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“I’ve a letter for you, ser.”
Cullen looked up from the report he was reading to find a young woman standing in the doorway of his office. He recognized her as one of Leliana’s couriers, but couldn’t recall her name.
“Thank you,” said Cullen, turning his attention back to the report. “You can leave it on the desk.”
The courier approached his desk. “I, uh, I can’t leave until you open it, ser. The Inquisitor, she, um, told me she would put me in a gibbet if I left without seeing you open it.”
Cullen sighed and set his report aside. “She didn’t mean it, but I’ll take it from you.”
The courier gave him the letter and left with haste as soon as he broke the seal. He made a mental note to remind the Inquisitor that gibbets were used for public execution, and threatening couriers with such a fate was not as funny as it might seem. He then turned his attention to the letter.
To my dear Commander,
A dragon has been menacing the good people of Crestwood, and tomorrow we will be attempting to slay the fiendish thing. I say “attempting” because I fear the beast may slay us instead. Should I fall in battle there are two things I want, no, need you to know:
Firstly, I really did promise Xenon the Antiquarian my marked hand after my death. There is a contract. Ask Varric. If my remains are recovered and my left hand is intact please see that it is delivered to the Black Emporium with haste.
Most importantly, I want you to know that you were always my second favorite advisor. Your counsel was often, if not always, invaluable. I am eternally grateful for all you have done not just for the Inquisition, but for me as well.
With fondness and admiration,
Lady Inquisitor Catherine M. Trevelyan, Her Worship, the Herald of Andraste
It was ridiculous and unprofessional, and it did not surprise Cullen in the least that the Inquisitor would make light of the fact that she had volunteered herself and her companions for a life-threatening task. He knew he should feel frustrated by her lack of concern for her wellbeing and he wanted to, but it was difficult when he was still grinning over the mocking way she had signed the letter using every title that had ever been attached to her name. It reminded him of a conversation they had on the journey to Skyhold during which she had implored him to call her “Cat” before she started believing that “Herald” was her name.
And then it will turn into Harold. Do I look like a Harold to you, Commander?
He chuckled to himself at the memory of her words, and how she had winked at him before she quickened her pace to return to Solas’ side at the lead. Every so often she would look over her shoulder and whenever she did their eyes always seemed to meet. The scowl that seemed to be her default expression softened into a smile completely unlike the smug smirk he was accustomed to seeing replace it. It was warm and genuine and fleeting, gone as quickly as it came. It seemed almost like a secret between them, but that was perhaps too hopeful.
“Commander?”
Two knocks and the sound of his title pulled him away from his thoughts—his inappropriate thoughts—about the Inquisitor. Even muffled behind his closed office door he recognized the distinct Antivan accent of Lady Montilyet. She did not wait for him to voice a response before letting herself into his office with Leliana at her heels. The ambassador’s expression revealed nothing of her mood, but the spymaster looked like the cat that got into the cream.
“Are you also her second favorite advisor?” asked Leliana, smirking as she gestured towards the letter he still held in his hands.
Cullen laid the letter down on his desk and sighed even as he felt relief at the realization that he was not the sole target of the Inquisitor’s playful teasing this time. She was finally branching out. “What is this nonsense?”
“A joke, I believe,” said the spymaster. She leaned against the door of his office with her arms crossed over her chest, a pleased look still firmly dominating her features.
“We spoke with Varric, and he confirms there is a contract,” said Josephine.
“Signed in blood, no less,” said Leliana.
“So, he’s in on the joke then.” Cullen shook his head. Of course she would have involved Varric, and Dorian had no doubt been asked for his opinion before she handed the letters off to the unfortunate messenger that hand delivered them to each of the advisors. They were all witty, silver-tongued kindred spirits.
“That was my thought as well,” said Leliana.
Josephine groaned miserably. “You both underestimate Lady Trevelyan’s…impertinence. Need I remind you this is the same woman who refuses to use a respectable mount because she fears she will hurt the Bog Unicorn’s feelings?”
Cullen chuckled to himself, and Leliana covered her mouth to hide her own amusement. The Inquisitor’s fondness for the strange creature was widely known, as was Josephine’s distaste for it. She had gone so far as to enlist the horsemaster’s assistance in attempting to persuade Lady Trevelyan to retire the beast to the stables, but it was to no avail. The Inquisitor would not abandon her loyal steed.
“I will have someone look into whether or not this contract exists, Josie,” said Leliana, smiling at her friend.
The ambassador returned her smiled and nodded in thanks before turning her attention back to her clipboard. “At any rate, we already received word from Cassandra yesterday that they were successful in their endeavor. The Inquisitor must hav—”
“They killed it?” asked Cullen, suddenly more engaged than he had been moments ago. “Why wasn’t I told anything about this? Were there any injuries?”
Josephine and Leliana exchanged amused looks, and he immediately regretted his reaction.
“There was a note added to Cassandra’s correspondence by the Inquisitor specifically forbidding us from telling you.” Once more a wicked smirk took over Leliana's features, and before she had even said another word Cullen felt the heat rising in his cheeks. “It seems she wanted to make you worry a bit, and it worked."
“I’m not worried,” he protested, and Leliana raised an eyebrow in response. “That’s not—I, ah, I meant that my concern is professional, of course.”
“Did someone suggest otherwise?”
Maker’s breath! Cullen thought. Was there an appropriate way to respond to that?
“There were injuries,” said Josephine, grinning and on the verge of giggling, but he was grateful for her intervention nonetheless. She flipped through the documents on her clipboard looking for something specific until she found it. “Iron Bull received most of the beast’s abuse according to Cassandra—concussion, lacerations, a broken toe—but all others reported only bruises and minor soreness.”
“Good.” He cleared his throat and resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck to ease his tension lest he give the women something else to giggle about. “Right. Was there anything else?”
Leliana smiled.
I shouldn’t have asked. Why did I ask?
“Let me see your letter.”
“Leliana.”
“What? Why? It’s the—”
Before he could react Leliana had already crossed the room and snatched the letter off his desk. Until that moment he had been certain his letter was identical to the ones received by Leliana and Josephine, but with it in the spymaster’s hands he was overcome with insecurity. “Was that necessary?”
“Yes,” said Leliana. She giggled to herself and then stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Josephine so that she could review his letter as well.
"Oh," said the ambassador, her eyes widening as she looked to Leliana.
Cullen furrowed his brow. "Wha—"
"This too," said Leliana, pointing at something else that caused them both to start giggling.
"Maker's breath," said Cullen. "What are you on about? It's the same as your letters."
Josephine gave him a sympathetic look and shook her head.
She's blushing. Why is she blushing? Cullen wondered. He thought of the letter's contents and could not imagine what could be so amusing.
"What was your letter's salutation, Josie?" asked Leliana.
Josephine grinned and it was as wicked a smirk as he had ever seen Leliana or Ca—the Inquisitor—conjure. "'To Ambassador Montilyet."
"Funny," said Leliana. "Mine said: 'To L since that is how you insist on signing everything you send to me.'"
He knew where they were heading, but Cullen still snorted trying not to laugh at the way the Inquisitor had addressed their spymaster.
"But at least our greetings were unique," said Josephine, feigning offense. "She closed both of our letters with, 'In gratitude and respect.' I suppose our leader does indeed have a favorite advisor, whatever she claims."
Cullen sighed heavily and covered his eyes with his hand. His cheeks and ears burned, and the thought of looking either of them in the eye filled him with dread.
When the Inquisitor returned from Crestwood she would summon them all to the war table, Leliana and Josephine would stand giggling on either side of him, and the Inquisitor would bask in the glory of not one but two victories that day.