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Cullen accidentally receives a marriage proposal meant for the Inquisitor. He opens it immediately, the seal and expensive envelope drawing his attention, but inside he finds a proposition clearly not intended for himself. A boastful Orlesian noble promising wealth, power, property, beautiful clothing, and a multitude of other things. Cullen himself was swayed by the eloquently written proposal.
He went looking for Evelyn, thinking it only polite to hand her such an important letter in person. Surely she would need to consider it carefully. The letter spoke at great length of her beauty and presence, although Cullen had records of every noble who’d visited Skyhold and this particular one was not on the list. Still, the flattery was beautifully written, despite it’s generality, he was certain any woman would be flattered.
Cullen thought perhaps, had the noble seen Evelyn in person, he would have remarked upon the way her red hair constantly found a way to slip free of its knot, and how amusing it was to watch her re-tie over and over again until finally she decided to leave it down to frame her face in soft waves. Or, perhaps, the noble could have written on the intensity of her gaze, how it flustered anyone unprepared for it, how she used it to convey that her complete and entire attention was focused on you and no one else.
Maybe nobles considered it rude to be so personal. Cullen only knew that he could have written a much better proposal himself, and he did not even think of Evelyn in that way. But Evelyn would want to consider the offer carefully, of course, this noble could provide her with a lifetime of comfort and wealth. Yes, this letter had to be delivered in person and immediately.
He found the Inquisitor in Josephine’s study, the two were discussing the most recent Trevelyan fight that had needed to be squashed by Inquisition intervention.
“There are too many of us! And there aren’t enough nobles in the entirety of Thedas to marry all of us off, that’s why so many Trevelyans are in the Chantry you know-”
“Commander, is there anything we can do for you?” Josephine asked, slightly puzzled. Evelyn turned to look at him, smiling softly.
“Ah, well, this found it’s way into my correspondences. I apologize for reading it, I hadn’t realized it wasn’t addressed to me,” he handed the letter to Evelyn and watched as her eyes quickly scanned the contents. “Sorry to interrupt. I’ll be going-” surely Evelyn would wish to hold on to the letter and think about the offer for a few days. Perhaps she even had other proposals to consider, Cullen hadn’t even thought of that, but now he was certain she did.
“Ugh,” the disgusted sound that emerged from Evelyn’s throat surprised Cullen, though it was one he heard often, whenever she poured over diplomatic reports in the war room. She was not one to hide her displeasure.
He watched, slightly bewildered, as she viciously crumpled the fine vellum and tossed into the small fire. “Do you think we can start pawning my relatives off onto these nobles? They would hardly know the difference, we all look the same.”
“Oh I wish you hadn’t done that, I need to write a reply,” Josephine said, sounding distressed. “Who was it from?”
“Oh, Lord Francois Something or Other, I’m sure Cullen remembers,” Evelyn stood, and he met her gaze. She seemed to be searching for something in his face, though Cullen often felt as if he was missing something with her, as if there was something she was conveying to him that he just didn’t understand.
She stepped closer, and her face softened into a smile, “If you receive any more of these frivolous proposals feel free to throw them away-”
“Please do not-” Josie interrupted, sounding even more distressed.
“I’m not interested in marrying a noble who sends proposals before he’s ever even seen my face.” Cullen, once again, felt as if there was an underlying message that he was not receiving, but Evelyn simply walked passed him to leave.
Had the noble known Evelyn he should have remarked on the way she smelled, there was the smell of metal and leather that clung to anyone who spent their days in armor, but there was also the subtle scent of myrrh and lavender that seemed to move through the air as she did. It was a refreshing change from the smell of sweat and blood in the barracks that Cullen was so accustomed to. Yes, Cullen certainly could have written a much better proposal himself, maybe even one that wouldn’t get tossed into a fire.
Her hand brushed against his, only for a brief second, thought it felt like much longer. His breathing slowed and blood inched up the back of his neck. He turned to look at her and saw that she was still smiling and looking down at her feet, even as her pinky finger was caught in his own. She had a fighter’s hands, calloused in familiar places, though they were still much softer than his own. She moved to pull their pinkies apart, yet something compelled Cullen to tighten his grip, if only slightly. That made her look up, and the expression on her face could have only been described as delight. She grinned broadly at him and tugged her finger out of his grasp.
Cullen watched her leave, her hair swaying gently along her back, and he grinned a little as he watched her reach back to tie her hair in a bun. He felt that he was finally beginning to understand something, even as his neck heated up and his fur doublet began to feel uncomfortable around his neck.
“Excuse me.” Josephine’s cleared her throat pointedly and Cullen was jolted out of his thoughts. “What was the noble’s name?”
“Lord Francois Something or Other,” Cullen said, wincing immediately as he caught Josephine’s murderous expression.