Chapter Text
He shifted nervously in his seat. Parting the curtain of the carriage slightly with the back of his hand, he glanced out. It was almost noon and yet the sky, which was completely covered with clouds, was ever gloomy, weather constantly heavy and wet. Around them lay fields of wheat. Gray skies and muddy roads… they certainly were in south now.
When Cullen had come up to him with the invitation, he agreed. It had seemed like the right thing to do. He had the feeling Cullen would’ve had put it off again had he declined. Admittedly, it didn’t feel like such a good idea right about now.
He didn’t know how to deal with families. And he was sure as hell they weren’t remotely prepared to deal with him. Cullen spoke well of his family, usually accompanied by a bitter smile that would tug even the mage’s heartstrings. Even so, anyone would be hard-pressed to accept their sibling, who left as an enthusiastic templar recruit, return home with a mage. Or a man, in Cullen’s case. It’s likely they didn’t even know his interests extended to that area at all.
In all fairness he didn’t fear being judged, that was a given. However he would like to compose himself well enough to leave a somewhat passable impression on people Cullen clearly cared about. It would be unfortunate if they thought less of him now because of Robin.
“Thank you for doing this.” Cullen spoke softly. He was seated in front of him, arms folded on his lap. He seemed a little flustered. Robin felt like saying it was a mistake and they should go back, it was going to be a disaster… instead he said “Yeah.”
“They seem determined to meet you.”
Again, he’d say that they didn’t really care about him and all they wanted to know was that their brother is well, but another weak “Yeah.” came out of his lips.
“Rob.”
“Yeah?”
Cullen pointed out casually, “You’re electrifying the curtain.”
“Fuck!” he snatched his hand away and as he did so the current piled up on his fingers arched between the fabric just to zap him back on the face.
“Great. I’ll be setting their fucking house on fire next.” he mumbled to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. Cullen on the other hand seemed less tense at least, clearly amused by his buffoonery. He’d been a little on edge as well, more so since they arrived at farmlands, it was nice to see resemblance of a smile on his face. He gave a lopsided grin, “They have water.”
Robin winched again, when the carriage ran over a particularly large rock. He found himself grimacing out once more, as if the landscape would suddenly change back into the snowy mountains of Skyhold. “You remember our first ride together?” the man asked.
Robin shrugged, keeping his eyes fixed on the horizon “From Redcliffe? Was a tid less luxurious than this, wasn’t it?”
The corners of his mouth turned up in a smug smile “You couldn’t keep your eyes off me.”
“You were shivering like a dog.”
Cullen leaned towards the mage, reaching out for his tightly locked hands and pulling them into his own. He grazed his lips over the wounded knuckles, placing gentle kisses. “Who’s shivering now?”
“Nevermind me,” Robin shook his head, fingers gingerly tracing the curve of Cullen’s chin along the jawline to settle on his cheek, “How are you holding up? Still anxious?”
He huffed a breath of air and hid his face in the mage’s palms “That obvious?”
“At least you’re not shooting lightning out of your fingers.”
The man chuckled softly. His hold grew slightly tighter as he placed another kiss on the palm of the mage’s hand “I had hoped they wouldn’t have to meet me like this. I was a starry eyed recruit last they saw of me.” He sighed. “Maker, that feels like a lifetime ago.”
“If it’s their expectations you’re worried about, I’d say you fared much better than an average templar.”
He whispered under his breath, “Of course you’d think that.”
“I remember you helping a little when we saved the world.”
“A little?” he raised a brow “I’ll take it.”
“Hey,” the mage urged him to meet his eyes “Worst case scenario I can talk you up, or just be my usual self to lower the standards if need be. And if you don’t feel ready yet, it’s alright, nobody’s gonna hold it against you. Take it at your own pace. Either way… I’m here for you.”
“You think we can make a break for it?”
The carriage creaked and pulled over abruptly, the handlers voice came from outside “We’ve reached the outskirts, Commander!”
“Thank you, Thompson!” Cullen rose from his seat, straightening his posture “We’ll get off here.”
“Well, not anymore.” Robin mouthed before stepping out behind him.
They got on their own horses, bid Thompson farewell and set out towards the narrow, muddy path leading to a small cottage in the distance, almost lost among the farm fields.
There were a couple more houses few yards away but no sign of any other civilization till South Reach on the neighbouring area. As they rode closer he could make out that the house was larger than he initially perceived and a couple of people were already coming out to meet them.
“Wanna race?” Cullen’s asked cheerfully few steps behind.
“If you mean race back , sure.” he chuckled.
However, before he knew it he heard a smack, Hyledd neighed in surprise and he had scarcely enough time to grab onto her reigns as she reared up and was galloping full speed behind the man. She was never the one to turn down a challenge.
He yelled profanities at the man in frustration. He could swear he saw his devilish grin from the back of his head. “You fucking cunt, when I get to you you’ll be licking your Maker’s sweaty--” suddenly looking up, he realized they were now well in earshot of their hosts. His last word died down into a defeated murmur as he frantically pulled her reigns back on a halt just few feet in front of the family, getting a bucket full of mud splashed right on himself “...ballsack.”
Hyledd snorted in disagreement.
Next to him, Cullen was cracking up, out of breath. He gave a gentle pat to his stallion and jumped off. Robin, reluctantly, followed suit.
They guided their steeds through the last couple of steps.
Standing before the house, waiting for them were four people; three women, and a man. One of the women were clearly not of their family, she had the complexion of a northeasterner. Robin concluded she would be the wife of Cullen’s younger brother. He just couldn’t remember their names. He couldn’t even tell if they were all squinting because of the sun behind the two or if they genuinely wanted to kill them.
Their first impression of him was a man chasing their brother like a crazy person and yelling Maker’s ballsack. It’s likely they heard the fucking cunt part too. He didn’t even want to think about what he looked like, his hair was likely a mess -more so than usual- and clothes covered in dirt.
He wasn’t sure where to look, it felt weird to stare at them directly, so he fixed his eyes safely at their feet. Albeit not any less creepily.
“Cully!” one of the sister’s ran at him with open arms, jumping on her feet as she squeezed the life out of the man in her embrace. Her curly locks were loosely falling down to her hips and she carried her brother’s features. “Look at you!” she cupped his face, squeezing his cheeks “You’re the spitting image of dad! I swear for a moment I thought it was him coming down.”
“I don’t remember dad being blond.” he let out a breath of laughter, “You’ve grown a lot too Rosie, I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“Nobody calls me Rosie anymore.” she scoffed.
“Nobody calls me Cully, either.”
The other man called out “Didn’t anyone told you lying is bad, Rosie?”
She playfully shoved at her brothers shoulder, “It’s been way too long, brother,” he said pulling him in a hug “I am so glad to see you well.” he then gestured at the women right next to him and added “This is Zanna, my wife.”
“A pleasure.” the woman added with a strong Antivan accent. At least, Robin thought, he wouldn’t be the only one out of place.
Rosie, or Rosalie, Robin corrected himself pulled at Cullen’s sleeve to point at the woman who could only be Mia “She’s giving you the silent treatment.”
“What did I do?”
“What did you--” she snapped, her hands on her hips “What didn’t you do!”
She walked up to him, fuming “I’ve been preparing since last morning! You sent a last minute raven saying you have company, how am I supposed to work with that? I was gonna prepare sheep but then you have some people who don’t like meat, we baked pie but some people don’t handle dairy very well, and I don’t know if they serve something specific in Circles that you are accustomed to--”
Cullen muffled her rant by pulling her into a hug, “Mia, he’s so scared of meeting you that he will probably eat even if you serve him dad’s carrot stew.”
As Robin was watching the heartwarming reunion from a safe distance, he felt a tug at his waist, looking down he was met with a little boy.
“Are you a mage?” he asked curiously, pulling at the journal fastened on his belt.
“That’s a journal not a tome.” Robin brushed off, “But yes, I am.”
“Are you gonna burn down our house?”
“It’s not on my to-do list for today, no.” he rolled his eyes but the kid seemed to grew even more excited, “Can you?”
“Probably.”
“That’s amazing!” he beamed, without a pause he asked pointing at his hand “Why does your hand glow?”
Robin absently opened his palm to reveal the mark, “I touched a ball.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Nicholas!” Cullen’s brother called out, “Leave the poor man alone.”
The boy scurried to his father’s side obediently, although he acted like Robin had been the most curious thing he’d ever seen his entire life.
“This is my boy Nicholas,” he introduced with pride “Nicholas, meet your uncle Cullen.”
Before Cullen could say anything the little shit ratted him out. Bouncing enthusiastically as he pointed at Robin who had been trying his very best to hide behind his horse “He bought a mage with him!”
Beaten, he walked out of his cover reluctantly. He suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands so he let them hang awkwardly on his sides but now that he was walking he was hyper aware that he should’ve been swaying them with his steps.
“This is... he’s sort of my--” Cullen trailed off, rubbing his neck nervously “Inquisitor.”
“He’s your... Inquisitor?” Mia asked humorously, making Cullen turn bright red.
“Only sort of.” Robin added, he then bowed his head to introduce himself properly “Robin Trevelyan, nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. We’ve heard so much about you.” Mia said before turning to her sister to whisper something and giggle ominously. “What does inkisitor mean?” the boy asked, clearly at Robin since for some reason he seemed to have bonded with him. “It means I’m his boss.” he answered, showing Cullen, who was still struggling to find his words.
“What are we standing around for, come in, come in!” Mia rushed, throwing her braid back. She led them in and upstairs to their room so they could unpack while Branson took the steeds to the stable. It was a cozy place, wooden all around. The drapes and the sheets looked a little worn down and the ceiling was arching down towards the window to about half of his height but all and all gave of a warm fuzzy feeling. There was a single bed and a makeshift mattress laid on the floor next to it. When she hurried downstairs, telling them to meet her soon as they’re done, Robin was left standing uncomfortably in the middle of the room.
Cullen started stripping first, slipping out of his cloak to find something more comfortable, he rummaged through their stuff. Robin knelt down next to the bucket of water that’s been left and started cleaning the filth from his hands and face. He rubbed the water in his skin and tried to clean the black mud under his nails, with little success.
“You didn’t tell them about us.” he said calmly as he wiped his hands on his pants “I thought that’s why they wanted to meet me.”
“I didn’t.” he sighed, “I didn’t tell them about anything at all-- I wasn’t hiding it.”
“I know. It’s alright.”
He insisted “I will though, when it comes up.”
The mage simply nodded, not wanting to put him under more pressure. Sometimes he wondered how Cullen saw their relationship, or maybe dalliances were a more accurate word for it. The most public it ever got was when Cullen asked him for a dance at the ball. Robin never expected any of this to get as serious as it did in the first place so he understood why his involvement with his boss wouldn’t be the first thing Cullen would share with the family he hadn’t seen for many years.
He took off everything but his tunic and breeches, wrapped a leather strap around his waist and called it a day. He’d never been the most fashionable one.
At the other side of the room though, Cullen was still wrestling with his breastplate. As amusing as watching him fight against a piece of metal was, just the thought of it off of him was enough for Robin to stroll over. He stepped behind him, reaching for the restraints on his shoulders, with practiced prowess he loosened the leather from its hooks “Growing a bit too much into the armour, are we?” he teased and moved down to his waist, slipping his fingers under to graze over the chiseled skin “A little soft around the edges.”
“I don’t see you complaining.”
“Who doesn’t love a man in armor, if not for the thrill of taking it off.”
“You could do with a little less armour yourself, generally speaking.”
“Armour? I’m a mage, we wear dresses.” An obvious lie, of course. He hadn’t worn robes since his apprenticeship, nor went out in a battlefield without at least chainmail. Barriers cost mana he’d much rather use destroying shit and he’d never been very good at casting them to begin with.
“That so? How come I’ve never seen you in one?”
“Why, Commander, you need only ask.”
The man spun around, grabbing the hand working on his straps, “You tease me in this sad excuse of a fabric, barely covering any skin…” with a look of pure desire on his face and urgency clear on his voice his hands clutched at the mage’s tunic and tugged at it ever so slightly, as a warning “I should just be rid of it.”
Robin leaned over the curve of his shoulder, placing a soft kiss right under his earlobe and teasing it a little with his tongue. He whispered, “I bought a spare.”
They got interrupted by a knock. Letting go of him abruptly, Cullen opened his mouth to answer but Robin beat him to it “Come in.”
Mia walked in hesitantly. “Oh, I’m sorry.” she averted her gaze as if she expected something indecent. It felt like she wanted to talk to her brother privately. Not that she said or done anything indicating that but Robin just had a gut feeling. “Right on time too, Commander seems to be having a little trouble with his armor.”
“Ah, of course.” she raised her chin, grimacing between the two of them. Robin moved out of the way to let her take his place, “If it’s all the same to you I’ll be downstairs.” he bowed his head slightly on his way out “My lady.”
Her face turned bright red as if she’s never been addressed before. She hid her head behind her brother as she repeated his last words to herself in surprise. It must run in the family, Robin though, and closed the door on his way out. They seemed like good people. Cullen didn’t talk much about his family but it was clear he honed no resentment for them. Robin couldn’t really relate but he understood where he was coming from, if he had anyone close to him from his past alive, the idea of them seeing him now would be dreadful for him.
He walked down to the living area, or where he assumed was the living area, by following the noises. Branson and his wife were bickering in the kitchen part of the room while Rosalie was crouched in front of the fireplace, nudging the clearly wet woods with a poke.
The couple stopped arguing when they heard him approach, instead they went back to whatever preparations they had in mind for tonight. Kitchen looked cluttered and smelled nice but the thought of these people, who clearly didn’t have much, going out of their way to treat them made Robin a little uncomfortable.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked. Branson shook his head “No, no, my Lord.” he gestured at the fireplace “Please, sit down, enjoy yourself.”
“Oh…” he gave a half smile “Just Robin is fine. Rob, if you’re in a hurry and I’m dozing off.”
“We assumed you were nobility, House Trevelyan, no?” Rosalie popped up.
“Born of nobility, yes. Not a Lord though.” he pointed out. Her brows pulled together in confusion. She looked at her brother but he seemed just as lost.
“Ah, these Southerners.” Zanna sighed deeply, “They do not understand. Families, they are complicated .” She waved the knife in her hand dismissively “It’s not like how it is in here. Blood counts for nada! Sometimes you do one little thing or born with the wrong hair colour and you’re out!”
How true.
“Inquisitor,” Rosalie’s eyes widened, “You’re from a Circle?”
He shrugged “Yeah?”
“Is that where you met Cullen? Kinloch Hold, was it?”
“No I--” he cut himself off “We met--”
Branson jumped in “Rosie, he’s a Marcher, why would he be in Ferelden Circle?”
“Oh, of course! Kirkwall!”
“I’m afraid not.” he forced a polite smile “We haven’t met until recently, right after the conclave.”
Branson sighed, shaking his head “What a tragedy... Thank the Maker it’s over.”
“The man who dealt with it is standing right here, mi amor, why not thank him.”
“It took way more than one man.” Robin tried to keep his expression soft, it felt like he was being interrogated all over again and this time he wasn’t sure how much he was allowed to share.
“Amazing feat nonetheless.” the man said.
Rosalie propped her head in her hands, studying Robin curiously “Is it true you live in a castle?”
“A… fortress, I guess.”
“Does Cullen live there too?”
“All my close circle do, yes.”
“Is it comfortable, does he have his own room?”
Robin gaped at her nervously “...Yes, I suppose?”
“Rosie,” Branson came to his rescue “you’re pestering the Inquisitor.”
She huffed “Well, what else can I do? Cullen doesn’t write about anything!”
“Don’t you have better things to do? How’s that fire coming up, it’s freezing in here.”
“Then maybe next time try to bring some dry wood. You’d think a lumberer would know that.”
“If you think you’ll get dry wood in this season be my guest. You should’ve dried it earlier.” he shot back, hacking his knife in the meat at hand with a particularly brutal slash.
Robin didn’t feel like it was particularly cold inside. Coming from Skyhold, he got accustomed to a certain temperature that most northerners would shiver to think. That been said, Ferelden’s cold was rather timid but no less intense. It was constantly wet and muddy, he couldn’t imagine anything going dry in this weather.
He didn’t consciously made the decision to walk over the fireplace, after camping for so long, doing this came as a second nature. Nobody bothered with anything since they had a mage in the group, Sera didn’t even light her own arrows, she’d just stick them in his face mid-fight for him to ignite and there was that one time Bull had gotten stabbed because he’d thought the enemy running at him, not remotely in Robin’s sight, would undoubtedly be frozen. He hadn’t even been anywhere close to where Bull had charged off to.
So when he brushed his hands over the wet woods and lit them aflame, he was in no way prepared for the reaction he got. The room had gone completely quiet. He turned around obliviously, not realizing it was him that they were all staring at like they’ve witnessed a crime so bold.
He nervously glanced at the fireplace to make sure he didn’t accidentally set something else on fire but no, it was only the wood crackling. Zanna was the first one to clear her throat abruptly and get back to her business, Branson soon followed, awkwardly chopping whatever kind of animal they were going to make. Rosalie looked down to avert his gaze as best as she could but you could cut the tension hanging in the air with a knife. She mumbled something like a thank you.
Robin realized then, he’d gotten too used to the luxury of open mindedness he’d been provided ever since the Inquisition recruited him. There were still many people out there who didn’t think magic common place. He didn’t know where they stood on war but he was quite certain it wasn’t the mages side, they didn’t seem prejudiced but many people showed tolerance from afar. Having it blatantly in the middle of your house may have been… straining. It was wrong for him to be here, these people only wanted to meet the renowned Inquisitor, maybe get his blessing. They should’ve had a chance to reconnect with their brother alone. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out why Cullen wanted him here, nobody was gonna think ill of Cullen, Cullen must’ve been aware of this.
He excused himself.