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Cullen was struggling to pay attention to the council meeting. His mind kept returning to the events of that morning - of waking up with Evelyn beside him, learning another one of her quirks, watching the way she effortlessly braided her hair, and seeing her half naked in one of his shirts. That last thought was particularly distracting. His mind kept returning to seeing her stretching on all fours to reach under the bed - her perfect ass in full view. This is ridiculous. Cullen put both hands on the table and leaned forward willing himself to concentrate on the map.
“Are you alright, Commander?” Josephine asked with genuine concern - perhaps because of his lyrium addiction issues or his ignoble defeat at Wicked Grace the night before.
“Hmm... what? No, I’m fine. Just a headache.” he lied. What was he supposed to say? Sorry I can’t concentrate on what gift would best suit some Nevarran boy prince. I’m too busy picturing how nice it would be to take the Inquisitor against that wall over there. “Maker’s breath...” he exclaimed at the image his mind had conjured.
Evelyn’s eyes found his, and she gave him a small, worried smile. She was no doubt looking for signs that he was about to experience another bad episode of lyrium withdrawal. He would love to be able to take her aside and explain that he wasn’t about to relapse - that he just needed to be with her alone. Seriously, how much does a gift need to be debated?
“Give the boy a stuffed animal, and be done with it.” he growled with considerably more frustration than the discussion warranted.
“A lovely idea... what do you think he would prefer? Some sort of bear, perhaps a wolf, or maybe a rabbit?” Josephine mused.
“Just send him a fucking gryphon. He’s what- five years old? This isn’t a critical choice.” Cullen snapped.
“I agree - a gryphon it is. Let’s adjourn on that note. I need time to prepare for my trip to the Hinterlands.” Evelyn said with finality.
Cullen tried to make it out the door behind Leliana and Josephine, but Evelyn stopped him by putting a hand to his chest. I love it when you do that. Just like when you told me I could overcome my lyrium dependence. You make me want so much... hope for so much...
“Are you okay?” Evelyn asked her eyes fraught with concern and her voice shaky.
“I’m fine... really. There’s just a lot on my mind.” Cullen reached up and rubbed his thumb against her cheek - wishing he could erase the worry that was etching itself on her face.
Evelyn did not look convinced, but she blinked her understanding. “I have a fairly full day ahead, but I should be free after supper. Maybe we could talk then?” she asked still searching his face for some indication of what was wrong.
“I’d like that. Evelyn, I ... I’ll speak with you tonight.” Cullen said and then gave her a very chaste peck on the lips while keeping a stack of reports in front of his uncomfortably tight pants. Today is going to be a very long day.
************************************
Evelyn watched Cullen stalk down the corridor leading from the war room. He had grown increasingly agitated during the meeting. She couldn’t blame him. The most important issues - planning her trip to check on Bianca’s lead, fixing water supply issues at Gryphon’s Keep, subverting a Venatori plot in the Nevarran court, and hearing Leliana’s update on the Collective’s efforts to free Blackwall- had been addressed quickly. The meeting had then devolved into mundane details of troop movements, requisitions, favors for nobles, and other choices that had to be addressed but were incredibly dull. Evelyn found herself losing patience when Josie and Leliana kept agonizing over a child’s present and was relieved when Cullen’s outburst showed he felt similarly.
She was still concerned for him. He barely made eye contact with her and spent the last half of the meeting shifting around uncomfortably. She couldn’t pick up the tremors that usually accompanied worsening withdrawal symptoms, but without any other explanation she had to assume that he was fighting his addiction. She hated to see him so miserable and wished there was something she could do for him. You’ll see him tonight. You’ve talked him through rough times before. It will be okay. she told herself.
Part of her was disappointed, though. She had hoped that night they had spent together and their obvious desire for each other that morning meant that they might become more intimate sooner rather than later. Evelyn shivered at the thought. Even as he showed such blatant signs of being in distress, Evelyn had found herself imagining being back in his bed with more than just the weight of his arm on top of her. Selfish. Stop being selfish. If he needs to work through his issues, you need to be mature enough to wait. She chided herself and then started thinking, Ugh, more waiting... How long has it been, since I last? Maker, this isn’t helping.
Evelyn raced to her sparring session with Commander Helaine. Fighting with the Knight Enchanter required Evelyn’s full attention, maybe that would help her regain her focus. It didn’t. After having her barrier broken and Helaine’s spectral sword at her throat for the third time, Evelyn was relieved when the instructor ended the lesson prematurely. She would need to apologize to Helaine for her poor performance and concentration later, but she was glad the fight concluded before she got seriously injured. Dorian had been watching the debacle unfold and signaled Evelyn to follow him.
“Do you like the swill they serve in the tavern?” he asked her while he directed their path out of Skyhold’s main gate.
“It’s okay, I guess. I much prefer an Antivan brandy.” Evelyn responded not sure why Dorian was concerned with her alcohol preferences.
“Exactly... Antivan brandies are intricate, expensive, and worth savoring. The tavern’s brews are base, common, and ... “
“I’m not following your point, Dorian. Do you like Cabot’s ales?”
“After our game of cards last night, I found myself indulging in the tavern’s offerings. I couldn’t stop. With each sip it was, it can’t be that bad, can it? Before I knew it, I was analyzing the nuances of its flavor, observing its effects on my nausea. I was in a catatonic trance, fueled by the stench of disgusting dwarven ale.”
“So you’re a drunk with wide ranging preferences... what’s the issue?” Evelyn teased.
“Ha! That’s just it! You see I spent the remainder of last night not only getting drunker on the piss Cabot tries to pass off as ale, but I did it with Bull.”
“Bull is a fun drinking buddy, although you’re taking your life in your hands if you try to match him drink for drink.”
“No, my precious, darling Inquisitor. I did it with Bull. Three times in fact. And much like my experience with the bar’s wares, I found I had a growing appreciation for the entire encounter.”
Evelyn stopped dead in her tracks - her face looking like she was trying to solve a very tough riddle. “I can’t. I can’t quite picture how that worked...” she finally admitted.
“Oh, it worked alright, quite well I might add.”
“So what’s the problem?” Evelyn asked.
Dorian sighed and looked at Evelyn with pity. “I pride myself on being a man of refined tastes. I have always favored the choicest things - delicately balanced wines, high brow literature, well tailored clothes, and rakishly handsome lovers. And yet I find myself in the godsforsaken Frostback Mountains cultivating a taste for cheap beer and one-eyed Qunaris.”
“Don’t look at it as developing bad taste, Dorian. Consider it just expanding your palate.” Evelyn offered.
“Ah - and there’s why I keep you around. You are rather clever when you aren’t pining after the Commander. Speaking of... I noticed that you followed him to his quarters last night. So... what happened?”
Evelyn plopped down on a boulder with a loud sigh. “Nothing. Nothing happened. He was a complete gentleman.”
“Oh, that’s awful. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised given how proper and chivalrous he tries to be. I have no such compunctions, but I am a bad, bad man.”
Evelyn shook her head and leaned back on her arms. “He was not himself today at our council session. He was ... distant, distracted. I’m worried...”
“That he might relapse?” Dorian asked. Evelyn looked surprised. She didn’t know Dorian knew about Cullen’s decision to stop taking lyrium. “He told me, you know... about going off it. Cassandra and you were out saving Thedas, and he said that he needed someone that would hold him accountable. He never explained his reasons - didn’t need to - I understand wanting to be rid of your past. Do you think he’s struggling again?”
Evelyn felt a wave of relief that Cullen had shared his secret with Dorian. She was so thankful they had him in their lives - even though he could be a bit of a preening peacock. Her voice hitched, “I don’t know. He isn’t shaking like he usually does, but I know there is something wrong. And I feel so guilty wanting him to be more... more physical with me when he’s obviously fighting something.” She was in tears as she finished her sentence.
“Well, then, here’s my suggestion. First thing, stop the crying. You are a lovely woman, but those little snot bubbles you start forming when you cry hard are just unattractive.” Evelyn snorted and wiped her nose while Dorian kept talking. “Next when you go see him tonight, put your hair down, wear some perfume. He likes that you know. It gets rather annoying hearing about how you smell like gardenias and how your hair is so lovely and soft. And finally, listen to what he needs and tell him what you want. You both make things too complicated. Hell, just take your clothes off, and see what happens.”
Evelyn snorted at the suggestion, wiped her eyes, and tried to hug Dorian. “Ew - get away, woman. You’re a snotty mess. I won’t have you mussing my clothes. Run along and think about what I said. I do rather enjoy watching you leave, you know.”
Evelyn shook her head and made her way back to Skyhold. She still had several responsibilities and meetings left before she could try Dorian’s suggestion. It’s already been a long day, and it’s not even half finished. she thought.