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Inquisitor Lira Trevelyan stumbled out of the Herald’s Rest. She took large gulps of the crisp night air, hoping it might clear her fuzzy senses.
No such luck.
A shot of Chasind Sack Mead had been The Iron Bull's remedy for the sting of Blackwall's rejection. One shot turned into one bottle, turned into several bottles. Before she knew it, Cabot was shooing them out of the tavern, lest they drink his entire supply.
Bull wandered off on the arm of a woman Lira couldn't recognize in her state, so she braved the night alone. She bid a good evening to an Inquisition soldier who leaned stiffly against the outer wall of the tavern. When he didn't return her salutation, Lira prepared to scold him for his disrespect, but upon closer inspection the soldier was revealed to be a rather tall shrub.
Instead of heading straight back to the main keep, Lira turned right, toward the stone steps leading up to the battlements. It was a beautiful night for a walk, nothing between Lira and the stars.
A few guards eyed her suspiciously as she meandered across the battlements in an irregular zig-zag. Lira considered pretending to leap over the edge to test how fast their reflexes were. She laughed merrily at the thought, drawing uneasy looks from the nearby patrolmen. No, they were being tested enough right now. Lira was sure to get an earful from Leliana about this later. But that was tomorrow's problem.
Suddenly a wooden door blocked Lira's path. How rude! she thought, affronted. Lira threw the door open and strolled in, expecting a crowd but finding only an empty room. An unused tower filled with debris. She picked her way carefully through the rubble, managing to avoid injury (save for a stubbed toe). The door on the other side of the room opened back out to the battlements and the expansive sky.
What an idiot! Blackwall could be here with her now, drunk on mead and stumbling together under the stars. They could find a shadowy corner and steal a few sloppy kisses before being chased away by the guards. But he’d rather brood in the barn with only horse dung for company. The man was clearly a fool.
Another wooden door barred Lira’s path. Andraste's tits, where had all these doors come from?
Lira barged through the door and nearly tripped over her own feet. She staggered into the room with an indelicate yelp.
“Inquisitor?!”
Lira spun around and squinted her eyes in an attempt to stop the room from wobbling around her. A curly blond head slowly came into focus, with an expression mixed of shock and concern.
Lira had stumbled into Commander Cullen’s office.
“Whoops,” Lira giggled, swaying on her feet. “So—hic—so sorry, Commander.”
In the blink of an eye Cullen was there, a steadying hand on Lira’s shoulder. Lira’s vision swam. Two Cullens wavered in her vision. Two mops of unruly blonde hair. Two sets of warm amber eyes. Two sets of lips, permanently curved into a slight smirk from an old scar.
“Inquisitor, you’re drunk,” Cullen stated.
“Drunk, you’re Inquisitor,” Lira replied in a mocking voice.
Cullen snorted and shook his head. “You’re really drunk.”
Lira shrugged innocently, which threw her off balance and caused her to nearly topple over onto the floor. Luckily Cullen’s quick reflexes saved her from a possible head trauma. He righted her on her feet, now holding his hands firmly on her shoulders. Lira looked up at him with a lopsided grin.
“Commander, it’s—hic—the middle of the night. Why are you still—hic—wearing your armor?” Lira started laughing. “Do you sleep in it?”
Cullen looked taken aback. “I was still working, I’ll have you know!”
Lira smirked. “I’m just teasing.”
“Come along, Inquisitor. I’ll escort you to your quarters.”
Lira sighed noisily. “And why are you always so formal anyway? You can call me Lira!”
Cullen took Lira’s verbal assault in stride. “All right then Lira, I’ll escort you to your quarters.”
Cullen guided Lira out the main door of his office. He kept one arm firmly around her as he walked her along the battlements. Before entering the keep, Cullen stopped her. He gripped her shoulders and leaned in. “We have to be quiet,” he whispered. “We don’t want to disturb Solas on our way through.”
Lira rolled her eyes. “I’m not a child, Cullen,” she complained. “Of course I’ll be quiet.”
Cullen pursed his lips, but didn’t say anything further. He turned to the door, slowly pulling it open so as not to make much noise. He ushered Lira in ahead of him, then carefully closed the door shut behind him. Lira took small, shuffling steps in a sad attempt at stealth. She looked around with bleary eyes and spotted Solas sleeping soundly on his sofa. A wicked urge to shout or throw something at him popped into her inebriated brain. Cullen must have sensed it, because he put a stern hand around her waist, and pressed a finger to her lips. Lira’s lips spread into an impish grin, then she took a playful nip at his fingertip.
“Andraste preserve me,” Cullen swore under this breath. He pushed Lira hurriedly towards the door that led to the main hall. Lira nearly collapsed into helpless laughter as Cullen dragged her through the empty chamber.
Climbing the stairs to Lira’s quarters proved a challenge. Lira kept trying to skip back down, teetering on the steps and tempting fate with every move. Cullen eventually lifted her off the floor and threw her over his shoulder. He marched the rest of the way to her room with Lira pouting and demanding to be put down.
Lira felt the room tilt and when she looked up, she was seated on her own bed. Commander Cullen stood over her, looking like a stern father. He let out an exasperated sigh.
“All right then, Inquis—all right, Lira?”
“What, you’re not going to tuck me in, Commander?” Lira teased.
Lira wasn’t sure if it was the mead clouding her vision, but it looked like Cullen was blushing. He ran a hand through his curls and inhaled sharply through his nose. “I’ll take my leave now,” he said flatly.
“Spoilsport,” Lira mumbled. She flopped over into her pillows, still fully clothed, and pulled a fur across her body.
Cullen turned to go, then groaned audibly. He approached Lira’s bed. “At least take your boots off before you fall asleep,” he said softly.
Lira rolled onto her back and lifted one foot into the air. Cullen raised an eyebrow at her, then realized what she wanted him to do. He rolled his eyes and bent to pull Lira’s boot off. He dropped it on the floor, then lifted her other boot and did the same. “There,” he said.
“Much better,” Lira murmured drowsily. Her eyes grew heavy, beckoned to the peaceful sleep of drunkenness.
“Here, let me take your coat,” Cullen said.
Lira halfheartedly lifted one arm into the air. She heard Cullen chuckle to himself. He maneuvered her arms until he was able to wriggle her out of the heavy leather coat Lira wore over her clothes. She couldn’t seem to make her eyes open. “Thanks, Cullen,” she sighed sleepily. She felt another fur slide over her body and smiled.
“Sleep well, Lira,” Cullen said quietly.
Lira drifted off to sleep to the sound of Cullen’s footsteps descending the stairs.
Lira awoke the next morning feeling as if a herd of druffalo had stomped on her head. She pinched the bride of her nose between her thumb and forefinger in an attempt to stop the stabbing pain behind.
“Curse you, Iron Bull,” Lira muttered, rolling onto her side. “Curse Cabot, curse the Maker, curse blessed Andraste herself…”
Lira blinked herself awake slowly, squinting in the late-morning sunlight.
To her great surprise and delight, Lira found a tray of biscuits on her nightstand. They were accompanied by small bowls of butter and honey, and a still-steaming pot of herbal tea.
I thought you might need this.
-Cullen
Lira groaned. The events of her evening suddenly came into sharp focus. What must Cullen think of her now? Maker’s balls, I bit him, Lira thought miserably, recalling the moment he tried to shush her. She aggressively buttered a biscuit and shoved it into her mouth to chew away at her own embarrassment.
P.S. They found the Iron Bull asleep, fully naked, in Skyhold’s garden this morning. I’m grateful it was you, and not him, who stumbled into my office.
Lira chuckled, at both the image of a nude Bull passed out among the elfroot, and at the Commander’s sense of humor. Perhaps she had misjudged him, and he wasn’t too annoyed with her after all. She eased herself out of bed, realizing she was still in yesterday’s clothes. Her boot sat on the floor nearby, and her leather coat was draped over the stone railing. Cullen. She smiled.
Lira changed into a fresh shirt and breeches, then pulled her boots and overcoat on, and descended from her room with heavy steps.
After a debrief with Bull on the events of evening (“Flissa just left me in the garden! Ha! She’s a spirited one, all right.”) Lira steeled herself to the grim duty of both apologizing to and thanking Commander Cullen. She found him in the training grounds, pointing out something on a scroll to Cassandra.
“Inquisitor! You’re looking lively this morning,” Cullen observed once she approached.
“You should see the inside of my skull,” Lira said, rubbing her temples dramatically. “Lucky for me a plate of biscuits and a pot of tea magically appeared at my bedside this morning.”
Cullen smiled slightly. “How did that happen, I wonder?”
“Perhaps I’m a mage,” Lira said with a mock gasp. “My abilities lay dormant all this time, only to manifest in my hour of need.”
“To summon a plate of biscuits. Yes, seems likely,” Cullen said with a chuckle.
Cassandra looked back and forth between the two of them, clearly puzzled. “I am sure I am missing something, but I am also not sure I want to know. I will bring this to Harritt, Commander,” Cassandra said, gesturing with the scroll.
After Cassandra walked off, Lira shifted on her feet and glanced around the yard, anywhere but at Cullen as she tried to think of how to begin. Mercifully, Cullen prompted her.
"Was there something else you needed?"
She looked up at him, readying herself for his judgment. “In all seriousness, I wanted to thank you. And to...apologize. My behavior was not very...Inquisitorial."
Cullen arched an eyebrow. “And which behavior are you referring to? Being blind drunk, or biting the Commander of the Inquisition?”
Lira clapped a hand over her mouth. “I was hoping you’d forgotten that part.”
“Not likely,” Cullen teased.
"Well, I suppose I deserve it. I promise to keep my teeth to myself the next time I'm drunk."
"Now, now. Don't make promises you can't keep, Inquisitor."
Was that...flirting? Lira smiled widely and Cullen immediately looked sheeping, rubbing the back of his neck as a handsome flush reddened his cheeks. Maybe it was the hangover, but she decided against torturing him about it.
"Again with this Inquisitor business. I seem to recall telling you not to be so formal."
Cullen cleared his throat and recovered quickly. "I didn't expect you'd remember."
Lira tapped her temple. "I remember everything."
They stared at each other for a moment longer, before the silence became too much for Lira to bear. "Well, I suppose I should let you return to your duties."
Cullen opened his mouth to say something, but appeared to think better of it. "Ah, yes. Very well. Good day, Inquis—Lira."
He turned to leave, but a thought seemed to strike him. He spun back to face her, a playful look in his eyes.
“For the record, I do not sleep in my armor.”
Lira grinned. “Whatever you say, Commander."