits end here, if I could be so bold as to ask again-” he swallowed heavily “to touch you”

She was enamored by this, here he was, clearly aroused, needy, and instead of trying to touch himself he wanted to touch her? Although he may have indulged a bit earlier in the tub anyway, she was sure it hadn’t been to satisfaction.

Oh maker, she was just as aroused and needy though.

She passed him one of the buckets of water, stepping back into the tub with him.

“Rinse off, and then” she placed a hand on his chest “rinse me off after?”

Though this was truly a request and not a command, she knew it was like giving the hounds permission to hunt.

He wanted it almost as much as she did.

As he slowly poured the water down himself, watching her intently, she used her hands to brush away any residue left behind shaking away the conditioner from his hair and beard, his lips stealing a kiss at her palm, she watched his muscles stiff and tense as she caressed his skin, his breathing harsh through his nose as she moved down.

Her hands landed on his hips, at the base of his erection and he swore, his hips giving a small involuntary twitch.

She met his eyes and she applied a grip, “sweet Andraste” he gasped out, trying to steady himself, he found nothing but her, and rested his head upon her shoulder, his hot breath rushing across her skin tantalizingly.

She wanted to tease him more, but his water bucket was empty and before she could move to grab her own, his bucket was dropped, and his large hand had wrapped over hers around his cock.

He didn’t ask, nor did he wait, he pulled her closer with his free hand, and set the pace for them as he stroked himself with her hand.

“Fuck.” she swore, rubbing her thighs together in search of friction even as their joined hands granted him plenty.

“I’m sorry” he managed to breathe, though the motion didn’t stop.

“What for?” she managed to whimper back. He laughed, a pathetic laugh as he bucked his hips into their hands, before abruptly stopping.

“Your-your turn to be rinsed, yes?” he managed softly, gently licking his lips and looking upward as if pleading for strength before releasing her hand from his and placing both of his hands behind his back firmly with great effort.

They stood there like that for a moment, him standing defenseless, hands clasped together hard dick bouncing ever so slightly with his ragged breaths.

She watched him carefully as she grabbed her own bucket of water.

He stepped closer to her, his dick pressing against her lower stomach as she began dumping the water, his hands mimicking hers from earlier, scrubbing away any remaining soap on her skin.

He cupped her breasts now, and she inhaled sharply, his calloused fingers being gentle, as if he was afraid for a moment he hurt her, before firmly squeezing.

She let out a little moan and he smirked at her, pulling his grip from the whole of her tits down to the nipples which he languished in gently pinching and pulling.

He bucked his hips a bit as he moved his hands down her stomach. His hands were so large and strong, they made her feel small as he gripped her hips now, tightly.

“Fuck me” she hissed. It was more of a curse then a demand but the response was immediate

He pulled her to him, kissing her hard and desperate, drinking her in as his teeth nipped on her lips.

His tongue pressed into her mouth and she suck at it,

As she did he grasped her by the arse and hoisted her up, her womanhood resting firmly on his stomach.

He carried her from the bathroom, still damp to the bed.

“Maker you’re so wet” he practically snarled into her mouth, their noses pressed together as they breathed one another in.

“I want you” she responded “i’ve always wanted you and only you” her voice was high, breathy, her words dripping out on soft moans as she found herself grinding against his stomach.

“Wet for me” he says it with the lilt of a question, though it required no answer, before collapsing them both to the bed.

“You drive me wild. You are confounding. I Look at you and i ache for want to be buried inside you though it’s more than i deserve” his hands push her legs away from his, one hand remaining to grip the softness of her thigh, the other planting firmly palm down on her pelvis, his thumb drawing little soft circles on her hard clit.

She arches into the sensation

“And to see you, this desperate for me as well?”

He laughs low in his throat. “To see you this needy”

He pauses, as if holding his breath while he continues to flick and rub at her, reading her body language carefully.

“Am I doing well, my lady?” his voice is a whine, he begs to be told. “Yes” she barely manages to choke out, bucking her hips into his touch as best she can while his palm firmly holds her in place.

“It feels good” she sounded strangled, looking at him through heavy eyes. “Tell me you feel the same as me” he demands.

“I look at you, and I ache for you to be buried inside me” she manages to keen,

“Please”

He seems taken over then, throwing her leg over his shoulder, his movements clumsy and desperate, he grips her other hip in his hand and guides himself to her.

He pauses once more, brow furrowed in concentration. He squeezes his eyes shut

“I don’t want to hurt you so just..tell me this is what you want, but know if you do you will have it, nothing withheld”

she could hear the mild threat behind that, what all he had to give her.

Her silence must have worried him because he added “and if it is not, I will compose myself, my lady and we can move at a slower pace”

Even as he said it his eyes burned with desire.

“I want this, nothing withheld” she managed, feeling the butterflies in her stomach flip with anticipation.

He was still for but a moment before slamming himself into her, shooting little stars across her vision.

“Makers breath” she shouted, arching her back into the thrust. She could see, looking down at herself how connected they now were at the hip. He didn’t give her anymore time to process this before he started to move.

This was not the first time they’d had sex, the first time was tentative, needy, guilty in her room and then desperate in the barn.

What they’d both wanted, his apprehension shedded like a robe as he had made love to her.

This was somehow so much the same and yet so much different.

His strokes were not a goodbye, not one last passionate burnout. They were desperate to claim her as deep as their fragile mortal forms would allow for, they were wild and animalistic.

They did not hold “one last time” in their feeling, instead they felt of “may this moment never end, to this be our eternity”

She hadn’t even noticed how loudly she moaned and begged, a thousand “please” falling from her lips between rapid kisses.

Her vision went fuzzy as he leaned into her more, pulling her leg higher over his shoulder and baring his weight down into her.

She could vaguely register his moans as well, his mumbling prayers to the maker, as he gripped her leg and her hip hard enough to bruise, with reckless abandon. Something about him, her soft protector, her shield in battle, grasping her so hard, renouncing her as any kind of ‘fragile’ in this moment, drove her wild.

“You feel so amazing” he snarled, his face resting in her neck, “maker I want to-” his words trailed off into a moan and he leaned back, slowing his pace but pressing in hard with each languid thrust.

Lady Trevelyan gasped for air rolling her hips to meet his thrusts.

He placed his hand once more over her swollen clit ,watching himself go in and out of her swollen, wet cunt.

he matched the pace once more with his thumb on her clit, “do you hear the way we sound together” he asked, his voice almost sadistic. “Sweeter than any chantry choir hearing how wet you are for me.” she couldn’t respond with more than a nod, soft, quick moans still pushing past her lips. “Tell me i'm yours” he demanded, keeping his pace on her clit even as she tried to roll her hips faster, twitching as her core tightened more and more, the pleasure that had been rolling through her starting to build.

“You’re mine” she snarled, her cunt twitching and squeezing around him.

“Fuck” he barked, shaking as he tried to keep a slower pace.

“My lady,” he moaned. “my lady, my lady.”

“Thom I’m-” she could hardly breathe, she was so close now.

“Don’t stop please” she managed to choke out

“You make me feel so good, please don’t stop, I'm so close” she was all but weeping the words, and this seemed to make it even harder for him to remain on pace.

“Come on my cock then, be good to me once more yeah?” It was almost a taunt, and he increased his speed just a bit.

His name spilled from her lips, alternating between moans and pleading. “Thom please please” she managed, gripping at his hips and lower back, then his shoulders, digging her nail in deep “don’t do that or-” he tried to protest, applying just a touch more pressure with his thumb.

“Oh fuck I’m coming” she whimpered, words strangled as her whole body clenched like a vice grip, nails rending open Blackwalls back and shoulders

He swore again, fucking her harder and faster then before, if that was even possible, through her orgasm, causing much to her suprise a second orgasm to roll in after the first, though the second was ridden out in perfect stillness as his own orgasm had quickly followed.

Blackwall was not even breathing, face flushed and mouth slightly parted as he’d buried himself to the hilt inside of her, his cock twitching within her spasming core.

He shakily shifted her leg from off his shoulder and fell on top of her now.

Both breathing harder than after their battle with the dragon in the hinterlands, they rolled to the side, him still inside her

His hands weakly caressed her back. Her face was in his chest. He smelled of flowers and orlesian soap.

After a few moments, he carefully dislodged himself from inside her, now more flaccid though not entirely soft and they lay in stillness, tangled limbs for what felt like an eternity.

Later that evening, Lady Trevelyan stood, sore, speaking to her advisors in the war room. Trying her hardest not to show the amount of tender she felt.

“- and More venatori sightings than ever here” cullen was finishing a report that Trevelyan hadn’t really been focusing on. Flashbacks of just three hours prior continued to interject in her thoughts. How Blackwall had felt inside her.

“Inquisitor” Cullen snapped her out of it.

“Yes, I’ll take Dorian to check it out as soon as possible.”

“Say, Josephine,” Leliana asked, though she was looking directly at the inquisitor. “Isn't that smell similar? Josephine sniffed “ah the inquisitor's soap! Yes thats-” she cut off flushing deeply “that is what smelled different about blackwall this afternoon”

Cullen raised an eyebrow, “well it’s a good bit better then how he smelled before from what i hear” Leliana said playfully.

“He smelled like all men smell before” Trevelyan tried defeated, “besides nothing wrong with lending soap, maybe I’ll order some extra for him.”

“I’ve heard that specific soap is pretty good for cuts and scrapes too.” Leliana smirked “ironbull tried to clap him on the back earlier and he yelped like a terrified nug, must have been some fight he got into”

Cullen sighed “if you and Blackwall are happy that's what matters, inquisitor, you don’t have to hide your feelings for him, not here at least.”

“Exactly!” Josephine chips in.

“The whole world is at stake. Enjoy the little moments you can have with him.”

“Like sharing soap,” Leliana added.

“Alright alright.” The inquisitor brushed them off, shaking her head as she left the war table.

She found herself walking once more to the stables, to see black wall chipping away at a block of wood.

When he noticed her approaching he smiled, inclining his head softly “my lady”.

She sat beside him wordlessly, resting her head on his shoulder as he continued to carve. While the floral smell of the orlesian soap was still vaguely present, he smelled how she liked, smoke, hay, wood shavings and sweat.

His hair was pushed back and tousled, a handsome and charming look making her think of her companions telling him to brush his hair.

What silly comments. She nestled in closer, wrapping her arms around his arm as he continued to carve, taking in the peace while she could before whatever would get thrown at them next.

#Fanfiction #Dragonage #CW smut #CW sex #cw hair pulling #blackwall x inquisitor #blackwall x trevelyan #Blackwall #thom rainier #dragon age inquisition #I tried to just not describe the inquisitor so everyone can project how they want

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partystoragechest · 1 year ago

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A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, Trevelyan seeks out the Commander's warmth.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 2,912. Rating: all audiences.)

Chapter 27: Part Four

Orders flew across the Undercroft, as preparations began for the second test of the Arcanist’s red lyrium explosive.

This test was to take place not in Skyhold, thank the Maker, but the Dales. There was a vein of the stuff—not too far—that the Inquisition knew of, and would not mind seeing blown to smithereens. Its day of reckoning loomed.

But there was much to be done before that could happen. Not only was the device to be made ready—multiple versions, in the interest of study—but there was a remarkable amount of bureaucracy to tackle. Apparently, one required permission prior to detonating the countryside.

Therefore, whilst Dagna was preoccupied with runecraft and raw lyrium, Trevelyan, as her assistant, was left with the organisation of it all. Reports were to be made, forms of approval submitted. The usual nonsense—including, of course:

“Our escort,” said Dagna, stopping briefly, lyrium chisel still in hand. “The Commander should have it ready. Can you check with him?”

Trevelyan collected her papers, and nodded. “Yes, Arcanist.”

“Great! And be sure to remind him this trip is not for the faint of heart. I can’t have another dropper.”

After clarifying with Herzt what a ‘dropper’ was (one who collapses upon seeing the Arcanist’s more avant-garde work, like a soldier who’d attended her last Fade experiment), Trevelyan smiled.

“I’ll remind him,” she said.

And she was glad to. She needed to see the Commander—not merely for the fact their conversation last night had been interrupted—but for her own self, too. There was much on her mind, this morning. When they had spoken yesterday, he had brought such peace—she hoped that he might do so again now.

The route she took to his office could have been walked in her sleep, so familiar was it. Out of the Undercroft, into the Great Hall, through the rotunda, and over the bridge. Trevelyan stole a downward glance at the training soldiers as she crossed it, but saw no blob of red and fur amongst them. Definitely office, then.

She arrived at the Commander’s door, and left a knock upon the grain. The moment felt all too reminiscent of the last time she had done so, and the miserable spectacle she had discovered beyond. But the sound of his voice reassured her immediately:

“Come in!”

Not weak, not croaking. Good and strong. Commanding, even. She did as requested, and entered.

The scene within was equally promising. Despite the long night, the Commander appeared quite polished and put-together—hair styled, armour shining. He carried himself with great import, whilst regarding the various documents scattered upon his desk. Never had Trevelyan been quite so pleased to see him working.

He glanced up, and caught sight of her. His face, half-lit by the sun’s early rays, turned from stern to smiling.

“Lady Trevelyan,” he greeted, “how are you?”

Trevelyan wandered a little ways into the room, fingers flexing on the papers she held to her chest. “I am… it would be dishonest of me to say I am well,” she admitted, abandoning the lie of politeness. “My mind has not settled since last night.”

“I am sorry to hear it. Is there anything I can do for you? If you wish to talk—?”

Trevelyan smiled, but shook her head. “You have done more than enough for me, Commander. And the issue I speak of is… not what you think.”

Because the thoughts that plagued her now were not of the Comtesse’s comment or Trevelyan’s own misery. Rather, they had been overtaken by Lady Samient’s revelation.

Something wasn’t right about her leaving—and the mystery of it had kept Trevelyan awake until the early hours. But try as she might, she could not place her finger upon the solution.

At least it was an effective distraction.

“Hm.” The Commander shuffled his reports into a pile. “Is… everything all right between yourself and Lady Samient?”

Though she had said nothing of Samient, he knew. But—Samient’s intrusion last night had hardly been secretive. And if Trevelyan had mentioned nothing of concern to him before her arrival, then what ailed her could only have come afterward.

“Very astute,” she told him, “though—yes, all is well between us, but... she revealed to me her departure tomorrow. I suppose I shall miss her, is all.”

The Commander left her gaze, eyes focused upon his own thoughts. Whatever came to mind, he shook it away. “I see. I’m... sorry.”

“There is nothing to be done,” said Trevelyan, having ruminated upon it enough to know if there were. “If her father calls her home, to home she must go.”

This was the sole resolution Trevelyan had been able to think of. Acceptance.

“I… yes. I’m sorry,” said the Commander, putting on a transparent show of solemnity. Trevelyan could not help but wish it were real. Perhaps it would be, had he tried.

Had he tried, perhaps she would stay.

“Nevertheless,” Trevelyan went on, “these are not the matters I came to discuss.”

“Of course.”

“The Arcanist sent me to ask after our retinue, for the Dales. Have you arranged it yet?”

The Commander’s demeanour changed at once: spine straight, time for business.

“Yes,” he told her. “The soldiers selected are experienced with this kind of operation, and are well-trained, should anything go awry.��

No droppers, then. “Very good. The Arcanist will be pleased.”

The Commander pulled a sheet from his pile, and held it out to Trevelyan. “Here, your Ladyship. This is the list prepared.”

Trevelyan took it, and gave it a once-over, as if she knew to whom any of these names belonged.

“Thank you,” she said regardless. “I’ll take it to the Arcanist.”

She took a step for the door.

“Will you be all right, travelling?”

Trevelyan startled. She glanced back at the Commander, and saw that his dispassionate self was absent once more, replaced instead by relaxed posture and a softened gaze. The gentleness of his countenance was proof that they both knew to what he referred.

“Ah…”

“I promise you, this retinue will serve. Even beyond Skyhold, you remain under protection of the Inquisition.”

Trevelyan gave great effort to suppress a little smile, and failed entirely. “Thank you, Commander. Truthfully, I should be fine. I have travelled since… what happened, by necessity, and have grown accustomed to the feeling”—she thought not of her journey to Skyhold, but the many nights beforehand, spent hidden in the wilderness—“and we shall be travelling well clear of Ferelden.”

“Is that why you came here by the Heartlands?”

How did he know—? The gala. But that was so long ago. “Yes,” she confessed. “My parents intended to send me through Jader, but… it was too close. I requested travel through Orlais instead.”

‘Requested’ here meaning ‘begged through screaming tears’.

“The only other passage we could secure in time was through the Heartlands. Circuitous, but… better.”

The Commander nodded, appearing as if settled by these answers—yet he was not done with his questions. “If I may, do Bann and Lady Trevelyan… know what happened?”

Trevelyan froze; a candle flickered in the corner of her eye. She hoped, desperately, that he did not recall that they had sent her here without informing her of his past. For if he did, then there was no hiding their temperament in her reply.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I have told no one so much as you, but… yes.”

If there was a change in the Commander’s face upon receipt of this, then it was imperceptible. Yet, a hand toyed with the pommel of his sword.

“I see,” he said. “Do you like your home?”

A smile, born of practice, crept across Trevelyan’s face, and stretched her mouth as if pulled. This was one truth she could not tell him—for her own sake. Maker knows, Missy and Cara could always be outside the door.

“Bann and Lady Trevelyan were very kind to re-establish my title and allow me to stay. I have food and shelter, and I am grateful for it.”

The Commander did not share her smile. “I hope Skyhold… I hope you’re comfortable here.”

“Oh, I am.” There was no falsehood this answer, and so eager was she to say it. “One would not expect a fortress in the mountains to be so pleasant nor so comfortable, yet it is. And there is so much to do—I feel as though I have purpose, here.” She caught herself, before she rambled too long. “But of course, the people are quite delightful, too. Present company included.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m glad.”

“Well, now that I have my retinue and you have been flattered, I believe I have done all I am required to do.” Trevelyan stepped toward the leftmost door. “I should be off.”

The Commander watched with interest. “That’s—you have business that way?”

“Should I?”

“You usually leave through that door,” he said, indicating the same one she had arrived through.

True, it was quickest back to the Undercroft—but she planned to take her time.

“I thought I might walk through the courtyard,” she told him, pressing her back against the wood-grain, “before I am relegated to the Undercroft all the rest of the day.” Her weight cracked it open, and let gleaming rays of sunlight peek through. The Commander gazed at it.

“That sounds... nice.”

The longing in his voice was deeply miserable. A few minutes out of his office wouldn’t harm him. Would probably do him some good, if anything. Trevelyan grinned. “You may join me, if you like.”

He blinked. “What? Now?”

“Of course. You cannot be trapped in here all day, either.”

A faint smile creased his lips. His posture shifted taller. And then he caught sight of the document pile, still lingering on his desk, and his countenance fell.

“Thank you,” he said, “but I have to, ah…”

His words trailed away. Trevelyan kept up her smile. There was little else she could have expected—but the offer may yet have been more important than the experience.

“That’s all right,” she replied. “Another time, perhaps.”

“We have time together tomorrow.”

Oh. In all the havoc of preparation, that had slipped Trevelyan’s mind entirely. With the Commander’s strength returned, their pesky ‘competition’ was restarted. The Ladies would meet with him once more. And as she had already forgotten, Lady Montilyet had arranged for her to spend time with him tomorrow.

“I am afraid—with so much to do before our journey—it is unlikely I will have the time to see you, tomorrow.” When she saw his face fall, she added: “I’m sorry.”

“It’s… all right. I understand.”

He did not appear as if he understood. He appeared as if a pup denied its playtime.

“I’ll… we shall see, I suppose. I bid you farewell for now, Commander.”

“Farewell.”

With a shove, Trevelyan heaved the door open. The light broke in at last, spilling past her, to illuminate the downtrodden face of the Commander. She kept her eyes on him even as she slipped from the room.

‘Twas a shame, truly. But she would endeavour to enjoy her walk, regardless: it was bright and breezy up on the battlements of Skyhold, and the mere sight of such sunshine made her smile.

She took a moment, to step to the parapet, and look out over the valley below. Beautiful as ever, the low sun coursed its way along the frozen river, casting sparkles upon every facet of its rippled surface. Oh, Trevelyan liked Skyhold indeed.

Retreating from the battlement, she went for the stairs. A long flight, which would take her to the stables. She took her first step upon it—

—and heard the swing of a creaky door, with footsteps hurrying out. She glanced behind, to see what approached. Some runner on an urgent mission, perhaps, or a deeply-focused servant in the midst of their work—

Her jaw dropped. The Commander. Emerging from his office. Jogging over?

Surely, then, it was he who was on an urgent mission, yet—he slowed, and fell in step with her.

“The healers said I should get more air,” he explained, “if you don’t mind my accompanying you.”

Trevelyan closed her mouth, and let it form to a smile. “Well, I did invite you.”

Quite pleased with this response (were the expression on his face anything to go by) the Commander took it upon himself to gesture towards the stairs. His own little invitation. Trevelyan accepted, and, together, they made the descent.

“Shall this be an excuse to speak more of work?” Trevelyan asked, between the sounds of birdsong above, and the chatter of people below. “Or is there something else you wished to discuss?”

“Well, I—”

“We could always choose your favourite option, I believe: silence.”

He chuckled. “Whichever you prefer.”

“I think I should like to ask you about the novel you were reading,” said Trevelyan. “The romance. Have you had any chance to read more?”

Though clearly not quite at ease with the line of questioning, given the rub of his neck, the Commander endeavoured to answer her, regardless: “While I was recovering, yes. It’s… not very good.”

They reached the bottom of the stair, and Trevelyan turned to face him. “You said someone had recommended it to you? Who in Thedas inflicted such punishment upon you, Commander?”

He laughed, and shook his head. “You won’t be surprised by the name. It was Dorian.”

Trevelyan’s brow flicked upward. “Indeed, I am surprised”—they began to wander a meandering trail, winding through the stables—“I would not think Dorian the sort to read such trifles.”

“Yes, quite. I am beginning to think he was asked to read it by someone else, and deferred the task to me.”

Trevelyan giggled. “Now that sounds more like him.”

A hart took interest in their nearing, and leant its face over the stable door. Trevelyan paused, reaching her free hand up, to stroke its snout. The Commander offered to take her papers, so that she might use both.

“Thank you,” she said, giving the animal’s fur a good rub. “You know, if you’d like a recommendation for something better, Lady Erridge is quite the expert on romances.”

“I’m not sure I’ll have time to read another.”

“Not minutes ago, you didn’t have time to walk with me. And now look at you.”

The hart withdrew, having had its fill. An equally-satisfied Trevelyan took back her papers. The Commander smiled.

“You always know what to say.”

“Hardly! I knew nothing of what to say when I saw you emerging from your office just now.”

“Those were… extraordinary circumstances.”

“Extraordinary indeed,” she teased, quietening to say, “though I am glad you joined me.”

“Ah…” He avoided her gaze. “Good.”

They slowed to a stop. Their path had come to an end, their walk threatening to end with it. But Trevelyan, as if suggestion, threw a smile and a glance in the direction of the stores. Despite his shyness, the Commander obliged.

Side-by-side, they strolled, trundling past swarms of staff as preparations commenced for tomorrow’s delivery. Maids and pantlers alike kept a wide berth, from the approaching Commander and his... companion.

“After last night, I could hardly say your company is not welcome,” Trevelyan told him. “I am eternally grateful for your kindness to me, Commander. I shall not soon forget it. Thank you—if I haven’t said it enough.”

“It’s… it was the least I could do,” he mumbled, adding, “I did think that Lady Erridge was, ah, very helpful herself.”

Trevelyan thought this an understatement. Lady Erridge had been Maker-sent last night, and was fifty percent of the reason Trevelyan felt the strength to get out of bed this morning.

(The other fifty percent was the man currently speaking to her.)

“She is a very good woman,” Trevelyan agreed. “As I have tried to convey previously, Commander, the other Ladies are quite excellent people. Lovely, all of them.”

The Commander hummed. “They are… more naturally your friends than mine.”

Only her appreciation for the Commander’s actions prevented Trevelyan from peforming an eyeroll so powerful it could have obliterated half of Skyhold. One tends to become friends with those they try to befriend, Commander! Such excuses!

But there was little time for her to express this frustration in some sarcastic comment or another, as a servant finally dared to approach. Running. In a state of panic.

“Lady Trevelyan!” called the maid, whom Trevelyan recognised from the previous delivery she’d attended, and from Lady Erridge’s kitchen ‘incident’. (Of course, Trevelyan had since discovered her name was not this string of events, but was, in fact, ‘Wrehn’.)

“Are you all right?” Trevelyan asked.

“Sorry, your Ladyship; sorry, Commander,” Wrehn said, eyes wide, “but if I could beg your Ladyship’s assistance? I’m ‘fraid it’s a matter only you could help us with.”

“Is everything all right?” the Commander interrupted, glancing between them.

Wrehn repeated herself: “It’s only a matter her Ladyship could help with, Ser.”

Trevelyan could well imagine what. “I suppose I shall see you later, Commander. Thank you for the walk.”

He bowed. “Thank you, your Ladyship.”

With one, last, quizzical look, he accepted that this was, frankly, none of his business, and left them to it.

And once he had disappeared, Trevelyan turned to Wrehn:

“What has Lady Erridge done now?”

“It’s not Lady Erridge,” Wrehn answered, “it’s—well, you’d best come see!”

#unwanted #unwanted fic #cullen x trevelyan #cullen rutherford #commander cullen #edit 18/01/24: changed again +58 words this may be its final form #edit 15/01/24: changed the chapter for pacing and flow (+51 words overall) may edit again in future #original tags follow:#been struggling with perfectionism #tried to let this chapter flow more #my schedule isn't back to normal for another week so please continue to bear with me for updates #anyway enjoy some proper cullen nice times

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