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Her lips curled in concentration, eyes transfixed on the report she was reading as Cullen rattled off information regarding the growing number of recruits and refugees coming to Skyhold. He could tell that she was growing frustrated as her blue eyes scanned the paper in front of her, her left eyebrow almost twitching in annoyance as she read the tiny scrawl. A scoff escaped her throat as she flipped the paper over. He admired the hard lines her face made as her brow furrowed in frustration—they were beautiful. She was beautiful.
Her usual ponytail was becoming loose, the tie in her long brown hair had fallen halfway and had now rested on the left side of her neck. Loose strands of hair framed her face perfectly, a stray wisp obscuring her face every now and then only to be tucked behind her ear moments later.
Sometimes she intimidated others without meaning to. As much as she’d deny it, she had a strength about her that often would give others pause, including himself. When he first met her on the battlefield, she’d gripped an acolyte staff tightly and her mouth was in a hard line. He remembered all too well how she had laughed when she successfully cast a fireball in the direction of a demon, causing it melt away. How she had shouted “goodbye” as if it were some kind of normal reaction to doing so. Yet, when she was introduced to him, her musical voice had been kind—hopeful even.
Now, watching as she looked up from the report she was reading and gave him a toothy grin in his direction, his heart leaped in his chest. It was when the tension in her face fell away, when her shoulders relaxed, that she was something else entirely. Even now, he swore that smile seemed reserved for him and him only. She was perfect. It was the simplest actions she performed that entranced him—that manipulated his heart to flutter and soar.
It was the way she leaned against the war table, her hair falling in her face as she listened to one of them drone on. The way she’d sometimes walk over to the chair by the window and stare up at the sky, her hand giving a slight wave as she’d murmur for them to “carry on” dictating reports from various places. It was the way she’d tuck her hair behind her ears and how she’d laugh at a report Sera had written. It was the way she’d sometimes lazily meander in, her eyes half-hooded and her hand covering her mouth as a yawn escaped.
More so, it was how she’d cross over to his side of the war table to retrieve a report that he could have easily handed to her. How she’d lean in to him to show him something questionable or of import on a report that one of his soldiers had written. When she did this, he could easily breathe in the scent of vanilla soap and strawberries that all too often followed after her. It was because of these moments that he had taken to going into the kitchens and taking a handful of strawberries to eat when she was away—not unlike what she had done in Haven (and probably still did now).
Before, he’d watch her fingers pick up a marker on the map to move it only to wonder what her fingers would feel like interwoven with his own. Now, he knew they were soft, unlike his calloused and overworked hands. That, despite her long fingers, her hand felt somewhat small in his. Sometimes, on the rare occasion she wore her hair down and ran her fingers through it, he imagined how her hands would feel entangled in his own locks, how her fingers would feel on his bare skin.
She was smiling at him now, causing the few freckles she had to wrinkle slightly. The candlelight hit her face, highlighting the scar that rested perfectly on her jawline. Before, he would have imagined what it would be like to kiss that exposed part of her, to trail kisses from her forehead to her cheeks, her lips to her jawline, all the way down to her neck. Now he knew the giggles that erupted from her, followed by the wonderful sound of happy sighs.
“You were saying something about….Cullen?” Josephine’s voice interrupted his thoughts, causing his ears to burn and his face to redden.
“Hm…? Oh. Right.”