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Summary:

Part 8 of The Right Hand series: After the Inquisitor breaks his heart, Cullen tries to move on by serving as Cassandra’s Right Hand.

Cullen + Sylvie = my heart going doki doki

These two finally make progress!

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Cullen froze in the doorway, his mouth agape, wanting to speak but unable to form words. He knew he would be seeing her, of course, just not like this, at his door, before he had prepared what he wanted to say. He really hated when things didn’t go according to plan.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” She tugged absentmindedly at a few ringlets over her shoulder.

“Ah, no, not at all.” When she shifted her weight he caught a scent of herbs and something flowery.

“May I come in?” she asked tentatively.

Stupid! “Of course, where are my manners? Please,” he stepped aside and pulled the door open.

She stepped out of the hallway and into a ray of late afternoon sunshine in the middle of his room, her strong profile and statuesque figure luminescent in amber. Her curls had grown even longer since he’d seen her last, reaching well into the small of her back, but there were shorter strands framing her face and caressing her shoulders.

“I don’t believe I’ve been in one of these rooms yet,” she said, her arms folded as she examined her surroundings. “It’s quite nice.”

“Yes, it is.” Cullen realized he was being rude, again. “Would you like some water? I’m afraid that’s all I have to offer at the moment. I could call the kitchen,” he gestured to the chain on the wall, “unless you don’t want me bothering them.”

Her smile was pleasant but forced. “No, I’m fine, thank you. Do you mind if I sit? Been on my feet since dawn.”

She was being awfully formal, or was it nerves? “Not at all, please.” He hastily grabbed the desk chair and pulled it out for her. She thanked him and took a seat while he sat across from her at the foot of the bed.

“Uh, forgive the mess,” he referred to the mussed sheets and armor strewn about.

She scoffed, crossing one leg over the other. “You should see my room right now. It’s inexcusable. I’ve just been so busy since I arrived.”

“I can imagine. I mean, how busy you must be, not the state of your room.” Cullen cleared his throat. He desperately wanted to move past idle talk and find out how she discovered that he was here but didn’t know how to do it gracefully. “Do you like it here? Working for Varric?”

“I do, actually, quite a lot. He’s a wonderful boss, and incredibly generous.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Cullen watched as she looked away from him, fussing with her dress and picking at a thread he couldn’t see. It was a lovely green frock that complimented her eyes and not something one would normally wear in the kitchen.

“So –” they both began at once after an awkward silence, and Cullen extended his palm. “You first.”

“Thanks. I was about to say, I’m here now, is there something you wish to discuss?” She tilted her head to the side, her eyes inquisitive.

Cullen’s brows met. “I’m sorry?”

She uncrossed her legs and gripped her knees. “Well, the Viscount said you asked to see me. Oh, by the way, he was called away at the last minute and asked me to tell you dinner has been canceled this evening, and to convey his sincere apologies.”

Cullen’s hand closed into a fist and his jaw clenched hard enough that his teeth clicked. The nerve of that dwarf! Cassandra was involved, he was sure of it. Maker take the two of them and their ridiculous obsession with romance.

“Are you all right? You look positively vexed. Don’t worry, you can still place an order with the kitchen, I can even take it down myself.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “No, it’s not that. I never told Varric such a thing. I was trying to-” He stopped himself and sighed, letting his hand flop onto his lap. His intention sounded ludicrous, now that she was actually sitting in front of him. The leather hood he’d worn earlier seemed to mock him from atop the dresser. It had seemed like such a viable, sensible idea at the time. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Wait – are you saying Varric lied? I don’t understand. Why would he do such a thing? Does he know we were friends?”

Cullen’s ear honed in on that word. “Were?”

“Well, yes. We haven’t spoken in months.”

There was a slight accusatory tone in her voice that put him on the defensive. “I was just trying to respect your wishes.”

She rose from the chair rather abruptly. “So you didn’t ask to see me, then?” Her green eyes seemed larger than usual.

“Well no, but-”

“Then I’ll take my leave. I’m very sorry to have bothered you.” She moved toward the door.

“Wait!” He meant to take her by the shoulder but her hand swung backward into his reach and he grasped it. She spun to face him, not making any attempt to pull away.

“I don’t know how Varric knew about us, I never told him anything. I suspect someone else did. But-

“Someone else?”

“But it doesn’t matter,” he continued, “because I came here to see you. I came all this way to Kirkwall, a city I never wanted to lay eyes on again for the rest of my life just to see you, Sylvie. I had a terrible plan that fell apart, but it doesn’t matter, because you’re here now.”

He had unintentionally pulled her closer to him while he spoke and they were toe to toe now, all heaving chests and searching eyes. During their time apart he’d thought that maybe she was loveliest only in his memories but, looking at her now, he realized that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

“You did?” Her voice was tiny, unbelieving.

Her apparent surprise made him smile. “Yes, I did.” His other hand found hers, his fingers lifting her palm into his.

There was a brilliant flash of a smile, and then it was gone. Her hands slipped out of his as she moved past him further into the room.

“I told you at the ball that I couldn’t do this. Not again.” She held onto herself, standing with her back to him.

He stepped closer. “Can’t do what? Please, just talk to me. I am still your friend.”

She turned around, her soft lips curved into something between a frown and a smile. “I suppose you deserve an explanation after coming all this way.”

He shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“No, it’s all right, I want to. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll take you up on that water.”

“Of course.” Cullen poured her a cup from the pitcher and handed it to her. She sank into the chair, took a sip and after taking a sharp breath, she began.

“Do you remember when I told you about the job I had in Val Chevin?”

Cullen nodded as he sat on the bed; he hadn’t forgotten anything she had told him about her life.

“The Duke there and his family were friends of the nobles I worked for and often came over for parties, dinners and the like. They were awful people – exactly the type you’d expect – but their son, he was different. I met him when he came into the kitchen wanting to compliment me personally on the meal. I was shocked, really; he was sweet and smart and didn’t seem to care about class differences, a rare thing in Orlais. We hit it off and, well, I’m sure you can fill in the rest.”

“You fell in love.” Cullen said softly.

“Yes.” She sounded wistful, thumbing the rim of the wooden cup. “He was my one and only true love. For several years we spent every spare moment together, shared our hopes and dreams, even talked of the future. He would always say he was going to marry me.” She huffed. “I was young but not stupid; I knew that could never come to pass. But I accepted it. He made me believe our love would conquer all, so I figured he could be arranged with some noblewoman in name only and I would work in their kitchen. He had an elder brother who’d already had sons, so he didn’t even need heirs.”

“And you were truly fine with that?”

She shrugged. “I only wanted to be with him. Besides, it’s customary for Orlesian nobles to keep a paramour, you know that. Nobody would have batted an eye if Francois was sleeping with his chef. I even proposed the idea to him, and I still remember the look on his face...he was completely floored that a Fereldan woman could be so practical and think like an Orlesian.”

Cullen wasn’t sure he would have called it practical, more like settling. It saddened him to think of her living as some noble’s second.

“Anyway, the time came when his family found him a suitable wife. The union stood to benefit both of their families greatly, blah blah. They were betrothed, the estate was built and I was to work for them. She too was in love with another so she had no qualms about me. I even met her once, she seemed quite nice. I remember thinking, this is it, it’s really going to happen, we’re going to live happily ever after. Maybe it wasn’t exactly how I pictured my life turning out, but as long as I had love, I didn’t care.”

She paused, fingering a lock of hair. “But it wasn’t long before the wedding when I started to notice little things, changes. He wouldn’t be there when I woke, the flowers and love letters came less frequently, then stopped altogether. When we were together he seemed distant, distracted. When I confronted him, he made excuses about being preoccupied with the wedding preparations. And then one morning I found a letter on my pillow.”

Even now it was clear this was difficult for her to talk about. Cullen could guess where this was going but he just listened, as he thought a good friend would do.

“Turns out his fiancée was an old flame who’d left him, and he’d never gotten over her. Things ended with the other man so she decided she wanted Francois back, exclusively. He jumped at the chance.” She snorted bitterly. “I was such a fool. All that time I was just a placeholder, someone to pass the time with until the woman he really wanted came crawling back. He didn’t even have the stones to tell me in person. I never saw him again.”

“I don’t see how he couldn’t have loved you.” Cullen said incredulously, clearing his throat when she gave him a funny look. “Perhaps he was blinded by the benefits of the marriage? He’s certainly a coward and a fool.”

“No.” Her tone left no room for debate. “What I said isn’t entirely true. I did see him again, but it was from afar. One morning in the markets of Val Royeaux, I spotted the two of them browsing the stalls. I saw the way he looked at her, the way he touched her, and I knew then that I never stood a chance.”

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could think to say.

Her eyes fixed on his, piercing and vulnerable. “Do you see? Francois destroyed me, and I promised myself I would never be in that situation again.” She stood and went to the window. “I know you’re not over Tara. I saw it in Honnleath, I saw it in the grand cloister when she walked into the ball, the way you stared at her.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Some of us snuck out of the kitchens to glimpse the party.”

Cullen gripped his temples and greatly wished, not for the first time, that the ball would have never happened.

“And I really can’t blame you; she’s beautiful, a skilled fighter, the leader of the second most powerful organization in Thedas, and is clearly still in love with you.”

She turned toward him, pressing her hands together as if in prayer. “I appreciate that you came all this way, but as much as I might want to see where this goes, I simply cannot risk it. I already...I don’t think my heart could handle it. Surely you can understand that.”

She was pleading, and it shredded him to think of how badly she’d been hurt to push him away like this. Any lingering doubts he might have had in the recesses of his mind about his ability to move on vanished in that moment, because he knew he was incapable of causing Sylvie any more pain. If he’d thought there was even the slightest chance of that happening he would have bid her a final farewell right then and there.

Instead he thought very carefully about what he was about to say next. It would do neither of them any good to tell her any lies. He rose slowly from the bed.

“You’re right. Or at least you were right the last time we saw each other.”

She arched an eyebrow. Apparently she had been expecting him to deny it.

“She betrayed my trust and broke me when I was at my lowest. I was confused, hurt, lost, and I ran to Val Royeaux, but it wasn’t enough. I hadn’t dealt with things properly. I struggled, I won’t lie, and you witnessed some of that, but I can honestly say now that it’s over. I will always care for her as a friend, that is true, but nothing more.”

He inhaled, taking another step closer. “If you truly aren’t interested in me then say the word, and I’ll never bother you again. All I know is that you make me feel things I thought I could never feel again, maybe never felt before. What can I do to convince you that I’ve moved on? Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

She started to pace and scrunched up her hair. “I don’t know! I don’t know. You weren’t supposed to say that!”

“What was I supposed to say? Do you want me out of your life? Is that it?” Cullen asked gently, half expecting her to bolt out the door.

“No, all right?” She shouted and stopped in front of him, curls flying around her face, her hands emphasizing her words. “I don’t want you to leave and I very much want you in my life and I’ve thought of little else since I saw you in Honnleath and it scares the living shit out of me!” Her hand went to her mouth and tears beaded on her fluttering eyelashes.

Cullen wasted no time. He gathered her into his arms and she didn’t resist, melting into his embrace and pressing her face into his shoulder with her arms folded against him. Her hair tickled his nose and he adjusted accordingly.

“I think,” he said quietly as he rubbed her back and smoothed her hair, “that this sort of thing is supposed to be scary.”

He felt her snort onto his shoulder, followed by a sniffle.

“What if I killed this Francois for you? Would that help convince you?

“No!” she tapped his chest. “Don’t say such things.”

He pretended to mull it over carefully. “Hm. No killing? Fine. How about a good old-fashioned beating? I have been wanting to take up boxing again.”

“Stop it! No killing and no beatings. As much as I appreciate the sentiment.” She was smiling now, laughing even, and that’s all that really mattered. She slid her arms around his waist and lifted her head, regarding him with weary amusement.

He let out a mock sigh. “All right, but should I ever come across this Francois, I can’t make any promises.”

She grinned at him, full-on and unguarded. Impulsively he pressed his lips to her forehead, catching a few strands of hair in his mouth and not caring. A shuddering sigh escaped her chest and she set her cheek on his shoulder, looking away and holding him tighter, her soft curls sliding against the exposed part of his chest and giving him chills. He followed her lead and just held on, making his body solid and strong, molding himself to her form and nuzzling her tresses. He had missed this intimacy with another; the sensation of a warm body pressed against his, the rise and fall of chests pressed together but not quite in sync, the comfort such a simple gesture could offer.

He settled completely into the moment and never wanted to let her go.

He wasn’t sure how long they had been standing like that when she shifted away from him. Her hands fell to his hips and her thumbs moved against him slowly, he subconsciously mimicked the motion on her shoulders. Cullen noticed her bosom swell and the laughing look in her eyes shifting to something else, a look he had fantasized about, black pupils overtaking the green.

“If we stay here like this,” her voice hovered just above a whisper, “I’m going to do something I’ll regret. I think we need to take this slow. Friends first?”

His heartbeat tumbled and his lungs quickened at the vague suggestion, he was sure his face was flushed. “I think that’s wise,” he breathed.

She exhaled slow and shaky and stepped backward, waiting until the last possible moment to release him. He let his hands slide down her shoulders and arms as she backed away.

They stood there displaying their respective nervous tics as the charge in the air dissipated, she playing with her hair and he rubbing his neck, looking at various objects in the room and occasionally catching each other’s eye.

“Are you hungry?” Sylvie blurted out.

Cullen discovered that he was, in fact, famished. “Yes, very.”

“Perfect! I’ll whip you up something. Meet me in the informal dining hall in one hour. It’ll be in public, so that’s good.” She winced at the last statement, her hand reaching for the door.

“Please, don’t trouble yourself. Allow me take you to dinner somewhere.”

“Nonsense, my food is infinitely better than anything you’ll get around here. Besides, I love cooking for people, it’s my thing. It’s really no trouble, I already know exactly what to make.” She looked positively giddy with excitement, how could he deny her?

“All right, I look forward to it. See you in one hour.”

“Perfect!” She exclaimed again. She opened the door to leave and stopped in the threshold. She pivoted, planted a chaste kiss on his cheek and sailed out of the room, the door shutting behind her with a resolute click.

Cullen brushed a finger over the spot where her lips had just been and grinned like an ass, forgetting all about his plan to murder Varric and Cassandra.

Notes:

I'm anxious to hear your thoughts - I wrote this very fast and did a thousand rounds of editing, and I can't look at it anymore.

I'm thinking of doing a short flashback installment to when they were kids next, I think that needs a bit more fleshing out and it'll be a nice breather before moving forward into their "friendship". Also, Cullen's past will come back to haunt him while he's visiting Kirkwall.

As always, my work is unbeta'd so if you see errors tell me!

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