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On most nights, she would visit Cole with Varric. The three of them would walk around the Keep together or sit and chat in the Tavern just to keep him company. Cole was always quiet, yet whenever the dwarf calls him "kid," she would see a hint of a smile on his face. Of course, treating a spirit like a human would always baffle the others, but to her and Varric, he was only a boy in need of acceptance.
Though, she did not have much time to talk to him today, as the fatigue from a day-long meeting in the war room was finally starting to settle in her bones. Varric was off doing a mission with Blackwall this time, and so she made her way alone to the top floor of the Tavern.
A quiet 'hello' rang out into the din, and she suddenly found him materialized in the corner. She was used to it, of course, though sometimes it would make Varric stumble and then proceed to act as macho as he could after. It was a shame that he was absent, but her mind managed to muster up enough social awareness to speak.
"Hello, Cole. How are you?" She sat on the paneled wood floor across from him, leaning against the railings. The soft strings of music echoed from below, along with laughter and the clink of mugs.
"I am well," He replied. "But you are tired, in need of rest and his open arms."
There was never any lying with Cole. Yes, she wanted to go straight to bed wrapped up in Cullen's embrace. But, of course, her Commander was still busy arranging requisitions and positioning soldiers after their decisions at the war table.
"I'll find you after I am finished," He had said, eyes pouring over each and every document scattered across his desk. The soldiers had also gone off to bed, some going to their respective night watches.
"You know where I'll be?" She asked.
"Always."
He took the time to look up and smile at her, placing a brief kiss on her forehead. Only for her, he would remove himself from his duties, if just for a quick and chaste meeting.
She sighed, shaking her head to get rid of the thought and other thoughts that Cole might interpret. Though, it was hard not to think about Cullen and how he held her in his arms, how his lips feel pressed against hers, how his fingers glide softly against her skin.
Her eyes closed as she forcefully tried to think about something else. Talking would help. Focusing on what was happening now — the singing, the laughing. And the spirit quietly sitting beside her.
"Cole? Do you think you'd be fine going on a mission with-"
"He is quiet, behind the noise. The little bottle makes him shake, but he tests the chains."
Her voice faltered as the words echoed in her. The interruption was brief, although it jolted her to sit up straighter — racking her mind for the right words to say. "Are you talking about —
"He wants nothing. But sometimes nothing is everything, and it hurts. It hurts, it hurts. Leave me. Leave me."
She was glad that she was sitting. Soon, the sweet melody of music from below was nothing but white noise as she turned his words over and over.
Lyrium. Cole was talking about Cullen's lyrium withdrawals. She knew he was hurting. She knew he had terrible nightmares — and how they were worse without it. The way he whispered in his sleep and the restless tossing and turning during some nights made her ache. But these were not her own thoughts.
A wave of desperation crashed down on her, and suddenly her heart felt heavier. She did not want to think about his hurt, but maybe this is something she needed to hear.
"How do I help him, Cole?" Her voice, barely a whisper, left a resounding ache in her chest.
But as she met Cole's bright eyes, he gave her a small smile.
"Safe and solid, protecting and proud. He feels like quiet, stronger when you hold him."
Her eyes widened, if only slightly. Yet, her heart beat loud enough for the both of them to hear. But before she could say anything in reply, the sound of footsteps neared the top of the stairs, and they both turned to look.
"There you are, Inquisitor."
Cullen stood before them, a tired but genuine smile gracing his lips.
He appeared as if on cue. As if he had been close to them this whole time. Of course — it was his thoughts that Cole was reading, she realized. Though, guilt slowly made its way through as Cullen's bleeding heart had been revealed to her without his knowledge.
"Hello Cole," His golden-brown eyes said nothing about being in pain. It was only the dark circles that hinted at his tiredness. His resilience baffled her, even before she had told him to continue depriving himself of the drug.
"Hello." The boy replied, shifting to his feet and startling her from her thoughts.
"She wishes to speak but cannot find the right things to say. Goodbye."
A flash of darkness, then Cole was gone, leaving her with Cullen in somewhat awkward silence.
The both of them stared at each other for a few moments before he ran a hand through his hair. “Are you ready to leave?"
She nodded, looking into those eyes and watching him offer his hand to help her stand. Warmth coursed through her and left as soon as it entered as their hands joined and then released. In public, their relationship was kept a secret. Just to remain professional— although she doubted that anyone in Skyhold didn't know that the Inquisitor and the Commander were together.
People exchanged glances in the Tavern and smiled, some waving and some saluting. She was glad that most didn't think their relationship was inappropriate. And as both of them returned the waves and salutes in tandem, they stepped outside and breathed in the chilly mountain air.
The skies were clear, with the moon shining against each and every parapet and watchtower.
"So," He began as they made their way to the main stairway. "What did Cole mean by you wishing to speak?"
There was no talking around it. But, the open courtyard had ears everywhere despite its barren state.
"Not here," She said, adjusting the lapels of her coat. "In your chambers." The wind had picked up, biting at her weary body, and she wished for Cullen to step a little closer.
But, his brows only furrowed in confusion and worry, hand gripping the pommel of his sword — a habit reserved for when he was nervous or in deep thought.
"I see," His voice was firm, though it was only trying to hide his nerves.
They made their way across the courtyard and up the stairs to his office— and bedroom. On some nights, they spent their precious moments together tangled up in silken sheets in her quarters. And on others, it was in his loft where they slept and made love during the night.
But it was the simplicity and charm of his loft that made her favor it more than her own spacious room. It offered a quiet sort of tranquility. One that could open both their bleeding hearts and let them speak to each other about the horrors of their memories.
She watched him undress and carefully place his sword and armor in a wardrobe that was impossibly placed in the corner of the loft. Naked from the waist up, she eyed him and the muscled planes of his chest as he made his way to her.
"I-ah…"
Cullen's words trailed off and dissipated in the open air as he put his hand on the back of his neck and averted her gaze. "Are you-"
"Cole said something about you that made me wonder," She started abruptly, sitting on their bed and folding her hands on her lap.
The air was tense. Yet, after a few moments, she found the courage to undress and take off her tunic and pants, earning a relieved sigh from him. The matter was serious, but their intimacy made it more comfortable to speak and to move.
Stepping lightly on the wood floors, he sat next to her, mattress dipping and creaking under his weight. She felt his hand come up to trace comforting circles on the small of her back, and their eyes met in earnest.
"What was it?"
"He is quiet behind the noise. The little bottle makes him shake, but he tests the chains."
Silence. She found it almost deafening. And just when she was about to continue, Cullen broke his gaze and looked at the floor. The wood seemed to contort and pulse at his feet — though it was most likely just his head throbbing from weariness and the constant edge of withdrawal.
"It seems that he sensed my presence and read my thoughts," He said quietly. Not in anger, nor in irritation, but in quiet contemplation.
A pause, then she took in a sharp breath.
"He spoke about how much it hurt, even mimicking what you whisper at night— when you have those dreams."
His hand at her back fell away as he gripped the edges of the mattress.
"I-
Andraste preserve him. Words. Where were his words?
Finally, his jumbled thoughts formed a coherent sentence. "He's right, but my pain is much less compared to what it was before."
Cullen exhaled a long breath, debating on what more to say. Although, he instantly regretted what he spoke after seeing the look on her face.
"You shouldn't concern yourself too much about this. This is not the side of me that I wanted you to see."
"Don't say that," The world swayed as she shifted to cup his cheeks and take his head in her hands, gently turning him to make his eyes meet her own. His heart ached at the desperation written in her expression and he wanted to take back everything that he said as she spoke.
"You cannot deny me the right to worry about you. I want all of what you are. All of your pain, your loss, your hurt."
A pause. He was at a loss for words. Again. Though, he found himself brimming with this sort of love that he had never experienced before. One that was endless, hopeful, and beautiful. One that resembled her.
"Cullen." She exhaled a long breath. "I want it. I want it all. I want you ."
"And I'm sorry for not speaking about this sooner. I urged you to stop taking lyrium, but I didn't consider just how hard..."
She found it difficult to speak, to breathe even. It was excruciating to think that his pain was partly her fault. And she couldn't bear to think of him dying because of the withdrawals.
"I'm sorry," She repeated. Though, quieter this time. "I want to endure this with you."
He searched her eyes once more to find nothing but a pure, bleeding heart reserved for him. And only him.
And for what seemed like the first time, Cullen felt as though he had been freed.
It was as if the chains that had held him back had broken and clattered to the ground. As if the quiet had turned into something else entirely. There was no longer this eternal silence that plagued his every step like a shadow — but a soft, gentle, and glorious quiet.
"It is our burden then," He breathed. Hearing her breath hitch, he cupped her cheek and leaned his forehead against hers.
"But it won't hurt any longer. Because I am wholly and forever yours."
He smiled as they both closed their eyes, basking in the resonance of their souls. Her skin was soft against his hand, and her lips were inches away from his.
Her voice was barely a breath, not even a whisper. "Cullen—
"Hold my heart steady. And I will hold yours with equal strength."
His lips grazed hers in a tender kiss. And she returned it with equal softness. In passion, in ardour, they stayed locked in each other's arms for what seemed like millennia.
And when they finally fell apart — breathless and filled to the brim with unconditional love — he stood, extending a hand to her as she looked up at him, surprise and what seemed like relief on her face.
"Dance with me. Or, I suppose, sway with me."
Her brows arched in tender questioning. But she took his hand and felt each and every rough callus. He was so hardened, yet so gentle when it came to sweeping her in his arms.
She laughed softly in relief and in complete serenity as he laced their fingers together, pressing his lips against her skin and placing their held hands between their hearts.
Yes, lyrium sung to him — it was a melody filled with rising crescendos and enthralling rhythmic beats. But he never enjoyed its sound. The music chained him, weakened him to the point where he had almost gone mad.
But as he buried his face in her neck, kissing and nipping at her throat, sighing in contentment as her fingers ran through his golden curls — feeling her arms wrapped around him.
He felt strength.
And he reveled in it, free of the chains, free of the music.
His lips grazed against the tip of her ear, making her shiver as he whispered.
"Did Cole speak of anything else?"
She smiled and brushed stray curls from his brow, letting him lean into her palm.
"Only that you are safe and solid, protecting and proud. Like quiet, but stronger when I hold you."
He felt her arms tighten their hold, and he swept her up to press his lips against her own. There were no words needed.
Just a quiet song, a soft heartening melody from the mountain wind up above. A tender, gentle sway with their bodies pressed against each other in perfect unity. The loft with a hole in the ceiling was their own ballroom, with only the moon serving as their brilliant chandelier.
Bodies pressed together, breaths intermingling, hearts beating in perfect unity.
It is within her embrace that he finally finds beauty in the quiet.