Chapter Text
"Warden Mahariel, you remember our Commander, Cullen Rutherford?" Inquisitor Trevelyan asked by way of introduction.
"It is a pleasure to meet you again, Commander," she replied, bowing her head politely.
She looked up and found herself lost into those familiar golden eyes. Those eyes had seen more than their fair share of pain, sadness, and loss, yet they still glowed with warmth as he gazed back at her. Ten years and a lifetime of hardships later, he was still as handsome as ever. Even more so, she thought as she eyed the slight stubble on his cheeks and the scar above his lip. The subtle roughness his face had gained suited him well. She smiled, hoping he hadn't noticed her staring.
He took her hand in his and brought it up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss to her skin. "The pleasure is all mine, my lady. And please, call me Cullen." The corner of his mouth lifted up in a small smile, causing her heart to flutter in her chest. She was pleased to note that he was studying her just as intently as she had him. A flush spread across her cheeks. She hoped he liked what he saw.
The moment had gone on for an almost inappropriate amount of time, her hand still in his and their eyes taking each other in, when Trevelyan interrupted. "Well, now that the introductions are out of the way, could you show the Warden to her quarters, Commander? We've cleaned up the room next to your office, so she'll be staying there."
Cullen raised an eyebrow at her, obviously surprised. "I thought that Lady Mahariel would be sharing Ser Alistair's quarters?" He asked, trying to sound casual.
Amalia’s flush deepened at the mention of her former lover. She kept her gaze fixed on the ground as she replied shyly, “No, that won’t be necessary.”
"Right," Trevelyan said, her voice rushed, "Well, I really have a lot of business to attend to at the moment. I hope your quarters are to your liking, Warden." She bowed her head towards Amalia, who returned the gesture.
"I'll see you later?" She asked Cullen, placing her hand affectionately on his bicep.
He nodded. He watched as she walked away, anxiously rubbing the back of his neck, then returned his gaze to Amalia.
She felt her face blaze with shame and a hint of jealousy. She stared at him, jaw slackened and eyes wide in a look of disappointment.
She quickly tried to regain her composure. "I’m quite exhausted. Could you show me to my quarters now Commander?" She asked, trying to sound casual, though disappointment had settled like a boulder in her stomach. She’d avoided using his name, and she wondered if he’d noticed as she saw a slight frown creep over his features.
“Of course,” he replied. “Please follow me.”
He led her from the Great Hall through the rotunda and out onto the battlements. The sun had set before she’d reached Skyhold, the sky above them lit only by the moon and stars. Amalia walked several feet behind him, her thoughts absorbing all of her attention. How long had Cullen and the Inquisitor been in a relationship? How serious was it? Did he love her? Had they made love? She shook her head as if to flush the thoughts from her mind.
She was shaken out of her daze when she felt her boot catch on a loose stone. She yelped, unable to keep her balance as she fell towards the ground. She closed her eyes and held her hands out in front of her to brace for the fall. Rather than scraping against rough stone, she found her hands clutching smooth metal, her body frozen in mid-fall. She opened her eyes to find Cullen staring down at her, his amber eyes darkened with concern. He had turned at the sound of her cry and instantly breached the several feet between them, being there just in time to stop her fall.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice full of worry.
She nodded, trying to find her voice. She still clung to his gauntlets, his strong arms supporting her weight with ease.
“You should be more careful.” He chastised.
“Yes…I…thank you.” She mumbled. She pulled herself up so that she was standing again, but she didn’t let go of his arms. “How did you get to me so quickly?”
“I don’t know. I just heard you cry out and I reacted. I don’t know if I could do that again, though. It would be best if you stayed close to me, just in case.”
She sighed and nodded, reluctantly letting go of his arms.
He resumed his course along the battlements, albeit slower than before, no doubt making sure that Amalia kept up with him. She didn’t pay much attention to where they were going until they came to one of the towers along the battlements. He opened the door to reveal an office, sparsely decorated but comfortable. He sat her down in a large, cushioned chair in front of an impressive desk, then sat down across from her. She eyed the giant stacks of papers littering the desk—every stack perfectly straight without a single page out of line. The walls were covered with bookcases and behind her she could feel the warmth of a fire.
“These are my quarters.” He said matter-of-factly.
She looked at him, incredulous. “You sleep in your office?” she asked, trying not to laugh. “You don’t even have a bed!”
He smirked, then pointed somewhere up and behind her. She turned, following his finger to a tall ladder leading up to a loft high above them. She couldn’t see it from this angle, but she could only assume there was a bed up there.
“That’s convenient.” She mused, looking again the mountains of paperwork covering his desk. He probably stays up working until he can barely keep his eyes open, then climbs upstairs for a few hours of sleep.
As if reading her thoughts, Cullen replied, “Yes, well. I often have trouble sleeping. I like to be able to work at all hours of the night without disturbing anyone.”
She smiled, admiring his work ethic. She silently wondered what kept the great Commander of the Inquisition up at night. She probably didn’t want to know.
“Would you care for a drink?” he offered, turning around to retrieve a bottle and two glasses from one of the bookcases.
“Yes, please.” She answered. He had already started pouring.
He offered her one of the glasses, then raised his to toast with her. “May your stay at Skyhold be a pleasant one.”
His glass clinked against hers and they both drank. The drink turned out to be some spiced mead, thick and sweet and warm as it glided down her throat. She found herself finishing the whole glass in just a few sips. She noticed the Commander had done the same.
Cullen drummed his fingers on his desk, looking absent-mindedly at the empty glasses in front of them. He cleared his throat, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck.
“Are you sure you would not rather share Ser Alistair’s quarters, my lady?” He asked nervously, his voice slightly higher than normal.
“Please, call me Amalia.” She blushed, trying to deflect his question. "Why would you think that, Commander?" She asked, feigning ignorance.
“I…” he started, stumbling over his words, “I just thought that…well the towers here on the battlements get quite cold at night, and he is staying in one of the rooms in the keep. I just thought…it would be more comfortable. Not to mention that you two…” he trailed off.
"Were you under the impression that Alistair and I were together?" She asked, her tone unreadable.
He nodded, embarrassed that she had called him out.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you Commander, but that juicy love affair has long since ended. It turns out that it's hard to have a relationship with someone who can't go five minutes without making a joke." She replied playfully. The mead had already started going to her head and she began to feel emboldened by it.
She thought she caught a flicker of relief light the Commander's face, and she chuckled softly.
"We're still good friends," she continued, "But I would sooner share my quarters with a family of great bears. That's what Alistair sounds like when he snores.”
They both laughed.
“Besides, he prefers to stay by the kitchens so he can sneak in and eat in the middle of the night, and I prefer to be in an area where I can take late night walks without attracting much attention." She shot a look at Cullen and he blushed.
“I understand the feeling.” He replied.
Seizing her chance, she asked quickly, “What about you and the Inquisitor?”
She searched his features, trying to discern the extent of their relationship by his reaction.
Cullen brought a hand up to the back of his neck and rubbed it nervously, averting his gaze from her. His complexion was now more akin to that of a tomato than a man. He chuckled anxiously, then replied hoarsely, his throat and mouth gone dry, "Lady Trevelyan and I...have been...pursuing a more romantic relationship, yes."
She smiled at him, the disappointment in her stomach starting to ebb away. From his reaction, things couldn't be that serious between him and the Inquisitor. Either that, or he was embarrassed about admitting their involvement. Either way, it seemed to bode well for Amalia.
"Well, I'm exhausted. Could you show me to my quarters now, Cullen?"
A slight smile spread across his face at her use of his name. "As you wish, Amalia."