tired-truffle

[tired-truffle]

Something's Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 8.1k

Part 29 - Avoidance: Now in a Limited-Time Physical Edition

Tag list: @bloodoflathander (If you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know!)

“I wish you wouldn’t look at me like that.�� “Like what?” “I don’t know,” she hesitated. “Like you could love me.” - Sue Zhao

Masterlist

Ash tossed and turned in her bed, the moonlight casting eerie shadows across her chamber. Sleep eluded her, chased away by thoughts of Cullen that refused to be silenced. His gold-flaked amber eyes that burned with desire for her, the scar on his lip as he smirked, the way his carefully styled hair caught the sunlight - every detail tormented her. She ached to tell him how she felt, to bear her soul and risk it all. But fear gripped her heart, whispering of rejection and ruin for not only her, but Rae as well.

With a frustrated groan, Ash kicked off her blankets and paced the room. Her bare feet slapped against the cold stone, matching the frantic rhythm of her heart. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair, tugging at the knots as if she could yank out her conflicted thoughts.

She paused by the window, pressing her forehead against the cool glass. The garden below lay silent, but she could almost hear the echo of their stolen moments - hushed laughter, breathless sighs, the rustle of armour being hastily removed. Ash closed her eyes, recalling the way Cullen's gaze lingered on her lips, how his fingers gently traced her scarred skin. Unspoken words hung between them, thick and heavy as Fereldan fog.

"Fenedhis," she cursed, her breath fogging the glass. She knew she couldn't keep this charade up forever. Sooner or later, Cullen would push for more, and she'd have to end it. The thought made her chest constrict, a silent scream building in her throat.

Ash spun away from the window, her feet carrying her towards the door before she could second-guess herself. She needed to move, to act, to do something before she went mad with longing. And there was only one place she truly wanted to be.

Tonight, she'd allow herself a moment of weakness. Anything to get her mind to shut up for once.

Cullen's door loomed before her, both salvation and damnation. Ash raised her hand to knock, then thought better of it and slipped inside.

His head snapped up at her entrance, his quill clattering to the desk and disappearing in the low candlelight.

"Ashvalla," he greeted, rising from his chair. "I didn't expect you here so late. It must be past midnight by now."

In lieu of an answer, Ash crossed the room in quick strides, determined. The scent of leather and parchment enveloped her as she pressed close, her hand coming to rest on his chest.

"Cullen," she purred, letting a coquettish smile rest on her lips. She lifted her chin, looking up at him through lowered lashes. "I couldn't sleep. I thought perhaps you might…help me with that."

Her fingers toyed with the fur of his mantle, twisting the soft strands around her finger. He placed his hand over hers, stopping her enticement. "Ashvalla, it’s late. We shouldn't—"

But his protests died as she pressed closer, her body moulding against his. She tilted her head, lips barely brushing his jaw. "Why not?" she whispered, her breath hot against his skin. "Don't you want this?"

He cupped her cheek, pulling her gaze up to meet his - soft and sweet in his affection. "You know I do."

Guilt gnawed at her insides, a ravenous beast she could not silence, insatiable and relentless. Cole’s words echoed in her mind - did Cullen truly believe she saw him as nothing more than a mere plaything? A selfish child, toying with his feelings as if they were trivial. She had given him little reason to think otherwise. She wanted to shout, to scream into the Void how wrong he was, how profoundly she cared for him. But the words lodged themselves in her throat, choking her.

She was using him, wasn't she? Seeking him out in the dead of night, taking what she needed, then fleeing before the first light of dawn could expose her vulnerability. She yearned for more, Creator's curse it all. She craved those lazy mornings tangled in his sheets, trading kisses, his steadfast presence by her side as they faced the world. But the price was too steep. Opening her heart meant risking everything - her sister's safety, discovery of her possession and the annihilation of the fragile peace she'd carved out for herself.

Too afraid to push him away, too scared to pull him closer. Trapped in this limbo of her own making, hurting them both with every stolen moment. She should leave. She should end this before it ruined them both. Yet, Ash knew she wouldn't. She was too weak, too selfish, too desperate for him and everything he could offer.

"Is something the matter?” Cullen interrupted her spiral. “You seem…troubled."

Plastering a grin back on her face, she pushed her thoughts to the side, tucking them neatly back into the box where they belonged. “I’m still fully clothed and not bent over your desk, for starters.”

The false grin wasn’t fooling him, and though her forwardness was usually enough to shake him, he resisted her. "No, you’re…not acting like yourself. What's wrong?"

“Since when is flirting with you not something I do all of the time?”

"I phrased that incorrectly," he said. "What I meant was your heart isn't really in it, you’re distracted."

“Distracted by how much I want you to fuck me ‘till I can’t walk? Yes, I’d say I am.” Clasping the sturdy edges of his chestplate, her fingers curled around the cool, polished metal. She drew him closer, bringing their faces only inches apart.

"I-" A slight shudder rolled through his body as her breath puffed against his lips. "Sometimes I forget how direct you can be."

"Only sometimes? I must be slipping." She trailed her fingers up his neck and his breath hitched. "Perhaps I should remind you."

But as she reached for the buckles of his armour, Cullen caught her wrists. "Wait. Talk to me. Please."

She froze, her heart pounding to the beat of a war drum. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to give in, to let her lose herself in his touch, to forget the fears that plagued her. But there he stood, looking at her with those damned expressive eyes full of comprehension and concern, and her meticulously constructed walls began to crumble.

"I…" she started, then faltered. How could she explain the storm raging inside her? The longing, the fear, the guilt - it was too much. She tried to pull away, but Cullen held firm, his hands releasing her wrists and finding her waist, keeping her in place.

“I know you, Ashvalla. I can recognize when you're not entirely present."

“Maybe I just need you to bring me into the moment.” She shifted her hips against his, rolling them experimentally. If he insisted on keeping her firmly pressed against him, she would find a way to turn that closeness to her advantage.

Cullen hissed through clenched teeth, his grip on her waist tightening and halting her movement abruptly. For a beat, Ash thought she'd won, that he'd give in to the heat building between them. Yet, just as anticipation swelled within her, he stepped back, creating a deliberate chasm between their bodies - holding her at arm’s length. A pity.

"No," he said firmly, though rough with restrained ardour. "You're not being truthful with me.”

“I want you carnally, Cullen. And I can assure you that is the truth.”

"I believe you," he said, releasing her waist to ward off her hands as she tried to reach for him again, her frustration mounting. "But I'm not asking if you want me. I'm asking if something is wrong."

For a brief, treacherous moment, she considered whether surrendering would truly be so terrible. To lay her burdens at his feet, allowing him to witness the tangled mess of worries and longings that consumed her. The image of his strong arms around her, holding her close as she poured out her heart, was almost overwhelming in its appeal.

But as quickly as the thought had emerged, she banished it. No. She couldn't entertain such a notion. The risks were too great, the consequences too dire. She'd worked too hard, sacrificed too much, to jeopardize it all now. “I don’t want to think about it. I want to forget for a bit, to be with you and feel something good. We can talk about it later.” “I think we both know there won’t be a later, not when you keep leaving my bed before I have a chance to wake. Tell me what’s got you acting like this.” A fair point, and one that she had hoped that he would miss. Irritating. 

Ash bared my teeth in a snarl, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “I don’t have to tell you anything, Commander.”

She threw his title back in his face, one she’d only ever used to playfully tease him, now used to taunt. Cullen's eyes flashed with hurt, then hardened into something colder. "You're correct. You don't have to tell me anything. But I won't be used as a distraction either."

His words were like a stinging slap across the face and she staggered back a step. The room felt too small, the air too thick. She wrapped her arms around herself, fingernails digging into her skin and leaving crescent moon marks behind.

"Fine," she spat, her ears twitching. "If you won't help me, then I'll find someone who will."

She spun on her heel, her robe flaring out dramatically as she stormed towards the door. Her hand was on the handle when Cullen's voice, low and dangerous, stopped her in her tracks.

"Don't you dare."

Ash turned slowly, her heart hammering in her chest. Cullen stood stiff, broad shoulders straightened to his full height. His eyes, usually so warm and inviting, now burned with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine, like an ice cube slowly drifting to pool at the small of her back.

"What did you say?" she challenged, lifting her chin defiantly.

Cullen crossed the room, closing the distance between them. He towered over her, radiating fury and frustration in equal measure. "I said: Don't. You. Dare," he repeated in a low growl that reverberated in her bones.

Ash's ears pinned back against her skull, eyes burning with defiance. "Don't tell me what to do.”

Cullen's nostrils flared. "I will when you're acting like a child.”

She wanted to lash out, to sink her teeth into his flesh until he bled as much as she did inside. But the raw, unshielded hurt shining in his eyes, thinly veiled by a layer of anger, held her immobile. Except there wasn’t a force in the world that could leash her sharp tongue. She couldn’t stop herself from pressing a blade into his wound and twisting.

“You can’t just keep me here forever until I spill all my thoughts and feelings. I’m not some mage you can imprison, or did you forget that you left the Templars?”

The second the words left her mouth, he went rigid, his head dipping slightly and his gaze trained on the floor. It was a low blow, a calculated strike meant to provoke him - and it had succeeded. She’d won…so why didn’t it feel like winning?

“You know very well why I left the Order for the Inquisition.”

Shame coloured her cheeks and she ducked her head to avoid confronting the pain she’d caused him. Why did he have to look so similar to a kicked puppy? She may be defensive, but she wasn’t heartless. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“You knew that would be a tender spot for me, yet you still said it anyway. Why?”

“I was being an ass and I spoke before I thought about it. I’m sorry.”

The silence stretched between them, thick and bubbling like a long boiling cauldron. Cullen searched her face, as if trying to unravel the mystery she presented.

"Why are you really here, Ashvalla?" he asked softly, his anger fading, though simmering below the surface, unable to fully let it go. "What are you running from?"

His gentleness was almost her undoing, unspooling the skein of her pent-up emotions. She bit her cheek hard, tasting blood.

"I'm not running from anything," she insisted, but the tremor in her voice said otherwise. "I just—I couldn’t sleep. I thought—"

"You thought you could use me to bury whatever's troubling you," Cullen finished for her, sadness wrapped around his words like a ghost around its lover’s tombstone. "But that's not how this works. Or at least it shouldn’t be. That's not what I want for us."

Us. The word hung between them. There wasn’t an ‘us’ beyond what they already had. Why couldn’t he see that? She could leave, could still salvage her barriers. But Cullen's eyes, soft and imploring, held her captive.

“Why does it matter? Can’t we keep what we have? I don’t want this to stop.”

Whining like a child with its toy taken away, perhaps Cole was closer to the truth than she’d realized. When had she become this creature of wooden stakes poised beneath a fluffy cushion? Cullen’s forehead creased and he shifted his weight as he frowned. “I never said it has to stop. I'm simply trying to understand you."

"Well, don't," she snapped, wishing she could take a step back, but the door blocked her way. "I don't need to be understood. I need—" She cut herself off, gasping around the words she suppressed.

"You need what?" Cullen pressed, gentle but insistent.

Ash's eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape. But Cullen blocked her path to the opposite door, and the windows were too high to jump from without injury. She was trapped, cornered like a wild animal. And like a wild animal, she bit the hand that fed her.

"I need you to stop asking questions!" she snarled, shoving him hard in the chest. Cullen barely moved, his larger frame absorbing the impact easily. "I need you to stop looking at me like that, like you can see right through me, like you could—I need you to just—just—"

"Just what?" Cullen caught her wrists as she made to shove him again. "Use you and discard you? Pretend there's nothing more here when we both know there is?”

“We’re friends who have sex.” Ash wrenched her wrists from his grasp. “I’m not going to tell you every thought I have.”

Disappointed resignation had not been what she was expecting, but he spoke with quiet solemnity - as though she’d confessed to him she’d stolen his heart and had no plans of ever returning it. “So that’s all we are then. Friends. Nothing else?”

“Friends who have great sex,” Ash amended, though the joke fell as flat as her tone.

“You’re a bad liar.” She’d been told that many times before and she despised how accurate it was. He scowled at her, his nose crinkled in irritation.

“What else could we be?” she demanded and found herself wishing he could give her an answer that worked. “I’m the Inquisitor’s sister and you are her war commander. I am a Dalish mage and you are a human ex-Templar. There is no world in which we have more.”

He was quiet for a beat, and then he said, “Is that really how you feel?”

“Those are the facts. It doesn’t matter how I feel.”

“How you feel is absolutely important,” he replied instantly. “You know that, or should know that by now. How do you think I feel, knowing that you think of us as nothing more than casual bed partners?”

“I don’t know, you’ve seemed to enjoy this arrangement so far.” 

“I've enjoyed our time together because I thought it meant something. That we were building towards something real.”

The walls were closing in, panic rising like bile in her throat. She forced a laugh, the sound brittle even to her own ears. "It felt real to me. We're both consenting adults, aren't we? What's the harm in a little fun?"

"Because it's not just fun for me!" Cullen raised his voice, frustration finally breaking through his composure. "Maker's breath, Ash, do you think I don't care about you? That I can turn my feelings on and off like some kind of switch?"

She raised her voice to match. “You’ve been fucking me for weeks with no problems, why is now any different!”

“Because I can’t keep watching you throw yourself at me and not understand why! Tell me what’s wrong,” he rasped. “And I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“I want—fuck, I just want you!” Ash's fingers tangled in her hair as she pulled, pinpricks racing across her scalp doing nothing to ease the panic. “That’s the whole fucking problem!” 

Cullen's eyes widened, shock replacing frustration. "That's…the problem?" he repeated slowly, tasting the words and finding their flavour a mystery.

Ash's breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving. The admission taunted her, raw and exposed like a fresh wound. She wanted to snatch the words back, to stuff them deep inside where they couldn't hurt her. But it was too late.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I want you. Not just your body, not just for fun."

"Ashvalla, I—"

"Don't," she choked out, sliding away so as not to be trapped against the door. He allowed her, though he stayed close, unwilling to give her enough room to escape. A smart move, and had she the wherewithal to notice, she would have tried harder to get away. "You don't understand. I can't…I can't do this. I can't risk it."

"Risk what?" Cullen asked, confusion wrinkling his features. "What are you so afraid of?"

Ash's heart pounded so loudly she was certain Cullen could hear it. Her hands trembled and she was unable to meet his gaze. The words tumbled out before she could stop them, a small step.

"What if I pour my heart out to you and you decide you're better off without me?"

He stepped closer, his hands coming to rest on her waist, so gingerly she wasn’t sure that he was really there. "That's not going to happen. It won't, and you're a fool for even thinking that."

Indignation flared in her chest beside Love’s incessant squirming - so caught up in herself she’d failed to notice the irritated spirit. She arched an eyebrow, her voice dripping with sarcasm that felt as familiar as stepping into a well-loved robe. "Does calling women fools usually get them to open up to you?"

"It hasn't gotten you to open up to me thus far. So no, I suppose it doesn't."

She wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all, to cry at the unfairness, to scream at the world for putting her in this impossible situation. But instead, she stood motionless, ensnared in Cullen's steady gaze.

What was she doing? How could she be so selfish, so reckless? Her mother's voice echoed in her head, sharp with disappointment. "Ashvalla, da'len, have you learned nothing? You cannot put your own desires before your sister's safety."

She could picture her mother's face, lined with worry and framed by the same blonde waves Ash had inherited. In her mind's eye, her mother's green eyes - so like her own, like Rae’s - flashed with disapproval. "He is the Inquisition's commander, Ashvalla. If your tryst goes wrong, if he turns on you, it is Rae who will suffer. Can you not see the danger?"

Her chest tightened, guilt wriggling in her stomach and making her nauseous. She was being stupid, risking everything for, what, a few stolen moments of happiness? The chance to wake up in Cullen's arms, to feel truly seen and cared for? Or even worse: a man?

Ash's eyes flickered back to Cullen's face, taking in the wrinkles of his forehead, the slight downturn of his lips. He was waiting, patient as ever, giving her the space to sort through her tangled thoughts.

“What do you want me to say, hm?” Anguish filled her throat and held her beneath the waves of her sorrow. She willed her hands to stop shaking but they did not listen. “That I feel the same for you but there are too many obstacles in the way for us to actually have that? People would see us together and think I’m undermining Rae - or worse, that I’m using you to secure her power. I can’t let that happen, not to her and not to you. And even if that weren’t an issue, I can’t be what you need. I will always put Rae about everyone else, including myself, including you, and no one wants to stay with me when they realize how seriously I take that. They always leave, and I don’t blame them. I won’t blame you.”

Her shoulders shook as she threw away everything she wanted most - everything except for Rae’s safety. “Even if we…you would never be first. You deserve better than that.”

He took her trembling hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs gently across her skin, smoothing over her fragile bones. “Ashvalla, listen to me.” She did her best to focus on his voice and drown out her combative thoughts. “I know your sister is important to you, and I would never try to replace that, nor will I ever ask to be placed above her. Your dedication to her is admirable, but couldn’t I…be something to you?”

Even as the guilt smothered her, another part of Ash rebelled. Cullen Rutherford, the man standing before her with concern etched into every line of his angular face, was not the vengeful monster her fears believed him to be. He was honorable, kind, unfailingly professional even in the face of their complicated relationship.

She thought of the way he spoke of and treated Rae - with respect, with commendation for her strength and leadership despite her younger age and inexperience. How even when Ash had pushed him away time and time again, he had never once let it affect his duties or his interactions with the Inquisitor.

No, Cullen would never take out his frustrations on Rae. He was better than that, stronger than that. The man who had left the Templars, who fought every day against the call of lyrium, who put the needs of the Inquisition above his own comfort - that man would never stoop so low.

“You are something to me.”

Cullen's eyes softened, a glimmer of hope sparking within their depths. "Then why do you shut me out?" His thumb traced soothing patterns on her inner wrists, migrating up from her hands. "The first time I awoke alone, I wondered if I’d done something wrong, if I’d gone too far that night and scared you off or if it wasn't as enjoyable for you as it had been for me. But then it kept happening and I didn’t know what to do. I want you to stay; I want you. If you want that too, then why not let me in?”

"Because I'm terrified," she whispered. "I'm terrified of how much I care for you and I'm terrified of what could happen if I let myself have this."

"What are you afraid will happen?"

Ash's gaze dropped to their joined hands, focusing on the contrast between his calloused fingers and her slender ones. "That I'll lose myself in you," she murmured. "That I'll become so caught up in this - in us - that I'll forget my duty to Rae. That I'll make a mistake that puts her in danger. She's all I have left, Cullen. I can't risk her safety, not for anything."

"Being with me doesn't mean you’ll forget everything else. It doesn't mean abandoning your responsibilities or betraying those you care about." He cupped her cheek tenderly and she leaned into his touch, all but nuzzling into his palm. "It will give you something to come home to."

Could it really be that simple? To have him, to keep her duty, to not lose herself entirely?

Darker images intruded. Rae's disappointed face if Ash wasn’t there to support her because she was distracted. The whispers of the nobles, questioning the Inquisitor's judgment for allowing her sister to cavort with the Commander or judging him for being with a knife-ear - she’d already heard those, and they would only get worse. The crushing weight of guilt if her divided attention led to a tactical error, costing lives on the battlefield.

Yet, hadn't she already been distracted? Hadn't she spent countless nights tossing and turning, consumed by thoughts of Cullen? Hadn't she thrown herself recklessly into battle, seeking oblivion, trying to forget the ache in her chest?

Perhaps letting herself have this wouldn't be a weakness. To face her fears head-on, to trust in herself and Cullen - in Rae’s capability to lead even through challenges. To believe that she could allow herself to properly care for him without losing herself, that she could be both sister and lover, protector and partner.

It went against everything she had ever been taught to believe in, but by Mythal, did she want it desperately. How long could she continue to deny herself before she snapped? Love fluttered excitedly in her chest and she brushed the spirit off. Just because she wanted him romantically didn’t mean that she had to profess her undying love.

“You can’t scare me away, Ashvalla. I’m already smitten with you.”

Ash snorted and buried her face in his mantle, unable to face him as both her heart and Love did happy flips behind her ribs. “Smitten?”

Cullen laughed softly, running his fingers through her short hair while his hand ran up and down her back.

“Completely smitten,” he confirmed. “I’d go so far as to say I’m downright besotted.”

Giddy giggles bubbled up from her throat. “Those are some big words you’re using. I didn’t know they taught that in Templar school.”

“Oh, they taught us the basics. Besotted, smitten, hopelessly charmed, utterly captivated. You know, the essentials.”

Despite her face flushing with various shades of pink, she tilted her head to gaze up at him. His smile was gentle and soft, exuding a patience that seemed boundless and perhaps more than she felt she deserved. But she coveted his affections as if they were the most precious treasure, hoarded like a dragon's glittering hoard. 

Slipping his hand from her hair to her cheek, he lowered his head, their noses brushing and his breath puffing over her lips. “I won’t ask for anything you are unwilling to give, but if you want this as I do, please just…stay the night. Let me wake up to you in the morning and if you cannot stand it, I…understand. But I want to try, if you’ll allow it.” 

Oh, how she wanted that. To hear him so hesitantly, so carefully make this request nearly broke her heart. She was powerless to resist his plea. Nor did she find that she particularly wanted to anymore. 

Pressing up on her toes, she placed a soft kiss on his lips, barely more than a brush of her mouth against his. “I will try.”

His responding smile was stunning, beautiful in its earnestness, as blinding as the sun, yet she watched him openly. If his smile was the last thing she ever saw, then so be it. How had she managed to avoid this for so long? Could she have been witnessing his happiness so brazenly displayed from the beginning? 

They stayed there, simply holding each other for countless seconds, linked, sharing the same air, the same heartbeat. An undercurrent of fear thrummed through her, but it was drowned out by Love’s pleased trills and the heat that spread through her limbs and quickened her pulse. 

He glanced over her shoulder, eyes dulling. “I still have some work I must complete but I shouldn’t be long.” He returned to look at her, a pleading tilt to his brows. “Will you wait for me? I hate to part from you right now, but I—“

She cut him off with a kiss, swallowing his words. He groaned against her lips, half eager reciprocation and half dread over being unable to continue. 

Tearing herself from him, she stepped back, smoothing down the front of her robes. “Don’t be too long.” 

He ran his fingers one more time through the ends of her hair, wistful as he sighed. “I’ll be there soon.” 

Their confrontation - was it an argument? She wasn’t entirely sure what to label it - had drained her completely, sapping the strength from her legs and the fight from her bones. A good night’s rest was in order, though she yearned to shed their clothes and feel the slide of his body against and within hers, she no longer had the energy. But she could cuddle up at his side, in his bed, and simply enjoy his presence. She could allow herself this, at least for one night.

Climbing up into his loft and shedding her robes, she flopped onto his bed, letting herself sink into the mattress.

Their conversation replayed in her mind, each word branded into her memory. The raw vulnerability in Cullen's eyes, the tremor in her voice as she laid her heart bare - it was all so overwhelming. She'd come so close to running, to slamming that door shut and never looking back. But something had shifted, a fragile trust taking root where fear had once reigned.

Ash thought back to their first time, that heated joining in that very room when the tension had finally snapped. She remembered the taste of his lips, the urgency in his touch. It had been easy then, to write it off as a moment of weakness, a slip in judgment. But one taste had never been enough.

Their affair became a careful dance - stolen kisses in shadowy corridors, hushed moans muffled against skin, hurried encounters that left them both wanting more, always leaving before he woke. She'd told herself it was just physical, just a way to blow off steam. But even then, she'd known it was a lie.

The quiet moments were what truly undid her. The way Cullen's fingers would linger on her skin, tracing patterns only he could see. How he'd look at her - like she was something valuable, something to be cherished. It terrified her then, and if she was honest, it still did.

She allowed herself, just for a second, to imagine a future where this could work. Waking up in his arms, sharing quiet evenings together, telling him how dearly she adored him as she placed kisses across his face. The image was so tempting, so achingly beautiful, that it made her heart clench and Love swoop low in her stomach.

But even as hope bloomed in her chest, terror coiled in her gut. What if Cullen discovered her secret? The spirit of love that resided within her, a constant companion and occasional tormentor. Would he recoil in horror, his Templar training overriding everything else? Would he see her as an abomination, a threat to be neutralized?

The thought made her shudder. She'd worked so hard to keep Love in check, to maintain control. But now, with her emotions running so high, the spirit's influence was harder to ignore. It trilled with joy at every tender moment between her and Cullen, pushing her towards the very intimacy she'd been avoiding.

She wanted this, wanted him, with an intensity that frightened her. But the risks…Creators, the risks were so great. If Cullen turned on her, if he saw her as a threat, it wouldn't just be her heart that shattered. The Inquisition itself could fracture, torn apart by the betrayal. Rae would be caught in the middle, forced to choose between her sister and her commander. The thought of causing her sister such pain was unbearable.

Ash rolled onto her side, burying her face in Cullen's pillow and wishing it was him. She inhaled deeply, letting his scent soothe her frayed nerves. Cullen was not that kind of man, she reminded herself. No matter what he thought of her, he would not take it out on Rae. She trusted him with that much.

The soft glow of moonlight filtered through the gap in the roof, casting silvery shapes across the bed. Ash followed them with her finger, the rhythm hypnotic, lulling her into a state of drowsy contemplation.

She fought against the heaviness of her eyelids, determined to stay awake until Cullen returned. But exhaustion pulled her down into its murky depths, impossible to resist.

Fingers trailing down her jaw had her eyes fluttering open, blinking blearily up at Cullen’s moonlit form. He’d removed his armour and clothes, down only to his smalls and a tender smile as he continued to run his hand along up and down her jawline, the mattress dipping under his weight. 

“We have different definitions of soon,” she grumbled, scowling sleepily at him, about as menacing as a kitten.

A light smile graced his lips and soothed her irritated soul. “Did you miss me in my absence? I thought I was only a friend you had sex with.” 

She supposed that was fair of him to throw back at her, and took it as a good sign that he was already willing to joke about it. “Great sex. ” Her smile grew to match his as he chuckled. 

“Right, how could I have forgotten?”

Ash extended her arms, encircling them around Cullen's neck and gently drawing him down beside her. He followed her lead willingly, his body warm, solid, and exactly the comforting presence she needed. She nuzzled into the crook of his neck, sighing her content.

"You're on top of the blankets," Cullen pointed out and she could feel his grin against the top of her head.

"So?"

"So, I am unable to get into bed if you're on top of them.”

She cracked open one eye, peering up at him. "It's too hot for blankets," she grumbled.

Cullen's eyebrows shot up. "Too hot? It's barely the beginning of spring. There’s frost most mornings."

In truth, she knew it was cold, but Love - elated at this new step in her relationship with Cullen - had decided to crank up the heat.

"Maybe for you delicate humans," she retorted, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "But we Dalish are made of hardier stuff.”

"Well, when you put it that way…" He placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "We'll leave the blankets where they are."

She hummed her satisfaction, exhaustion tugging at the edges of her consciousness. "Sleep now."

Cullen's arms tightened around her, drawing her closer. "As you wish."

The steady rhythm of Cullen's heartbeat beneath her ear, the rise and fall of his chest, the way their bodies fit together like pieces of a puzzle - it was all so achingly perfect. A sense of peace settled over her. It wasn't a solution to all their problems, nor was it a guarantee of what the future might hold. But for now, it was enough.

Ash stirred as the first rays of dawn crept through the rafters, covering Cullen's loft in a soft golden glow. Her eyes fluttered open, momentarily disoriented by unfamiliar surroundings. The warm, solid mass beneath her slowly came into focus - Cullen's broad chest, coarse hair tickling her cheek as he breathed leisurely.

An overwhelming dread gripped her as memories of the previous night surged back with unrelenting clarity. She had stayed. She had actually stayed the night. Her muscles tensed, ready to flee, when Love's soothing presence washed over her like a reassuring back rub at the end of a long day. The spirit's gentle comfort eased the tightness in her chest, allowing her to take a deep, calming breath.

Carefully, so as not to disturb Cullen's rest, Ash propped herself up on one elbow. Her gaze roamed over his sleeping form, drinking in details she'd never allowed herself to fully appreciate before. The early morning light softened his features, smoothing away the worry lines that usually creased his brow. His curls, freed from their styling, fell loosely. The scar on his lip seemed less pronounced in sleep, no longer pulled taut by his customary serious expression.

Ash's fingers itched to trace the line of his jaw, to feel the stubble that had grown overnight. She resisted, not wanting to wake him just yet. Instead, she admired how peaceful he looked. Gone was the weight of command, the burden of responsibility that he carried every waking moment. Here, in the quiet of the morning, he was simply Cullen.

A lock of hair fell across his forehead as he turned his head in sleep, and Ash couldn't stop herself from gently brushing it aside. Cullen stirred slightly at her touch, his brow furrowing before smoothing out again. A soft smile crossed Ash's lips, warmth blooming in her chest at the sight.

Cullen's breathing began to change, becoming slightly irregular as he slowly drifted toward wakefulness. Ash held her breath, suddenly unsure. Should she pretend to be asleep? Should she slip away now, before he fully woke? No, she had promised to stay, to try. She was many things, but she was not a coward - or at least, she didn’t want to be.

Cullen's eyes fluttered open, blinking away the remnants of sleep. As his gaze focused on Ash, a slow, lazy smile spread across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"Good morning," he murmured, his voice husky from disuse. "The morning light suits you."

Ash's heart skipped a beat at the tenderness in his expression. Without thinking, she leaned down and captured his lips in a soft kiss, morning breath be damned. Cullen responded eagerly, one hand coming up to tangle in her hair as he deepened the kiss.

Cullen surged upward, flipping her onto her back so that her head landed at the end of the bed, and she resisted the instinct to yelp. She felt mildly dizzy at the sudden change of positions, but when he held himself over her, now fully awake, and pupils dilated with an unmistakable need, her sense of direction became irrelevant. She could have been upside down, spinning in mid-air, and it wouldn't have mattered in the slightest.

The kiss intensified, becoming harder and more demanding than before. Ash arched into him, her body instinctively responding to his touch, his desire. When Cullen pressed his thigh against her core, a needy whine slipped from her throat, muffled by their joined mouths.

The pressure in her bladder faded to the background; she had much more important things to focus on - and a commander to tease.

“I’m afraid I have some very important…ahn…places to be,” Ash said as Cullen sucked the lob of her ear between his teeth. 

“Do you now?” His breath tickled her sensitive ear and she shivered. 

“Mhm,” she placed her feet flat on the bed and wiggled her way out from under him, watching his eyes darken, and his lips twitch in a predacious smirk.

She didn’t make it far. His strong hands quickly grasped her hips, and with a firm tug, he pulled her back under him, eliciting a series of shrieking giggles that echoed around them. She wrapped her legs around his waist with playful ease, drawing him closer. Their bodies intertwined, she grabbed him for another kiss. Ash wasn’t sure she would ever get enough of kissing him, of feeling his weight over her as he pressed her down into the mattress, heady and intoxicating.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Rae’s drawl pierced the heat brewing between them like a bucket of ice water dumped over their heads. 

“Maker!” Cullen shouted, his head snapping up to meet Rae’s cocky grin. Her elbow was propped up on the floor, her cheek resting casually on her palm while the rest of her body disappeared into the ladder opening. Cullen was off of Ash and scrambling back so swiftly it was as if he had never been near her at all. Grabbing a pillow, he placed it over his noticeably bulging groin, his face as red as a tomato. “I-Inquisitor.”

Ash rolled onto her stomach, and her ears flattened against the sides of her head, teeth bared in a warning snarl as Rae’s smug gaze landed on her. 

“Sister, I didn’t know you’d be here,” Rae said, lying through her teeth.

“I highly doubt that,” Ash growled, sitting up and back on her heels. Her sister had seen her naked many times, so it mattered little that Ash was only in her smalls and breastband. 

Rae shrugged, unbothered. “Maybe you should lock the doors next time.” 

Behind her, she heard Cullen groan, kicking himself for his lack of forethought. 

Ash made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. “Shoo, you pest.” She waved her hand, little icicles forming and stabbing into the ground around Rae. A warning shot; she wouldn’t miss next time. 

Holding up her hands, Rae straightened. “Alright, alright, I’ll go.” Needing no further threats, Rae began to make her way back down the ladder, pausing when her nose was level with the floor and fixing her mischievous gaze on where Cullen cowered. “I do need to speak with you, Commander. Come find me when you're done fucking my sister.”

The shard of ice Ash shot at Rae missed her by a hairsbreadth as she ducked, the rapid slapping of her feet against the ladder signalling her hasty retreat. 

“Inquisitor! I-I wasn’t—you don’t—“ Cullen sputtered, unable to form a coherent sentence amidst his humiliation.

Rae’s laugh rang out like a bell through the office below, and Ash was already plotting her revenge. She paused for a moment, allowing herself to gather her thoughts and smooth away the stormy expression that had briefly clouded her face. In truth, she wasn’t genuinely angry; it was more of a slight irritation and mild guilt that Cullen had to deal with her peevish sister. 

She turned to him, finding him pinching the bridge of his nose and clutching the pillow tight, splotchy red running down his neck and over his chest. Ash crawled up the bed, positioning herself comfortably in his lap. Her touch was gentle, fingertips lightly coaxing his chin upwards, encouraging him to lift his head and reveal the full extent of his bashful blush. Instinctively, his hands found their place on her hips, fingers splaying out to anchor her in place as she tossed the pillow aside, shimmying closer, her arms looping around his neck. 

“I’m sorry about her, she is…evil, sometimes,” Ash said, stroking her knuckles along his neck in an attempt to calm him. “But believe it or not, that was her peculiar way of saying she approves.” 

Cullen shook his head, and unable to look her in the eyes, he buried his face in the soft curve of her cleavage. Ash didn’t mind at all; in fact, she relished feeling his hot breath against her breasts, and it allowed her a perfect view of his reddened ears. They were so endearingly adorable that she wanted to bite them. 

“When I’m done fucking her sister…” His hands tightened on her hips. “How am I supposed to face her now when she has seen…so much of me—of us together?” 

She patted his back and tutted with condescending reassurance and he lightly bit the swell of her breasts as penance. Sucking in a sharp breath, she said, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Though I imagine Josephine and Leliana will know soon enough, if they don’t already.” 

“Maker preserve me,” he groaned, burying his face deeper as she laughed. “I’m never going to hear the end of this.”

“The Commander of the Inquisition, caught in his smalls while bedding the Inquisitor’s sister. How scandalous.” An attempt to tease, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her underlying concern. Just last night she’d expressed her fears of undermining Rae with such a scandal. 

Cullen raised his head, the crease between his brows deepening. “Ashvalla…” he started and she pressed her lips into a thin line, shying away from him. “If anything that only makes me appear undignified, it does not reflect on you or the Inquisitor.”

Her eyes downcast, her fingers carded through his loose curls. “You are a man and have never had to experience this before, so I will forgive you for your ignorance this once, but…” She sighed. “Do you remember that night in Haven when you confronted those men regarding their lewd comments about me?”

His jaw clenched and all levity fell from his face. “Yes.”

“They took one look at me and decided I was nothing more than an ample bosom and two legs to part. They were not the first, nor will they be the last. I have grown accustomed to the way these rumours affect other’s perceptions of me, how it changes the way they interact with me or the manner in which they discuss me when I’m not present. For you to be with me publicly, you are likely to receive congratulations, as though your only achievement is having lured me into your bed. Yet, they will never entertain the notion of us as anything serious. In their eyes, I will remain the Inquisitor's sleazy sister who is willing to sleep with anyone for power, while you will be perceived as the fortunate beneficiary of such a transaction. How that will blow back onto Rae, I cannot fully anticipate, but it undoubtedly will. The harsh truth remains that no man takes kindly to a woman ascending to the top, least of all when she is an elf.”

Cullen’s lips parted, helplessness in the tilt of his brows. He was silent for a beat, and then another as he struggled for something to say.

“I…do not know what to say.” As far as responses went, Ash gave him credit for his honesty. 

“I don’t expect you to.” She allowed her expression to soften, her body to release the rigid hold of her muscles. “But you should be prepared. We may have some security with your position, but it also has its own risks. I…would understand if you no longer—“

He didn’t allow her to finish that thought, pressing his lips against hers with a passion that left her breathless, silencing her words completely.

Ash melted into the kiss, her world narrowing to the press of Cullen's lips against hers. His hands cupped her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks with a tenderness that made her heart ache. She tasted the desperation on his tongue, felt the urgency in the way he pulled her closer, as if he could erase her doubts through touch alone.

When they finally broke apart, Cullen rested his forehead against hers.

"No, I—nothing could prevent me from wanting you," Cullen said, his voice low and fervent, utterly convinced, though unaware of what he was truly promising.

Not even spirit possession? The question sat at the tip of her tongue, but she refused to release it. 

She wanted to believe him, to trust in the strength of his conviction. But years of caution and self-preservation were not so easily cast aside.

Instead of voicing her doubts or offering false assurances, Ash placed a soft, lingering kiss on Cullen's cheek.

"We should get up," she said, her lips brushing his skin as she spoke. "Before we have any more unwanted intrusions."

Cullen's arms stiffened around her for a moment, reluctant to let her go. Then, with a resigned sigh, he loosened his grip.

Ash slid off his lap, immediately missing the heat of his body against hers. She stretched languidly, the tight scars of her burns protesting, though Cullen's eyes remained fixed upon her. Leaning back on her elbows, she arched her spine in a deliberately sensuous stretch. Her lips curved into a coy smile as she watched Cullen's eyes darken, his gaze trailing hungrily over her exposed skin. She revelled in the power she held over him, how easily she could ignite his desire with the simplest of movements.

"See something you like, Commander?" she purred, tilting her head to the side.

Cullen's laughter resonated softly as he leaned in, his lips brushing against her bare shoulder. "You know I do," he murmured against her flesh.

Ash's heart fluttered in her chest. This thing between them was still new, still fragile. There were conversations yet to be had, truths yet to be revealed. Love hummed contentedly within her, basking in the warmth of their shared affection, oblivious to the issues her existence raised.

Yet, as Cullen's lips traced a path from her shoulder to the spot behind her ear that he knew would leave her wanting, Ash found herself unwilling to dwell on those uncertainties. This moment, imperfect as it might be, was real. It was warm and sweet and tinged with possibility. She might not fully trust him with all of herself yet, might not be ready to lay bare every secret and fear, but this - his touch, his laughter, the tenderness in his gaze - this she could trust.

A/N: Yaaayyyy!!! They finally did it - sharing feelings is hard sometimes, but Ash pulled on her big girl pants and confessed (after Cullen put a lot of work in, bless his heart).

Rae, of course, had to be a shit disturber, as is the youngest sibling way.

I hope this culmination was satisfying! There will be more bumps in the road, but I can give them some happiness for now, as a treat.

[tired-truffle]

Loved this drabble and this art is amazing!! If you want your heart broken, please read it!!

If anyone wants the roles reversed I do have a fic for that here: Waiting For You

A blur.

It’s how it starts, in the periphery of his vision. A blur in the back of his skull, where the song changes, screams and shrieks, distorted laughter. It’s much slower, like his limbs, but it’s louder, and still he hears her voice. He doesn’t want to leave her. Perhaps it’s what makes him stall, even though he’s always known. Borrowed time. A deadline.

But death doesn’t come.

It’s something else, carving its violence deep where it never really stops beating, but even there… it wavers, blurs, another pulse that’s not quite his own. Alistair… Alistair. Who is he? He remembers her better than he remembers himself, and he feels her there, his tainted heart, beating with the remnants of his love, the memories of her touch. He doesn’t want to leave her.

But he does. His mind first, then his body, and he’s trapped in a shell he doesn’t know, a cry in his throat, too tight. Decay. It’s what he smells, bones cracking under new pressure, limbs that seem to move on their own. His eyes burn and his chest aches, and he grunts, gruff and raw, no, no, and the cry he finally hears doesn’t reach his lips.

It’s her, and he sees her, but he doesn’t, a rose in his palm, vision blurred, again, but it’s different. It’s him, and it isn’t, and it’s not enough, petals and tears, a flurry of red, too much red.

She cries. Loud. Choked. And as the pain slowly ebbs away, echoes of her voice… he sees no longer.

Drabble by @elfrooted​ and Pic by @froschkuss���

[tired-truffle]

That trend where wives make their husbands read "spicy" passages out of their favorite romantasy novels except it's the Inquisitor persuading Cullen to read from one of Varric's novels (featuring a couple blatantly probably inspired by them).

Meanwhile, Cullen is scarlet and grumbling between lines, "What is this nonsense?"

[tired-truffle]

Something's Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 3.6k

Part 28 - Fill the Hole in My Heart - And the One Between My Legs

Tag list: @bloodoflathander

"Maybe if I'd fucked you more and loved you less I could have left this battlefield wearing just bruises and teeth, but I'm sure that even the cavalry knows that there's a crack in my heart and it's been leaking your name ever since we stopped fighting this fight. What I'm trying to say is: you win. It's all yours. I'm tired and I tried. I'm tired and I love you. I'm tired and I didn't mean to." - Azra.T

Warning: A little bit of NSFW. Once it starts if you want to skip it you can go to the next break.

Masterlist

Cages. They were kept in cages. No better than feral beasts. All it had taken was one look of confirmation from Rae - her jaw clenched tight, her eyes hardened with fury - for Ash to unleash herself upon the captors. Emprise Du Lion had been bad enough when it was solely the red Lyrium sprouting from the snow-covered ground that made nausea churn in her stomach. But to keep these people as slaves, to corrupt their bodies into breeding grounds for the hateful red lyrium, it sickened her to her core. 

By the time they were done freeing the slaves, and clearing out the demon Ishmael’s hold, Ash could barely feel her fingers - having been frozen by the overuse of her ice magic. It had taken every ounce of her self-control to keep her flames at bay, to ensure they didn’t burn and burn until nothing but ashes were left of that accursed place. 

Cole had been distressed at the overwhelming anguish that had emanated from the slaves, though he appeared to be doing better after having freed them. He stood off to the side, in deep conversation with the fourth member of their party - Varric. He’d been helping the spirit become human, from what Ash had heard, and it seemed to involve a strange amount of parenting. 

Ash didn’t know where Cassandra had gone, having stormed off after Ishmael’s defeat, grumbling about sending a raven to the Inquisition, a request for more soldiers to occupy the keep. 

This left Ash and Rae at the edge of the lookout, the people and buildings below no bigger than tiny dolls. Leaning against the archway, Ash watched as Rae paced the length of the platform, restless, despite all their energy expenditure. 

In a rare move, Ash stayed silent, allowing her sister to gather her thoughts. It helped that she was too exhausted to form a coherent sentence without direction. 

Rae halted in her tracks, her hands clasped behind her back, turned away from Ash as she surveyed the wide expanse of this terrible place. 

“No matter what I do, no matter how much good I try to pump into this miserable fucking continent, there is always someone out there trying to fuck it all up,” Rae spat with a vehemence that snarled and snapped at the chilled air. 

Pushing herself off the arch, Ash walked across the frozen stone, stopping as she reached her sister’s side. Rae kept her gaze fixed on the horizon, a storm brewing in the depths of her eyes. 

“Ir abelas, ma’fenlin (I’m sorry, my little wolf),” Ash said with a gentleness she was surprised she still possessed after such brutality. “That is not a realization I would wish upon anyone. The world is a cruel place, and no matter how hard we try we cannot stop all its issues.” 

Rae scowled. “I am not little,” she grumbled petulantly. 

“Perhaps not,” Ash smiled softly, elbowing Rae and eliciting an irritated hiss, “but ma’fen doesn’t have the same ring to it.” 

The glare Ash received could cut down even the bravest of soldiers. It was good for Ash that she had grown used to them over the years. 

Turning away to scan the horizon once more, Rae sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I am grateful that I do not remember the night Mamae and Babae died, but I am sorry that you have to remember alone.”

Ash blinked, holding herself steady even as her body threatened to reel back and stumble towards the edge of the lookout - purely out of shock. Never in the twenty years since that night had they discussed it. Other than expressions of missing their parents, their murder and the sisters’ subsequent kidnapping had never been mentioned. It was better that way, Ash convinced herself. She didn’t wish for Rae to remember that night, and talking to her about it would have only solidified those memories. She’d held it all in, channelling her focus into becoming the First to the Keeper, into keeping Rae safe. But to hear it said aloud, for Rae to feel as though she needed to apologize… it was difficult to swallow. 

“I…” Ash started, but found herself trailing off. She had nothing to say, no words of comfort or concern. No condescending advice or unwanted remarks or inappropriate jokes. It unnerved her, to be rendered so speechless. Did her sister realize the power of her words?

Rae laced her fingers through Ash’s, squeezing once, her face devoid of emotion. Ash stared into her sister’s eyes - Ash’s eyes, their mother’s eyes - and wondered if she knew just how much she looked like Mamae. A silent understanding seemed to pass between them, though Ash had yet to find a tangible definition for it, and Rae released her, making her way back towards where Cassandra had returned, waiting at the ready. 

Ash stared after Rae, a stirring of unease coiling beneath her ribs. She had tried so hard to shield Rae from these truths, to let her lead a happy life, but Rae had never been content in ignorance. Compassion was a skill she had meticulously honed, despite it not seeming so to anyone who only took a cursory glance. Rae cared deeply for those around her, and while her way of showing it was often misunderstood, she stood by them nonetheless. It seemed like only yesterday that Rae had been the troublesome teen who’d thrown a bee hive into another boy’s aravel, but in the blink of an eye, she had grown into a strong leader - if not occasionally chaotic, as was her nature. 

Ash turned back to the view over the wretched land, spires of red breaking through the ground like knives through a mangled corpse. Rae was strong, stronger than she let on. But everyone had a breaking point, and sooner or later, Rae would hit hers. 

And Ash would be there, to support her and build her back up. Mythal help anyone who tried to get in her way. 

How she found herself in Cullen’s office, she could no longer recall. Some base instinct had led her to this place of comfort, to the arms she knew would hold her tight against the onslaught of memories long buried now surfacing within her mind. She wanted to forget and she wanted to scream and rage and throw it all into the Void. But she couldn’t, so instead, she went to him. 

“Ashvalla?” Her name pulled her attention towards him, having lost herself between the door and his desk, blinking as she realized she now stood beside him - where he sat in his chair. A single curl had managed to loosen itself from his carefully styled hair, his forehead pinched as he regarded her. His skin looked healthy, the bags under his eyes lessened, and his cheeks seemed slightly fuller than she had last seen them. That he was doing well calmed a small part of her tumultuous mind, but only enough to ground her in the rage and terror and anguish that the Emprise du Lion had brought out. 

She took a hesitant step closer, halting abruptly as her bare knees brushed against his clothed thighs - having decided to forgo her stockings - her gaze pulled downwards as she fiddled with the ends of her sleeves. It was rare that she ever found herself at a loss for words, she never ceased to have a slew of things to say. Except for moments like this and during her conversation with Rae on their mission, where the memories of those people in cages flickered with the memories of her and her sister in cages, screaming as the Shems tore them apart.

“Did something happen?” 

She held back a derisive snort. A lot of things had happened, none of which she wanted to talk about, all of which she wanted to forget. 

Before he could protest, and before she could think better of her decision, she stepped a leg over both of his, and seated herself snuggly in his lap, wrapping her arms around his torso, her face buried in the crook of his neck, the fluff of his mantle tickling her ear. He smelled of armour polish and leather and the saltiness of skin. He was warm and solid and safe. 

He was everything she wanted and could ever want, which, quite frankly, was not a revelation she was equipped to deal with at that particular moment - or ever, ideally. 

He’d tensed beneath her, startled by the suddenness of having her in his lap, nuzzling her face against the one patch of bare skin she could reach, her touch gentle yet fervent. But it only took a second of confusion for him to conclude that while surprising, he wasn’t against this. Strong arms encircled her, pulling her tighter against him and squeezing a contented sigh from her lungs. Attentive and protecting, he held the pieces of her fractured heart together. It should have been alarming how perfectly right it felt, but it wasn’t. This was Cullen, and she had lost her heart to him long ago. 

A featherlight kiss brushed atop her head, and the intimacy of it far surpassed anything they had shared in their numerous frantic, impassioned encounter where lust had prevailed. It was almost domestic, like something a quiet, affectionate ritual a devoted husband of twenty years might perform for his cherished wife. That was not who they were, nor who they would ever become, yet it didn't quell the ache within her heart, a longing for that simple, profound connection more than she craved the very air she breathed.

Fuck, this had been a terrible idea. But she couldn’t bring herself to leave. Not yet. 

“Emprise du Lion?” he asked with a tenderness that had her breath trembling as it trailed across the hollow of his throat. 

Ash nodded, her ears tucked tight against her skull, suppressing a shiver. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

No, but also yes, and never and always as long as it was with him. 

“Not really,” she said instead of acknowledging how Love burned in her chest to spill all her thoughts and feelings to this gorgeous man. “You can keep working, don’t mind me.”

He chuckled - one of her favourite sounds…fuck, how cheesy was that? Disgustingly romantic. “It’s difficult to ignore your presence when you are seated in my lap and directly in my way.” 

With a huff, she snuggled closer, trying her best to make her body as small as possible. “You can reach.” 

She felt him shake his head, his scruffy chin catching in her hair, though there was very little true disapproval there. Releasing her, he tested her claim to find that it was accurate. Writing and reading reports were not all that difficult with a woman curled in one’s lap. 

As Cullen's quill scratched against parchment, the sound a soothing rhythm in the quiet of his office, Ash let her eyes drift closed. Her cheek pressed against his neck, the steady thrum of his pulse, a calming metronome that gradually slowed the frantic beating of her own heart.

The warmth of his body seeped into her bones, thawing the icy dread that had taken root in the depths of her soul. Piece by piece, she began to unwind, her muscles loosening their white-knuckled grip on the tension that had seized them. It was a slow process, a gentle unfurling, like a flower timidly opening its petals to the first rays of spring sunlight after a long, harsh winter.

But with each breath, each rise and fall of Cullen's chest beneath her own, Ash felt the shards of her fractured composure begin to meld back together. The raw, jagged edges of her pain smoothed out, polished by his company.

As she sat there, listening to the soft rustling of papers and the occasional creak of leather as Cullen shifted to reach for a new report, Ash's mind began to wander. Unbidden, memories of their stolen moments together flitted through her mind like the pages of a cherished book, well-worn and dog-eared from frequent revisiting. The brush of his calloused fingers against her cheek, her hips, her thighs, the heat of his breath mingling with her own, the taste of his lips - an intoxicating blend of herbal tea and honey. Each touch, each whispered word, each shared glance held a secret language, a promise of something more, something deeper than either of them dared to acknowledge aloud.

“And what—“ Cullen began, having had enough of her silence, only to be interrupted by the door opening, heavy footsteps pounding against the floor until they came to a swift halt. 

“Uh, S-Ser,” the page stuttered, though Ash did nothing to address it. “Is this…should I come back another time?”

With a weary sigh that only a man as thoroughly exhausted as Cullen could manage, he waved the page in. “No, please continue.” 

The page provided his report with only one more slight stutter, Cullen listening as intently as he could. Ash stayed where she was, unmoving, and holding back giggles that would only serve to upset him. 

When the page left - as quick as his feet could carry him - Cullen slumped back in his chair, his hands returning to rub soothingly over her back, almost like it was second nature, an unconscious action. Ash chose not to comment on it, simply allowing herself to enjoy the feeling. 

“You know he’s going to talk about this.” Cullen sounded like he wanted to care, but was unable to bring himself to. 

Ash giggled, pressing a light kiss to the pulse point of his neck. “We could give the next page something even better to talk about,” she said with a grind of her hips against his. 

His hands flew to her waist, holding her still as a hiss flew through his clenched teeth. Though she already felt his hardness growing against the seem of his trousers. “Maker’s Breath, I’d rather we not give them a heart attack.”

Ash giggled again, feeling a comforting lightness return to her chest as she placed soft kisses up the side of his neck. Despite himself, his head tilted to the side, letting her have her way. “Or,” she purred, teeth scraping against his skin and pulling a breathy moan from his throat, “you could lock the doors.”

“I-I have work to do,” he stuttered as she wiggled her hips out of his grasp to grind against him once more. 

Placing her hand on top of his where it rested against her thigh, she leaned backwards, watching him with half-lidded eyes - a smouldering invitation - as she guided him closer to the promise of pleasure that awaited him. His jaw went slack, the black of his pupils swallowing his amber irises. Desire written in the shallow rise and fall of his chest, and by Mythal did it ever give her a thrill to be able to affect him like that. 

“Your work will be here when you return,” she said as she brought his hand underneath her smalls, sliding his sword-roughened fingers into her wet heat. She would never get over how wonderful it felt to have him touch her, to feel the calluses catch against her most sensitive parts, both rough and tender at the same time. He was the sun after rainfall, the soft touch of twilight, he was the one who held her every waking thought. The one she couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard she tried. 

She released a decadent moan as his fingers brushed against her clit, tendrils of pleasure spreading through her body. Cullen muttered a low curse as his hand began to move without her guiding touch. His eyes glazed over, his cock straining against his trousers, longing to fill her as she writhed in his lap, biting back needy mewls. 

“So what’ll it be, Commander?” Ash panted, his grip tightening on her hip, tugging her closer. “Should we give your poor page an eye full, or should we lock the doors?” 

The answering growl was all the answer she needed. 

With all the doors locked, Cullen decided his work could wait, especially when there was a beautiful woman in his arms whispering lewd suggestions in his ear. Impatient, needy, gorgeous, and his. And by the Maker, did he ever want her. 

While sex with Cullen was more fantastic than she ever could have hoped, its ability to distract her from her needling thoughts rarely lasted long after it was over. 

Lucky for her, Skyhold was a busy place, and there were plenty of distractions about. 

This time, she sensed Cole before he could get the drop on her as she stood outside the door to her room. Awareness prickled across her skin, the hair on the back of her neck standing up - alerting her to his presence. Love confirmed her suspicions, reaching out her warmth in his direction - as she always did - curiously greeting the other spirit.

Cole’s light and inhuman laugh was the first sound she heard from him, and it startled her. She wasn’t sure she’d ever heard such a noise from the spirit. 

“Varric told me it would make people feel more comfortable around me. But not like that, Kid. More from the chest, it’s too airy, too… creepy.”

Still not entirely human, it seemed. 

“Just keep practicing,” Ash encouraged, turning to face him, “you’ll get the hang of it.” 

Cole tilts his head to the side. “Two hearts near but not touching. Secrets whisper in the dark, you want more but you don’t want him to see. Hiding behind laughter, a shield against the truth.”

"Cole," Ash chided him, sharp and prickling even as a blush spread across her cheeks. “That is a private thought.”

He didn’t appear to hear her.

“Always thinking and planning, but when you’re with him you stop. The hurt, the pain, the fear, everything goes quiet. You're free. Just for a moment. It's more than enough. You like how it feels, but you deny it. You're scared."

Ash sighed, shaking her head as she placed it in her hands. “It’s complicated. Can we go back to talking about you for a change?”

“It doesn’t have to be complicated.” Cole took a step towards her and she stood her ground. “Emeralds sharp as knives, but soften when he holds her. Fingers glide through silk, vanishing upon waking. A statue made of cracked stone longing for the heat of the sun. He worries you think of him as a distraction, as a toy to pick up and play with whenever you have the time.”

She stepped back then, needing the space, but even that wasn’t enough to calm the churning in her gut. She sucked her lips between her teeth, Love fluttering irritably up her throat, a butterfly of heat and fire that burned with relentless desire. 

“I…he’s not a toy. He’s…” Everything she wanted and everything she could not have. 

“Warmth. Home. Protection. Safety. Love. But he doesn’t know that. He doesn’t just want to be your plaything - he wants you to be his,” Cole pushed, urgency lacing his words, and she reeled back. 

Love? No, surely she didn’t love him. She cared for him deeply, she wanted more than his friendship and his body, but love? A mage cannot love a Templar, she cannot love her sister’s Commander, she cannot, she cannot. But she wanted to. By the Old Gods did she want to love him, and for him to love her in return. 

“He would love you, if you let him.” It seemed so simple when said by Cole, his light, lilting words flowing through her like a gentle breeze. But in reality, it was a snowy peaked mountain and she was boulder stuck at the bottom. 

“Thank you, Cole,” Ash said, this conversation needed to end before it broke her poorly held-together sanity. 

“You don’t mean that.” He saw right through her, like always. Even as he became more human he still had his spirit abilities. Frustrating when he used them to pry into her sex life.

“I have something for you.” Ash pushed the door to her room open, absolutely calm and definitely not fleeing. 

“For me?” he repeated, his brow furrowed. 

Ash inclined her head, and the spirit-boy followed her into her room, curiosity in the wide set of his eyes. Picking up an intricately carved wooden puzzle from the drawer of her bedside table, she held it out to him, watching as he stared at the object. He tilted his head to the side as he inspected it like a cat inspecting a moth. 

“Blackwall carved it for me,” she said when he continued to stare. “It’s called June’s knot, we give it to Dalish children.” 

“Carved with care, lessons taught without words.” Cole fiddled with the end piece, regarding her with an unreadable expression. 

“If you’re going to be human, I thought I’d at least get a little Dalish in you too. It’s good for the soul to have some variety.” 

“Thank you, Ash. I’ve never been given a gift before.”

Though he’d only been on her plane for a short time, the thought sent a pang of sympathy through her heart, Love bubbling in her chest. “Well, now you have.” She smiled at him, rubbing her chest as Love continued her pestering, a vain attempt to calm the spirit. She’d been terribly active over the past few weeks, and it was bringing Ash’s irritation to all new levels. 

“She would be quiet if you let yourself have what you want.” Cole didn’t look up, too busy inspecting his new toy. Ash sighed, weary and tired. 

“You’re probably right,” she admitted, even though she had no plans to test that theory. 

Cole glanced at her, a momentary break from his fiddling. "You're hurting, Ashvalla. But you don't have to." With those parting words, he walked swiftly out the door, leaving Ash alone in her room, with nothing but her muddled thoughts for company. And oh, how she hated her traitorous, needy thoughts.

Next Chapter

A/N: Aah sisters, I love when they share trauma but experience it in very different ways <3 

Had to get some more Cole in there too, love that little guy :')

[tired-truffle]

My Soul to Keep

A Viktorxfem!reader fic

Chapter Word Count: 4.6k

Tag List: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @ihascat5 @pebble-bb @goooofy-goooober1121 @furblurwurblur @potatointhedirt @webofwhimsy @mad-simp420 @xo-mingx @patchs-curiosity-corner (Let me know if you'd like to be added)

Chapter 2

Masterlist

You’d never imagined being a ghost tethered to a place to be a very fun experience. Being unable to move outside of your haunting space or see new scenery would drive anyone at least a little crazy after a few years. Being tethered to a person or an object, on the other hand, would give you a bit more wiggle room and the ability to explore. Except it would only be at the whim of the person carrying your object, or the person themselves. While you hadn’t figured out if you were actually a ghost or not, less than a minute after Viktor had left his apartment, it became viscerally clear that you were attached to something or someone on the move. Like an invisible wall of force, you were shoved from your spot, hovering uncertainly above the leather couch, and dragged through the floor. 

Your shrieks of terror went unheard as you passed by room after room, making your descent from the upper floors. A man frantically buttoning his vest, a piece of toast crammed into his mouth, groaning his irritation as crumbs scattered over his chest. A woman reading a newspaper, a cup of tea in her hand. A young couple, one wrapped nothing but a thin sheet as they kissed goodbye at the door. 

Wonderful, not only were you some sort of ghost-like creature, but you were now a Peeping Tom too. 

After what must have been upwards of fifteen rooms, you finally reached the ground floor, floating down until you hovered over smooth tile flooring, polished marble tiles laid out in an intricate herringbone pattern that stretched from wall to wall. Towering columns of veined stone rose to meet a vaulted ceiling, where ornate chandeliers hung like crystalline raindrops frozen in time. Their warm light glinted off the gold-leafed accents adorning the walls and archways, rendering an atmosphere of quiet luxury.

A polished mahogany reception desk stood to your left, its surface so reflective you assumed it must be polished on the hour every hour. Behind it, a wall of brass mailboxes glinted, their tiny doors neatly labelled with apartment numbers.

As you floated there, drinking in the details of your lavish surroundings, a soft 'ding' broke you from your curious reverie. The elevator doors slid open, and Viktor stepped out.

It took him a moment to spot you, likely not having expected to see his hallucination lying on the floor of his building’s entry, but unfortunately for you, there was no coverage to hide your embarrassment. Like a flame flickering into existence, his eyes widened as they landed on you, stuttering in his steps. With a resigned sigh, you waved at him and floated back to a standing position. 

Out of all the side effects of your predicament, the floating was probably your favourite. It was the little things that kept you going. 

Recovering smoothly, lucky that the few others in the lobby weren’t paying attention to the newcomer, Viktor resumed his long-legged strides, his shoes clicking against the marble floors. When he reached you, you floated along at his side, hands clasped behind your back with the dignity of someone who did not just fall through the ceiling. 

“It seems like I can’t leave your general vicinity. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.” You elbowed him, even knowing it would go right through him. It was the thought that counted. “I don’t think anyone else can see me though, or a lot more of them would have freaked the fuck out when I appeared in their rooms.”

The subtlest of smirks canted at the corners of his lips. He pushed open the glass door, the creaking of the hinges masking his voice so only you could hear his reply.

“I’ve had worse tag-alongs.” 

That shouldn’t have made you as happy as it did, but you beamed at him anyway, pleased like a student who’d been praised by an overly harsh teacher. 

You hovered in silence beside Viktor, acutely aware of the peculiar situation you found yourself in. The bustling streets of Piltover unfolded before you, gleaming with wealth and innovation that left you slack-jawed with wonder. It was one thing to see it on screen, and another to experience it first-hand.

Sleek, chrome-plated carriages whizzed by, and the people of Piltover moved with purpose, their attire a dizzying array of fine silks, tailored suits, and accessories that sparkled with precious stones. You realized, with a start, that even the most modest outfit you saw probably cost more than you'd ever seen in your life.

Street vendors hawked their wares on the cobblestone roads - miniature clockwork toys, glowing vials of mysterious substances, and gadgets whose purposes you couldn't even begin to fathom. You longed to stop and examine each fascinating item, but the invisible tether binding you to Viktor urged you onward.

After a few blocks of sensory overload, you approached a structure that made even the grandest buildings you'd passed seem modest in comparison. The Academy loomed before you, a colossal edifice of azure stone that seemed to touch the very heavens. Its walls were smooth and polished, reflecting the sky like a massive sapphire.

As you ascended the steps alongside Viktor, you noticed how the stone beneath your feet - or where your feet would be if you weren't floating - clicked and moved to match the height and speed of his strides. Would they get smaller for someone like Heimerdinger?

You turned to Viktor, bursting with questions and observations, but held your tongue, remembering that he couldn't respond without looking like a madman talking to thin air. Instead, you contented yourself with a small smile, grateful for this unexpected adventure and the chance to witness the wonders of Piltover firsthand.

It wasn’t until you were through the foyer and into the elevator - alone with Viktor - that you spoke up. 

“So,” you elongated the vowel as you thought of what to say. “What do you do with this professor?” 

Viktor was young and mostly healthy, no illness eating away at his lungs, and if he was going to meet Heimerdinger first thing in the morning, you imagined it was because he was still working for him. However, there was a chance that he was meeting with the professor about Hextech. 

“I’m his assistant,” Viktor said plainly, confirming your suspicions. 

You frowned, consideringly. “Prestigious.”

He shrugged. “It has its perks.”

The elevator dinged, its doors opening to the tenth floor. Viktor stepped out, cane softly thudding against the carpet and accompanying his muffled footsteps. It was just the two of you, as far as you could tell. 

“You’re welcome to accompany me, though it appears you have little choice in the matter, but I must warn you I will not be able to speak with you,” he said under his breath. “Heimerdinger may appear…aloof at times, but he is sharp as a whip. If he believes that I’ve cracked under the pressure, he will have me immediately escorted to the nearest in-patient facility. That or he’ll lecture me over tea, neither of which I am particularly fond of.” 

You nodded along as he spoke, spinning so you were floating on your back, watching the sparkly tiled ceiling flow by. “I figured as much. Don’t worry about me; I’ll just chill in the corner. You won’t even know I’m there.”

And you’d been so close to being right. 

You’d done as promised, perusing the corners of Heimerdinger’s office while they reviewed their daily tasks, and trailing as far behind them as you could when they set out. The limit seemed to be about twenty feet in all directions before the barrier kicked in and shoved you along. Entirely aggravating - you’d never liked being told what to do, not even by invisible walls. 

Every so often, you'd push against the barrier, testing its limits. It was like pressing against an elastic wall - you could stretch it a bit, but eventually, it would snap back, dragging you along.

As you drifted through the corridors, you noticed something peculiar. Whenever you passed through a person, they would shiver involuntarily, as if a sudden chill had swept over them. You watched as a young student, her arms laden with books, trembled as you glided through her. Her eyes darted around, confused before she shrugged it off and continued on her way.

Intrigued by this discovery, you decided to conduct a little experiment - if you were going to surround yourself with scientists, you might as well try to blend in. You positioned yourself in the middle of a busy intersection where multiple hallways converged. As people walked through you, one after another, you observed their reactions. Some merely twitched, while others visibly shuddered, their teeth chattering for a brief moment.

Interesting, but you weren’t sure what to do with this newfound knowledge.

They didn’t head back to Heimerdinger’s office until late into the evening - it was clear where Viktor got his unhealthy work habits from, if he hadn’t had them already. By that point, you were bored out of your skull, and you couldn’t even get the reprieve of banging your head against the wall. 

All you could do was talk and float around, and since the only person you could talk to was Viktor, that left you with floating as your only option - and there was only so much flopping around into different positions that you could do before you lost your mind. 

Your wish for entertainment came in the form of an overly distracted Heimerdinger. You hadn’t been watching, Viktor hadn’t been watching - busy sorting through the missives that had piled up on the professor’s desk while they’d been out - and Heimerdinger himself hadn’t been watching where he was going, too enraptured in his thoughts. 

Bang! The loud slap of a stack of books toppling to the floor jolted you out of your calm - albeit painfully boring - state. 

Your perspective shifted dramatically, as if the world had grown larger around you. The colours of the room muted, losing their vibrancy, yet somehow, you could see more of your surroundings at once. Your visual field expanded, stretching to the corners of the room that were previously out of sight.

Your closest surroundings blurred, becoming indistinct shapes in your new vision. Yet, you found yourself drawn to the smallest movements - a piece of paper fluttering in the breeze from an open window, specks of dust filtering through the air.

Everything was different, more immediate, filled with scents and sounds you hadn't noticed before. The musty smell of old books mingled with the sharp tang of ink and the faint aroma of Heimerdinger's pipe tobacco.

Your ears twitched, picking up sounds you hadn’t noticed before. Viktor's breathing seemed louder now, the soft rustle of his clothing, the subtle creak of floorboards beneath his feet.

Instinctively, you hissed through clenched teeth as confusion prickled along your spine, your fur standing on end as your back arched. The sound that escaped your throat was alien and feral, nothing like your usual voice. As soon as it happened, you froze, bewildered.

Hold on.

Be so fucking for real right now.

This could not be happening.

Viktor’s wide eyes and slackened jaw said otherwise, his missive falling to the floor like a feather on a gentle breeze. 

You became acutely aware of your new feline form. Your whiskers twitched, sensitive to the slightest air currents in the room. Your tail, a foreign appendage you'd never possessed before, swished behind you with a mind of its own. You flexed your paws, feeling the soft pads beneath and the sharp claws that extended and retracted at will. The fur that covered your little body was a sleek black, looking soft to the touch as though you’d spent hours grooming it.

“Gadzooks!” Heimerdinger exclaimed, his head popping up from where he’d dived behind his desk to avoid being crushed. “That was a close one! Are you alright, my boy?”

Viktor hadn’t even been close to the books, but it was sweet of the professor to ask - not that you could register it in your shock. 

Shaking himself out of his stunned stupor, Viktor turned to face his employer. “Yes, sir. And you?”

“I’m alright, but it did give me quite the scare.” Heimerdinger chuckled to himself, but you were too busy freaking out to fully appreciate how the yordle’s ears wiggled when he laughed. 

Why the fuck were you a cat? And how were you supposed to turn back?

Oh God, were you stuck like this forever now? No, you refused. You’d had enough weird shit happen; you weren’t going to let this control you too.

Closing your eyes, you concentrated on slowing your heart rate. Like water falling off a duck's back, your feline form melted away. A tingling sensation spread from your core to your extremities, and you sensed your body stretching and reshaping. When you dared to open your eyes again, you found yourself back in your ghostly human form, hovering a few inches above the ground.

Frantically, you patted yourself down, checking for any lingering cat-like features. No tail. No fur. No whiskers. You ran your hands over your head, sighing in relief when you felt your hair instead of pointed ears. The world had returned to its normal proportions and colours, the hyper-awareness of scents and sounds fading back to normal.

Still shaken, you drifted over to Viktor, who was helping Heimerdinger gather the fallen books. You hovered close to his ear, hissing in a low, urgent whisper - a human hiss, not a cat hiss - "What the fuck was that?"

Viktor's eyes darted to you for a split second before returning to his task. His lips barely moved as he hissed back, "How am I supposed to know?"

You ran your hands through your hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. "I turned into a fucking cat!" you whispered incredulously, your voice rising slightly in pitch.

Viktor's jaw clenched, and he shot you a warning glance. His eyes flicked meaningfully towards Heimerdinger, who was dusting off a particularly old tome.

You nodded, forcing yourself to take deep, calming breaths – not that you actually needed to breathe, but the familiar action helped steady your nerves. As Viktor and Heimerdinger finished tidying up, you retreated to a corner of the office, trying to process what had just happened and wondering what other surprises your strange new existence might have in store for you.

Sitting in awkward silence wasn’t your favourite activity, but lately you’d been doing a lot of things you typically avoided. 

“Do you still think I’m a hallucination?” You broke the silence, your elbows resting on your knees as you floated above the couch, legs crossed. 

Viktor swayed his head and twisted towards you, his piecemeal dinner of toast and jam abandoned on the coffee table. “I have not concretely ruled it out, but since no one else can see or hear you, that may be difficult. For now, I am leaning towards no. It is much too fantastical for my mind to come up with. Besides, I do not feel as though I have lost my senses. There would be other signs.”

Logical, as you’d expected. 

“I wish I wasn’t real,” you sighed, tilting your head back to look at the popcorn-textured ceiling. “This is all so crazy. I don’t know where to begin trying to find answers.” 

“Do you remember what happened before you arrived here?” 

You shook your head. “Not a thing.” 

Viktor hummed his understanding. “You said that this world should not exist, what did you mean by that?”

Right, you had blurted that out in a panicked rush, hadn’t you? 

“If you don’t think you’ve lost your mind, then you definitely will think that I have when I try to explain it to you.”

He smiled, soft and patient, and in response, your stomach conjured up a flurry of butterflies to tickle your insides. “I promise I will not pass undue judgment. If I was going to, I would have already, given that you’re transparent and can turn into a cat.”

“Fair point.” He had you there, and what else did you have to lose? “Though don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He sat back, motioning for you to begin. 

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders. “Do you have televisions here? Like screens that play pre-recorded videos?” 

“Some do, though it is not particularly common.”

“Thank God,” you breathed, “I really didn’t want to try to explain what that was. They’re pretty common in my world, at least where I come from, most households have them. We’ve got millions of shows and movies to watch. There was this one show called Arcane that was about, uh, here. Like, Piltover and Zaun.” 

He nodded sagely, and you couldn’t find any traces of disbelief in his eyes. He was just…accepting it? Or he was a very good actor. You were leaning toward the latter. 

“You were one of the main characters,” you continued, noting that this did get a reaction from him: a slight raise of his eyebrows. “And judging by a few observations, this is before the start of the show, though it can’t be more than a few years at most. If I had to guess based on my luck lately, we’re pretty close to it, weeks if not days.”

Viktor's forehead creased as he processed your words. "A show…about Piltover and Zaun. I suppose the politics could be intriguing. And I'm a character in it?"

“You are, but I don’t expect you to take me at my word. I can prove to you that I know things that I shouldn’t, and I can predict a few upcoming events, though we must prevent one sequence of events or everything goes to shit, so I may need a little bit of trust from you.”

At this, he looked interested, and you took this as a win. “Intriguing. You may proceed.”

You paused, what could you even tell him? What would be believable? “You…know a lot of things.”

“True.”

“And if you’re still thinking I may be a hallucination then I can’t tell you your history ‘cause you already know it.” You tapped your chin, lips twisted as you thought hard. “I’m trying to prevent the immediate future, so that wouldn’t work either, but…oh! Are you able to go to a doctor anytime soon?”

Viktor blinked, startled back. “A doctor?” 

“Yeah, like a medical one, not Dr. Reveck.” 

“Who is Dr. Reveck?” 

It was your turn to express your confusion. “You know, the doctor in that cave you met as a kid? When your boat went down the stream into his lab?”

Viktor eyed you, suspicion swimming in the depths of his gaze. “He never told me his name.” 

“Oh, uh,” you grinned sheepishly, “I guess you know it now. He’s the inventor of Shimmer. He’s trying to cure his daughter of death. He should probably be stopped, but that’s a later problem.”

“Right.” He was dubious, but he waved for you to continue. 

“Okay, here it goes, and it’s probably gonna suck to hear, so I’m warning you now,” you said, and upon Viktor’s nod, you started. “They never told us what illness you had, or I guess you have, just that you got it from Zaun’s shitty air. Your lungs will start to fail you, you’ll need a crutch, you’ll lose weight, and you’ll start coughing up blood sometime in the next seven years. Eventually, it would kill you. But, many people believed the illness was similar to one that we have in my world: tuberculosis or consumption, depending on the time period.” 

Viktor's face paled as you spoke, his lips pressed into a thin line. He sat in silence for a long moment.

"That's... quite specific,” he said when he was able to form a response. “And rather grim."

“I know. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. I’m sure that’s a lot to take in, but if it is something like tuberculosis, then the good news is it’s totally treatable before it gets to the active stage. Do you have any of those symptoms now?”

“I don’t,” he said, a wariness to his tone. 

“That’s great!” You clapped your hands, relief flooding through you. What were you supposed to do if the one person who could see you died? “That means you don’t have the active stage yet, or any illness at all, but if it’s caused by Zaun’s air and you haven’t lived there for some time, then it wouldn’t make sense that you pick it up later. Can the doctors here test your blood for an illness like this?” 

“Yes.” His fingers drummed a steady rhythm on the arm of his chair, a nervous habit you hadn't noticed before. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to get checked, though the idea of being ill and unaware until it is too late is unsettling."

Silence stretched between you, broken only by the soft ticking of a clock on the wall and the distant hum of the city outside. You wished you could offer more comfort, but what could you say to someone who'd just been told they might have a potentially fatal illness?

"I'll schedule an appointment as soon as I can," Viktor said, quiet but resolute.

You nodded, relieved that he was taking your warning seriously. "That's good. Really good. Thank you for listening to me."

Viktor's lips quirked into a small smile. "It's not every day a ghostly entity from another world appears to warn you about your health. It would be foolish to ignore such a specific prophecy."

You chuckled, appreciating his attempt at levity. "That’s the spirit."

Over and over in your mind you prayed to whatever gods may be listening that they could catch his illness in time. And if they couldn’t…you weren’t sure you had it in you to stop him from becoming the Machine Herald.

A few days later, he had his appointment set, and until then, you were stuck following him around. It wasn’t all bad, you’d spent most of your time idly floating, watching the scenery as you trailed after Viktor, and the evenings were spent in peaceful companionship. Surprisingly, he was more chatty than you’d expected. Late at night as he pursued his work, he’d talk to you about it, or rather talked at you as you had little to add. But still, you appreciated the entertainment. 

You had avoided turning back into a cat again, if such a thing could be avoided. One thing at a time; address Viktor’s illness, get him to believe that you were real, and then you could figure your shit out. 

On the day of the appointment, you floated beside him as he made his way to the physician’s office. It was in a central part of town, a quick trolley ride away. As you entered the sleek building, a thought occurred to you that you’d nearly forgotten. 

“Did someone teach you to use your cane on the same side as your injured leg?” 

Viktor halted in his steps, said cane clacking against the floor. It was just him in the entryway, and he looked at you with bewilderment. “I beg your pardon?”

You cringed, who were you to tell him how to use his mobility aid when you couldn’t even use your legs? There was no such thing as an inaccessible environment when you could float everywhere. “It’s just that you’re supposed to use a cane on the opposite side as the disabled leg, right? But I thought maybe there was a reason you weren’t doing that.”

He glanced down at the cane and then back up at you. “That’s what my parents taught me.” 

Ah, it was as you feared. No one had taught him to use it properly, and they’d been letting him go his whole life using it in a way that would damage his body over time. It made sense that Zaun didn’t receive proper health education on top of everything else. “Maybe you can talk to the doctor about it while you’re here.”

He pursed his lips, gaze distant as though evaluating memories you were not party to. “Perhaps.” 

After signing in and waiting his turn, Viktor was called back. 

“I’ll wait outside the door if that’s okay with you,” you offered, floating down the long hallway as the nurse brought him to a clinic room. Viktor nodded his understanding. 

You hovered in the hall, your ethereal form passing through the occasional nurse or patient who hurried by, watching as they shivered or shuddered.

As you waited, you observed the diverse array of people moving through the clinic. A young woman with braided hair adorned with gold jewelry passed by, her eyes fixed on a small device in her hand. An elderly gentleman hobbled along, supported by a woman of a similar age - his wife, maybe. A pair of identical twins, no older than ten, chattered excitedly about the latest comic their parents had bought them.

The nurse who had escorted Viktor into the examination room emerged, her shoes squeaking softly against the polished floor. She moved with purpose, her crisp white uniform much too clean for someone who no doubt frequently got her hands dirty. How many changes of uniforms for its staff did this place have to keep up appearances?

Minutes ticked by, and you found yourself studying the patterns in the wallpaper, tracing the delicate floral designs with your eyes.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was likely only about thirty minutes, the door to Viktor's room opened again. This time, a distinguished-looking man in a white coat stepped out, followed closely by Viktor. The doctor's salt-and-pepper hair was neatly combed, and his glasses perched precariously on the bridge of his nose. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, a reassuring expression that immediately put you at ease.

Viktor's face was a mask of calm, but you could see the subtle tension in his shoulders. He extended his hand to the doctor, who grasped it firmly.

"Thank you, Doctor," Viktor said. "Your insights have been most valuable."

The doctor shook Viktor’s hand, his smile widening. "It's my pleasure. Remember what we discussed, and don't hesitate to reach out if you have any questions."

With a final nod, Viktor turned and began making his way down the hallway towards the exit. You floated after him, your ghostly form easily keeping pace with his measured strides. As you followed, something caught your eye, and you did a double-take.

Viktor was using his cane differently.

Where before he had held it on the same side as his disabled leg, now it was on the opposite side. He had listened to your suggestion and brought it up with the doctor. This small change could make a significant difference in his daily life, potentially alleviating pain and improving his mobility.

As you exited the clinic, the bustling streets of Piltover greeted you. The afternoon sun beat down on the cobblestone paths, and you floated alongside Viktor, studying his face for any sign of what the doctor might have told him. His expression remained impassive, but when there was a break in the crowd, he leaned closer to you.

“I will receive a call with the results of the testing in a few days,” he whispered. “But you were correct about the cane. Thank you.” 

You shrugged, entirely unsure what to say. “I hope it helps.” 

An uptick at the corner of his mouth was the only sign of his smile. “Only time will tell.”

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!! I hope this makes it to you in time, and thank you so so much for all the support you gave for the first chapter <3

If at any point when reading this chapter you thought to yourself: "I just want you to stop sayin' odd shit." I do not blame you. It's not going to get any less weird, but I hope you enjoy it!

[tired-truffle]

Another one of my Lavellan and Cullen from my fic “Something’s Gotta Give”

I just can’t get enough of them and their chaos 🥲

[tired-truffle]

Something's Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 3.3k

Part 27 - Say It Like You Mean It

Tag list: @bloodoflathander

“Are we just friends if it's your breath on my neck late at night or if it's our laced fingers beneath your covers? How tightly do we need to be pressed against each other before you admit that you aren't doing this for warmth? How many times does your thumb need to brush my lips before we realize that we've gone too far?” - Tara Love

Warning: A little bit of NSFW, mostly vague, but still there.

Song rec: Teeth & Tongues by The Crane Wives

Masterlist

Rage did not begin to cover what she felt. Is this how he wanted to take care of her? Ridiculous Shem’len, she was going to tear him to shreds.

Bursting through the door to his office, she discovered him standing by his bookshelf, his posture upright and a vibrant flush colouring his cheeks. He’d heeded her advice and visited the healer in the days since she’d held him through his withdrawal-spurned nightmares. While she hadn’t seen him since that night, she’d made some inquiries to ensure he was recovering well.

He turned sharply, startled by the ferocity of her entrance and the snarl on her lips. “Ashvalla? What are you—”

She wasn’t in the mood to listen. 

“Care to explain why you recommended that Rae specifically not take me with her to the Western Approach?”

Recognition flashed across his face and his lips pulled into a deep frown, his eyebrows scrunching together. “You know exactly why," he replied, steadfast and firm, making her bristle. "The Approach is scorching and the sun does not relent. You have a hard time keeping yourself at a cool temperature already. The last thing we need is for you to overexert yourself and get heat exhaustion. Not to mention you would have to cover up completely - increasing your risk of overheating - or your scars would be susceptible to sunburns.”

It only angered her further that he was right, that he had valid reasons, but she chaffed under his authority nonetheless. He remained aggravatingly calm, even as she approached and halted a foot before him, hands clenched at her sides and face aflame. 

“I didn’t ask you to do that. I would have figured it out, I have ice magic.”

"Perhaps," he acknowledged, the timbre of his voice softening, meant to calm her. “But magic can only last for so long until you need to stop and rest. And what if you need that mana later during the actual mission? That kind of climate would suck your energy and strength dry. It is my duty as an advisor to advise. That is what I did.”

“You don’t know that,” she hissed. “You have no idea what I’m capable of out there.”

A muscle ticked over his jaw and he widened his stance. He was making a valiant effort to not let her get to him, but she had a way of crawling under his skin like a parasite. "You may be a remarkably skilled mage, but we've no idea what they're walking into. The heat will wear you out, your magic will dwindle, and you will be a liability," he said firmly, barely maintaining his composure.

She flinched, but unwilling to show weakness, tried to hide it by ducking her head, her shoulders tensing. A liability…she’d known it, had stewed on it until her rage had gotten the best of her. How could she keep her promise if she was a liability in all hot climates that Rae had to travel to? Prior to Haven, she could have sweated it out, but the increased risk of her now fragile skin made it more difficult. Love’s magic burned like a furnace, and she refused to let it out. 

He stepped forward, lessening the space between them, and slowly but gently reached out to touch her chin, lifting her head. Softness wasn’t what she wanted, but she craved it no matter how hard she tried not to. 

She pulled her chin out of his grasp, her gaze was fire and challenge, daring him to jump through her hoops. Love twinged in her chest and she put the heel of her palm against her sternum. “Don’t get all soft on me now, Commander. Say it how you mean it.”

Gritting his teeth, he dropped his hand back to his side. "Fine, if that’s how you want it. You're a hot-headed and stubborn mage who can't accept when things don't go your way. You’re a liability in the Western Approach, and that's why you're not going," he spoke bluntly, irritated but not cruel. It wrapped around her throat and squeezed the air from her lungs, but her anger wiggled through the cracks. 

“Anything else you’ve been holding back? Now’s the time to let it all out,” she sneered, the feral animal writhing inside her puppeteering her body, curling her lips back and baring her teeth. 

“No,” he said, “that’s all.” His eyes darted away from hers. 

“Liar,” she hissed, stepping into his space and poking his chest plate. He didn’t even sway. “What else?”

Glancing down at her finger, he narrowed his eyes. “I’m not going to start listing your flaws.” 

Her nails dug half-moon indents into her palms. “Do it, coward.” 

At first, he merely stared back, stoicism in the hard line of his mouth, but after a moment of hesitation, his irritability won out.

"You're stubborn. Irritating. Reckless. Insufferable. Unpredictable. Quick to anger. Impossible to please. And you are, by far, the most vexing woman I've ever met." He spoke without wavering and Ash felt like her inside had mutated into spindleweed and become caught in a rapid. 

“And?” she pressed. “What else.”

He clenched his jaw tightly, as if the force could contain the torrent of angry words she was provoking. Yet, once the floodgates had been opened, there was no holding back the deluge that followed.

“You’re irritatingly independent, impatient, and you don’t listen to a word I say. Your recklessness will get you killed eventually and you refuse to listen to anyone who tries to keep you safe!” 

The flicker of fear in his eyes sent her barreling over the edge of her rage, tumbling and falling into the barbed bed of her insecurities. “Why does it matter to you if I’m such a damn nuisance!” 

Her words echoed in her ears, broken and petulant like a child, shameful tears brimming in her eyes. He saw right through the stained glass window of her horror - a scythe poised over her neck. 

“Because I care about you.” He grabbed her shoulders and his arms tensed, resisting the urge to shake some reason into her.

“That doesn’t make any sense!” She pulled at the ends of her hair, her chest heaving as she panted. She couldn’t remember when her breath had escaped her, when her mind had been pricked with the needle of panic. 

Sliding his hands down to her forearms, he gently pried her fingers out of her hair. 

"I care about you because you’re reckless and impatient and stubborn. I care about you because you’re impossible to please yet the only one whose approval I yearn to win. I care about you because you’re infuriating and vexing and impatient. I care about you because you’re you."

Ash's heart burned with the cold heat of a dying star, her rage melting in its orbit, shattering her defences. Her eyes, wild and feral, dimmed like a werewolf turned back into a man with the changing of the moons to the sun.

In a heartbeat, Ash closed the minuscule gap between them. Her lips crashed against Cullen's with the full force of her longing, starved for his affection. He staggered back a step, momentarily stunned, before his arms encircled her waist, pulling her flush against the hardness of his breastplate.

Ash's fingers tangled in his hair, tugging at the spun gold as though she could emulate all her frustration, fear, and pining into the kiss. She whimpered, pitiful and needy, his stubble scratching against her chin.

"Ashvalla," he breathed with the same deference he saved for his Maker, resting his forehead against hers. The anger that had propelled her into his office had transmuted into something softer, yet no less potent. It was liquid starlight, illuminating the darkest corners of her heart that she wasn’t yet ready to share.

She felt his breath on her lips, and when she pressed forward to kiss him again, he remained stubbornly out of reach.

Ash's eyes fluttered open, her lashes damp with unshed tears. She found Cullen's gaze fixed upon her, his eyes swirling with concern and something that made her stomach twist - was that pity?

“Shut up,” she grumbled. 

His hands moved from her ribcage to rest on her hips. “I didn’t say anything.” 

"You didn't have to," Ash growled, shoving Cullen back against the bookcase with a forceful thud. His eyes widened in pure shock, but before he could protest, she crushed her lips against his once more.

This kiss was different - all teeth and tongue and desperation. Cullen responded in kind, one hand tangling in her hair while the other gripped her hip hard and held her to him. Ash's fingers scrabbled at the clasps of his armour, fumbling in her haste to feel his skin beneath her palms.

"Ash," Cullen gasped, breaking away for air. "The doors - they're unlocked."

Huffing impatiently, Ash flicked her wrist. Three blasts of icy magic shot across the room, freezing the heavy wooden doors shut with a satisfying crack. "There," she said. "Problem solved."

A low chuckle rumbled in Cullen's chest as he walked her backwards until her thighs hit the edge of his desk. His hands slid down to cup her rear, lifting her onto the smooth wooden surface. Parchments and quills scattered to the floor, forgotten.

Ash wrapped her legs around Cullen's waist, pulling him flush against her. She could feel the heat of him even through the layers of cloth and metal. Her fingers resumed their frantic quest to divest him of his armour, managing to unclasp his breastplate at last. It fell to the floor with a resounding clang.

Cullen's lips traced a searing path along her jaw, down the column of her throat. Ash tilted her head back with a breathy moan, her nails raking down his back. The thin fabric of his linen shirt did little to dull the sting, and Cullen growled in response, nipping at her collarbone.

Their movements were urgent, almost frenzied. Ash arched into his touch, craving more, always more. The heat building between them rivalled even the scorching sands of the Western Approach, but Ash found she didn't mind this particular burn.

Tangling his fingers in her hair, he tugged her head back. The slight sting like needles laced with a mind-numbing poison prickling her scalp.

With her throat bared to him, Cullen took full advantage. His lips, teeth, and tongue mapped every inch of her skin, having done this enough times to know the exact spots she wanted his touch. Ash whined, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

The dark green fabric of her robes pooled at her waist as Cullen freed her from its restricting bind. His deft fingers made quick work of the clasps of her breastband and it fell away.

His eyes roved over her, taking in every curve and scar. The intensity of his gaze made her feel simultaneously exposed and worshipped. Ash expected him to pounce, to devour her with the same ferocity she felt within herself. He was a lion and she was his willing prey, ready to be claimed.

Yet, Cullen defied her expectations. Leaning forward, he enveloped her in a gentle embrace. The feel of his linen shirt against her bare skin was both soothing and maddening. Ash stilled, her hands hovering uncertainly over his back.

Cullen only held her tighter, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other splayed across her lower back. His touch was light over her scars, as if he feared she might shatter beneath his fingers - or perhaps it was due to her loss of sensation, her brain too foggy to discern which.

Ash's heart raced, but not from desire. This was something else entirely - a defenselessness she wasn't prepared for. She swallowed hard, willing the lump in her throat to dissolve.

“You act as if I’m not allowed to be gentle with you.” Was he adept at picking up on her cues or had she stopped trying to hide them around him? Both were concerning, or they should have been, but when his breath puffed over her neck, the smell of leather and armour polish filling her lungs, she couldn’t find it within herself to care. 

“Maybe that’s not what I want.” It’s what she craved, but didn’t allow herself to have. A punishment for a crime she could no longer recall. 

He pulled back and within her glassy eyes, he saw the truth. “Someday you’re going to have to stop pretending.”

How does one remove a mask when the wood out of which it was created has grown roots into their skin, buried through muscle and wrapped around bone? What would be left of her when she ripped it away? Something unsightly, undesirable, a sinewy mess or scars and secrets long buried. 

“Someday.” A promise she wasn’t sure she could keep. “But not today.” 

Nodding slowly, his thumb brushed over her cheekbone, reverent in the way it venerated her fragile bones. “Not today then,” he echoed. 

And when he took her against his desk, he gave her what she’d asked for. Hard and fast and overwhelming her ever-racing thoughts - blissfully lost in him as he was in her.

Ash awoke to the soft murmur of hushed voices drifting through the crack beneath her door. She groaned, burying her face deeper into her pillow. She wanted no part in this.

She'd gotten to bed late last night, unable to fall asleep as the echoes of cruel whispers from the courtiers in the grand hall haunted her.

"Did you hear? The knife-ear's been warming the Commander's bed."

"I heard she bewitched him with blood magic. Why else would he lower himself to rutting with an elf?"

"What a waste. He could have had his pick of noble ladies, yet he chooses to sully himself with that scarred creature."

The words burrowed under her skin like maggots, feeding on her insecurities. Ash pulled the blankets over her head, wishing she could disappear entirely. She’d known this was coming, had tried to stop it, but she’d been too selfish, given in to her desires. At least it was only sex, she didn’t want to imagine what they’d say if they thought Cullen was romantically involved with her.

"Are you certain this is wise?" Dorian's lilting accent slipped through the wood.

"No," came Rae's determined reply, "but it's necessary."

Before Ash could process their words, the door burst open. She yelped, scrambling to pull the blankets up to her chin as Rae and Dorian strode in.

"What in the Void are you doing?" Ash glared at the intruders. "Haven't you heard of knocking?"

Rae crossed her arms, fixing her sister with a stern look. "Never heard of it."

Dorian leaned against the doorframe, twirling his mustache. "It must be a Marcher term, I don’t believe it exists in Tevinter."

Ash's eyes narrowed. "Whatever this is, I'm not interested." She flopped back onto her pillows, pulling the blanket over her head.

"Oh no you don't," Rae said, yanking the covers away. Sweetpea hissed irritably, muted from where she’d curled up at Ash’s side now covered in blankets. "We're having this conversation whether you like it or not."

Ash sat up, scowling. "What's so important it couldn't wait until a decent hour?"

Dorian and Rae exchanged a glance. It was Dorian who spoke first, uncharacteristically gentle. "Don’t take this the wrong way, but we're concerned about you. About your…relationship with the Commander."

"What is this? Some sort of intervention?”

"It is when you're clearly hurting yourself," Rae countered. She perched on the edge of the bed, back stiff and straight. "We see the way you look at him when you think no one's watching."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ash grumbled, but the words rang hollow even to her own ears.

Dorian sighed, moving to sit beside Rae. "My dear, you're many things, but a good liar isn't one of them. At least, not to those who know you best."

Ash's throat tightened. She wanted to deny it, to lash out and push them away. But the concern in their eyes made her resolve crumble. "It's just a bit of fun," she whispered, hating how small her voice sounded.

"Is it?" Rae pressed. "Because from where we're standing, it looks an awful lot like something more, or it could be if you’d let it."

Ash's chest constricted, her heart pounding against her ribcage like a caged animal itching for escape. She opened her mouth to deny it again, but the words stuck in her throat. Memories flashed before her eyes - Cullen's gentle touch, his rare smiles reserved only for her, words of affection and praise.

"I…" she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "I do care for him. More than I should."

The admission hung heavy in the air, a weight lifted from her shoulders only to settle in the pit of her stomach. Rae's eyes softened and Dorian leaned forward, his usually impeccable posture slumping slightly as he regarded her with a knowing look.

"Then why, pray tell, are you fighting this so adamantly?" Dorian asked. "It's clear as day that the man is utterly enamoured with you."

Ash's fingers twisted in the sheets, her knuckles turning white. "It doesn't matter. We can't…I can't…"

"Can't what?" Rae reached out to place a comforting hand on her sister's knee. "Be happy? Find love?"

A bitter laugh escaped Ash's lips. "Love? That's a bit presumptuous."

"Is it?" Rae challenged, her eyes boring into Ash's. "Your whole demeanour changes when he enters a room. You light up, Ash. It's disgustingly romantic and it makes me puke a little in my mouth every time I see it."

Dorian elbowed Rae in the ribs and she grunted. “It's beautiful,” she amended. “I’ve never once felt nauseous because of it.”

Ash shot her sister with an unimpressed glower. "It's not that simple.”

"Then explain it to us," Dorian insisted. "Help us understand why you're denying yourself this chance at happiness."

Ash's jaw clenched, her teeth grinding together. But the concerned faces of her sister and her friend wore down her defences, and the words tumbled out before she could stop them.

"He was a Templar," she spat, as if the word itself left a foul taste in her mouth. "How could I ever trust someone who's been trained to see me as a threat? To view my existence as something to be controlled and contained?"

"Ash, you know Cullen's not like that anymore. He left the Order—"

"Key word being 'was'," Dorian interjected, firm but not unkind. "He has come a long way from his Templar days. You've seen it yourself, have you not?"

Yes, she had. But that didn’t mean he held none of his old beliefs. Sure, he no longer believed all mages to be inherently evil, but a possessed mage - spirit or demon - would be nothing more than an abomination to him.

"Fine," she said reluctantly, at least to get them to leave her alone. "I'll…think about it, okay?"

Rae's eyes lit up, a triumphant grin spreading across her face. She opened her mouth, no doubt ready to press her advantage, but Dorian's hand on her arm stopped her.

"We accept," Dorian said and Rae scowled. "Now, onto more pressing matters. I simply must know all the sordid details about your escapades with our handsome Commander."

"I already told you, no.” Ash pulled her blanket up to her chin as if it could shield her from Dorian's curiosity. If it was up to her, she would tell them, but she was unwilling to invite Cullen’s scorn into their already tenuous relationship.

Rae made a gagging noise, dramatically covering her ears. "Ew, I don't want to hear that!"

Dorian chuckled, patting Rae's shoulder consolingly. "I'm simply looking out for her wellbeing. It's important to ensure she's being properly taken care of, after all."

Ash groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Out. Both of you. Now. Before I start asking about your romantic escapades with Solas, Rae.”

Rae yelped indignantly, but before she could launch herself at Ash for a quick wrestle, Dorian stood, offering his arm to her sister. "Very well, we shall leave you to your brooding. But don't think this conversation is over. I expect updates."

As the door clicked shut behind them, Ash flopped back onto her pillows, staring up at the stone ceiling above her bed. The familiar weight of Sweetpea settled on her chest, the cat's purrs rumbling through her.

She absently stroked the feline's soft fur, her mind drifting to Cullen. His amber eyes, warm and full of concern. The way his scar pulled when he smiled, a rare and precious sight. The feel of his calloused hands on her skin, gentle despite their strength.

Ash sighed, closing her eyes. How long could she hold them off? How long could she deny the truth to herself? Forever, if she had anything to say about it. Not long, if Love got to dictate her actions.

Next Chapter

A/N: So close Cullen! Better luck next time <3

Happy Valentine’s Day!! Sadly, Ash is unwilling to admit her feelings on this day of love, but maybe one day soon…

[tired-truffle]

cullen rutherford likes soft tummies pass it on

[tired-truffle]

Thank you @sweetjulieapples for the tag! This was a super fun quiz ☺️

Also very accurate - and the possible matches are just Cullen and Ash from Something’s gotta give lol it really pegged my romantic preferences 😆

(How dare it call out my back pain like this 😭)

Tagging @dancinginadream if you’d like to participate!

[tired-truffle]

Something's Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 6.1k

Part 26 - The Lion, the mage, and the closet (and wall, and chair, and bed, and—)

Tag list: @bloodoflathander (Let me know if you’d like to be added)

"You love him, don't you? Him and his pale, long fingers tangled in your hair, running down your spine. Him and his lips against your neck, your jaw, your chin. and in these empty halls, with him, religion shifts and turns and blurs. His mouth is your confessional, and you sin, you sin, you sin." - thewayiwrite

Warning: NSFW in this chapter, skip to "Another mission, this one longer and more gruelling than the last." if you want to bypass it all. Though second warning; there is some vomiting after that line.

Song recs: Line Without a Hook by Ricky Montgomery and Rule #34 by Fish in a Birdcage

Masterlist

Ash saw him coming down the dimly lit hallway in the lower levels of Skyhold, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the flickering torchlight. Her heart skipped, then plummeted. Those soulful eyes of his, warm as honey but sharp as a blade, cut right through her carefully crafted facade. She could practically feel the words building up behind his lips, moments from spilling out and shattering the delicate equilibrium she'd worked so hard to maintain.

Not today. Not ever, if she could help it.

Before he could open his mouth, Ash grabbed his arm and yanked him into a nearby storage closet. Dust specks floated in the sliver of light from the hallway before she kicked the door shut, plunging them into musty darkness.

"What are you-" he started, but she silenced him with the slant of her lips upon his, her hands fisted in his mantle. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she pressed herself against him, using her body to distract his brain. It was a tactic she'd perfected over the past few weeks - a moan here, a strategically placed caress there, and any attempt at serious conversation evaporated like morning mist.

But even as she lost herself in the familiar feel of his lips against hers and his hands around her waist, guilt gnawed at her insides. She could feel the confusion radiating off him, could sense the questions he was desperate to ask. Why was she acting like nothing had happened? Why did she only seek him out for clandestine encounters in dark corners or his locked office?

Ash knew she was being selfish, knew she was using him to avoid confronting the tangled mess of emotions that writhed within her. But the alternative - actually talking about her feelings and what that would mean for them - was unthinkable.

So she kissed him harder, letting her hands roam lower, silently begging him to just go along with it. To not push, not pry, not force her to face the things she'd rather keep buried. Because Ash knew, with a certainty that chilled her to her core, that if she started talking, really talking, she might never stop. And then where would they be? No, better to keep things light, keep things physical. Safer that way. For everyone.

But she couldn't quite silence the voice in the back of her mind.

This can't last forever, it whispered. Sooner or later, something's going to give.

Cullen pulled back, his hands on her hips holding her at arm's length. His eyes darted nervously to the door, a crease forming between his brows. A problem she could easily solve.

With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a blast of ice, shooting across the floor and toppling a nearby plank of wood. The wooden beam clattered to the ground, wedging itself firmly against the door and shutting them in.

"Oops," Ash said, feigning innocence and pressing closer despite Cullen's restraining grip. "You've been working so hard lately, I've missed you."

"I've been doing my job," he said, his hands tightening on her hips. "As you should be."

"I am serving the Inquisition," she purred, trailing a finger down his chest. "I hear its Commander has been very uptight today, I thought I should do something to remedy that.”

Cullen's jaw clenched, his resolve visibly wavering. "There are more important-"

She cut him off by cupping him through his pants, eliciting a strangled groan. His head fell back against the wall with a thud, eyes fluttering closed. Ash felt a surge of triumph, pressing her advantage.

"More important than this?" Her lips ghosted along his jaw and she could feel him hardening beneath her palm as she stroked him through the fabric.

"That's not fair," he gritted out, but his hands slid from her hips to her backside, pulling her flush against him.

Ash grinned against his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. "I would have to disagree, Commander."

She emphasized the title with a firm squeeze, drawing another low groan from him. His resolve crumbled like a sandcastle at high tide.

Cullen captured her lips in a bruising kiss that sent sparks racing down her spine. His hands tangled in her hair, tugging just hard enough to make her gasp. Ash melted into him, the sharp edges of his armour digging into her, but she barely noticed, too caught up in the intoxicating slide of his tongue against hers.

With fumbling fingers, she worked at the laces of his trousers. The knots were frustratingly tight, and she let out a small noise of frustration against his lips. Cullen chuckled, a low rumble that she felt more than heard. He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers, his breath coming in short pants.

"Are you in need of assistance?" he asked.

Ash narrowed her eyes, giving the laces a particularly vicious tug and feeling them start to give. "I’ll manage.”

Sinking to her knees, she looked up at Cullen through thick lashes. His eyes were darkened with desire as he watched her intently. She held his gaze, fingers hovering at his waistband. A silent question.

Cullen swallowed hard, giving a barely perceptible nod. Permission granted and she pulled his trousers down, freeing him. Ash took a moment to admire the size of his cock - he was impressive, to say the least. She licked her lips, relishing the way his breath hitched in anticipation.

She leaned forward and took him into her mouth. A low moan was quickly muffled by the back of his hand as he tried to keep himself from giving away their position. His other hand came to rest in her hair, not pushing or pulling, but holding on as if to steady himself.

Ash set a teasing pace, alternating between long, languid strokes and quick flicks of her tongue. He trembled with the effort of holding still, of not thrusting into her mouth and the tight wetness of her throat, his fingers flexing against her scalp.

A swirl of her tongue as she swallowed around him had him gasping her name, and she repeated the motion.

Cullen's breathing grew ragged, his grip on her hair tightening. "Ash," he panted. "Again—"

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, voices growing louder. Cullen tensed, his hand sliding from her hair to her shoulder. "Wait-"

She pulled off him with an obscene pop, her lips swollen and glistening. Their eyes locked as the voices drew nearer. Cullen's chest heaved, his face flushed with equal parts desire and panic. Hopefully, the plank she’d dropped would hold if they decided to enter the closet.

The footsteps slowed just outside their hiding spot. Ash could make out snippets of conversation - something about requisitions and troop movements. She held her breath, acutely aware of Cullen's state of undress and her own dishevelled appearance. His eyes darted nervously to the door, no doubt imagining the scandal if they were discovered. But Ash couldn't tear her gaze from him - hair mussed and lower lip caught between his teeth as he fought to stay quiet.

She'd never wanted him more.

As the footsteps finally receded, Cullen slumped against the wall, relief evident on his face. "That was close," he whispered. "Perhaps we should-"

But Ash was already moving, taking him into her mouth once more. Cullen's words died on his lips, replaced by a choked gasp. His hips bucked involuntarily, driving himself deeper. Ash hummed in approval, the vibrations drawing a wanton moan from him.

She set a relentless pace, all teasing forgotten. Her fingers dug into his thighs as she took him to the hilt, tears springing to her eyes as she choked. Cullen's hand flew to his mouth, muffling the string of curses that fell from his lips.

Ash could feel his cock twitching, knew he was close. She redoubled her efforts, hollowing her cheeks as she sucked.

A final, shuddering gasp, and Cullen came undone. Ash worked him through it, swallowing every drop. Only when the last tremors subsided did she pull away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

She looked up at Cullen, a smug grin tugging at her lips. He gazed down at her, eyes dark with a primal hunger that had a desperate heat blooming in her belly. Before she could catch her breath, he hauled her to her feet, spinning them so her back hit the rough stone wall. His mouth crashed into hers, hot and demanding, the salt of his skin mingling with the lingering traces of himself on her tongue.

His hands roamed restlessly over her body and Ash arched into his touch, her head falling back as he trailed scorching kisses along her jaw and down the column of her throat.

His teeth grazed her pulse point, and Ash had to bite back an indecent moan. Creators, but the man knew how to use that mouth of his. She carded her fingers through his hair, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away. A tiny voice in the back of her mind screamed at her to put a stop to it before she lost control.

"Cullen," she gasped, struggling to form coherent thoughts as he lightly bit the swell of her breasts where they lay exposed in her low-cut robes.

He growled against her skin, the sound sending a jolt of heat straight to her core. "Yes?" His voice was rough, almost feral. Why was she ending this again?

“As much as I hate it, you should be getting back to work, shouldn’t you?”

Cullen's shoulders slumped, the fire in his eyes dimming slightly. "You're right," he admitted reluctantly. "Though I wish you weren’t."

Ash placed a soft, consolatory kiss on his jaw, feeling the rough stubble beneath her lips. The tender gesture surprised even her, and she felt a flicker of panic at the intimacy of it. This was dangerous territory, too close to the emotional connection she'd been so carefully avoiding.

But Cullen's expression softened, the corners of his mouth lifting in a gentle smile that made her heart stutter - as if that simple kiss had soothed away his frustration. She wanted to look away, to break the spell before it took root, but found herself trapped in the warm amber of his gaze.

The silence stretched and Ash's mind raced, searching for a quip or innuendo to lighten the mood, but for once, her wit failed her - as it seemed to be doing with increasing frequency as of late.

He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear with aching gentleness, his calloused fingers lingering on her cheek. Then he stepped back, releasing her from the cage of his arms.

Desperate for something to do, Ash dropped to her knees for a second time, though her intentions were far more innocent. Fingers shaking, she tucked Cullen back into his trousers, hyper-aware of his gaze on her.

"You seem awfully at ease with doing that," Cullen remarked in a low rumble.

Ash's hands stilled, her heart constricting painfully in her chest. Of course. Her reputation preceded her, as always. The flirtatious mage, quick with a joke and quicker to bed - it didn’t matter that the latter was a fabrication if everyone else believed it to be true. She swallowed hard, forcing a brittle laugh.

"Oh? What is that supposed to mean?" she asked, aiming for a light, teasing tone but coming out strained, almost defensive instead.

She braced herself for the judgment, the subtle dig at her presumed promiscuity. After all, what else could he mean? Surely he was implying that she had experience on her knees in dark corners, servicing men like it was second nature. The thought stung more than she cared to admit.

But Cullen's next words caught her completely off guard.

"I meant that you seem perfectly comfortable with taking care of me…"

Ash's head snapped up, her eyebrows arched. There was no judgment in Cullen's gaze, no hint of accusation. All she saw was affection so sincere it made her Love flip in her chest. She rubbed her sternum in an attempt to settle the excited spirit.

She opened her mouth to respond, but the words faltered on her tongue. How could she possibly articulate every thought that rushed to the forefront of her mind? The gratitude for his assumption of innocence, the fear of the intimacy his words implied, the longing she refused to acknowledge?

She ducked her head, refocusing on the laces of his trousers. When she finished, she smoothed her hands over the fabric, unable to resist one last lingering touch.

"There," she said, aiming for nonchalance and missing by a mile. "All presentable again. Wouldn't want to scandalize the troops."

Cullen's hand came to rest on her shoulder, gentle but insistent. With a sigh, Ash allowed him to help her to her feet.

"Ashvalla," he began, "I-"

"Right. Well,” she interrupted, shrugging out from beneath his touch and backing towards the door. “This was fun. We should do it again sometime." She winced internally at how forced the words sounded.

But Cullen only smiled, too tired to fight her on this, the moment lost. “Perhaps in a less precarious location next time?”

She removed the plank from barring the door, grinning at him. She had just the spot in mind.

This was how she found herself a few days later - after she’d returned from a brief mission to the Hinterlands - with her back slammed against the cool stone wall of his office. It was her favourite spot to fuck him, if she were being honest, so many options and the privacy of lockable doors.

Cullen pressed against her, his golden eyes blazed with desire as he slanted his mouth against hers, their teeth clacking together with the messy kiss. She smirked against his lips, enjoying the way his body trembled with barely restrained need.

"My, my, Commander," she chuckled. "Eager, are we?"

Cullen growled low in his throat, hitching her legs around his waist, his hands gripping her ass to hold her aloft. "You've been teasing me from the second you returned," he said, nipping at her ear and making her cry out. "Prancing about in those robes, bending over at every opportunity…"

Ash let out a breathy laugh, arching into him as he ground his hips against hers. "Who, me? I would never."

Cullen's eyes narrowed, a smirk canting the corner of his lips. "Then why," his hand slid up her thigh, pushing the fabric of her robe aside, "are you not wearing any smalls?"

"Oops," she said with a wink. "You caught me."

Maintaining eye contact, she reached between them with one hand, her fingers working at the laces of his trousers. She pushed the fabric down, freeing his already hard length and shimmied her hips to line him up with her entrance.

He smelled of leather and sword oil and a hint of…elderflower? She’d smelled it on him before, had assumed it was his hair product, but she’d almost forgotten about it in recent weeks when he hadn’t used it. What had caused the switch up, she wondered. She hadn’t noticed a difference. 

All thoughts of his hair routine vanished under her gasp as he entered her in one swift thrust, her nails dug into his shoulders. By Mythal, he felt divine. Ash bit her lip, fighting back a moan as he set a punishing pace.

"Careful," she teased breathlessly. "Someone might hear us. What would the nobles say if they knew their pristine Commander was rutting against a wall like an animal?"

Cullen's rhythm faltered for a moment. "Maker's breath," he groaned, "do you ever stop talking?"

Ash grinned wickedly. "Make me."

With a growl, Cullen captured her lips again, muffling her cries as he drove into her relentlessly. His hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat. Ash whimpered as he sucked a mark into her skin, one that would surely show as proof of their illicit activities. But she didn’t care, all she wanted was him.

A well-aimed thrust had her seeing stars, and she bit down on his shoulder to muffle her cry. The taste of leather and sweat filled her mouth, and she revelled in it. This was what she craved - the intoxicating blend of pain and pleasure, the heady rush of endorphins that drowned out all other thoughts.

But even as her body sang with bliss, a traitorous part of her mind whispered that this wasn't enough. She wanted more than just physical release. The way Cullen looked at her, touched her with such reverence and need, made her ache for something she didn't dare name.

Ash shoved the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the joining of their bodies and the obscene wet sounds as he fucked her. Cullen's breath came in ragged pants against her neck, his fingers digging into her thighs hard enough to bruise. And as he spilled himself inside her, hoarsely shouting her name, she hoped they would last long enough until he could mark her again.

Another mission, this one longer and more gruelling than the last. The bruises had faded, but the ghost of them remained - a slight green tinge to her skin.

Ash stumbled into Skyhold, her legs leaden and her mind foggy with exhaustion. The mission to Crestwood had been brutal - endless rain, a fucking dragon they had steered clear of even as Bull protested, and far too many encounters with the local wildlife. She longed for a hot bath and a warm bed, but once she’d parted from her companions, her feet carried her towards Cullen's office as if drawn by an invisible thread.

The keep was quiet, most of its inhabitants long since retired for the night. Ash's footsteps echoed off the battlements as she climbed the stairs to Cullen's tower. Her heart quickened with each step, anticipation coiling low in her belly. She needed this - needed him - to drive away the lingering chill of the coast and the haunting memories of what she'd seen there.

As she approached his door, however, a faint sound gave her pause. It was muffled, barely audible, but unmistakable - the wet, choking sound of someone retching. Ash's blood ran cold. She opened the door without knocking, her eyes scanning the dimly lit room.

The putrid stench of sickness overtook her nostrils and she swallowed a gag. There, hunched over a bucket in the corner, was Cullen. His broad shoulders heaved as another wave of nausea wracked his body. Sweat plastered his curls to his forehead, and even in the low light, Ash could see how pale and clammy his skin was.

"Cullen," she breathed, rushing to his side. Her hand hovered uncertainly over his back, unsure if her touch would be welcome. He’d removed his mantle, presumably too warm, now lying draped over his office chair and…Sweetpea had curled up on top. Ash ignored her cat for the time being.

He flinched at the sound of her voice, turning his head just enough to meet her gaze. The usual warmth in his eyes was dulled by pain and exhaustion. "Ashvalla," he croaked. "You shouldn't…I'm in no state for—" He broke off, unable to finish the thought as another wave of nausea hit him and he dry-heaved over the bucket.

Was that really what he thought of her? That she'd come here solely for a quick tumble and would turn tail at the first sign of his discomfort? She’d avoided everything but sex with him as she fled from her feelings, it was a natural conclusion for him to take. The realization stung, but she pushed the hurt aside. This wasn't about her.

"Nonsense," she said firmly, kneeling beside him. "I'm not going anywhere."

Cullen shook his head weakly, still hunched over the bucket. "I'm of no use to you like this," he grumbled bitterly. “Or anyone else for that matter.”

The words were harsh, lacking the usual gentleness he took with her, but Ash could hear the self-loathing beneath them.

She gently placed a hand on his back, feeling the tremors that wracked his body. This had to be the worst she’d ever seen him. How often had he suffered through this alone? Had she ignored the signs before she left, or had it come on in her absence?

"Cullen," she said softly, "I'm here for you, not for…that. Let me help you to bed, alright?"

He tensed under her touch, but after a long few seconds, gave a small nod. With painstaking care, Ash helped him to his feet. Cullen swayed dangerously and she slipped an arm around his waist to steady him. Despite his weakened state, he was still solid muscle, and Ash staggered slightly under his weight as she guided him towards the ladder leading to his loft.

"Think you can manage the climb?" she asked.

Cullen nodded grimly and Ash hovered close as he ascended, ready to catch him if he faltered. But in spite of his unsteady limbs, he made it to the top without incident. She was intensely relieved, she was sure he would have squashed her had he fallen - she was a mage, not a warrior, she had little muscle to speak of.

Hurrying, Ash grabbed the bucket, ducking out into the chilly night to throw the contents over the side of the battlements before she scrambled up to his room. Sweetpea made no move to follow, content to hoard the fluffy mantle all to herself.

The loft was sparsely furnished, dominated by a large bed that looked as if it hadn't been slept in for days. Cullen had sat himself on the edge of the mattress and Ash joined him, her hands gentle as she began to remove his armour. He made a weak sound of protest, but she shushed him.

“Sleeping in your armour won’t help.” She worked at the straps and buckles with proficiency. She couldn’t recall when she’d gotten so used to removing it.

As the last piece of armour fell away, Cullen's face suddenly paled - if it was even possible for him to get paler - a thin sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead. Ash recognized the signs immediately and grabbed the bucket, thrusting it into his lap just in time. He retched violently, his entire body shaking with the force of it. Ash winced at the awful sound, her heart aching for him.

She rubbed soothing circles on his back as he heaved, though she could do little else to help.

When the wave of nausea finally passed, Cullen slumped back, utterly spent. Ash took the bucket from his trembling hands, setting it aside to deal with later - or to grab quickly in case it was needed again. She eased him back onto the pillows, pulling the blankets up to his chest.

"This feels familiar." Cullen closed his eyes as Ash's magically cooled fingers swept across his fevered brow and brushed away the curls plastered to his forehead.

"I guess it does," she said softly, remembering that day many weeks ago when she'd forced him into bed after a particularly brutal headache. "Though you're much worse off this time, I'm afraid."

Cullen's eyes cracked open, meeting hers with a pained, haunted look. "It's been getting worse," he admitted blearily.

Ash's hand stilled on his forehead. "Why didn't you say anything?" she asked, careful to keep her voice steady. "How long has this been going on?"

He turned his face away, shame lingering in the tense set of his jaw.

Ash sighed, her fingers resuming their gentle strokes through his sweat-dampened curls. "How long, Cullen?"

He swallowed hard, still avoiding her gaze. "A few days before you left for Crestwood.” When he’d fucked her against the wall. He had seemed a bit more irritable, but she hadn’t inquired. She would have before…all this. “I've been busy, there's so much to do, I couldn't afford to—"

"To take care of yourself?" Ash finished, unable to keep her frustration to herself. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to soften. "Cullen, please. Promise me you'll see a healer tomorrow."

A muscle ticked over his jaw, a flicker of stubbornness crossing his features. "I don't need-"

"Please," Ash repeated, more forcefully this time. "For me."

He studied her face intently, his eyes tracing over every line. Whatever he found there seemed to satisfy him and he gave a small nod, a gesture of quiet approval.

"Alright," he conceded. "I'll see the healer in the morning."

Relief washed over Ash, and she rewarded him with an affectionate smile. "Thank you."

She stood, stretching her stiff muscles. "Now, let's get you settled for the night. Where do you keep your spare blankets? I haven’t bathed since we returned and I’m filthier than I look."

Cullen frowned, confusion in the glazed-over look in his eyes. "You don't have to stay. The nightmares, they're worse when I'm ill. I wouldn't want to disturb you. That first night we…I was doing well then."

Ash froze, her stomach flopping uncomfortably, acid sloshing at the sides. "Do you really think I'd leave you to suffer through them alone?"

Cullen hesitated, and that moment of uncertainty cut deeper than any blade. But then he shook his head. "No," he admitted. "I suppose you wouldn't."

She stood there for a minute too long, conflicting emotions stirring within her. Part of her wanted to flee, to retreat behind the walls she'd so carefully constructed. But a larger part, the part that ached at the sight of Cullen's suffering, refused to budge.

“That settles it then.” She began to undress. Her fingers fumbled with the clasps of her robes, still stiff from days of travel and caked-on mud.

Finally, clad only in her smalls, she slipped into the bed beside Cullen. The mattress dipped beneath her weight, and he instinctively shifted closer, seeking her warmth. Ash opened her arms, and he tucked himself against her, his face coming to rest against her chest.

She could feel the heat of his fever through the thin fabric of her breast band, could hear the slight wheeze in his breathing. Her fingers found their way back into his hair, gently massaging his scalp in soothing circles.

Cullen let out a contented sigh, his body relaxing incrementally against hers. His stubble scratched lightly against her skin as he nuzzled closer, reminding her of a mabari seeking comfort from a friendly hand. The thought brought a small smile to her lips.

"This is nice.” His words slurred slightly with exhaustion.

Ash hummed in agreement, her free hand tracing idle patterns on his back. She could feel the raised scars there, remnants of battles long past. Each one told a story, she knew, though she'd never asked for details. Perhaps someday she would.

As Cullen's breathing began to even out, Ash found herself studying the planes of his face in the dim moonlight filtering through the hole in his roof. Even haggard with illness, he was breathtakingly handsome. Her eyes traced the strong line of his jaw, the scar that bisected his upper lip, the furrow between his brows that never quite smoothed out, even in sleep.

"Someday," Cullen mumbled, startling her from her reverie, "I'd like to take care of you, too."

The words, spoken with such earnest sincerity, lodged themselves in Ash's throat. She swallowed hard, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. How long had it been since someone had offered to take care of her? Since she'd allowed anyone close enough to try?

"You already do," she whispered back, the words escaping before she could stop them.

But Cullen was already asleep, his breath warm and steady against her skin. Ash pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of his head, and within minutes she had joined him in rest.

He hadn’t been lying about the nightmares.

Ash jolted awake to the sound of Cullen's anguished cry. His body thrashed beside her, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets. In the pale moonlight, she could see his eyes darting wildly beneath closed lids, fighting unseen horrors.

"No…please, don't…" he whimpered, raw and broken.

Ash reached out, unsure what to do other than gently shake his shoulder. "Cullen?” No response. “Cullen, wake up."

His eyes flew open, wild and unfocused. For a terrifying moment, he didn't seem to recognize her, but just as suddenly awareness flooded back, and he sagged against her with a shuddering gasp.

"Ash," he breathed her name like it was the answer to all his worldly concerns, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's okay," she soothed, her hand cupping the back of his head. "You have nothing to apologize for."

She held him close, whispering soft reassurances as his breathing slowly evened out. The heat of his fever still radiated through his thin shirt, and she could feel his heart hammering against her chest.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Cullen tensed, then shook his head. "No, I…it's always the same. Kinloch Hold, demons, blood magic. It never ends."

He’d told her the broad strokes of what had happened to him there, but not the details. Still, it wasn’t difficult to imagine how such a harrowing experience at a young age would cling to him. She pressed a kiss to his temple, tasting salt on her lips.

"You're safe now," she said. "I've got you."

Gradually, Cullen's trembling subsided. His breathing deepened, and Ash thought he'd drifted off again. But just as she was about to close her eyes, he stirred.

"Thank you.” He yawned. “For staying."

Ash's throat tightened. She wanted to tell him that of course she'd stay, that she'd always be there for him. But the words stuck in her throat, too raw for her to voice - and false, given her penchant for vanishing every time she’d slept with him over the past weeks. Instead, she simply held him tighter and pressed another kiss to his brow.

The night wore on, a cycle of fitful sleep and violent awakenings. Each time Cullen cried out, Ash was there, ready with soothing words and gentle touches. She hummed softly, old Dalish lullabies her mother used to croon. Her tune left much to be desired - she’d never been one to carry a melody - but Cullen didn’t seem to mind.

As the first hints of dawn began to creep through the hole in the roof, Cullen's fever finally broke. His skin cooled beneath Ash's touch, and his breathing grew deeper, more restful. She breathed a sigh of relief, exhaustion settling deep in her bones.

For a moment, she simply lay there, savouring the feel of his body pressed against hers. But as the fog of sleep cleared, reality came crashing down. What was she doing? This wasn't part of their arrangement - could she even call it that if she hadn’t given them a chance to agree on anything? Spending the night, holding him through his nightmares, humming lullabies - it was far too intimate, too close to the very thing she'd been frantically avoiding. But fuck if she didn’t crave it with a blistering wretchedness that peeled off layer after layer of her skin, exposing the heart that beat only for him.

Guilt churned in her stomach, twisting like a knife. She'd let her guard down, allowed herself to care too much. It was dangerous, for both of them. She couldn't be what he needed, couldn't give him the stability and commitment he deserved. Better to leave now, before he woke and saw the vulnerability in her eyes.

Ash extricated herself from Cullen's embrace. He stirred slightly, a small frown creasing his brow, but didn't wake.

As she dressed, her eyes fell on the bucket she'd used to catch his sickness the night before. The acrid smell still lingered, and she wrinkled her nose. She couldn't leave him to wake up to that.

Quietly, she climbed down the ladder and slipped out onto the battlements, Sweetpea following her out and heading off to hunt for her breakfast. Ash dumped the contents of the bucket over the side of the wall, watching as it splattered on the rocks far below and joined the remnants that she’d thrown over last night.

As she turned to head back inside and return the bucket, a thought struck her. She couldn't stay, but she could at least do something to help him feel better. Decision made, she hurried towards the kitchens, bucket in hand - the least she could do was rinse it on her way.

A few early risers nodded to her in greeting, but most were too bleary-eyed to notice her dishevelled state. In the kitchens, the cooks directed her toward a kettle and she set about brewing a strong willow bark tea. She'd gathered the bark herself in Crestwood, pocketing it when she’d remembered Keeper Deshanna informing her of its ability to help with headaches.

As the tea steeped, filling the air with its sharp, medicinal scent, Ash fidgeted. The kitchen bustled around her, the early morning staff preparing for the day ahead. She felt out of place among the efficient movements and clinking dishware, acutely aware of her rumpled appearance and the dark circles under her eyes.

One of the older cooks, a matronly woman with greying hair and laugh lines etched deep around her eyes, approached Ash with a knowing smile. "Long night, dear?" she asked, free of judgment.

Ash’s cheeks flushed. "I…yes. Something like that."

The cook nodded sagely, her eyes twinkling with understanding. She turned to a nearby counter and began wrapping something in a clean cloth. When she returned, she pressed a small bundle into Ash's hands.

"Fresh scones," she explained. "Still warm from the oven. They'll do wonders for settling an upset stomach."

Ash blinked, surprised by the kind gesture. "Oh, I couldn't possibly—"

But the cook waved away her protests. "Nonsense. You take these up to that Commander of yours. Maker knows the man works himself too hard."

Heat bloomed across Ash's face, spreading down her neck. Was she really so transparent? She opened her mouth to deny it, to explain that it wasn't like that between them, she couldn’t bring herself to. The cook wouldn’t believe her anyway. Instead, she mumbled a bashful thanks.

As she gathered the tea and scones, she glanced around the kitchen, catching several of the staff exchanging knowing looks and poorly concealed smiles. Mortified, she ducked her head and hurried out, their quiet chuckles following her into the hall.

The trek back to Cullen's tower seemed longer than before. She shouldn't go back. She should leave the tea and scones with one of the guards, ask them to deliver it. But her feet carried her forward, drawn by that damned invisible thread she couldn't seem to break.

When she reached his office, Ash paused, listening intently. No sounds came from above - Cullen must still be asleep. Good. She could leave everything and slip away before he woke.

Carefully balancing her tray, she climbed the ladder to his loft and resisted the urge to gaze endlessly at his peaceful, gorgeous face as he slumbered. When had she become so mushy?

She set the tea and scones on his bedside table, arranging them neatly.

Ash fumbled in her pockets for a scrap of parchment and a stub of charcoal left over from her journey and she scrawled a hasty note: "Eat this or else," followed by a crude sketch of herself scowling. The drawing was terrible, all lopsided features and angry eyebrows, but it made her hold back a chuckle despite herself.

She propped the note against the steaming mug of tea, hoping the silly threat and awful artwork would coax a smile from Cullen when he woke. Her eyes lingered on his sleeping form, taking in the way the early morning light softened his features.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Ash leaned down and pressed a feather-light kiss to his stubbled cheek. His skin was warm beneath her lips, but not hot, no longer burning with fever.

For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to wake up beside him every morning. To greet the day with lazy kisses and shared laughter. To have a place in his heart as surely as he did in hers.

But the fantasy shattered as quickly as it had formed. This wasn't her life. It couldn't be. She was a possessed, Dalish mage, and he was an ex-Templar and current Commander of her sister’s armies. They could never have anything more than what they did.

She left before the tears could form.

Next Chapter

A/N: Sweet and tender moments in my smut? Always.

This chapter's title was the first one I ever came up with and I was particularly proud of it :)

If you'd like to see the art that goes along with this chapter, you can find it here (warning: it is NSFW)

I hope you're enjoying it so far <3 I'd love to hear what you think!

[tired-truffle]

Something’s Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 6.8k

Part 25 - Morning Departures

Tag list: @bloodoflathander

Warning: NSFW begins at "I don't regret a single second." and ends at the second break.

Masterlist

Dorian had been shooting her smug looks all morning as she adjusted and readjusted herself atop her horse. The soreness between her legs had been a pleasant reminder at first, but once they’d gotten on the road it had been nothing more than a nuisance and she cursed Cullen’s name. 

“Someone had a fun night,” Dorian said when he could no longer hold himself back. Sera and Rae rode behind them, their giggling chatter skittering through the trees lining the path. 

Ash lifted her nose in the air, holding back a wince. “I don’t know what you’re on about.”

His grin turned impish and his eyes sparkled with delight, making her feel like a bird with its tailfeathers caught in a cat’s claw. “The mark beneath your ear says otherwise.” 

“Fenedhis!” she hissed, slapping a hand over her neck like it could erase his memory. She’d thought her high-necked robe had covered the multitude of marks Cullen had left behind - her breasts hadn’t escaped the imprint of his mouth and teeth either. Seemingly, she’d been mistaken. 

Dorian laughed, his horse whinnying in response. “Do not fret, my friend, there is no mark, but thank you for confirming it for me.”

“Confirming what?” The giggles had quieted, but Ash hadn’t noticed, and Sera and Rae had taken advantage. 

Baring her teeth in a growl aimed at no one in particular, her ears tilted down, she gripped tightly to her reigns - cornered as her companions shuffled closer with gleaming interest. 

Dorian waved her off with a huff. “Don’t be like that. I’m happy for you, we all are. It’s about time you ended all that fiery tension. Maybe now he’ll focus on our chess games again.” 

Her lips twisted into a scowl. It wasn’t like her to get so defensive, nor did she truly understand why. It was just sex, nothing to be emotional about. 

“Cully-wully finally got you over him,” Sera paused, thinking harder than was necessary, “or under him. Beside him?”

Ash was not going to answer that. 

“How do you know it was him?” 

The unimpressed look Dorian gave her and Rae’s scoff said all she needed to hear. With an exasperated sigh, she released her irritation. Maybe a small part of her had wanted it to remain secret for just a bit longer and maybe she didn’t trust Dorian not to confront her about her feelings.

“Fine,” she conceded, looking over her shoulder to scowl at Rae’s resounding grin, “you win. What’s your prize?”

Dorian placed the tips of his fingers on his chest. “As I was the one to first uncover the truth I am requesting the salacious details. Did he sweep you off your feet and bed you properly or did he succumb to the burning passion and take you on his desk?”

“The Commander is a private man,” she tossed her hair over her shoulder, “he would not approve of me divulging intimate information.” 

At Dorian’s exaggerated pout, Ash grinned. “But,” she said and watched with immense satisfaction as his eyes lit up, “I will tell you this one thing: Sera’s intel was correct.”

Rae made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat and Sera barked a giddy laugh, slapping her thighs as her horse whinnied its irritation. “I knew it!” she exclaimed. “He’s hiding something big beneath all that armour.” 

Dorian’s face scrunched up in confusion, glancing at the elves behind him for any hints. With a roll of her eyes, she chopped her hand on her inner thigh midway down. The gears turned in his head, and when they finally clicked into place, his mustache twitched with barely contained glee. "Oh my! Our dear Commander is truly blessed, isn't he? No wonder you're having trouble sitting comfortably."

Ash’s cheeks burned, and she spurred her horse onward, eager to put some distance between herself and her nosy companions.

"Come now, don't run away!" Dorian called after her, urging his own mount to catch up. "We have so many more questions!"

Questions she had no intention of answering. Let them squirm for a little longer, it's what they deserved after all their poking and prodding.

Ash hated the Storm Coast. She hated the constant rain that soaked through her tent, the hills that made her lose her breath as they traversed the landscape, and the red Templars swarming in their cave like ants in the dirt. 

Disgusting didn’t begin to cover how she felt. Hair plastered to her skull from the rain that had followed them home, sweat caked to her skin, and blood beneath her fingernails, all she really wanted was a bath. And Sweetpea. 

She refused to acknowledge the burning in her chest signalling Love’s disapproval of her ignoring what else she craved. Sword-roughened hands gripping her hips, lips caressing her neck, weakening her knees. 

Rae had to attend to her advisors and provide a debrief before she could wash the stench of travel from her body. Unfortunate for her, but a great boon for Ash who could steal into her sister’s bath while she was preoccupied. 

When her fingers started to prune, Ash hauled herself out of the tub, warm and smelling of lilacs, hair wonderfully clean of oil and grime. Sweetpea hadn’t been waiting for her in her room as she’d hoped, nor was she attempting to poach meat from anyone’s plate in the dining hall when Ash arrived. Strange, but not unheard of. Perhaps she’d found refuge with Cole in the Herald’s rest, or was hunting mice in the hay of the horse’s stables. 

“Looking for your paramour?” Dorian asked as she sat beside him. 

She didn’t take his bait. “I haven’t seen Pea around, have you?” 

Dorian shook his head. “I have not, but I’ll be sure to lure her your way should I spot her.” 

By the time she made it to her room, night had descended and the rain had become a light pitter patter. Exhausted from their journey, she changed into a spare nightgown that Rae had lent her, eyeing the ruined one on her dresser - another thing she hated about the Storm Coast, she’d love that nightgown. While Rae and Ash may have similar faces, their sizes differed drastically. Rae’s nightgown was much too short and thin, barely reaching Ash’s mid thighs and tight around her torso - she was surprised that she could get it over her head at all, but then again Rae had always preferred loose clothes.

The hole in her door that was made for Sweetpea’s ease of access remained unused as she readied herself for bed. Most likely the rain was keeping her away, but after a week apart, she missed the little creature. 

Sweetpea had taken some odd hiding spots over the years; once Ash had found her asleep with her upper half in an old boot, her butt sticking out and legs splayed on the floor. 

Getting on her hands and knees - though doubtful that she would be there and not have come out already - Ash leaned down, squinted into the darkness below her bed. As her eyes adjusted, a knock sounded at her door. 

“Come in!” Ash called without thinking, distracted by her search. 

The door creaked open, heavy boots halting in the doorway. “Sweet Maker! Ashvalla, what are you doing?” 

Ash popped up upon hearing Cullen’s exclamation, turning to glance over her shoulder. Blinking at him, she took in the blush on his cheeks as he tore his eyes off her raised backside, dressed in all his gear. 

“Looking for Sweetpea,” she pushed herself off the floor, brushing her hands against her stomach. “Have you seen her?”

Cullen’s gaze flickered over her body, his breath faltering as he took in the exposed flesh and the remnants of the marks he’d left during their…last encounter that still marred her neck and chest. They’d faded and some had disappeared, but the bruises were easily visible. 

He found great interest in her ceiling, his ears a light shade of pink. “I, uh, I believe she’s in my office, or at least she was the last time I was there.” 

Ash put her fists on her hips. “Missed me so much you had to kidnap my cat?” 

“No!” he protested too quickly, finally returning her gaze. “I would never—“

Ash strode towards him, her bare feet padding softly against the cold stone floor. “Relax, Commander, I’m not actually accusing you. Pea’s always been fond of you and I should have considered that possibility earlier.”

His shoulders lowered from around his ears, exhaling his tension. “It’s…been a long day.” 

Standing only a foot from him, she kept her hands at her sides, unwilling to be overly familiar and reach for his forehead without his permission. She’d done it before, but after sleeping with him and vanishing come morning, she wasn’t exactly sure where they stood. He’d left her door open, did he wish to get this over with quickly and make a break for it? “Headache?” 

“No,” he rested his hand on the pommel of his sword. “Just paperwork and nobles wasting my time. You’d think they’d have better things to do than enquire about my private affairs.” 

“I don’t know, I’m also pretty curious why you’re visiting the Herald’s sister so late at night.” 

Her comment seemed to catch him off guard, bringing another blush to his cheeks. While she’d enjoyed the side of Cullen that had pressed her up against his door and ravaged her, she was partial to his bashfulness. 

“Um, I, well,” he stammered as she leaned closer, her head tilted slightly to the side. “I wanted to see you. I mean, to ensure you were well after your mission is all. And to return these.”

Cullen reached into a pouch at his side and pulled out a small bundle of fabric. As he unfurled it, Ash's eyes widened in recognition. There, dangling from his gloved hand, were her smalls - the very ones she'd hastily discarded during their passionate encounter.

"Oh," she said stupidly, having forgotten entirely about them. "You found them."

Cullen cleared his throat, his free hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. "Yes, well, they were, ah…rather conspicuously in the ivy."

Ash bit her lip, fighting back a grin at the memory of how they'd ended up there. She reached out to take them, but hesitated, noticing how clean and neatly folded they were. "Did you…wash them?"

His blush deepened, spreading down his neck and disappearing beneath his armour. "They were somewhat soiled. And I felt partially responsible for their…state of disarray."

A laugh bubbled up in Ash's throat, but she swallowed it down, not wanting to embarrass him further. Instead, she gently plucked the garment from his fingers, letting her hand linger against his for a moment longer than necessary.

"How very chivalrous of you, Commander," she teased, pitching her voice low and husky. "I do hope you didn't task one of your soldiers with the laundry duty."

Cullen's eyes widened in horror. "Maker's breath, no! I would never…" He trailed off as Ash's lips curved into a mischievous smirk. "Ah. You're teasing me."

"Always," she winked, tossing the cleaned smalls onto her bed. "Though I must admit, I'm a bit disappointed you didn't keep them as a souvenir."

His blush deepened. "That would be highly inappropriate."

Before she could respond, a familiar meow echoed from the hallway. Sweetpea trotted in, damp from the rain but otherwise unharmed, rubbing against Cullen's legs before making a beeline for Ash.

"There's my girl," Ash cooed, scooping up the cat and nuzzling her face. "Did the big bad ex-Templar steal you away?"

"She followed me of her own accord," Cullen protested weakly.

Ash laughed, scratching behind Sweetpea’s ears before the feline began squirming. Ash put her down, and with a flick of her tail, she darted out into the misting rain once more, her greeting accomplished - there were mice to hunt.

Ash rocked back on her heels. “Our goals have been accomplished then,” she strode towards the door, holding it open. “Other than a few minor scratches and a ruined nightgown, I am otherwise unharmed and both Sweetpea and my panties have been returned to me.” When Cullen glanced between her and the exit with the reluctance of a puppy thrown from the house, she added, “Unless there’s something else you wanted.” 

His jaw clenched and he shifted uneasily as he debated what he wanted to say. The borrowed nightgown suddenly felt far too thin, the fabric clinging to her curves and leaving little to the imagination. Cullen's eyes darted down, taking in the sight of her, before snapping back up to her face. A blush coloured his cheeks, but he made no move to leave. 

Ash closed the door, the latch clicking with a finality that had excitement vibrating through her bones.

“You mentioned a ruined nightgown?”

An easy way to sour her mood. She marched over to her dresser, holding up the torn fabric with a pout. “My favourite one, or my only one, I guess. I’m borrowing Rae’s, if you couldn’t tell by the size.”

Cullen reached for the hem, frowning as he inspected it. “What happened?”

Ah, that question she’d been hoping to avoid. In all honesty, she was surprised that Rae hadn’t told him in her debrief, intent on furthering her embarrassment. Ash must be on her good side after having saved her from stepping in a deep puddle when she wasn’t looking. Rae would have been beside herself if she’d gone up to her knee in muddy water.

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” The twitching at the corners of his lips betrayed his lie, but refusing would ruin this game they were playing, and she was reticent to give it up. 

Exhaling deeply, she tossed the nightgown back onto her dresser. “We were ambushed by bandits while we slept.” He nodded, signalling he had already heard that part of the story. “I didn’t have time to put on armour or anything so I had to fight them in my nightgown, but I was disoriented from waking up, and I tripped into a very thorny bush. When I got up it ripped the ass out and the bandits got an eyeful before they died.”

Like the liar he was, he laughed. Ash narrowed her eyes, stomping back to him to poke him in the chest plate. “You promised you wouldn’t laugh.” Her fist placed on her hips did nothing to improve her lack of intimidation, her too-tight nightgown undercutting her menacing. 

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry,” he managed to hold back his laughter, though her attempt at intimidating him seemed to only make it harder. “I—forgive me.”

“Rae and Dorian will never let me live this down, I don’t need you on about it too.” And as revenge, she had the perfect idea. Turning to the side, she lifted the hem of the nightgown up her hip until most of her plump backside was visible, and like she’d been attacked by a rapid squirrel, cuts scattered across her cheek. “Look at what it did to me.”

His eyes dropped to the soft flesh, his fingers twitching at his sides and his pupils expanding. Throat bobbing, he couldn’t tear his gaze away. “That seems…rather uncomfortable.” 

“It’s not so bad.” Ash shrugged, they’d stopped stinging days ago and had only been a mild irritant since. Pulling the nightgown higher until her hip was exposed, she watched with immense satisfaction as his jaw slackened and he inhaled a sharp breath. “It goes well with the bruises, don’t you think?”

Five fingertip-shaped bruises discoloured her skin. If she were to pull up the other side of her nightgown, there would be a matching pair. 

He inched closer, gaze fixed on her hip as guilt and desire warred in his eyes. “Are…those from me?”

Reaching for his hand, she tugged his leather glove off, tossing it carelessly onto the dresser. Guiding him, she lined his fingers up with the bruises - a perfect match. Looking up at him through thick lashes, she said, “Looks like it.” 

“I didn’t realize…” Cullen quickly pulled his hand away as if she’d stuck it into a roaring fire. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t want to—“

Tugging the nightgown back down to cover herself, embarrassment hanging on a tentative precipice, she locked down her desire under a mask of nonchalance. “Didn’t want to fuck me or didn’t want to leave evidence behind?”

Cullen looked up sharply, her harsh words pulling him from her entrancing skin. “It’s not—I mean…” He pressed his lips into a thin line, breathing forcibly through his nose. “I know how I can get when I’m…That is to say, I shouldn’t have left any marks, not without asking at the very least.” 

It wasn’t exactly an expression of regret for sleeping with her, but her wariness was too difficult to shake. Slowly turning away from him, she took a few steps towards her dresser, her fingertips gliding over the smooth surface as if seeking comfort. Her gaze wandered down to her ruined nightgown, wrinkling her forehead in frustration as she tried to sort through the jumble of thoughts swirling in her mind. The silence was thick and heavy, punctuated only by the soft rustle of fabric as she fidgeted with the torn edges of her garment.

She wanted to fuck him again, but only if that’s what he wanted too. There was no room in her life for someone who was disgusted by how he wanted her - it had to be an enthusiastic willingness. She couldn’t bear to see any regret from him, and she hadn’t last time, but it could have been lost in the euphoria of after-sex bliss, clouding his thoughts and muddying his true feelings. 

She had to be certain, and beating around the bush would do them no favours. 

Keeping her back to him - unable to bring herself to face his potential rejection - she said, "I don't want you to regret anything, Cullen." His name again, not his title. Her fingers curled against the wood of the dresser. "If you'd rather pretend that night never happened, I understand. But I…" She swallowed hard. "I liked it. All of it. And I'd like to do it again, if you want to."

The silence stretched between them, taut as a drawn and quartered body. Ash's heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing in her ears. She fought the urge to fidget, to turn and gauge his reaction. Instead, she fixed her gaze on the torn nightgown, willing her mind to be blank - though it never shut up.

Then, she heard it - the soft clink of armour, the whisper of leather and fur. Cullen's warmth radiated against her back as he stepped closer, close enough that she could feel his breath stirring the wisps of hair at her nape. His hands came to rest on either side of hers, caging her in without touching.

Slowly, she turned her head, meeting his gaze over her shoulder. His amber eyes were dark, pupils dilated with desire, but there was a softness there too - a tenderness that made her breath catch.

"I don't regret a single second," Cullen said, his words deliberate and measured. "And I want—Maker's breath, I want you."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against the point of her ear as he spoke. "I want to hear you cry out my name. To feel you come apart around me."

Slickness gathered between her legs. She pressed back against him, feeling the solid planes of his armour-clad chest as she leaned her head to rest against his shoulder. "Then what are you waiting for, Commander?"

Cullen's arms encircled her waist, one hand splaying across her stomach while the other cupped her breast through the thin fabric of her nightgown. His teeth grazed the edge of Ash's ear and she gasped, her knees nearly buckling as pleasure radiated from the sensitive tip down to her toes. Her reaction seemed to surprise him, his arms tightening to keep her upright as she sagged against him.

"Are you alright?"

Ash nodded, not trusting her voice. Cullen's hand left her breast, trailing up to ghost along the pointed shell of her ear. She shivered, biting her lip to stifle a moan.

"I've never seen you react like that before," he said, curiosity colouring his tone. His fingers traced the delicate curve, eliciting another full-body shudder.

Finding her voice at last, Ash managed a breathy laugh. "Elvhen ears are very, ah, receptive to touch," she explained, her words punctuated by small gasps as Cullen continued his gentle exploration.

She felt a wicked grin spread across his face. "Is that so?" he purred, his voice dropping to a low rumble.

He captured the tip of her ear between his teeth, applying just enough pressure to have her crying out, her legs trembling, ready to give way entirely. Cullen's arm around her waist was the only thing keeping her upright as he alternated between gentle nibbles and soothing licks.

Her hands scrabbled for purchase on the smooth surface of the dresser, knocking over bottles and trinkets in her desperation. The nightgown that had seemed so revealing before now felt stifling.

Merciful enough to give her a brief reprieve, his lips moved lower, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of her neck. She sighed her relief, his stubble scraping against her skin as he worked his way down to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. When he bit down gently, then soothed the sting with his tongue, she whimpered with need, her chest heaving.

Cullen's hand kneaded her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple until it peaked beneath the fabric. His other hand slid lower, tracing patterns on her inner thigh just below the hem of her nightgown. Ash whined, frustrated by the teasing touches that weren't nearly enough.

She pressed her hips back, wiggling against the hardness she felt there. Cullen growled low in his throat, his hips jerking forward instinctively, grinding his arousal against the curve of her ass.

"Cullen," Ash panted, breathy and desperate. "Please."

His teeth grazed her earlobe as he whispered, "Please what, Ash? Tell me what you want."

She squirmed in his grasp, trying to guide his hand where she needed it most. "Touch me. I need you to touch me."

His fingers inched higher, trailing along the delicate skin of her inner thigh. "Here?"

"Higher." She arched her back to press more firmly against him.

Cullen, ever eager to please, finally brushed his fingers against her core through her smalls. They both groaned at the contact, Ash from the thrill it sent shooting into her stomach, and Cullen at finding her already so wet for him.

Ash ground her cunt into his hand, chasing more friction from his palm, panting when he pressed against her aching clit. Cullen's fingers slipped beneath the fabric of her smalls, and she moaned, loud and wanton, as he touched her properly. His calloused fingertips explored her slick folds with agonizing slowness, circling her clit without providing the direct pressure she craved. Ash whimpered, her hips rocking desperately.

Coherent thought escaped her as he brushed over her swollen clit. A keening moan tore from her throat, her head falling back against his shoulder, looking up at the ceiling with glassy eyes.

Cullen tugged at the thin straps of her nightgown, sliding them off her shoulders. The fabric stuck around her waist - it was a miracle she’d been able to get into it at all - exposing her breasts. His warm palm cupped one breast, kneading gently before rolling her nipple between his fingers. Ash bit her lip, holding back a moan - though at that point, she wasn’t sure what good that would do.

Cullen's hand left her breast, trailing up her neck to cup her jaw. He gently tilted her head, angling her face towards his.

"Don't hold back, I want to hear you."

Before she could respond, he captured her mouth in a searing kiss. The angle was awkward, her neck craned back, but Ash didn't care. She melted into him, parting her lips to allow his tongue entry. He tasted of mint and floral tea, and she drank him in greedily.

As they kissed, his fingers resumed their teasing circles around her clit. Ash moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled. Cullen smiled against her lips, pleased by her responsiveness.

Ash felt utterly exposed, her nightgown bunched around her waist, breasts bare. Cullen loomed behind her, still fully dressed beside the mantle he’d removed. The sword at his hip pressed against her, yet despite her vulnerability, Ash had never felt safer. Cullen's arms around her were a fortress, his body a shield. She trusted him more than she had any other man, a realization that thrilled and terrified her in equal measure. This was more than just physical pleasure - it was a surrender of sorts, letting someone past some of her carefully constructed walls. But only some, there were many she refused to allow him passage through.

As Cullen's fingers found a rhythm that had her toes curling against the cold stone floor, Ash felt her release building within her. It was like a spring coiling tighter and tighter, a dam straining against the pressure of a raging river. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, each exhale carrying a whimper or moan and Cullen moved back to kiss her throat, allowing her sounds to carry across the room.

The pressure built until Ash thought she might shatter from the intensity of it. She was a string pulled taut, vibrating with tension, ready to snap.

Then Cullen's teeth grazed her ear and she was falling, flying, shattering into stardust. Her body sang, every nerve alight with bliss. She floated among the clouds until gradually, awareness seeped back in. The steady thump of Cullen's heart against her back. The graze of his stubble on her shoulder. His fingers, still moving lazily between her thighs, drawing out the last tremors of her release.

When she whimpered from oversensitivity, he withdrew his hand, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

Ash sagged against him. If not for his arm around her waist, she surely would have crumpled to the floor - for the second time that night. But it wasn't enough. The ache between her thighs only intensified, leaving her desperate for more. She pressed back against him, feeling his hardness through his breeches.

"Fuck me," she begged. "Please, Cullen. I need you inside me."

Cullen tensed behind her, his breath faltering. For a moment, Ash feared he might refuse, might step away and leave her aching and empty. But then she heard the rustle of fabric, felt him shifting. The clink of his belt, the sounds of laces being undone. Her heart raced, anticipation coiling tight in her belly.

His hand on her back gently urged her forward, and Ash bent over the dresser. The polished wood was soothing against her fevered skin, her breasts pressed to the smooth surface. She gripped the far edge, bracing herself.

He nudged her legs further apart with his knee, and the blunt head of his cock pressed against her entrance. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to push back and take him all at once.

He entered her, stretching and filling her inch by inch. Ash's mouth fell open on a silent moan, her eyes fluttering closed as she savoured the exquisite burn. When he was fully seated within her, he paused, panting, giving her time to adjust to his size.

She relished the feeling of fullness, of completeness. But it still wasn't enough. She needed more, needed him to move.

She rocked her hips experimentally, and he gasped at the slide of her slick walls around him. Encouraged, Ash began to move in earnest, fucking herself on his cock with increasing urgency. The wet sounds of their joining filled the room, lewd and intoxicating.

Cullen's hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements but letting her set the pace. His thumbs pressed into the fading bruises there, and she wished he’d hold harder - renew the marks he’d left.

Lifting her right leg, she planted the inside of her knee on the dresser. The change in angle had them both crying out as Cullen slid deeper.

It was too much for Cullen's restraint. With a growl, he snapped his hips forward, driving into her - his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave fresh bruises, just like she’d wanted.

Cullen's hand snaked around her waist, his fingers finding her sensitive clit. Ash gasped, her body already wound tight from her climax. His fingertips circled her clit, pleasure tingling through her limbs, bordering on too much, but the feel of his cock thrusting inside her grounded her.

"Cullen," she whined, nails digging into the wooden dresser.

He leaned forward, his chest plate cool against her back. "Let go, Ash. I've got you."

The coil of tension in her belly snapped without warning. Ash moaned, her inner walls clenching around Cullen's length as waves of pleasure rippled up from her cunt. Her vision blurred, spots dancing behind her eyelids as she rode out her release.

Cullen slowed his movements, but didn't stop entirely. As the aftershocks faded, Ash became acutely aware of the stretch of him inside her, the press of the dresser's edge against her hips, his fingers still circling her overworked clit.

She squirmed, whimpering as the pleasure edged into discomfort. "Too much," she gasped.

Immediately, Cullen stilled his hand and carefully withdrew from her. Ash's legs shook, but the dresser beneath her torso held her steady.

When she was able to support her weight, he pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder before stepping back. Ash turned, leaning against the dresser for support as she watched him begin to remove his armour. His movements were efficient, practiced, but there was an urgency to them that betrayed his arousal.

As each piece of armour fell away, more of Cullen's sculpted body was revealed. Ash's eyes roamed hungrily over his broad chest, tracing the scars that marked his skin. When he was finally bare before her, her gaze dropped lower, lingering on his still-hard length.

Cullen's cheeks flushed under her scrutiny, but there was heat in his eyes as he closed the distance between them. He cupped her face in his hands, kissing her deeply as he guided her backwards towards the bed.

Ash's legs hit the edge of the mattress and she allowed herself to fall back, pulling Cullen down with her. He braced himself above her, careful not to crush her with his weight. His cock pressed insistently against her thigh.

Feeling a renewed spark of arousal, Ash reached between them, wrapping her fingers around his length. Cullen groaned, his hips bucking as she began to stroke him languidly.

Ash's cunt ached, her clit throbbing with a sensitivity that bordered on pain. Yet as Cullen hovered above her, his amber eyes dark with desire, she felt a sudden surge of energy course through her veins. Love's presence pulsed within her, stoking the embers of her arousal into a roaring flame.

Despite her exhaustion, her body craved more. She needed to feel Cullen inside her again, to be filled and stretched to her limits. With trembling fingers, she guided his length to where she burned for him.

Cullen hesitated, his brow furrowing with concern. "Are you sure?" he asked. "We don't have to—"

"Yes," Ash breathed, cutting him off. She arched her back, pressing herself more firmly against him. A wicked grin curved her lips as she leaned up to whisper in his ear. "I want you to fuck me until I forget my own name, Commander."

Always happy to serve, his control snapped like an overstretched bowstring. He surged forward, sheathing himself inside her in one smooth thrust. Her body stretched to accommodate him, but it was easier this time, having already loosened herself with two climaxes and a quick fuck. The initial discomfort quickly gave way to pleasure as he set a relentless pace that had the headboard slamming against the wall.

Ash wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into the small of his back to urge him deeper. Her fingernails raked down his spine and Cullen hissed at the sting, retaliating by capturing one of her sensitive ears between his teeth.

Skin slapped against skin, breathless moans, and half-formed pleas. She was burning from the inside out and still, she moved closer to the flames. She was distantly aware that she was babbling, a stream of elvhen and common spilling from her lips as she begged him to fuck her harder, deeper, faster.

Cullen's rhythm faltered, his thrusts becoming erratic as he neared his own finish. He slipped a hand between their bodies, his fingers finding her clit - it was too much for Ash's overstimulated body. She came with a keening cry, clenching around Cullen's cock. He buried himself to the hilt with a guttural groan, the hot pulse of his spend spilling inside her, prolonging her orgasm as aftershocks rippled through her body.

They collapsed together in a tangle of sweaty limbs, panting heavily. Ash’s mind had gone wonderfully blank, all her swirling, nagging thoughts shut out beneath her bliss. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so at peace, and while she should find that at least mildly concerning, she could only wonder when it would happen next.

As their breathing slowed, Cullen gently withdrew from her sated body. He rolled onto his side, pulling her into his arms. She didn't protest, nestling into him and pressing her face into the crook of his shoulder. She closed her eyes, weariness tugging at her tired limbs.

For just a moment, Ash allowed herself to pretend this was more than just sex. She imagined waking up to Cullen's sleepy smile every morning, sharing quiet moments between their duties, stolen kisses in shadowy corners of the keep. The fantasy was so vivid she could almost taste it - sweet as honey on her tongue, warm as sunlight on her skin.

But fantasies were dangerous, especially for someone like her. Ash knew better than to let herself hope for more. Still, as sleep overtook her, she couldn't quite banish the tender ache in her chest.

Cullen woke to sunlight streaming through the windows and an empty spot on the bed beside him. He blinked, disoriented for a moment before memories of the night before came flooding back. The passion, the tenderness, her warmth cradled in his arms.

He sat up, scanning the room for any signs of her. Her clothes were gone, the floor swept clean of any evidence of their encounter - his items arranged neatly on the dresser. If not for the lingering scent of her on the pillows and being in her bed, Cullen might have thought it all a vivid dream.

Discomfort settled in his chest as he realized she had slipped away while he slept. Again. Just like last time. Cullen ran a hand through his tousled curls, frustration warring with disappointment.

Was he doing something wrong? Had he misread the situation entirely?

He couldn't afford to dwell on it, not when he had duties to attend to. He began to don his armour, piece by piece, the familiar routine offering a sliver of calm.

As he fastened the last buckle, a soft meow drew his attention. Sweetpea had slipped in through the cat hole, her ringed tail held high as she trotted over to him. She wound herself around his ankles, purring loudly.

"At least someone's happy to see me." Cullen bent down to scratch behind her ears.

Sweetpea meowed again, butting her head against his hand.

"I don't suppose you know where your mistress has run off to?"

The cat blinked up at him, uncomprehending. Cullen shook his head, feeling foolish for talking to a cat. Not that it was the first time he’d done so, especially this past week. Should he tell Ashvalla that he’d set up a small bed of blankets for Sweetpea in his office, or would she just tease him mercilessly for it? Pathetically, he wished for the latter, if only to receive more of the attention he coveted. He gave Sweetpea one final pat before straightening up.

"Right. Well, I should be going."

He paused at the door, glancing back at the rumpled bed. For a moment, he considered straightening the sheets, erasing all evidence of his presence. But something stopped him. Let Ashvalla return to find the lingering proof of their night together. Let her remember what she'd walked away from.

With that thought, Cullen squared his shoulders and strode out of her room. He had work to do, after all. The Inquisition wouldn't run itself.

Ash flopped onto Rae's bed, wincing as her sore muscles protested the movement.

"Long night?" Rae's voice dripped with sarcastic amusement.

Ash groaned, turning her head just enough to glare at her sister. Rae sat cross-legged on the floor, sorting through a pile of reports. Her hair was dishevelled, as if she'd been running her hands through it in frustration.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ash mumbled unconvincingly.

Rae snorted. "Please. I saw Cullen returning to his office this morning looking thoroughly ravished."

"He could have come from the training yards," she protested weakly.

"Training you to take his reportedly massive dick, maybe."

Ash grabbed a pillow and hurled it at Rae's head. Her sister dodged it easily, cackling.

"I hate you,” Ash grumbled.

"No, you don't. You love me."

"Debatable."

Ash flopped back down, her body still aching pleasantly from the night's thorough fucking. She allowed herself a small, secret smile. It really had been amazing. Cullen had been attentive, passionate, and eager to provide.

But then reality came crashing back. She'd left him sleeping, slipping away before dawn like a thief in the night. It was easier that way, wasn't it? No awkward morning-after conversations, no false promises or raised expectations. Still, the memory of his peaceful, sleeping face tugged at something in her chest. He’d looked so relaxed, his lips parted slightly as he breathed evenly, and she’d just…left him.

Ash sighed, pushing away her lingering guilt. She had more pressing matters to attend to. "So, what's got you scouring through missives before breakfast?"

Rae grimaced, holding up a crumpled letter. "News from our clan. Bandits near Wycome are harassing them. Keeper Deshanna is asking for our help."

Ash sat up. "Shit. How bad is it?"

"Bad enough that they're reaching out to us. You know how reluctant the Keeper is to involve outsiders in clan business."

Ash nodded, a knot forming in her stomach. Their clan had always been fiercely independent, preferring to solve their problems rather than risk entanglements with Shem politics. For Deshanna to ask for aid meant the situation was dire indeed.

"What are our options?" Ash asked, sliding off the bed to join her sister on the floor. She winced as her muscles twinged - maybe she should consider stretching beforehand.

Rae spread out three reports, each bearing the seal of one of her advisors. "Cullen suggests sending in troops to deal with the bandits directly. Leliana wants to send her skirmishers to take out the bandits while her agents gather more intelligence. And Josephine thinks we should appeal to the Duke of Wycome for assistance, since his forces are closer and could reach the clan faster."

Ash chewed her lip, considering each option. Cullen's plan was direct, but mobilizing their forces would take time. Leliana's was similar; it would take time to get her people there, though intelligence gathering was a plus. As for Josephine's suggestion…

"I think Josephine's got the right idea," Ash said. "The Duke of Wycome is our best bet. His forces are already in the area, and it would be a good opportunity to build some goodwill with a local noble, right?"

Rae nodded slowly. "You don't think he'd use it as an excuse to move against the clan?"

Ash shook her head. "Not if it's framed right. We could present it as a chance for him to prove his commitment to maintaining order in his territory. Plus, saving an elvhen clan from bandits would make him look magnanimous."

"Look at you,” Rae elbowed Ash’s side, “thinking like a politician. Josephine would be proud."

Ash rolled her eyes, but couldn't help feeling a little pleased. "I've picked up a thing or two hanging around this place. But what do you think?"

Rae nodded, her lips set in a resolute line. "Yes, I think you're right. It's our best chance of getting help to the clan quickly."

Ash nodded, happy that Rae agreed with her assessment. "Good. The sooner we can get help to the clan, the better."

Next Chapter

A/N: When will Ash face her feelings for him? Will she manage to avoid it forever? Find out next as Ash continues to try to sleep her way out of a confession. 

Also I posted an Alistair x Cousland one shot (with some smut at the end) called Ball and Chain if y'all wanted to check it out while you wait for *checks notes* more Cullen and Ash smut hehe

[tired-truffle]

Ball and Chain

An AlistairxQueen Cousland fic

Word Count: 4.1k

One-Shot

Summary: In which Alistair makes a mean comment and has to beg for forgiveness.

A/N: Couldn't stop thinking of that egregious comment that King Alistair makes in DA 2 - yes, it's a product of the time, but to make Alistair hate his wife (or at least speak poorly of her)?? Not in my Dragon Age.

Warning: NSFW at the end.

Masterlist

“And how is the queen faring these days, Your Majesty? I recall you both being attached at the hip when you first took the throne.”

“As lively and perfectly regal as ever.” Alistair's voice echoed dully down the corridor, moments before he and his companion turned the corner of the long, dimly lit hall. “There's always some task she has waiting for me, or a dispute between two feuding lords that requires my mediation. A real ‘ball and chain’ as they say.” 

He disappeared from view and Elissa halted abruptly. He hadn’t seen her, but there wasn’t a world in which she didn’t hear those words leave his mouth. Her ladies-in-waiting were careful not to collide with her at the sudden cessation in their daily walk around the palace grounds. It was part of the numerous duties she had to perform to maintain appearances, smile and exchange pleasantries with both nobles and palace staff as she was escorted along.

Yet, this particular obligation was rather agreeable; it brought her through the airy courtyards and allowed her to roam the gardens for a breath of fresh air before diving back into the opulent but oppressive throne room or stuffiness of the royal offices. Some days, when she counted herself lucky, Alistair would accompany her. He had an uncanny knack for discovering fresh ways to make her laugh - five years into their marriage, and her love for him burned as intensely as it had the day he had bashfully presented her with a rose and called her beautiful. It seemed he didn’t feel the same. 

She hadn’t anticipated that asking him to entertain Bann Franderel from the West Hills would be such a burdensome task, but then perhaps she didn’t know her husband as well as she’d thought. As far as she’d been aware, he’d loved her equally. 

A ball and chain…was it rage or heartbreak that pricked at her eyes? Did it matter when it hurt all the same?

Sniffing indignantly, Elissa lifted her nose into the air, adopting a haughty stance that exuded defiance, glaring daggers at the empty space where Alistair had been moments ago, slandering her name.

“Slay an Archdemon and still men don’t respect you,” she said, her tone clipped. She glanced at her maid of honour, Eurydice, a kind girl who Elissa had taken an immediate liking to - it had nothing to do with her cropped red hair reminding Elissa of an old friend she missed dearly. “Let that be a lesson to you.”

Eurydice worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “Perhaps he didn’t mean it.” 

Elissa grimaced, stuffing all her hurt and fear deep into a box at the back of her mind. She was a queen, she did not have time for such petty squabbles, not which there was still daylight and work to be completed. “We’ll see.” 

A promise to herself that she intended to keep. 

Compartmentalize and ignore - skills that Elissa had meticulously honed over the years. Her parents had trained her in the ways of court life. Although they hadn’t anticipated nor lived long enough to witness her ascend to the throne as Queen, the lessons they imparted to her had proved invaluable more times than she could count. Oh, Maker, how she missed them. A deep ache settled in her chest as she longed to run to her mother's comforting embrace, to bury her face against her shoulder and let her mother's soothing voice wash away all her troubles. She wanted to cry to her mother about a boy, but she was no longer a girl, and her mother was no longer there, lost to the cruel hands of fate. It had been her mother's wish to leave this world alongside her father, yet Elissa wasn’t sure she’d ever truly recovered from the devastating loss of both her parents on that one horrific, blood-drenched night.

She loved her brother dearly, but Fergus could not replace their parents, no matter how hard he tried.

Running Rendon Howe through with her blade hadn’t done much to soothe her grief. Alistair had held her that night in the Arl’s estate, after they’d been rescued from Fort Drakon. She’d sobbed into his arms, great heaving cries that she was certain her companions could hear even through the thickness of the stone walls. He’d rubbed her back and kissed the crown of her head, silent and steady against the shattered stained glass of her sorrow. For once, his witty quips had been set aside, focused on being the rock she needed - until she’d regained herself and he’d kissed her tear-streaked cheeks, tasting the saltiness left behind by her tears and remarking on how similar she tasted to the finest roasted meats. 

A ball and chain…was she really such a burden? 

At the back of her mind, a sinister whisper began. She’d rather hear the Calling a hundred times over than listen to her guilt rear its ugly head. When faced with the choice of who to put on the throne - and distrusting Anora after her father’s betrayal - Elissa had pushed Alistair to become king regardless of his wishes otherwise. What if he’d finally come to his senses and resented her for it? How could she blame him when she had been wondering for years why he still cared for her as he did? Wouldn’t she hate him for trapping her in a life she never wanted? 

She couldn’t imagine ever hating him, not when he gave her that gorgeous lopsided grin or wrapped his strong arms around her to pull her into a bone-crushing hug. He was her Alistair, compassionate and brave, there wasn’t a world where he didn’t have her whole heart. A heart he may as well have thrown into the Archdemon’s gaping maw. 

Brushing away the wetness that had silently spilled onto her cheeks, she busied herself by preparing for bed. Soft shadows flickered on the walls, cast by the roaring fire in the hearth, the faint scent of lavender filled the air from the sachets tucked under the pillows. It had been quite the scandal when they’d refused to sleep in separate rooms. Now, their large four-poster bed, draped with heavy, velvet curtains, seemed to mock her. Would he have been happier with a lumpy bedroll in the Deep Roads for weeks on end? She knew the answer, it was the same as her own. She may have been raised for politics, but she’d always yearned for the visceral satisfaction of fighting with her fists rather than her words. 

Most would think her ridiculous - if not outright insane - for rebuking the lavish comforts that royal life offered. Yet, if it meant she sacrificing Alistair’s affection, she’d watch it all go up in flames, reduced to ashes. But it was too late now, and in her hopeful naivety fuelled by the invincibility of youth, she’d thought their bond unbreakable. 

Padding over to seat herself on the side of the bed, she clutched a book beneath her arm, her nightgown draped over her body - softened by age and a sedentary life, no longer the young, spry body he’d fallen in love with. Could that be why he’d sounded so disdainful? She hadn’t noticed a difference in their lovemaking. Sure, they slowed down over the years as their hormones settled and their daily life exhausted them to the point where they had little energy left over for energetic sex. But even then, when their minds were clouded with the dreariness of hosting visiting dignitaries and holding court to solve petty disputes, the slow rock of their joined bodies, blissful sighs and whispered confessions of adoration filled her with happiness. Was that not enough for him?

Was she not enough?

No, she gritted her teeth as she sat on the edge of the bed. Elissa Cousland did not wallow in self-doubt. She was the revered Hero of Ferelden, a former Grey Warden and the reigning Queen. Her blade had felled the Archdemon Urthemiel, bringing an end to the Fifth Blight. Who was Alistair to brand her with such a belittling term, to make her feel like she was worth less than she knew herself to be? 

A ball and chain…it sat like lead in her stomach and she summoned the acid of her ire - her pain, her fear, her longing, her loathing - to corrode the burden, reduce it to crumbling rust and finally digest it away.

The door creaked open, and Alistair’s heavy footsteps echoed across the room as he sighed his weariness into existence. Elissa opened her book, her steely gaze and tight-lipped frown fixed on the pages but not reading the words. It could have been upside down for all she could see past the rage that burned in her vision. If she looked at him now she may light him on fire with her eyes alone. 

He paused at the end of the bed, likely noticing her stiff posture and pointed silence. She hadn’t been trying to hide it, only trying to hold herself back from biting his head off the moment he set foot in the room. 

“You know,” he started in that tone he reserved for when he covered his nervousness with humour - frequently ending up with his foot in his mouth, “Sister Mary always told me my face would get stuck like that if I wasn’t careful.” 

Snapping the book closed, the harsh smack reverberating through the space between him, she shot him an icy scowl meant to freeze him to the bone, her eyes narrowed. His tentative smile turned sheepish as he withered under her cool gaze. 

“Would you like me to smile more, my dear husband?” she crooned with false sweetness dripping from her lips like horse-trodden mud mistaken for rich, melted chocolate. 

Alistair winced and rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling awkwardly. “Is this a trap? It sounds like a trap.”

“Tch,” Elissa clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth and placed the book on her nightstand to resist the urge to throw it at him. “Why would your ball and chain wish to trap you when I’ve already done so with marriage?”

She didn’t need to glance his way to envision how he froze up, his shoulders rising defensively and his hands curling into tight fists. 

“Did Eurydice tattle on me? I swear that woman has it out for me.”

“Don’t speak about her like that. You said it in the middle of the hall, Alistair,” she seethed, embarrassment making heat rise to her cheeks. “Anyone could have overheard how much you resent your overbearing wife.”

“I-I didn’t mean it like that. It was just…it was a joke. You’re not—“

“A joke?” Her lips pulled back in a sneer. “Is that all I am to you? Some punchline to the mockery that is your life.”

“What? No, of course not!” he said quickly, raising his voice, flailing his hands like he could disperse her words back into falsehood, to remove the life she had breathed into them. Coming around the side of the bed, he went to reach for her shoulder, but stopped when she flinched away. 

He pulled his hand back, his eyes round and searching - the kicked puppy look that always broke down her defences. But not this time, not for this kind of hurt.

“I don’t consider our marriage or you a trap and certainly not a joke. You have to know that.” 

She folded her arms over her chest and turned away from him with a petulant pout, her shoulder curling slightly as though she could protect her hardened walls from his softness. 

He wouldn’t take that as an answer, and before she could move further away, he’d dropped to his knees, placing himself between her legs, his hands locking around the back of her calves to keep her in place. Damn him. 

“Elissa, love, please look at me.” 

Reluctantly, she turned back to him, her brows pinched together in an effort to hold back the angry tears that simmered below the surface. He smiled softly at her but it did nothing to lessen her anger, if anything it only made the ache sting a little sharper. 

“I’m an idiot. A clueless, moronic idiot, but I didn’t mean to…” He trailed off, his lips pursing and his forehead creasing as he struggled to find the words. 

“You aren’t stupid, Alistair,” she said firmly, leaving no room for him to argue. How many times had she told him as much?

“No,” he admitted, his eyes wide and beseeching, “but I am a fool.”

She scoffed, her nails digging into her ribs as she tried to maintain her composure. “Whatever your intentions, you disparaged me to a near stranger.”

“I know and I’m sorry.” He sighed, his grip shifting up to the underside of her thighs, his fingers tightening around muscle and fat. “I wasn’t thinking. I was frustrated and I was…it doesn’t matter. I never should have said that about you. You aren’t my ball and chain. You’re the love of my life. There isn’t a day that goes by that I’m not grateful to have you by my side.”

Elissa sucked her lips between her teeth in an attempt to hold back the words that pressed at her teeth, but even she, with all her titles and accomplishments, couldn’t repress the deluge. 

“I would understand if you were not grateful - truly, I would. I have been…difficult, on the best of days. I demand nothing less than your utmost at all times. I forced the crown upon your head against your deepest wishes. If you harbored resentment towards me for this, my heart would shatter into a thousand irreparable shards, yet such a sentiment would be justified. I stole your happiness, thrusting you into a life you actively did not want. I deprived you of agency, when so many choices have already been stripped from you. I believed I was acting in the best interest of this kingdom that we both cherish dearly, yet in my fervour, I failed to do right by you. I have tried to make the best of it and to love you as you rightfully deserve, but if you no longer feel the same…” Elissa bit her bottom lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to stop the quivering of her chin - though it did nothing to quell the flow of hot tears that flowed down her cheeks. “I’m sure we can come to some mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Silence greeted her first, the room too large and too small, too hot with him so close and too cold without his arms wrapped around her. 

He found his voice, torn to shreds as it was, but he spoke anyway. “How can you say that?” 

She thought she’d articulated it all pretty well considering her distress, what part didn’t he understand? 

“You haven’t stolen my happiness,” he continued when she frowned in her confusion. “You are my happiness. I could never stop loving you. You…Maker, you drive me mad but…I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment you told me I’d look pretty in a dress dancing the remigold. I don’t want a mutually beneficial arrangement. You may as well rip my still-beating heart out of my chest and take it with you.” 

Relinquishing her thighs, he brought his hands up to cup her cheeks, his thumbs wiping away her tears and bringing her face closer to his. 

“I said something stupid without thinking in my irritation that you asked me to entertain a particularly vexing Bann. It was a reasonable request, one that deserved a mature acceptance, but instead took it out on you. I am truly sorry for the hurt my thoughtless words have inflicted upon you. Elissa, my love for you surpasses all else. I desire you endlessly and will continue to do so, now and always.”

Oh, was that all? A confession of unending love and an apology for his hurtful words. She could no longer recall why she’d wanted to fight, wasn’t this supposed to be harder? It all felt so silly now, faced with his pure adoration. 

“I…” she faltered, her tongue thick and unwieldy as it failed her. “Are you sure?”

Alistair shot her an almost indignant look that had a fluttering lightness filling her chest. “I pour my heart out to you and you ask if I’m sure? My love, I’ve never been more certain of anything else in my entire life.” 

A flicker of a smile canted at the corners of her lips. “That’s quite the conviction.”

“I mean every word,” he affirmed. “I will love you forever with the entirety of my soul. I’m sorry for ever suggesting otherwise, even as a poor, regretful ‘joke’.”

“Yes, well,” Elissa huffed, blinking back tears, “don’t do it again.”

“I won’t, I promise.” His fingers trailed over her jawline, her eyes were glassy and reddened from crying. “I will do whatever it takes to prove it to you.” 

Her heart thundered in her chest, all the pent-up energy that she had stored to fight with him bouncing around her ribcage and thrumming through her limbs. It needed somewhere to escape to, and if he was offering, she wasn’t inclined to turn him down.

“Prove it to me?” The suggestion in her tone trickled from between her lips, prickling over her skin. 

His breath hitched and he pulled back, searching her half-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks. He moved his hands down to grip her hips, the silky material of her nightgown scrunching under his fingers. 

“Yes,” he said, hoarser than he’d likely meant it to be, his pupils blown wide. 

“Show me.” 

No sooner had the command slipped from her lips than Alistair drew her tightly against his chest, kissing her with a hungry fervor, as though she were the air sustaining his dying lungs. His hands were everywhere, gripping and moulding her body to his, as if he feared she'd vanish into nothingness. She welcomed the heat of his touch, relishing his broad frame against her softer curves. Her arms wreathed around his neck, nails digging into his skin through his shirt as they tried to get closer. His hand trailed up her back, sending shivers down her spine.

Alistair broke the kiss, his mouth trailing a path of fevered kisses down her jawline and along the long column of her throat. Elissa gasped, arching her neck to allow for ease of use and tangling a hand in his hair for good measure. He nipped at her pulse point before soothing it with his tongue and Elissa inwardly remarked on how far he’d come from the blushing virgin he’d once been. She’d taught him well.

Elissa trembled as Alistair's calloused hands - less so than they used to be, but he still kept up his sword practice when he had the time - slid up her thighs, bunching the delicate silk of her nightgown. He lifted the garment over her head, his eyes roving over every inch of exposed skin. A flush crept across her chest under his heated gaze.

Still kneeling, Alistair cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples. Elissa gasped, arching into his touch. He leaned forward, replacing his fingers with his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue swirled around one peaked bud as he gently kneaded the other breast.

"Alistair," Elissa whimpered, her hands fisted in the sheets.

He hummed against her skin, the vibrations sending pleasant tingles through her body. His lips and tongue lavished attention on her breasts, alternating between them until Elissa was panting and squirming. Heat pooled low in her belly as she rocked her hips, desperately seeking friction, contact, anything to appease the rising need.

"Please," she whined, lost in the feel of him.

Alistair pulled back slightly, his lips red and swollen. "Patience, my love," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the valley between her breasts. "Let me worship you properly."

She had never been a patient woman, but when he asked so sweetly, she was unable to refuse. He trailed open-mouthed kisses down her stomach, and when he reached the waistband of her smalls, he hooked his fingers under the fabric and slowly slid them down her legs. Elissa lifted her hips to assist, eager for him to touch her where she craved him most.

Alistair pushed her thighs further apart and hooked them over his shoulders, his hot breath fanning over her curls and aching sex. He pressed a tender kiss to her inner thigh. "I'm sorry," he whispered against her skin. "Please accept my apology."

Before Elissa could respond, his tongue swept through her folds. She cried out, her head falling back as her arms shook with the effort of holding herself up. Alistair's strong hands gripped her hips, holding her in place as he devoured her with single-minded focus. His clever tongue circled her clit before dipping inside her, stoking the fire building in her core.

Elissa writhed under Alistair's attention, her fingers itching to anchor herself to something, anything - the sheets were not enough. As if reading her mind, Alistair gently grasped her wrists, guiding her hands to his hair. She eagerly threaded her fingers through the soft strands, gripping tightly as she pressed his face more firmly against her center. She babbled incoherently, a stream of praise and pleas falling from her lips.

"Oh Maker, yes…just like that, ah…you're so good, so perfect…"

Alistair groaned against her, the vibrations heightening her pleasure. His hands gripped her thighs tighter as he redoubled his efforts, spurred on by her words. Elissa's hips rocked against his face, chasing her release.

"Don't stop, please don't stop," she gasped. “I love you, Maker, I love you.”

Another muffled groan rumbled through her as Alistair's tongue circled her clit with increased pressure. Heat bloomed across Elissa's skin, her chest heaving as she panted for breath.

"That's it, right there," she keened, tugging at Alistair’s hair, pressing him closer, encouraging him.

Alistair slid a finger inside her, curling it to stroke that spot deep within that made her lose all sense of reality. Elissa's breath caught around a moan as he added a second finger, stretching her deliciously. His fingers pumping in and out while his tongue laved her clit had her trembling on the edge of release.

Elissa's thighs quivered around his head as tension coiled tighter and tighter in her belly. Alistair's fingers moved faster, hitting that perfect spot with each thrust while he sucked her clit between his lips, her hand in his hair holding hard enough to hurt, but he made no complaints.

With a cry of Alistair's name, Elissa shattered. Pleasure surged through her body, her inner walls clenching spasmodically around his fingers as he worked her through it, easing off gradually as the aftershocks subsided.

As Elissa sagged, catching her breath, Alistair pressed tender kisses to her inner thighs. "I'm sorry," he said against her flushed skin. "I'm so sorry, my love." He trailed apologetic kisses up her body, whispering words of remorse and adoration.

When he reached her face, Elissa cupped his cheeks and pulled him in for a deep kiss. She could taste herself on his lips, salty and musky. As they parted, she gazed into his eyes, seeing nothing but love and devotion reflected back at her.

"Do you forgive me?" Alistair asked, husky and breathless.

The lingering tension in her body had melted away under his devotion, replaced by a warm, languid contentment. She traced her fingers along the strong line of his jaw, feeling the slight stubble that had grown in since his morning shave - and as always the goatee that he insisted was the height of facial hair fashion. His skin was flushed and damp with a fine sheen of sweat, his sandy hair mussed from her grip.

She took a moment to savour the sight of him - her husband, her king, her dearest love. The adoration in his eyes was as clear and constant as it had been on their wedding day.

"It's a start," Elissa finally replied, her lips curving into a coy smile.

Alistair's face broke into that lopsided grin she adored so much, the one that never failed to make her heart skip a beat.

"You are my everything, Elissa. I will spend the rest of my days proving that to you."

She smiled softly, drawing him back in for another kiss. As their lips met, a warmth spread through her chest, a surety that settled deep within her soul. She knew with unwavering certainty that they would be alright. Whatever challenges lay ahead, their love would see them through. As it always had.

A/N: Now he won't say it in DA2 and Hawke doesn't have to go "really dude?"

I hope you enjoyed! I would love to hear what you think :)

[tired-truffle]

who's your favorite arcane character? ALSO I LOVE YOUR Můj Miláček SERIES SO MUCH ♥️♥️♥️

Thank you so much!! I’m happy you enjoyed it ☺️☺️

Viktor is my fav character - I’m a sucker for good disability rep and a bitchy/sassy man ✋😩

But, I’m also very partially to the duo of Jayce and Vi (platonic) 🥰 They are very capable and smart apart from each other, and together they are just so so stupid and I love that for them ❤️

[tired-truffle]

Something’s Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 8k

Part 24 - A Rematch

Tag list: @bloodoflathander

"You touch me like I am everything you asked god for. Underneath your hands I become poetry. This is the alchemy that you do." - T. James

Warning: NSFW in this chapter!

Masterlist

Ash's heart pounded as she paced her quarters, fingers twisting in her hair. Creators, why was she so nervous? It was just Cullen. Cullen with his stupidly handsome face and those arms that could probably bench-press The Iron Bull. She bit her lip, remembering how his scar curved when he smirked.

No. Focus. This was ridiculous. One ex-templar shouldn't reduce her to a blushing maiden.

But oh, the things she wanted to do to that man. Images flashed through her mind - pinning him against his desk, running her tongue down the long column of his neck, feeling those strong hands gripping her hips. Heat pooled low in her belly, a fire she couldn’t extinguish.

Ash groaned, flopping onto her bed. This was getting her nowhere. She needed to go to him and see where it led them. What was the worst that could happen? Maybe he'd reject her and she'd die of embarrassment. But maybe…maybe he wanted her too.

Fuck it. Or rather, fuck him. Hopefully.

Ash stood, smoothing her robes down over her curves. No more overthinking. She was going to march down to Cullen's office, grab him by that ridiculous fur mantle, and kiss him senseless. And if he didn't like it? Well, there was always more wine in the cellar. Josephine would understand.

She barely remembered making her way across the battlements and was at his office in the blink of an eye. With the tact of a wheelbarrow full of nugs, she opened the door, stepped inside, and shut it smoothly behind her. 

“Interested in another round?” she offered, a promise in the smirk adorning her lips. Cullen stood across the room with his back to her, his mantle obscuring his face from view. His body stiffened as she spoke, and the tension pulled taught between them. For a moment too long to be casual, he didn’t move. Ash swallowed around the lump in her throat, briefly doubting if her choice in attire - the robes she’d worn during their match - was too obvious. 

When he finally turned, his eyes darkened, bags staining the skin beneath, he remained silent, his jaw clenched. Oh, she’d really fucked up this time. 

Ash’s smirk took on a sheepish tinge, her stomach turning over. “I’ll take that as a no to a rematch then?”

He took carefully measured steps until he stood in the middle of the room, folding his arms over his chest and widening his stance. “Why would I be interested when you use such underhanded tactics.”

Finally, something she could work with. She remained where she was, leaning back on the door unconcerned, almost lazy. “Whatever could you mean, Commander?” she asked with saccharine sweetness. “I didn’t break any rules.” 

“Not technically,” he said, taking a few more torturous steps towards her. "But you used non-combat distractions, you…made a noise in my ear.” 

“What noise? I can’t recall what you’re referring to. Perhaps you could provide a demonstration to jog my memory.”

Ignoring her last request, he said, "You moaned in my ear.” His gaze flicked between her eyes, her lips, and down to the cleavage spilling out of her robes. The few feet of space between them begged to be closed, but Ash refused to be the one to do it. He needed to come to her. 

“Oh, right, of course. How could I forget? Would you like to hear it again?” 

The air shifted, becoming heady and thick. As she’d silently hoped he would, he closed the remaining distance, his chest plate inches from away her. He placed a hand beside her head, fingers splayed, effectively caging her in against the door as he leaned down. “Is this just a game to you, Ashvalla?” 

Ash's breath caught in her throat, a hitching gasp as she instinctively angled her face towards his. Frankly, it was embarrassing how badly she needed him and she was doing everything in her power to retain some semblance of control over herself. “Do you dislike this game?”

“I…” Hesitation crossed his face, though it succumbed to his frustration. “Yes, I dislike it.”

Ash placed a hand on his chest, watching as he tracked the movement. 

“Liar.” 

Cullen's eyes flashed, and before she could prepare, he grabbed her wrist from his chest and pinned it above her head. His other hand found her hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh exposed by the slit in her robe as he pressed her back against the door.

"Is this what you want?" he breathed, his lips ghosting over the shell of her ear and making her bite back a curse. "To provoke me until I break?"

"Maybe," she admitted, breathless and chest heaving. "Is it working?"

Cullen's grip on her wrist tightened, his breath hot against her neck. "More than you know," he growled, low and dangerous.

Ash's legs trembled, ready to give out beneath her. She arched into him, desperate for more contact, for his heat to seep into her. "Then show me," she challenged, her free hand sliding up to tangle in his hair.

With a guttural sound, Cullen crashed his lips against hers, claiming her, searing himself into her like a brand. The kiss was all teeth and tongue, messy and desperate, the intoxicating taste of him - the bitterness of elfroot and mint from the tea that sat cooling on his desk. Ash moaned into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his hungry lips - softer than she'd imagined, yet insistent, coaxing little gasps and whimpers from her throat. Ash tugged at his hair, pulling him closer. Cullen responded by releasing her wrist to cradle her face, his thumb stroking her cheekbone.

He pulled back and Ash followed with a needy whine. "I'm going to make you beg first. Payback for all your teasing."

"I'm not above begging," she panted, her fingers tightening in his hair.

"You beg? I'd love to see that."

Ash trailed her fingers down his neck, his hand clenched on her hip. "How should I beg? On my knees with your cock in my mouth?" She nipped at his lower lip. "Or perhaps you'd prefer me over your desk?"

Cullen groaned, his hand sliding up her waist, slipping under the fabric of her robe. "Maker's breath, woman," he muttered as he ducked his head down, placing open-mouthed kisses across her collarbone.

Ash's head fell back against the door with a dull thud as Cullen's fingers teased along the edge of her smallclothes. She whimpered, her hips canting forward, seeking more contact that he refused to give - a slow torture.

"Please," she whined, surprising even herself with how quickly she'd resorted to begging - but he had asked for it, and she was more than happy to oblige. "Cullen, I need-"

It was the first time she’d ever said his name - not his title or an honorific - and he silenced her with another fiery kiss, muffling her pleas, his weight pressing her into the door. She should say his name more often if that was the reaction she received.

Cullen's hand stilled, his fingers hovering just beneath the band of her smalls. "You deserve more than being bent over a desk.”

The tenderness in his words, so unexpected, cut through her bravado like a knife through butter. She felt exposed, more vulnerable than if she'd been standing before him naked. Her heart thundered in her chest, a flush creeping up her neck to stain her cheeks.

Cullen's brow furrowed slightly as he pulled back, noticing the shift in her demeanour. But before he could comment, Ash rallied, forcing a coy smile to her lips even as her pulse raced.

"How do you want me then, Commander?" she purred, her voice only slightly unsteady.

"On the bed," he rasped. "Now."

A shiver ran down Ash's spine at the command in his voice. How times had changed - where she would have once chaffed at any sort of order, she now found herself craving it, from him and only him. She nodded, her legs shaky as she stepped away from the door, Cullen reluctantly releasing his hold on her. "You'd better lock the doors," she said, glancing at the ladder leading up to his loft. "Wouldn't want any unexpected visitors."

As Cullen moved to secure the entrances, Ash approached the ladder. She paused, finding Cullen's eyes fixed on her. With deliberate slowness, she began to climb, making sure he got an eyeful of her legs as her robe rode up.

“Hurry up or I’ll get so impatient that I’ll have to start touching myself on your bed…without you.” She looked over her shoulder, giggling as he tripped and stumbled towards the door, keys jangling together in his haste.

She gave him no time to respond, and when she reached the top, she took a moment to survey Cullen's sparse living quarters. The large bed dominated the space, neatly made with simple linens.

Ash's bare feet - save for the strap of her stockings that looped around the arch - padded across the wooden floorboards as she made her way to the far corner. She gazed out through the gaping hole in his roof, the cool night air kissing her flushed skin. Stars winked at her from the inky sky, and the faint silhouette of mountains loomed in the distance. The hole was oddly charming, in a way - and she had dutifully followed his request to not have it patched up, though she could not for the life of her fathom the reason why he insisted upon keeping it.

She heard the creak of the ladder behind her, followed by Cullen's footsteps, anticipation coiling low in her stomach. She turned slowly, her breath catching as her eyes met his.

Cullen stood a few paces away, his gaze burning with an intensity that made her knees weak, her lips parting slightly as she drank in the sight of him. His usual composure was gone, replaced by raw hunger that matched her own.

A flurry of emotions swirled within her. Desire, certainly - that was a constant undercurrent whenever Cullen was near. But there was something else, something that made her heart clench and her stomach flutter. It terrified her, this feeling, so foreign to her. She knew what it was - Love’s constant beating at her ribcage whenever she felt it had ensured that - but she refused to acknowledge it. That would only make it real, and at least this way, she could pretend like this was nothing more than a casual dalliance.

Ash had always kept people at arm's length, using humour and flirtation as a shield. But Cullen had a way of slipping past her defences, of making her want things she'd never allowed herself to want before. She couldn’t have what she wanted, she would do well to remember that.

She swallowed hard. "You know," she said, her voice huskier than she'd intended, "with that hole in your roof, everyone in Skyhold will hear us."

A predatory gleam sparked in Cullen’s eyes. In three long strides, he closed the distance between them. His strong arms encircled her waist, pulling her flush against his broad chest.

"Let them.”

If he hadn’t been holding her up, she was sure she would have fallen to the floor.

His large, sword-roughened hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone - a motion he’d done once before that she didn’t understand. It was so…tender.

Ash leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed. When she opened them again, she saw both lust - as she had expected - and something softer in Cullen's gaze. It made her chest ache, but she quickly pushed aside the swell of forbidden feelings and reached for the fastenings of Cullen's armour. "Let's get you out of this, shall we?" she said, her fingers working at the buckles and straps. She’d done it once before with his instruction, but she was much too flustered to remember the details now.

His lips descend upon the non-scarred skin of her neck, nipping and sucking at the flesh there and making her squirm. "Impatient, are you?"

“Fuck, yes. Now get out of this armour before I rip it off.”

His low chuckle reverberated from his chest through to hers. "Impatient and bossy. But I wouldn't mind seeing you try.”

“One day you’ll have to teach me.” She bit back a curse at the implication in her words. She’d meant for this to be a one-time thing, but her mind had other ideas. “But I’m not in the learning mood today.”

“Perhaps another time then.”

Would it be so awful if this was more than a one-time thing? It may take a few tries before he was out of her system.

Cullen reached for the fur mantle first - that blasted monstrosity that Ash had grown to both love and hate - and tossed it off to the side and began removing his armour piece by piece. Ash's fingers itched to help, but she forced herself to stay still, savouring the gradual reveal of his muscular form. The heavy breastplate came off first, followed by his pauldrons and vambraces. Each discarded piece of metal hit the floor with a satisfying clunk.

Ash's gaze roved hungrily over Cullen's body as more of it was exposed. The thin linen shirt he wore beneath his armour clung to his chest, damp with a slight sweat. She could see the outline of his defined muscles through the fabric, and her mouth went dry at the sight.

"Much better," she said, leaning in to press a kiss to the hollow of his throat.

Cullen's hands found her waist, and before Ash could react, he hoisted her up with ease. She yelped in surprise, her legs instinctively wrapping around his hips as he carried her towards the bed and he all but tossed her onto the mattress. He smirked with self-satisfaction, the scar bisecting his lip pulled taught as she bounced slightly on impact.

Ash propped herself up on her elbows and quirked an eyebrow at him, fighting back a grin. "Proud of yourself?"

"Immensely," Cullen replied in a low rumble. He remained at the side of the bed between her splayed legs, making no motion to follow her.

"Well, don't just stand there admiring the view," Ash teased, her foot nudging his thigh. "Come here and finish what you started."

Cullen caught her ankle, his thumb tracing circles around the jutting bone. "So demanding," he chuckled, but obliged, crawling onto the bed with raptorial grace.

He hovered over her, his muscular arms caging her in as her legs bracketed his hips. The heat of his body seeped through the thin fabric of her robe, and she arched up, desperate for more.

"Patience." Cullen lowered himself until his mouth traced over hers like a light breeze. "I intend to take my time with you."

"Patience was never my strong suit," Ash retorted, her fingers tangling in his hair to pull him down for a kiss.

Cullen groaned against her lips, his hips grinding against hers with a delicious friction that had her whimpering like the ravaged mess she was soon to become. "Maker, you're going to be the death of me."

Ash grinned wickedly, her hand sliding down to palm him through his breeches, already hard and twitching. "What a way to go, though."

Cullen bit his bottom lip as he held back a gasp, his hips stuttering into her touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before he regained himself. He caught her wrist, pinning it above her head as he had done earlier by the door. "You're an insufferable woman."

“You like it,” Ash shot back. “Now take your clothes off.”

Cullen's pupils widened in the low light - she hadn’t realized how much he would enjoy being told what to do - and he released her wrist. "As my Lady commands.”

Ash sat up with him as Cullen slowly peeled off his sweat-dampened shirt. The moonlight cast shadows across his muscular torso, highlighting every dip and curve. She traced the lines of his abs with her eyes, the broad expanse of his chest, the strong set of his shoulders.

But it was the scars that drew her attention most. They crisscrossed his skin like a roadmap of his past - some faded and silvery with age, others newer and still pink. A jagged line ran along his ribs, likely from a sword strike. Smaller, circular marks dotted his shoulder - remnants of arrows, perhaps. And there, just below his collarbone, was a starburst scar that made her heart clench.

Creators, he was gorgeous. A living work of art, that should be lovingly sculpted of rich clay and displayed in the most extravagant museums. But he was here, with only her, no one else could see him as she did.

Cullen's hands moved to the laces of his breeches, and Ash's mouth went dry. She watched, transfixed, as he slowly unlaced them, the fabric sliding down his muscular thighs to pool at his feet. He kicked them aside, leaving him clad only in his smalls, straining with evidence of his arousal.

Ash's robes felt impossibly constricting, despite how little they actually covered. The fabric clung to her overheated skin, the low neckline felt almost prudish compared to Cullen's near-nakedness. She squirmed, desperate to feel his skin against hers.

Without a word, he crawled back onto the bed and over her. Ash reached out, her fingers tracing the contours of Cullen's bare chest. She felt the steady thrum of his heartbeat, quick and strong, matching her own racing pulse.

Cullen leaned in, his lips brushing against her neck as kissed and licked his way down her throat, his stubble scratching lightly against her skin. His hand found the strap of her robe, pushing it aside to trail kisses down her shoulder.

Eager for more, Ash shrugged out of the loosened strap, quickly freeing herself of the other as well. She wiggled her hips, shimmying until the robe bunched around her waist, leaving her torso bare save for her breast band.

Cullen's eyes roved over her newly exposed skin like she’d given him the best present he’d ever received. His calloused hands skimmed up her sides and Ash pressed into his touch, a soft gasp escaping her lips as his thumbs brushed the undersides of her breasts. Agonizingly slowly, Cullen lowered his head, pressing kisses along the scarred side of her neck that she could hardly feel. His tongue darted out, tasting the salt of her skin. But as his mouth moved lower, ghosting over her collarbone and down to her shoulder, the tingling warmth she'd felt faded to a dull pressure.

"As lovely as your kisses are,” she murmured, her voice huskier than intended, “I can't really feel that."

He froze, raising his head, regarding her with confusion. Ash bit her lip, an uncharacteristic shyness creeping over her. She'd never hidden her scars before, but now, under Cullen's intense gaze, she felt oddly vulnerable.

"The burns," she explained, gesturing to the angry red scars that marred the left side of her body. "I lost a lot of feeling in the worst areas."

Ash held up her left hand, palm facing him. The skin there was twisted and mottled, a patchwork of scar tissue. Without breaking eye contact, Cullen gently took her hand in his. He brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her scarred palm. The tenderness of the gesture made Ash's breath stutter.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, his breath puffing against her skin, though she could hardly feel it.

"Not anymore."

Cullen nodded, his eyes never leaving hers as he placed another kiss on her palm, then her wrist. "Show me," he murmured. "Show me where you can feel."

Heart pounding, Ash guided his hand to her shoulder where the scarring on her arm began. "Here," she said. "I can feel pressure, but not much else."

Cullen's fingers skimmed down the inside of her bicep. "And here?"

"A little more. It's…different. Like everything's muffled."

His hand moved to her ribs, just below her breast. "Here?"

Ash sucked in a sharp breath. "I can feel that," she managed. “Thanks to your chestplate’s protection.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Cullen's mouth. He leaned in, replacing his fingers with his lips. Ash gasped as he pressed a soft kiss to the discoloured skin, her back arching off the bed.

"And here?" Cullen murmured against her skin, his stubble scraping lightly as he made his way to the swell of her breast. One hand cupped the soft flesh, kneading gently, while his mouth found her other breast. Even through the fabric of her breast band, Ash felt the heat of his breath, the wetness of his tongue as he lavished attention on her nipple.

“Y-yes,” she answered, “I can feel that too.”

Ash's fingers tangled in Cullen's hair, holding him close and needing him even closer. She felt his hands slide around to her back, fumbling with the ties of her breast band. With a frustrated grunt, he tugged at the fabric - similarly to how she’d tugged at his armour minutes ago.

"Allow me." Ash reached behind herself to undo the stubborn knots. The breastband fell away, and Cullen wasted no time in replacing the fabric with his mouth.

Ash gasped as Cullen's mouth closed around her nipple, his tongue swirling around and flicking the sensitive bud and a wetness gathered at the apex of her thighs.

Needing to be free of everything left between them, Ash reached down to push her robes and stockings the rest of the way off. As she shifted, Cullen's mouth slipped from her breast. His hand shot out to grab her, keeping her from moving any further, and a low, possessive growl rumbled from his chest, startling them both.

Ash's eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise. Cullen froze, a flush crawling up his neck and over his cheeks. For a moment, they stared at each other, neither knowing exactly what to say.

A slow smirk formed on Ash's face as realization dawned. "Oh," she said silkily. "So you were thinking about them when you commissioned my chest plate."

Cullen's blush deepened and she thrilled at the effect she had on him. His eyes flicked down to her breasts and back up to meet her gaze. "I…yes. It’s difficult not to," he admitted roughly.

Ash's smirk widened into a grin. "I knew it," she said, running a finger down his chest.

Cullen's embarrassment quickly melted into determination as he lowered his head once more. His lips found the soft curve of Ash's breast, and this time, he didn't hold back. He nipped and sucked at her flesh, drawing a startled gasp from Ash as he left a trail of marks across her skin.

His mouth was hot and insistent, alternating between gentle kisses and sharp bites that sent jolts of pleasure straight to her core. Ash's head fell back against the bed, her fingers twisting in Cullen's hair as he lavished attention on her breasts. Each mark he left felt like a tattoo, a claim staked on her body that made her pulse quicken. It should have alarmed her how much she enjoyed the idea, but she wanted to be his, wanted everyone to know who had left those marks.

Cullen's hands slid down her sides, removing her robes as he went. The night air tickled her bare skin as he gripped her hips and pulled her flush against him, the hard planes of his stomach pressing against her center.

Ash rolled her hips, seeking friction, but Cullen's grip held her firmly in place. She whined, frustrated as she writhed against him.

"Cullen," she panted, tugging at his hair to get his attention. "Please, I need you."

But Cullen was relentless. His mouth moved to her neck, sucking hard at the sensitive spot just below her ear. Ash's pleas dissolved into a wanton moan, her nails digging into his shoulders as he marked her there too.

The room filled with the sounds of their laboured breathing and the rustle of sheets as Ash wriggled beneath him. She could feel the heat of his arousal pressed against her thigh, tantalizingly close yet too far away.

Ash's frustration mounted, a needy whimper pulled from her throat. She hooked her legs around Cullen's waist, trying to pull him closer, to get some relief from the ache building between her thighs. But Cullen remained stubbornly still, his mouth busy leaving yet another mark on the swell of her breast.

"Cullen, please," Ash begged, ragged with need. "I can't take it anymore. Touch me, fuck me, anything - just do something before I combust."

Cullen pulled back, his eyes roving over Ash's flushed skin and the constellation of marks he'd left across her chest and neck, her hair splayed out around her. His gaze was molten, filled with desire and that soft…something that had a flicker of panic igniting in Ash’s throat.

"Andraste preserve me, you are…" He breathed his reverence into words. "You are absolutely breathtaking."

Ash stared up at him, her heart pounding so hard she was sure he could hear it. The tenderness in his eyes, the gentle way his thumb traced her cheekbone - it was too much. Love fluttered wildly in her chest, beating against her ribcage like a caged bird desperate for freedom. She tried to ignore it, to focus on her aching cunt, but the spirit's presence was impossible to deny.

Cullen's hand cupped her face, his calloused fingers contrasting the softness of his touch. "I've never seen anything more beautiful than you," he whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

This wasn't supposed to happen. It was meant to be a quick tumble, a way to scratch an itch and nothing more. But the way Cullen looked at her, touched her, spoke to her - it was unravelling every defence she'd carefully constructed.

Ash felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with her nakedness. Her wit and bravado deserted her, leaving her raw and vulnerable beneath his tender scrutiny.

Love surged within her, filling her chest with a heat that both terrified and exhilarated her. Ash swallowed hard, her throat tight. She wanted to tell him how he made her feel, how he'd wormed his way past her carefully maintained walls. But fear held her tongue.

Instead, Ash whimpered, her hips canting upwards in a silent plea. Cullen's large hand splayed across her abdomen, holding her in place as his other hand drifted lower. His fingers toyed with the edge of her smallclothes, tracing along the trim.

"Please," she whispered again, beyond pride or pretense.

Finally, mercifully, Cullen's fingers disappeared beneath the fabric and he slipped between her folds, gathering the wetness there. A low groan rumbled in his chest.

"By the Maker," he grinned, "is this all for me?"

But Ash was beyond words. She surged upwards, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. Her teeth nibbled at his lower lip as she rocked against his hand. Cullen's fingers circled her clit, and she moaned into his mouth, her nails raking down his back.

The kiss was messy and uncoordinated, all clashing teeth and searching tongues. Ash poured all her pent-up frustration and longing into it, her body pressing against Cullen's. His fingers continued their maddening exploration, teasing along her entrance before returning to her clit.

They broke apart, gasping for air, but Cullen rested his forehead against hers. The intimate gesture was not lost on her and she pushed her hips towards his fingers, her body aching for him. Cullen obliged, slowly inserting a large finger inside her. Ash's breath faltered at the intrusion, her inner walls clenching around him.

As he began to pump his finger in and out of her, Cullen's other hand came up to cradle her cheek with an impossibly gentle touch. The slow, steady rhythm stoked the fire in her belly without providing enough friction to satisfy.

When Cullen added a second finger, Ash couldn't hold back the moan that fell from her lips. He crooked his fingers, searching, and when he found that wonderful, perfect, spot inside her, Ash saw stars. Her hips bucked involuntarily, chasing the sensation.

Cullen's hand on her cheek moved, his index finger brushed across her lower lip, and without thinking, Ash took it into her mouth. Her lips closed around it, her tongue swirling as she sucked. She gazed up at him through half-lidded eyes as he lifted his forehead from hers, pupils blown wide with desire - desire for her, intoxicating and heady. His eyes were transfixed on her mouth, watching intently as she hollowed her cheeks and took him deeper.

His fingers inside her stilled momentarily before resuming their rhythm with renewed vigour. Ash's hips bucked as pleasure coiled tighter in her core.

When Cullen withdrew his finger from her mouth, a thin string of saliva stretched between her lips and his finger before breaking. A droplet landed on her cheek, glistening in the moonlight, but before she could wipe it away, Cullen dipped his head, his tongue darting out to lick away the moisture and place kisses there instead.

Cullen's now-free hand found her breast. His calloused fingers kneaded the soft flesh and lightly pinched her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger and making her keen.

She felt his muscles shift beneath her touch as he moved above her, his body a solid weight pressing her into the mattress. Cullen trailed kisses down her jawline and to her neck. When he reached the juncture of her neck and shoulder, he bit down gently before soothing the spot with his tongue.

"Cullen, I-please,” Ash babbled, "More, please. I need-"

Her words cut off in a sharp cry as his thumb found her clit, circling the bundle of nerves in time with the thrusting of his fingers.

Ash's world narrowed to the points where Cullen touched her - his fingers between her legs, his mouth on her neck, his hand on her breast. The pleasure built rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter in her core until she felt she might snap from the tension.

"Come for me, Ashvalla," Cullen commanded. While she���d normally balk at being told what to do, those words, combined with the relentless rhythm of his fingers, sent Ash tumbling over the edge. She cried out, her nails digging into Cullen's shoulders as she shuddered beneath him. Cullen worked her through her climax, his fingers slowing but never ceasing as aftershocks rippled through her body.

As she floated down from her high, panting and flushed, Ash came to the unfortunate - or fortunate, depending on how she was feeling - realization that she wasn't yet sated. The ache between her legs had dulled but not disappeared, and judging by the hardness pressed against her thigh, Cullen wasn't finished either.

With a surge of renewed energy, Ash pushed at Cullen's chest. He went willingly, removing his fingers from her cunt with a wet pop and rolling onto his back. She followed him, straddling his hips. Her smalls were soaked through and she wasted no time in shimmying out of them, tossing them carelessly aside along with her stockings.

Cullen's hands found her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there as Ash rocked against him. The friction of his fabric-covered length against her heated core drew a gasp from her lips and a strangled curse from his.

A wolfish grin spread across Ash's face at his reaction. She loved seeing the usually composed Commander come undone beneath her. Leaning forward, she braced her hands on his chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart beneath her palms.

"Something wrong, Commander?" she teased, rolling her hips in a particularly delicious way that had them both groaning.

Cullen's response was to thrust up against her, his hands guiding her movements. The head of his cock brushed against her over-stimulated clit, sending sparks running through her body.

Eager to feel more of him, Ash reached between them to tug at Cullen's smalls. He lifted his hips, allowing her to pull them down and off. When his cock sprang free, Ash's eyes widened. He was larger than she'd anticipated, thick and long and already glistening at the tip.

Ash wrapped her hand around him and Cullen hissed through his teeth, his hips jerking involuntarily as she gave him an experimental stroke. She marvelled at the feel of Cullen in her hand - hot and hard, yet velvety soft. She traced the prominent vein along the underside with her thumb, revelling in the way his cock twitched in her grasp as she explored, learning what made him gasp and groan.

She varied her strokes, sometimes long and languid from base to tip, other times quick and focused just below the head. Cullen's hips bucked upwards and his arms shook with the effort of holding himself back, but Ash kept her touch maddeningly light. She wanted to draw this out, to savour every reaction she could wring from him.

Her free hand roamed his body, nails scraping lightly down his chest and over his abdomen. She felt his muscles clench beneath her fingertips, watched the way his jaw tightened as he fought to maintain control. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, disappearing into his hair.

“Ashvalla,” Cullen moaned, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise, but she relished the sting.

She leaned down, her breasts brushing against his chest. "Yes, Commander?" she said, twisting her wrist on the upstroke and making him curse.

Cullen's eyes were melted gold as they met hers. "If you keep that up, this will be over embarrassingly quickly."

She laughed, kissing the underside of his jaw and ceasing her strokes. “If you insist,” she said as she positioned herself over him, the head of his cock nudging at her entrance. She slowly began to sink down onto him, gasping at the stretch. Cullen's hands gripped her hips tightly, his muscles taut with the effort of holding still.

"Maker's breath," he panted. "Ash, you feel…incredible."

Ash's hips stuttered, not just from the feeling of the stretch and fullness as she took him in, but from hearing her nickname on his lips for the first time. She loved when he used her full name, the way it rolled off his tongue like a caress, but there was something thrilling about him being so lost in the moment, so overcome with desire, that he couldn't manage more than that single syllable.

She paused halfway down, trembling as she adjusted to his size. His thumbs traced soothing circles on her hips as she willed her walls to accommodate him.

Ash met his eyes, her heart clenching at the affection she saw lying in his open gaze. She braced her hands on his broad chest, his skin flushed and slick with a fine sheen of sweat, muscles rippling as he fought to keep still and let her set the pace. She leaned down to capture his lips in a deep, languid kiss as she sank the rest of the way onto him - bottoming out, Cullen fully sheathed inside her, his hands tightening on her hip as he breathed raggedly.

For a moment, they stayed like that, foreheads pressed together, sharing the same breath. Ash indulged in the feeling of fullness, of being so intimately connected to him. When she finally began to move, it was with slow, shallow rolls of her hips.

Cullen's hands roamed her body, calloused palms skimming over her curves. He cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples and drawing a sharp gasp from her lips.

As she lifted herself up and sank back down, Cullen met her with shallow thrusts. The sound of their laboured breathing and the slick sounds of their joining echoed around the room.

Cullen’s hands clamped on her hips, urging her to go faster, harder. Ash obliged, her thighs burning with the effort as she rode him with increasing fervour.

The moonlight streaming through the hole in the roof painted Cullen's skin in silver, highlighting the sheen of sweat on his chest and the furrow of concentration between his brows. Ash committed every detail to memory - the way his muscles tensed and relaxed with each thrust, the parting of his lips as he panted, the dark desire in his eyes as he gazed up at her.

Ash's thighs began to tremble, her muscles burning from the exertion. She struggled to maintain the rhythm, her movements becoming erratic as fatigue set in. Sweat beaded on her brow, her hair sticking to her forehead and neck.

Cullen noticed her faltering and pulled her down to him, kissing her like she was the air he needed to breathe. His strong arms wrapped around her, hands splaying across her back as he held her close. He planted his feet on the bed and spread her knees wider, opening her up to him. With a sharp thrust of his hips, Cullen drove up into her. Ash gasped against his mouth, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he set a punishing pace.

The change in position pressed Ash's body flush against Cullen's, her sensitive breasts dragging against the hair on his chest with every movement. The friction against her clit built the pressure in her core with each thrust.

Ash broke the kiss, panting heavily as she buried her face in the crook of Cullen's neck. His skin was slick with sweat, tasting of salt on her tongue as she mouthed at his pulse point. The bed creaked beneath them in time to the slap of skin against skin.

Cullen's hands gripped her ass, guiding her as he continued to thrust into her. His stubble scraped against her cheek as he turned his head, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

"Come for me, Ash, one more time." She thought it a rather greedy thing to ask for seconds, but she was a giving person. "I want to feel you come around me."

Who was she to deny such an earnest request?

She cried out, muffling the sound against Cullen's neck as her finish pulsed through her. Her inner walls clenched around him rhythmically, drawing a deep groan from his chest.

Cullen's hips stuttered, his rhythm faltering as Ash's climax triggered his own. With a hoarse shout of her name, he came, spilling himself deep inside her as his arms tightened around her shaking body.

For several long minutes, they remained entwined, both panting heavily as they let the last of their climax ebb. Ash's body was boneless, utterly spent and sated. She nuzzled into Cullen's neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and sex and armour polish. Not once did he complain about taking her full weight, nor did he seem particularly keen to remove himself from her.

She attempted to push herself up, but the movement caused Cullen's softening cock to shift inside her. They both groaned at the overstimulation, and Ash collapsed back onto his chest, her cheek pressed against his sweat-slicked skin.

"Sorry," she said, hoarse from their illicit activities.

Cullen chuckled as his fingers traced lazy patterns on her back. "There’s no need to apologize.”

After a moment to catch their breath, Cullen carefully held her hips, lifting her slightly as he slowly withdrew from her. Ash hissed at the sudden emptiness, feeling bereft at the loss of connection. A warm trickle of his spend leaked onto her inner thighs as she slid off him, rolling onto her back.

Ash draped one arm over her eyes as she tried to regain her composure. If she couldn’t see him, she didn’t have to face what she’d done, right?

The mattress dipped as Cullen shifted beside her. She felt his gaze on her, heavy and searching. Ash's heart raced, unsure of what came next. This was the part where she'd planned to make a quip and saunter out, never to speak of it again. But the thought of leaving Cullen's bed made her chest ache in a way she wasn't prepared to examine too closely - and she wasn’t sure her legs had the strength to carry her all the way back to her room.

He propped himself up on one elbow, his other hand coming to rest on her plump stomach. His fingers swept over her skin, a gentle supplication. Ash peeked out from under her arm and wished she hadn’t so she could continue to ignore the tenderness in his honeyed eyes.

"Is everything okay?" he asked softly, his brow creased with concern.

Ash swallowed hard, her throat suddenly tight. "Yeah," she managed. "Just…give me a minute."

Cullen nodded, his thumb brushing soothingly across her hipbone. The gentle touch sent a pang of longing through her body, and Ash fought the urge to curl into him, to seek out his warmth and comfort. His fingers skimmed up her sides and traced along her collarbone, ghosting over the marks he'd left on her skin. His touch was soft, almost reverent, as he mapped the litany of bruises blooming across her neck and chest.

"You look thoroughly ruined," he said, a hint of pride colouring his voice.

Ash raised an eyebrow at him. "And whose fault is that, I wonder?"

A slow, self-satisfied grin spread across Cullen's face, his scar pulling taut. The sight of it made Ash's heart flutter traitorously in her chest. She rolled her eyes, hoping to mask the effect he had on her.

"Your hair's come undone," she noted, reaching up to run her fingers through his tousled curls. The product he ordinarily used to keep them tamed had been ruined, leaving his hair the way she suspected it naturally was.

Cullen's hand flew to his head, patting at the unruly locks with a frown of mild embarrassment. "Ah, yes. It tends to…do that."

"I like it," Ash said, surprising herself with her honesty. "The curls suit you."

"They're unruly. Unprofessional."

"They're charming," Ash insisted, twirling a lock around her finger. "Very dashing. Like a knight in shining armour."

A flush coated Cullen's ears at her compliment, but he seemed to relax under her touch. His hand dropped from his head, coming to rest on her waist instead.

Cullen's eyes softened as he gazed down at Ash. He hesitated for a moment, then slowly leaned in, his intention clear. Ash's heart raced, panic rising in her chest. This was too much, too intimate. A quick fuck was one thing, but tender kisses in the afterglow? That was dangerous territory.

He must have sensed her unease and he started to pull back. Disappointment flashed across his face, quickly masked but not before Ash caught a glimpse of it.

Something inside her snapped. Fuck it, she thought recklessly. She wanted to kiss him and so she would. It was as simple as that. Before she could second-guess herself, Ash sat up swiftly and pressed a quick kiss to Cullen's cheek.

She laid back down, a delighted giggle bubbling up from her chest at the pure surprise on Cullen's face. His eyes were cast wide, jaw slack as he stared at her in wonder. A slow smile spread across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes and making Ash's heart skip a beat.

Following her lead, Cullen cupped her face in his hands and kissed her properly. His lips were soft against hers, the kiss achingly sweet. It was nothing like the heated, desperate kisses they'd shared earlier. This was slow, like they had all the time in the world, a promise of more to come.

She melted into the kiss, her hands coming up to tangle in Cullen's curls. The silky strands slipped through her fingers as she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

When they finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, Ash found herself smiling. Not her usual smirk or the coy grin she used to flirt, but a genuine smile that made her cheeks ache. This couldn’t lead anywhere good, but Cullen's answering smile was radiant, lighting up his entire face in a way that made him look years younger, and Ash would covet that forever.

"That was…" Cullen trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words.

"Nice?" Ash supplied

"More than nice," he said, laying his forehead against hers.

Despite how much she craved this, craved him, she found her eyes darting towards the ladder leading down from the loft. A familiar urge to flee tugged at her, whispering that she should leave before things got too complicated. She could still salvage this, keep it casual if she left now. But her body felt heavy, limbs sore and uncooperative.

Cullen caught her glance toward the exit, his face softening with understanding rather than hurt. Ash wondered if she should be offended by his lack of shock at her impulse to bolt. Was she really so predictable? Or did he simply know her better than she wanted?

"Stay," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. It wasn't quite a question, but not quite a command either. "Please."

The sincerity, the open longing in his eyes, broke down the last of Ash's defences. She nodded, unable to find her voice.

Relief washed over Cullen's features, and he pulled her closer. Ash allowed herself to be tucked against his side, her head coming to rest on his chest. She could hear the steady thump of his heart beneath her ear, feel the rise and fall of his chest with each breath.

Sighing contentedly, Cullen reached down and pulled a blanket up over them both. She snuggled closer, her legs tangling with his.

As they lay there, wrapped up in each other, Ash felt the tension slowly drain from her body. The urge to run faded, replaced by a sense of peace she hadn't felt in years - if ever. She knew she should be alarmed, should be putting distance between them before she got in too deep. But in that moment, with Cullen's steady breathing and gentle touch lulling her towards sleep, she couldn't bring herself to care.

Ash drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep. For once, her mind was quiet, free from the usual worries and responsibilities that plagued her nights.

Hours later, in the still-dark period before dawn, Ash stirred. She blinked slowly, disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. As awareness crept in, memories of the night before flooded back, bringing with them a surge of panic.

Cullen's arm was draped over her waist, his body curled protectively around hers. His breath tickled the back of her neck, warm and even in sleep. For a minute, Ash allowed herself to savour the feeling of being held, of being safe and wanted. But even if she wanted to stay - which she both did and didn’t - she had to go, she had a mission to join.

Extricating herself from Cullen's grasp, she moved slowly, carefully, holding her breath as she lifted his arm and slid out from under it. Cullen stirred slightly, a small wrinkle appearing between his brows, but he didn't wake. Ash paused at the edge of the bed, her heart pounding. She refused to look at Cullen, knowing that if she did, her resolve might crumble. Instead, she focused on locating her clothes in the dim pre-dawn light.

Her robe lay in a crumpled heap near the foot of the bed along with a singular stocking. Ash snatched them up, shaking out the wrinkles as best she could. She searched for her smallclothes and second stocking but couldn't find them in the shadows. After a few fruitless minutes, she gave up, unwilling to risk waking Cullen by searching more thoroughly.

Clutching her robe to her chest, Ash padded silently to the ladder. She descended with care, wincing at every small creak of the wood. When her bare feet touched the cold stone floor of Cullen's office, she let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Ash slipped into her robe, the fabric cool against her skin. She tied it hastily, her fingers fumbling in her haste to cover herself.

Her eyes landed on Cullen's desk, where a ring of keys lay atop a stack of reports. Uttering a silent apology, Ash grabbed the keys and unlocked the door. Before she could give in to her need to climb back into bed with him, she slipped out into the morning air and was gone.

Next Chapter

A/N: 8k of almost entirely smut as a reward for waiting for 24 chapters. There is plenty more where this came from! I hope you enjoyed their first kiss (among a few other things).

You can find the nsfw art for this chapter (*gasp* there’s boobs!) here if you’d like to check it out!

[tired-truffle]

Thank you for the tag @sweetjulieapples ❤️

Very fun and love the vibes!

Tagging @dancinginadream if you wanted to add!

Go to pinterest, search "your name + core" then post six pictures and tag six people.

Thanks for the tag @toporecall 🥰💕

Tagging (no pressure):

@separatist-apologist @mmvalentine @the-lonelybarricade @tunaababee @rosanna-writer @spiritedstars

[tired-truffle]

Something’s Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 4.4k

Part 23 - How To Win a Duel

Tag list: @bloodoflathander

"Desire as a question. Desire as a promise. Desire as a holy knife - a foreign object - lodged deep in the body." - Unknown

Masterlist

“Why Ghilan’nain?” 

Confused didn’t even begin to cover what Ash was feeling when Cullen asked that question. Her head snapped up from the map she’d been pouring over. When she’d stated her familiarity with that area of the Emerald Graves from her clan’s travels, Cullen had asked for her insight and handed her the map. She’d been shocked and oddly touched, but it couldn’t have been more than a handful of minutes before her Gods were thrown in there. 

“Pardon?” 

Cullen’s face flushed a light pink and he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s just that…your vallaslin, I was curious why you chose Ghilan’nain.” 

Ash blinked, wondering if her ears had suddenly stopped working or if she’d been dosed with a hallucinogenic drug. 

Misunderstanding the reason for her blank stare, Cullen was quick to correct himself. “Unless that’s private, I don’t mean to pry into your faith.”

Shaking herself of her stupor, she tilted her head, regarding him curiously. “How did you know that my vallaslin is Ghilan’nain’s?”

Cullen cleared his throat, clasping his hands together on the desk. “I read.”

Ash raised a disbelieving eyebrow. He was well-spoken and it wasn’t a stretch for her to understand that he read, but all the books on his shelves had to do with military strategy, the Shem history of Thedas, or the Chantry. 

Cullen sighed tiredly and glanced at the ceiling to pray to his Maker for strength. Opening a drawer at the base of his desk, he pulled out a thick leather-bound tomb. The title had long since worn off and the paper had yellowed at the edges. “I thought it pertinent to research Elvhen culture. I did not want my benightedness to cause any rifts between myself and my colleagues or soldiers.” 

Ash didn’t frequently find herself lost for words, in fact, she usually had too many words. But this was so unexpected, all she could do was stare at him, lips parted and eyes cast wide. 

“I apologize if I’ve offended—“ 

“Don’t apologize,” she was quick to correct. “I’m just surprised a human was at all interested in our culture. You know you could have just asked me, right? I would have been happy to tell you.”

“I…did not wish to place the burden of my education on you.” He pursed his lips, hand resting on the tomb. “I thought it prudent to at least have a basic understanding, so I sought out books recommended by Elvhen scholars. I didn’t want to seem entirely ignorant, though I suppose I was, likely still am, but I don’t want to be.”

Ash had grown accustomed to the human’s indifference, their casual dismissal of Dalish culture as primitive or irrelevant. Yet here was Cullen, the epitome of human military might, with a worn tome of Elvhen lore like an eager da'len at their first lesson.

The weight of this revelation settled on her chest, a warm, unfamiliar pressure that made her heart flutter. How long had he spent poring over those yellowed pages, squinting in the flickering candlelight to decipher unfamiliar words and concepts? She imagined his strong, calloused hands, more suited to wielding a sword than turning delicate pages, carefully tracing the intricate patterns of vallaslin illustrations. The image was so incongruous, so utterly unexpected, that she almost wanted to laugh.

But beneath her surprise, a deeper emotion began to take root. Gratitude, yes, but also a newfound respect for him. Cullen, who could have easily relied on his position and power to remain ignorant, had instead chosen to educate himself. He had sought out knowledge not to wield as a weapon or to satisfy idle curiosity, but to build bridges of understanding. The bare minimum shouldn’t make her as happy as it did.

“I chose Ghilan’nain because she defended the defenceless. She was willing to risk her life to save just one hawk because she was so devoted to her convictions. I admire her resolve.” 

Cullen leaned back in his chair, pondering her answer. “I see. I appreciate you sharing this with me, Ashvalla.”

Ashvalla crossed her arms over her chest, mimicking his relaxed posture. “Legend has it she was also the best in bed.”

Choking on one’s own spit was not a fun experience, and the Commander’s face became blotchy and red as he smacked his chest to dislodge the obstruction. 

Ash threw her head back and laughed, unable to help herself. He shot her a reproachful glare. 

“Is nothing sacred to you?” 

Wiping at her eyes, she managed to regain her composure. “Vallaslin is a right of passage, but our gods abandoned us a long time ago. I hold no fealty towards them. They are little more than symbols to me.” 

“Still,” Cullen pushed a stray strand of hair from his face, dislodged by his coughing fit, “they’re important, are they not?” 

Ash shrugged nonchalantly, her thoughts drifting to the stories of their gods. While she had always been fascinated by their tales and believed in their existence at one point, now they were nothing more than distant memories. To her, they were mere legends of a time long past, and she saw no reason for them to hold any significance in the present day. “As history, they are, though many Dalish put a lot of stock in the Elvhen gods so I’d avoid repeating that to anyone.” 

Cullen nodded seriously. “Noted.” 

A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the rustling of paper as Ash returned her attention to the map. The warm afternoon light filtered through the arrow slits in Cullen's office, casting long shadows across the stone floor.

Ash could feel his eyes on her, and when she looked up, she caught his stare. Instead of looking away, Cullen held her gaze, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I appreciate your openness," he said softly. "It's…refreshing."

"Well, don't get used to it. I have to maintain some air of mystery, or you'll get bored of me."

Cullen chuckled, shaking his head. "I doubt that's possible."

Ash's cheeks flushed slightly and she cleared her throat, looking back down at the map. "Yes, well…Did you have any other burning questions you wished to ask while I’m feeling generous?”

“How was your first trip back in the field?” Cullen asked, chattier today than he had been in weeks. His withdrawal symptoms must have improved - though she knew they were likely to worsen eventually, it was nice to see him in such a good mood. 

“I think they would have perished without me,” Ash kept a straight face, “someone had to distract the bears.”

Cullen’s brows furrowed, unsure if she was joking or not. “Bears?” 

“Did you know that running away from very pissed-off bears is quite the workout? You should give it a go sometime.”

“I’ll take your word for it. You didn’t just…freeze their paws to the ground?”

In all honesty, that idea hadn’t occurred to her, but she could let Cullen have the satisfaction of knowing that. “Are you telling a mage how to use her magic?”

Cullen grinned, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. “And if I am?”

Was he flirting? How many times was he planning to surprise her today? This bold Cullen was new but not unwelcome. How far would he go? She was eager to find out.

“Then I’d have to show you that I don’t need your advice. I’m perfectly capable of using my magic in battle and I bet I could beat you in a duel.” 

Perhaps she’d been the one to go a tad bit too far, but it was too late to back out now.

Cullen’s eyebrows raised towards his hairline. “A brazen claim for one who still hasn’t taken me up on my offer to train with close-range weapons. You haven’t seen how I fight, how do you know you can beat me?” 

“I saw you fight at Haven and I’ve seen you train you men,” she brushed him off. “That’s good enough for me..” 

Cullen searched her face with narrowed eyes. “You’re serious?” 

Ash grinned. “Deadly.” 

“Then I’ll see you this evening at the training fields. Ensure you’re…” His eyes darted down to her robes and the large swathes of bare skin that it left uncovered - after she’d removed her stifling cloak. “Adequately prepared.”

A dismissal, but one she readily accepted. “I will be.”

“Are you sure you want to duel in that?” 

Ash had buzzed with ideas as she’d left his office. She wanted to win, needed to. Being competitive had always been a part of her nature, but with Cullen, it felt like something more, something primal.

Glancing down at her robes, unchanged from earlier that day, she frowned. “Why not? Think you can’t take me?”

Cullen scoffed, his hand resting on the pommel of his wooden practice sword, the other loosely holding a shield. “Oh, I can. The real question is whether or not you can take me,” he replied with the self-assurance of a man who had no idea what was coming or the innuendos he was making.

“I am confident in my ability to take you, Commander.” Ash winked, lowering her voice until it became slightly raspy. “Stop stalling and tell me the rules.” 

Cullen’s ears tinged pink as he pretended not to notice the wink. “We must stay within the fenced area,” he motioned towards the rotted wooden fence surrounding the dusty patch of dirt beneath their feet, “and no blows to the head or neck, we aren’t trying to kill each other. I will also refrain from using my Templar abilities on you, limited as they may now be.” 

“Sounds fair.” Ash gripped her staff tight, gaze darting to the few soldiers who milled around in the late evening, pretending not to watch. “Ready to begin?” 

Cullen widened his stance, holding his practice sword and shield at the ready. “To beat you? Always.” 

Butterflies flitted about her stomach as she took in the hungry look in his eyes. He wanted to devour her whole and she would have let him if it didn’t mean losing. 

Ash circled Cullen warily. The evening air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine from the nearby snowy forests. She could feel the familiar tingle of magic that spread out from her chest and the ice crystals forming at her fingertips. Love stirred in her chest, eager and flowing her power through Ash’s limbs. Ash beat it back, stuffing the spirit magic where it belonged - away from the ex-Templar. She wanted a friendly duel, not to outright murder him with Love’s unpredictable magic.

"Come on, Commander," she taunted, a sly grin playing on her lips. "Hit me already.”

Cullen didn't respond, his amber eyes focused intently on her movements. He advanced slowly, his footsteps steady and measured on the packed dirt. Ash backed away, maintaining the distance between them.

With a flick of her wrist, she sent a barrage of icy shards hurtling towards him. Cullen ducked and rolled, the ice barely missing his shoulder. He sprang up, closing the gap between them with surprising speed.

Ash's heart raced as she scrambled backwards, nearly tripping over her own feet. She barely had time to sidestep, bringing her staff around in a wide arc as she evaded him. A burst of icy energy shot towards him, but he deflected it with his shield, the frost dissipating harmlessly against the wood.

"Getting chilly, Cullen?" Ash called out, springing away as he advanced. "I hear ice baths are good for sore muscles. Consider this a favour!"

Cullen responded with a grunt as he pressed forward. Ash found herself retreating, using her staff to parry his blows while desperately trying to maintain enough distance to cast effectively.

She managed to freeze the ground beneath his feet, causing him to stumble. Taking advantage of his momentary loss of balance, Ash sent a concentrated blast of cold air at his chest. It hit him square in the sternum, knocking him back a step.

"Had enough yet?" she panted, sweat beading on her brow despite the chill she was conjuring. She was always too damned hot and Cullen’s proximity wasn’t helping.

His eyes narrowed, a determined set to his jaw. "Not even close."

He charged forward with renewed vigour, his shield raised to deflect her magic. Ash backpedalled, her heart racing as she realized she was running out of space. The fence loomed behind her, cutting off her escape.

Gritting her teeth, Ash summoned a wall of ice between them, buying herself a precious few seconds. She used the moment to catch her breath, her lungs struggling for air, her hair starting to come loose from its short braids.

The ice wall shattered as Cullen burst through it, tucked behind his shield, sending crystalline shards flying in all directions. Ash yelped in surprise, having expected him to go around, and stumbled backwards. Her heel caught on a loose stone, and she wavered.

In that split second of imbalance, Cullen struck. His wooden sword connected with her staff, sending it flying from her grasp. It clattered to the ground several feet away, leaving her defenceless.

Or so he thought - but Ash wasn't done yet. As he raised his sword for another strike, she lunged forward, grasping the wooden blade with both hands.

Ice spread from her palms, encasing the practice sword in a thick layer of frost. The sudden cold shocked Cullen, and he instinctively released his grip. The frozen sword fell to the ground with a dull thud and she kicked it away, sending it spinning across the dirt, leaving them both disarmed and panting.

When it came to hand-to-hand combat, Ash knew enough to defend herself against regular men, but not enough to best a man like Cullen.

Not wasting any time, he sprang forward, his muscular arms outstretched to grapple her. Time seemed to slow as Ash's heart thundered in her chest. She could see the triumphant gleam in his eyes, the slight upturn of his lips as he anticipated victory. But Ash had one last trick up her sleeve.

As Cullen's body collided with hers, she let out a breathy moan right next to his ear, her lips barely grazing his earlobe. The sound was low and sensual, carrying a hunger that had nothing to do with their duel.

Cullen froze, his entire body going rigid against hers. They hit the ground hard, kicking up a small cloud of dust, but Ash barely noticed the impact. She was too focused on Cullen's face as he pulled back to stare at her, kneeling between her thighs - one bare and one stuck beneath her robe - his eyes wide with shock and something else; a flicker of desire that made her breath catch.

Seizing her chance, Ash wrapped her legs around his waist. She could feel the heat of his body on her thighs, the hard planes of his muscles pressing against her soft curves. Using the strength in her hips, she twisted sharply, throwing Cullen off balance.

The world spun as they rolled, and Ash found herself on top, straddling Cullen's hips. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, and Ash resisted the urge to lean down and lick it away.

Ash's chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath, her skin flushed and glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. The exertion of their duel had left her hair in disarray, golden curls escaping her braids to frame her face. The low neckline of her robes, already revealing, had been pulled even lower during their tussle. Her breasts strained against the fabric with each panting breath. Ash was acutely aware of how she must look - dishevelled, flushed, and utterly wanton.

She focused her magic, the chill spreading through her palm. An icicle formed in her hand, wickedly sharp and glinting in the fading sunlight. With a victorious grin, she pressed the tip gently against Cullen's throat.

"I win," she purred, husky and breathless.

Cullen swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing against the icy point. His gloved hands rested on her thighs, fingers digging slightly into her flesh. Cullen's eyes, which had been locked on hers in shock, began to wander - tracing the curve of her neck, lingering on the rapid pulse at her throat before dipping lower. His pupils dilated as he took in the expanse of exposed skin and the tantalizing cleavage.

Then, as if suddenly realizing where he was looking and who he was under, Cullen's face flushed a deep crimson. He cleared his throat roughly, his eyes darting away from her to fix on quite literally anything else.

“You cheated,” he grumbled.

Ash leaned down, and if it allowed him a clear view down the front of her robes, she wasn’t going to comment on it. “You said anything but killing, you should have been more specific.”

His breath puffed across her lips, his chest rising and falling in time with hers, his face glistening with sweat. It took every ounce of her willpower to pull away and rise to her feet, offering him her hand.

He accepted and she helped him to his feet - though how much was her strength and not his own was unclear. 

“I assumed you had enough honour to not fight dirty, clearly I was mistaken.” His annoyance shone through in his tone, but he seemed almost…confused? That wasn’t right, but Ash couldn’t quite place the emotion that ticked in the muscle of his jaw and sat on his creased forehead. 

“Honour doesn’t keep you alive. Be thankful I didn’t bite.” Ash flashed a feral grin, releasing his hand. “And you went easy on me. Don’t hold back next time, I can take a hit.” 

He brushed the dirt off his pants in an attempt to maintain his dignity. “Next time?” 

Was that hope she heard in his voice?

“Only if you promise a real fight.” 

He met her gaze with a challenge of his own. “I believe I can deliver.”

“What did you do to that poor man?” Dorian asked, teasing disapproval in the tightness around his eyes. 

Ash passed him her spade, reaching for an embrium seedling, the perfect picture of unbothered - Sweetpea lounging a few feet away in a sunbeam. “What are you on about?” 

“You know very well who I’m referring to,” Dorian said, holding the spade out between his thumb and index finger like it would bite him. “He’s been watching you more intensely than usual, not to mention he’s become increasingly distracted in our chess matches. It’s no fun cheating if it’s too easy.”

It had been two days since her duel with Cullen, since she’d had the bright idea to moan in his ear to ensure her victory. She hadn’t seen much of him since, much too busy with her gardening, socializing, and anything else she could do to avoid him. In hindsight, she’d embarrassed herself. Had she made him uncomfortable with her forwardness? He’d just asked her to be subtle and she’d thrown that to the wind in her eagerness to win.

Ash sighed, absently running her dirt-stained fingers through her hair. She'd always prided herself on her boldness, her ability to flirt and tease without consequence. But with Cullen, it felt different. There was something more at stake, a fragile connection that she feared she might have shattered with her reckless actions.

However, she hadn’t missed the searing heat of his stares as they bored into her back whenever she passed by him. He hadn’t seemed that irritated after the match. Annoyed? Yes, but angry enough to watch her with such fire? Certainly not. Rae had informed her earlier that morning that she would be joining her on their next mission, and Ash had figured some space would do them some good. They could forget about the duel and move on once she returned. Or at least she hoped so. She wasn’t sure what she would do without his quiet friendship. 

“Isn’t it his job to keep an eye on people? He’s a commander keeping track of the Inquisition’s soldiers and doing other commanding things, I assume.” 

“Eugh,” Dorian huffed, “must you be so purposefully dense? Rumour is that you and the Commander had a little sparring session that ended with you straddling him - or fucking him right there in the dirt if the more outlandish claims are to be believed. He never stuck me as the submissive type, but I suppose everyone has hidden desires.”

Ash snatched the spade back from Dorian, leaving his hand hanging limply in the air. “He was so sure he would beat me in a duel so I challenged him and won. There’s nothing more to it than that. It wasn’t a scene from a steamy romance novel.” 

Dorian feigned a pout, one hand coming up to rest over his heart. "Oh, I see. So you were completely unaffected by the press of your bodies, his face so close to yours that you could feel his hot breath against your skin, your legs straddling his hips in an exhilaratingly intimate way.”

“And you accuse me of being crass.”

“I’m simply being romantic, my dear. You should try it sometime.”

Ash stabbed the dirt a little too hard with her spade, cutting through a root buried beneath the surface. “If he was at all interested in romance with me he would have said so by now, he’s had ample time.”

"Ah, yes. Because if there's anything I've observed about the Commander," Dorian said, waving a hand idly, "it's how open he is about expressing his feelings. Did it ever occur to you that he may be trying to work up the courage to approach you himself?"

Ash paused in her furious digging, squinting up at him as the sun shone in her eyes. He moved to stand in front of the rays, allowing her eyes to relax. 

“Why would he need courage?” 

“Intimidated by your beauty and boisterous ways?” Dorian offered. “The man is like a mabari in heat, he wants you.”

Ash barked a laugh. “That’s a horrible comparison.”

“If he wants to beat the mabari allegations he should stop drooling every time you walk passed.”

Ash made a noise of disgust, placing another seedling in its freshly dug hole. “I’m sure he can find some other less intimidating, ample-bosomed woman to fill his needs. I’m much too busy to be swept off my feet and into his bed.”

Half-moon spectacles would have perfectly suited the exasperated look Dorian gave her. “We can find a multitude of other bodies to do the gardening. You could at least admit that you want him just as much as he wants you.” 

It wasn’t like she hadn’t talked to Dorian about Cullen before, but this time it felt different somehow. Ash scowled, her defensiveness raising her hackles. “He’s an attractive man.”

"No, he’s an incredibly attractive man. Rugged, handsome, and that Southern lion voice of his. The way his eyes flash and his muscles ripple. How his entire focus seems to zero in on you and you alone. It's quite enticing, isn't it?"

“Maybe you should seduce him instead of me.”

"Me? Seduce the Commander of the Inquisition? Well, the thought is definitely…intriguing," Dorian said with a smirk. "But I don't think I shall. For one, I have my own paramour that I must remain devoted to. And two, the Commander's eye is quite firmly fixated on you, Ashvalla."

She saw the perfect distraction and took her chance. “How are things going with Bull?”

Dorian’s smirk softened at the edges. “They’ve been better than I would have thought. I’ve grown rather fond of the big oaf, though I can’t admit it to his face. He’s smug enough as it is.” Dorian knelt beside her, the adoration sliding from his face. “But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook that easy.” 

Ash groaned her irritation. “Just when I thought I’d managed to change the subject. I hardly see how there’s anything more to discuss.”

“Oh, there’s plenty more,” Dorian said with a wicked grin that had her growing increasingly concerned. “Especially given that the Commander is watching you from across the courtyard.”

Ash's head whipped around so fast she nearly snapped her neck. Her eyes darted across the garden, scanning the area until they landed on Cullen's towering form. Just as Dorian had said, the Commander stood near the garden’s entrance, his blond hair catching the morning sunlight.

As if sensing her gaze, Cullen's eyes flicked away from her, his attention suddenly riveted on the young page in front of him. The boy's lips moved rapidly as he delivered a message, but Cullen's posture remained stiff, his shoulders tense beneath his fur mantle. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he nodded, clearly only half-listening to whatever report the page was giving.

Shit. She’d caught the tail end of that look. She’d been correct in identifying his irritation, but it wasn’t just that. Frustration and want warred in his eyes, she’d pushed him too far, taken the flirting to a place she couldn’t come back from. 

Even from this distance, she could see his signature dark circles from many sleepless nights she knew he endured. His hand absently rubbed the back of his neck. Was he truly as affected by their duel as Dorian claimed?

The memory of their bodies pressed together flashed through her mind, bringing a rush of heat to her cheeks. She recalled the firm planes of his chest against her softer curves, the way his hands had gripped her thighs. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine those same hands roaming higher, caressing her skin with calloused fingertips—

Ash shook her head, banishing the traitorous thoughts.

It was a terrible idea. To become involved with her sister’s war commander would only serve to undermine her position, a wild Dalish elf sleeping her way to power. Love trilled excitedly in her chest, another reminder of why sleeping with an ex-Templar would never work. 

Every day her desire for Cullen seemed to strengthen, she couldn’t seem to keep her distance. If she was being honest, she was tired of fighting it, wishing her ridiculous feelings could be in the past already. 

A thought struck her - one she’d had before but forgotten over time - ill-advised, but anything was better than the tension that pulled taught between them. If they could relieve all that built-up desire, perhaps she could finally get over him. A one-night stand, no strings attached, and then they could go back to being friends. 

“Do you understand now?” Dorian asked. 

Ash smiled at him, her resolution hardening with each passing second. “I think I do.”

Next Chapter

A/N: If only Ash could let herself have nice things. We will have smut next chapter! And for a few chapters after that as a reward for your patience (and cause Ash doesn't know how to healthily express her feelings)

[tired-truffle]

Something’s Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 3.6k

Part 22 - Be My Shield

Tag list: @bloodoflathander

“You will never be clean from sin. Rotten children don't deserve heaven.

There is no god who could give you your purity back.” - Unknown

Masterlist

“It is not every day that one sees the Inquisition’s Commander blushing like a schoolgirl,” Leliana said in lieu of greeting as she fell into step beside Ash. She kept her voice down, her eyes sparkling with mirth. Ash hadn’t seen where the spymaster had come from, but she could have sworn that when she exited the door that led from the Great Hall to Rae’s room, Leliana hadn’t been anywhere in the vicinity. 

Ash raised an eyebrow. “Was he?” 

Leliana’s lips split into a conspiratorial grin. “Like a ripe tomato upon leaving the Inquisitor’s quarters. Given that you just came from there, perhaps you would have some insight?”

“Do your crows and scouts not give you enough gossip, Lady Nightingale?” 

“I was simply curious, the Commander refused to answer me.”

Rolling her eyes, Ash curled a strand of damp hair around her finger. “He interrupted my bath, it was only fair.” 

Leliana let out a melodious laugh that rang through the stone corridors, echoing off the arched ceiling. “I had no idea you were so…generous in your hospitality.” She leaned closer. “Please tell me you gave him a proper showing.”

Ash couldn’t suppress the blush creeping up her cheeks - an unwelcome heat that contrasted sharply with the chill still lingering from her interrupted bath. She could picture Cullen's face, radiant crimson as he stammered an apology, stepping back as if he’d been caught stealing cookies from the kitchen. “It was…” she began, but the words seemed to slip away as visions of him standing there, wide-eyed and tongue-tied, echoed in her mind. She sighed, “Everything was perfectly covered by a towel, the spitting image of propriety. Even I draw the line somewhere.”

Leliana’s gaze lit up like a child who’d been offered a sweet. “One does not simply ‘interrupt’ a lady in her bath without facing consequences,” she replied with a smirk. “I can only imagine how he must have stammered through his apologies. I wish I could have been present to witness it.”

“Stammered?” Ash laughed openly now. “He barely managed to form coherent words! It was as if he had stumbled upon some great crime rather than an innocent elf in a towel.” She tucked another damp curl behind her ear.

“I am not certain ‘innocent’ is what I would use to describe you.” Leliana grinned, and gave Ash no time to respond as she turned on her heels, her laughter trailing behind like a whisper of wind through the ancient stones of Skyhold. Ash watched her go, unable to suppress a small smile despite the heat still blooming in her cheeks.

Taking a deep breath, Ash tried to shake off the embarrassment that clung to her like damp fabric. She smoothed down her robes and headed toward the door that led into Solas' rotunda.

She spotted Varric standing by the fireplace prior to entering, his familiar silhouette framed against flickering flames as he leaned casually against the wall. His signature crossbow, Bianca, was slung over his shoulder. Ash waved as she went past, earning her a lazy grin in return.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, stepped into the familiar space of Solas' rotunda. Typically, it was nothing more than a path towards where she met with Dorian in the library, and today it was…still a path, though this time towards the courtyard.

Ash's eyes were immediately drawn upward to the wooden platform that served as Solas' personal quarters. It was an unusual arrangement, but one that seemed to suit the apostate. Though the sight before her made her pause. Solas was kneeling beside his bedroll, his hands moving with quick motions as he removed…lizards?

Ash blinked, unsure if her eyes were playing tricks on her. But no, there was no mistaking it. Solas was carefully plucking small, wriggling lizards from his bedding and placing them in a bucket beside him. His face was a mask of concentration, his brow furrowed as he worked.

For a moment, Ash simply stared, her mind struggling to reconcile the absurdity of the scene with the generally composed and austere image that Solas projected. She watched as he reached for another lizard, his long fingers deftly scooping it up and depositing it with its brethren.

It was then that Solas sensed her presence. He looked up, his piercing eyes locking with hers. For a heartbeat, they simply stared at each other, Ash's lips twitching with the effort of suppressing a grin, Solas' expression unreadable.

Finally, Solas let out a deep, resigned sigh. "Don't ask," he said, tinged with a hint of exasperation. He turned his attention back to the task at hand, pointedly ignoring her.

Ash bit her lip, fighting the urge to laugh. The sight of Solas, the ever-serious apostate, engaged in such a mundane and slightly ridiculous task was almost too much to bear. The laughter bubbled up inside her, and she quickly made her way out of the room before she couldn’t hold it back any longer.

She was relatively certain she knew who was responsible for such a scene, and as Ash headed towards the Tavern to congratulate Sera for her ingenuity, she made a note to slip the girl some extra coin, a tip for her services.

***

Flames flickered, smoke turned acrid, charred like the skeletal remains of the men that lay all around her. Fire clung to the grass, to the wagon filled with their stolen goods. She was eight years old and thirty-one, the Archdemon’s gapping maw filling with scorching heat, raining down on her, burning her as she had done to those men. 

“Ashvalla,” a low voice spoke her name, but she could not tear her eyes away from the bonfire, locked in her panic like a prison cell. 

A strong hand grasped her upper arm, the one without the remnants of the Archdemon’s flames, and her name was called again. But her jaw remained slack, her vision sharpening and blurring in rapid succession as she tried in vain to banish the images that clouded her mind. Her breathing was shallow and uneven, her body wouldn’t listen, and Love shivered in her chest. 

A frame covered in metal plating, soft fabrics, and a fluffy collar stepped into view, blocking the fire that had stopped her in her evening stroll across the courtyard. They were burning scrap wood from their building and excavations of Skyhold, easier than lugging it all away out of the fortress. 

“Ashvalla, look at me,” the low voice tried again, his grip tightening on her arm. But this time, she blinked away the dryness of her eyes and shook herself, turning her focus to the crease that had formed between Cullen’s brows, and the downturn of his lips. “Are you alright?”

Plastering on a smile, she rolled her shoulders back, shoving down the memories as though they were dirty laundry she was trying to ignore. “Yes, sorry, just got lost in thought. You know how it is.” 

It wasn’t her best save, but it would have to do for now. The blush that rose to her cheeks didn’t help much either, and judging from the disbelief that pulled at the corners of his eyes, he was not so easily fooled. 

“You’re a terrible liar.” 

Her smile dropped, heaving a sigh as her gaze flickered over his shoulder, the tips of the biting flames teasing her. “I’m usually better at it. It just…caught me off guard.” Ash turned her head away, wrapping her arms around herself as she worried her lip. She’d only just left the tavern, having spent most of the day with Bull and Sera, she’d been on her way to seek out the Commander, when she’d come upon the fire.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” The patience in his tone did little to soothe her embarrassment, though she appreciated the effort.

“I know,” she said quickly before he could continue his attempt to make her feel better. “I…should probably go.” She hated this vulnerability, the quicker she could escape the better, even if it was rather abrupt. 

Cullen’s hand dropped from her arm, his warmth leaving with it, and she wished desperately for it to return - or it may have been Love’s wish, the spirit spinning happily in her chest at Cullen’s attention.

“Right,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I have paperwork to finish.”

“You always have paperwork to finish.” Ash couldn’t help herself, the need to tease him ever-present and grounding, though she didn’t want to admit it. “You should walk with me instead.”

She hadn’t meant to say that, but it had stumbled from her lips nonetheless, much too eager. But Cullen’s eyes lit up and she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.

He chuckled dryly, shaking his head as a slight smirk pulled at his lips. "And risk falling behind on my duties? You drive a hard bargain, Lady Lavellan."

If it hadn’t been entirely inappropriate, Ash would have lifted her robes and fanned her loins. Instead, she squeezed her thighs shut and her core begged for relief. Lady Lavellan…it was like he wanted her to have a heart attack.

“Yet you're still here.”

“For some unfathomable reason.”

Ash looped her arm around his, grinning up at him, and setting a slow walking pace. “It’s the tits, men are powerless to resist them.”

The Commander choked on the air he was inhaling and quickly turned away, coughing to cover up the shock and - if her ears did not deceive her - laughter. 

Ash giggled, pressing herself closer to his side, though careful not to trip him as he recovered. A blush spread down his neck, and Ash wanted to press her lips against his heated skin. 

As the shock slowly wore off and his blush faded, he said, “You can’t say things like that, you know that, right?”

Ash shrugged. “It wasn’t that hard.”

Cullen glared at her, though it was softened by the lingering blush on his cheeks, and that he did not make any move to disconnect her from his arm. “You know what I mean.”

Tilting her head to the side, she looked up at him, taking in the tightness around his lips, the tenseness of his shoulders. Had she truly made him uncomfortable, pushed past the line? Should she have been more shrewd, less loud and straightforward?

“I’ll stop if you want me to,” she said with a gentle sincerity so different from her teasing mere seconds ago that he blinked rapidly at her, seemingly stunned by the rapid change in tone. 

Cullen’s throat bobbed, his face reddening once more. “No, you don’t have to stop entirely…just—” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ll do my best to be more subtle, if that’s what you’d prefer.” She could easily infer what he meant, and would have no qualms with obliging. She should have guessed he wouldn’t like her blatant flirtations - much easier to pretend that they weren’t real that way. “A whisper in your ear next time.”

The Commander stumbled, though Ash’s grip on his arm caught him before his face met the ground, his voice strangled as he choked out, “Maker’s breath!”

He stopped and turned to look down at her, his face burning and his eyes wide. “You just–you…”

Ash could only antagonize him for so long before she regained her mercy. She patted his cheek, his skin hot beneath hers. “You’ve been a wonderful distraction. My mind feels clearer already.”

The Commander huffed, though a small grin began to form on his lips. “You’re trying to flatter me into forgiving your comments, aren’t you?”

“Is it working?”

The Commander gave her a long, blank stare. “Yes,” he said reluctantly, “against my better judgment, it is working.”

Ash clapped once. “Wonderful,” she said, and tugged him along. 

“Have you heard anything from Rae? The last missive I saw said she was going to be back tomorrow,” Ash asked to change the subject. 

The Commander nodded, eager to focus on non-flirtatious matters. “That’s what the last letter said, yes. Though I honestly cannot remember the last time she returned on time or even bothered to notify us she was late for that matter.”

Ash chuckled, well aware of her sister’s inability to keep time. “I wish I could say she hasn’t always been this way, but I can’t count the number of times I thought my heart would stop when she’d come home late from a hunt or disappear into the woods around our clans camp and it’d take hours to find her.”

“She seems to have a talent for hiding,” Cullen admitted, “I can scarcely imagine what the rest of us, or more specifically Josephine, would do without Leliana’s reports. We’d probably be half-mad with worry by now.”

He glanced down at her, something that Ash couldn’t identify in his shifting in his tone. “You two are quite close.” An understatement meant as a probing question.

“It was just the two of us after our parents died. We had our clan, of course, and I love them, but it isn’t the same.”

“If you don’t mind me asking…” he began, pursing his lips. “How old were you when your parents passed? You and the Inquisitor, I mean.”

What would it take for Cullen to drop the honorifics? He was talking about her sister and they were having a private - or as private as it could be as they strolled towards the gardens - conversation. Templar training must have deeply entrenched that ‘respect’ for command. 

“I was eight and she was five.” Ash kept her gaze trained ahead of them, unwilling to see his face soften with pity or sympathy. He was smart enough to connect this with what she’d told him of her past already. She’d been eight when her parents died and eight when she’d murdered a large group of men.

“My condolences,” the gentleness of his tone made her want to flee, “though they are a little late, I’m afraid.”

She resisted the urge, it was normal for someone to feel sad on behalf of an orphan. Shooing away her discomfort, she smiled, though it did not entirely reach her eyes. “Thank you, Commander, but we were so young, it wasn’t that difficult to adapt. We had our clan to help raise us, though I did find myself more often than not in charge of Rae’s wellbeing. She was…is a lot sometimes. I was the only one who stood a chance at corralling her, with little success.”

“She’s always been a troublemaker, I take it?”

With the topic changed to her sister, Ash’s shoulders relaxed. “You have no idea. One time she managed to get a hive of bees and release them in the tent of the boy who was bullying her. Suffice it to say he stopped after that.”

“I can’t say I’m necessarily surprised, though I cannot help but wonder her reason for such an…elaborate punishment.”

“He was cruel,” Ash said simply. She hadn’t been upset with Rae’s actions at the time, though she had worried about their clan's reaction. ‘Rae was just playing a prank she took too far, I promise she won’t do it again’, Ash had explained, and her clan leaders did not believe a word, but had been appeased enough by her grovelling that they didn’t push it. “It was important she learn to stand up for herself. His parents didn’t take me seriously when I yelled at them about it, so we had to take matters into our own hands. I didn’t think she’d get an entire beehive though.”

He paused, thoughtful consideration in the downward pull of his frown. “How did she manage that?”

“She won’t tell me!” Ash threw her free hand up in frustration. “She still keeps it a secret.”

He chuckled and grew quiet for a moment, the gears turning in his head so loud that she could almost hear them. “What about you, when you were growing up? Were you the same?”

What was all this questioning about? Had she not already told him enough about her past?

“I always follow the rules.” She held her head high and prepared for his incoming disagreement. 

He shook his head slowly, smirking, much too attractive for being so close to her - though in all fairness she was the one who had closed the distance. “I’m having immense trouble believing that.”

“I’m serious.” She smacked his arm lightly. “I didn’t break a single rule. I had to be the most perfect mage to be allowed to stay with the Clan. The Dalish only allow The Keeper and the First to the Keeper, every other mage born to the clan must leave and venture out on their own. I had some stiff competition so I was always on my best behaviour.”

“Of course you would turn out to be the good child…” he mumbled under his breath, not entirely believing her. 

“I’ll have you know that the Keeper loved me. Rae on the other hand…well, there was a reason she was sent on a dangerous mission to the Conclave.” Her eyes darkened, her jaw clenching as she withheld her barely simmering rage.

The Keeper's words echoed in her ears, cold and dismissive: "Mirae will represent our clan at the Conclave." It had been a thinly veiled excuse to be rid of her troublesome sister - at least for a few weeks - a dangerous gambit that could have easily ended in Rae's death. The thought made Ash's blood boil, her fingers tightening unconsciously around Cullen's arm.

The Commander’s smirk faded. “She was sent to the Conclave because she was troublesome as a child?”

“And an adult,” Ash corrected. “They never admitted it, but yes. I suspect that was a large part of the reason, besides her skill. She was expendable.”

Cullen remained quiet, opening his mouth to speak, but unable to find the right words. Unwilling to sit in the darkened mood - the Commander had enough to deal with without her anger towards her clan added to the pile - she took a deep breath as though she could inhale and swallow her feelings. “But there’s nothing I can do about that now. And Rae is alive, that’s what matters.”

He watched her for a moment, his gaze scrutinizing in its intensity, before he sighed. “No, I suppose there isn’t.”

Ash and Cullen continued their stroll as they passed the gardens, the scent of embrium and crystal grace flowing on the breeze. The sun hung low in the sky, the soft light catching in Cullen's golden hair and casting a warm glow across his features. Ash found herself entranced by the sight, her eyes tracing the strong lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.

It was all too soon that it was over, and they were standing in front of her bedroom. She released his arm, turning to lean her back against the door, her chin tilted up so she could see him - she wasn’t sure she would ever get tired of admiring his handsome features.

“Thank you for accompanying,” she said, her hands clasped tightly behind her.

Cullen smiled, a genuine curve of his lips that made Ash's heart flutter in her chest. "It was…" He paused, his eyes locking with hers, amber meeting emerald and stealing the breath from her lungs. "It wasn't a problem at all for me."

His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if he were sharing a secret meant only for her ears. A delicious tingle spread from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She couldn't look away, couldn't break the connection that had formed between them, as tangible as a physical touch.

Cullen's eyes were molten, swirling with emotions Ash couldn't quite decipher. There was warmth there, and a hint of something else, something that made her pulse race and her skin heat. She felt drawn to him, like a moth to a flame, helpless to resist.

Time seemed to stretch, seconds turned to hours as they stood there, lost in each other's gaze. Ash's lips parted, a soft exhale as she struggled to find her voice. "I'm glad," she said, the words barely more than a breath.

Reluctantly, she tore her gaze from Cullen's, her hand finding the doorknob behind her. The metal was cool against her flushed skin. She turned it, the click of the latch sounding unnaturally loud in the charged silence that had fallen between them.

"Goodnight, Commander," Ash said with a wistful lilt. She stepped back, the door swinging open to reveal the inviting warmth of her room beyond. It took every ounce of her willpower to cross the threshold - to not invite him inside - to put that distance between them when all she wanted was to stay lost in his eyes forever.

As the door began to close, Ash heard Cullen's reply, so quiet she almost missed it. "Goodnight, Ashvalla. Rest well."

The door clicked shut, and Ash leaned against it, her eyes fluttering closed as she replayed the moment in her mind. The way he had gazed at her, the depth of emotion in his eyes, the gentle timbre of his voice - it was all burned into her memory, a precious treasure she would keep forever. Even when this was all over and they inevitably parted ways, she would hold onto this. It meant too much to her, and while her affection for the Commander frightened her - how much was her and how much was Love? - it was too late to back away now. He was stuck in her heart, and she no longer wished to turn him out.

Next Chapter

A/N: Had to get a little more sweetness in before the smut and all the fun stuff that comes with that - she's gonna handle all her emotions so well...haha...

If anyone is wondering about the lizards in Solas’ bedroll, it comes from this banter, I highly recommend checking it out, it always makes me laugh.