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Skyhold was blushing in the evening light that crested over the mountains. The courtyard was washed in pinks and oranges, long shadows stretching over the lawn. The people were starting to unwind, meandering back and forth before settling around campfires or disappearing into the tavern.
Cullen, however, still had his nose buried in a stack requisitions and had no plans on retiring for the evening anytime soon.
He absentmindedly kicked the rotunda’s door closed behind him and walked out onto the battlement that stretched to his office.
There was still debris to clear from rooms, recruits to be outfitted with proper gear, refugees to be tended to. Not to even mention the nobles that had filed complaints about the state of their rooms. As if they all didn’t have bigger problems than Lady Jehan’s lumpy pillow.
He thought about crumpling it up and tossing it over the edge when a familiar laugh rang up from the ground below.
He lowered the papers, peeking over the stone edge to find a large group of people gathered around a fire. Rhyella was easy to spot amongst them, her white-blonde hair down in a single braid and glowing in the light.
She laughed again and threw her head back, a wide, bright grin splitting her face.
Shameful heat creeped up his neck.
A small girl was standing before her, hair in a mess of twigs and knots, and grubby hands raised to be picked up. An older woman rushed forward to take the girl, her apologies quickly being squashed by a shake of the Inquisitor’s head and another friendly smile.
“Why, Mistress Lily, I would love to dance with you!” Rhyella bowed dramatically and hoisted the girl onto her hip. “You’ll have to forgive me though, I may be a bit out of practice for a princess.”
The girl— Lily —squealed in delight as Rhyella began to spin around the fire.
The crowd around them seemed to hum, a bit of happiness beginning to cut through the gloom that had hung around since Haven. They began to clap in time with her silly steps and the whole place felt light enough to float.
By the time Cullen settled against the parapet, papers forgotten and tucked into the breast of his coat, more people had joined Rhyella and Lily in dancing around the fire. He rested his elbows against the stone and was content enough to watch from a distance.
A voice in the back of his head was nagging at him to turn away, to go back to his office and ignore the tightness that settled in his chest when he saw her.
It’s nothing , he’d told himself. Countless times at this point. Just friendly admiration.
And why shouldn’t he admire the Inquisitor? She was brave and intelligent and kind and—
He shook his head.
Maker’s breath, he’d— they’d —almost lost her. If they’d been a minute slower, if they’d chosen a different place to camp in the mountains. . .
But they didn’t. They’d found her and she’d lived and it felt no less than an absolute miracle. To be honest, there was very little revolving around Rhyella that didn’t seem like a miracle. He was still trying to work through how that made him feel.
The air outside was warmer than it’d been in weeks. A breeze carried the sound of laughter and dancing through the air, the smell of smoke and elfroot. For just a moment, it was easy to forget what exactly lay ahead of them. He was so lost in watching her and listening to the sound of her voice cooing to the children that now begged for their turn, he didn’t hear Hawke approach.
“Not one for dancing, Commander?”
He had to bite his tongue from cursing. He whirled around to find Hawke standing next to him, smirking with her arms crossed over her chest. She laughed at the color staining his cheeks.
He scowled and looked over the courtyard. “I could ask you the same thing, Champion .”
“Oh, don’t get your knickers in a bunch, Curly. I’m only teasing.” She settled against the stone next to him and elbowed his arm. “I know you’re allergic to fun. It simply can’t be helped.”
He snorted. “Well you seem to have enough fun for everyone, so I guess I’ll just leave that to you.” He spared a glance to find her beaming.
“Oh, you flatter me. Would you believe me if I said I missed you?”
It was his turn to laugh. “Not really.”
She gasped and put a hand over her heart. “Cullen! I’m wounded! I tell nothing but the truth. You of all people should be able to attest to that.”
It was hard not to roll his eyes. “My apologies.”
She didn’t reply, and he turned back to find Rhyella in the crowd again. This time, Lily was back in her mother’s arms and Rhyella had an elven boy standing on her feet, swaying in a haphazard waltz. He was a scrawny thing and he came up to her elbows. Even in the evening light, Cullen could see the pink flush staining the tips of the boy’s ears.
A low chuckle escaped Cullen’s lips.
Hawke made a thoughtful noise and he looked up to find her eyes slide from Rhyella to him.
Oh no .
She watched him for a moment, eyes narrowed teasingly.
“Do not—”
“I think it’s sweet.”
“Of course you do.”
She paused. “You’ve changed.”
He bristled but said nothing.
She shook her head and ran a hand through her black hair. “But I see you haven’t changed that much.”
Another shrill laugh pulled their attention away. They found Solas having emerged seemingly from the shadows.
He was smiling as he bowed before Rhyella and the boy, hand out gracefully. “If I may cut in, da’len .”
The boy stepped down from her feet with a dejected grumble. She patted his cheek and placed a kiss in his hair before he flushed even deeper and took off. She and Solas shared a laugh.
In a breath, she was against his chest, with his arm around her waist and the other raised to take her hand. A proper waltz. She stared up at him with the sweetest of smiles tugging at her mouth.
Cullen cleared his throat and stepped back from the parapet.
Hawke frowned. “I see.”
“No, you don’t.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s not like that.”
“Oh really?” She cocked an eyebrow and shifted her weight to one hip. “So you’re not head-over-heels for the Inquisitor and she’s not in love with another man? My mistake. How silly of me.”
He wanted to bring his mantle over his head and disappear into the fur. “Hawke, please.”
“If it’s any consolation, you’re not that obvious in front of other people. At least, not yet.” She rested a hand against his shoulder. “You just forget I’ve known you a lot longer than anyone else here.”
“Is that supposed to help?”
She shrugged. “Not really.”
He groaned, and she had the audacity to giggle . He shot her a dirty look. “Fine, we’ll see how you like me prying into your personal life.”
“I’d hardly call it personal, considering you’re out here in front of the Maker and everyone mooning over the woman like a lost puppy. But sure, go ahead. Ask away.” She had that cocky smirk plastered on her face again, the one he remembered from Kirkwall. “I’ll let you in on all the juicy details of Maven Hawke.”
He swore under his breath and rubbed the back of his neck. Of course the blighted woman would call his bluff. Still, he crossed his arms and did his best to stare her down. “So…Sebastian?”
“Amazing in bed. Or the table. Or desk.” She counted on her fingers before gasping. “And there was that one time on the throne. You’d be amazed at the things they teach in the Chantry these days—”
“Maker’s breath, that’s not what I was going to ask!”
She cackled. “Oh, I just assumed by the blush! Carry on, then.”
He stared at her and shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re going to be the Princess of Starkhaven.”
She winked. “Don’t be jealous, Commander.”
“I believe frightened is the word you’re looking for.” He sighed. “But I guess it could be worse. You did manage to keep Kirkwall from collapsing into the sea.”
When she didn’t reply, he found her with a solemn look on her face, staring down at her feet.
She inhaled through her nose. “I will do better by Starkhaven, by Sebastian.” The cocky Champion was replaced with a woman who had been through too much. Lines formed between her brows. “I will never let anything like Kirkwall happen again.”
In that moment, he was convinced that Thedas would completely fall apart without women like the Inquisitor and Hawke. Maker, even the Hero of Ferelden.
This time it was his turn to grip her shoulder. “You saved Kirkwall, never doubt that.”
“It doesn’t really feel like it. All those wasted lives…” She patted his hand and gave him a sad smile. “But thank you, Cullen.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry for what you had to endure.”
Their eyes met. “As am I.”
The crowd around the fire had quieted, though a few people still clapped and danced. Most had just fallen into joyous conversation. He scanned through them and found that Rhyella and Solas had disappeared.
A bitter weight settled in his gut. He let the jealousy wash over him before he squashed it, burying it in the back of his mind and grinding it down with the toe of his boot.
He would not be jealous. He would not be petty.
They’d done nothing wrong and he was a coward. No matter how much it hurt.
Just as he turned to go to his office, Hawke called after him. “It’ll work out, Cullen. Have a little faith.”
He shot her an indecorous look over his shoulder. “You sound like Sebastian.”
She curtsied with a mischievous quirk to her mouth. “I’ll be a princess yet.”
He laughed and continued forward.
When he shut the door behind him, Hawke let out a breath and sagged against the stone ledge. She scoffed to herself. “ Andraste’s wrinkled ass , Cullen’s in love with the Inquisitor.” She ran a hand through her hair, pushing it away from her forehead. “Cullen’s in love with a fucking mage.”
Pushing off the wall, she went to find Varric.