Work Text:
“Impossible as it might seem, I think today’s game might be mine.”
Cullen steepled his fingers as he leaned over the board. “Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren't you?”
“Ordinarily I would say that’s half the fun. Today…” Dorian waved a confident hand over his small collection of Cullen’s pieces, scattered to one side of the board. “Let’s just say I have a good feeling about this game.”
“Do you?” Cullen made no attempt to conceal his smile as he took Dorian’s bishop.
He had been surprised that what started as the occasional game of chess, when they had the time, had rapidly evolved into a weekly arrangement, and was even now becoming an every day one. He had not expected to enjoy himself so much, nor the Tevinter’s company. He found himself looking forward to these moments away from his duties and his desk. When Dorian was around, that was; the Inquisitor often requested he accompany her when her duties — frequently — demanded she leave Skyhold.
Dorian witnessed the loss of his remaining bishop with barely a shrug. He had been playing a rather subdued game today, to Cullen’s surprise. The man was a skilled player, but not a disciplined one. Creative but impulsive, and apt to overlook — or simply ignore — weaknesses in his own defences in order to take advantage of his opponent’s. “I do. Call it sentimentality if you like. To be back at Skyhold again, after three endless weeks in the ass-end of Thedas — ”
“Four,” Cullen said. “You were gone four weeks.”
The confused look Dorian gave him was a little too studied. “Are you certain? I could have sworn it wasn’t quite a month.”
“Yes.” It hadn’t been. Not quite. They had, in fact, returned two days shy of a full month. Which had still been more than a week after they had been expected. A quick trip to meet Hawke’s Warden friend in Crestwood had been plagued by a run of bad luck. Thunderstorms and flash floods, washed out campsites and lost supplies, a detour to close a rift in the middle of a lake that had apparently been raising the dead, and a Red Templar ambush that Leliana had learned of only just in time to warn the Inquisitor.
We received Sister Leliana’s information in time to prepare ourselves. There were only minor injuries, the Inquisitor’s report had read. In the one she'd sent to him, there had been a small note. Please stop worrying.
Cullen might have, if not for Varric’s report. That had been more straight-forward: That was really damn close.
“Ah, well. You may be right,” Dorian allowed. “I may have excised the worst bits from my mind. Have you ever tried to fall asleep with a Qunari snoring away in the next tent? You end up lying awake in the small hours of the night, thinking all those deep philosophical thoughts like how in the world did I get here and am I ever going to get all the mud out of my ass?” Dorian shuddered theatrically. “Needless to say, I am very glad to be back at our little castle in the clouds, among my books and — oh. Did I happen to mention?” Dorian selected his queen. He had a tendency to bring her out early, preferring the flash and power to a steadier attack. “I located a copy of those memoirs by General Tactitus you recommended. A very instructive read.” Dorian turned the gold and ivory queen over in his hand. “Particularly the chapter on the art of distraction.”
“Is that so?” Cullen took out another of Dorian’s pawns, adding it to the collection he was amassing along the edge of the board with a deliberate click.
“Indeed. Before I forget” — Dorian set the queen down, taking out one of Cullen’s knights — “I invited our dear Inquisitor to stop by.”
“Oh. I — that’s — ” Cullen moved his bishop without thinking, three spaces instead of two, and realized his mistake too late. “The Inquisitor is always welcome.”
“That’s why I invited her. I don’t suppose you’ve had a chance to see her since we got back?” Dorian’s tone was a little too casual.
“She is a very busy woman. She has...that is, we all have...there is always a great deal of work to do.” Too much work for him to go — for her to come — for — “What?” Cullen demanded. The man was smiling at him.
“Nothing. I was about to make an extremely amusing and witty comment about forbidden fruit, but I suppose it’s not technically forbidden, is it? This is hardly a Circle, and as you are always so quick to point out, it is ‘former Knight-Captain.’” Dorian leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. “I believe it’s your move, Commander.”
Cullen glared at the board, refusing to acknowledge Dorian’s smug look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No?”
“No,” Cullen said firmly.
Dorian hmmmed, but left it at that as they played the next few moves in silence.
“She is the Inquisitor,” Cullen said.
A grin flashed across Dorian’s face as he considered, selected, moved. “Oh, of course.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing at all. It’s exactly the sort of song and dance I would have expected of you.” Dorian smiled wickedly. “Shall I sing it for you?”
“I'd rather you pay attention to the game,” Cullen returned, harsher than he intended.
But Dorian was clearly enjoying himself now, sitting up straighter in his chair, the board forgotten. “‘Selena — that is, I meant, of course — ’” He put a shocked hand to his chest. “The Inquisitor is, well, the Inquisitor, and I am Commander of the Inquisition’s forces, and there is a war to fight, which means I am simply going to ignore those lovely blue eyes and that big strawberry of a mouth, because it would be irresponsible to shove her up against a wall to have my forceful and manly way with her — ’”
“Dorian,” Cullen bit off.
Dorian regarded him with perfect innocence. “Yes?”
Cullen’s immediate impulse was to say something curt and definite, something that would wipe that satisfied smile off the man’s face. Something that would make him stop thinking about strawberries — because, dammit, now he was thinking about them. And how he’d come across Sel — the Inquisitor having tea with Josephine in the ambassador’s office one afternoon. There had been a bowl of strawberries between them, and a small pot of cream, and it had been a struggle to remember why he’d sought Josephine out in the first place, or anything at all for that matter, as he watched Selena bite into the dark red fruit.
Cullen cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus on…something else. Dorian was smiling at him again. Or still, rather. The man never stopped smiling. It was irritating. “It isn’t like that.”
Dorian arched a finely manicured brow. “You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” Dorian said brightly.
“Yes,” Cullen said again. Then, “‘Good?’”
“Of course. People have been asking if our fair Inquisitor is, shall we say, spoken for, and until now I hadn't been able to answer them properly. Now I may confidently tell anyone who asks that you and our dear Selena are colleagues and nothing more.”
“Good.” Cullen fixed his attention on the board. The pieces. “Not nothing more,” he said. “The Inquisitor and I are — we are — ”
“Friends?” Simply the way the man said the word made it sound...well, not like it was supposed to sound. It was — they were —
“Yes,” Cullen said at last. Because they were friends. At least he thought of her, of them, as such. He had made friends easily once, but that was long ago. When he had been another man. Now he…he valued his friendship with Selena and anything else…
It was better if he didn’t think anything else. Wiser. Safer.
Still, Cullen began to ask, “Who — ” He didn’t let himself finish.
Dorian did so for him. “Who is asking? Oh, you know.” He began to tick the list off on his fingers. “Ambassadors. A few of our soldiers. One of the Chargers, two of the clerics, and one of those charming goat-tossers, who, as he phrased it, wished to know whether or not the Inquisitor had yet been ‘claimed.’ Apparently the Avvar kidnap their brides from other tribes, so as to assure that new blood comes into their own — or, at least, that’s what I think he was saying, I was a little distracted by the fact that he was wearing nothing but some decoratively applied mud for armour. Which reminds me of a recommendation I should like to make for our own soldiers — ”
“No.”
Dorian sighed. “Ah, well. I suppose it’s of little matter. I imagine the lovely Lady Montilyet will want to pair her off politically.”
Cullen shoved himself back in his chair. He had no idea where they had found the blasted things, but they were profoundly uncomfortable. He could feel a headache building. “This is nonsense.”
“I for one agree with you, but that is an even older song. This Inquisition is becoming a force to be reckoned with, and we are at war. And she is, as you say, the Inquisitor. It may make political sense to align with a kingdom, or a country, or a power that could strengthen us. I believe the King of Antiva has a number of sons, and I could have sworn I overheard Josephine mentioning an introduction to the Duc Gaspard. Our Selena does appear to have a taste for the commanding, military type,” Dorian added with a wicked gleam in his eye. “That’s probably not the wisest course, I will admit. Things could turn out very badly for him if that little civil war of his takes a turn for the worse. I know, I know, the Empress, gracious and magnanimous leader that she is, is hopeful that her peace talks will mend the breach, etc, etc, but in my experience sitting down in a room to talk things out only serves to remind everyone why they hate each other so much in the first place.”
“Selena is not a pawn to be married off for the sake of alliances,” Cullen began savagely, and ordered himself to stop talking.
“Of course,” Dorian said sweetly.
Cullen focused on the chessboard and didn’t allow himself to answer. He found himself frowning at one particular knight, only a few spaces away from the queen. Protecting her. “I know what you’re trying to do.”
“I don’t think ‘trying’ is the right word, Commander. ‘Trying’ implies that it’s not working.” Dorian moved like a snake, his hand darting out to flick away the knight. “Would you look at that? It seems you’re about to lose your queen, Cullen.”
He looked up and smiled before Cullen could answer. “Perfect timing.”
But Cullen had already caught the movement out of the corner of his eye — the set of the shoulders, the smooth stride — and knew it was her before she was halfway to the gazebo. A sister put a hand on her arm, stopped her to ask a question; the Inquisitor stopped and spoke to the sister patiently, but she glanced over to catch Cullen’s eye with a smile that simply cut through him.
He wasn’t imagining it, the way she smiled at him. She didn’t smile that way at anyone else. It might have been easier if he was.
He had cared for women before. A puppyish infatuation when he was younger that had been as brief as it was intense. A few understandings with one or two of the Templars in Kirkwall. But not like this. Nothing like this. This thing that took his breath away when he looked at her.
“Selena would never agree to it.”
“Not even for the good of the Inquisition?” Dorian returned, in that smoothly irritating way of his.
No, she wouldn't. Seeing her speaking patiently to the sister, even as her eyes kept finding him, he knew that. Because of the way she smiled at him. Because of how he felt when she did.
Cullen stood without thinking as she loped up the steps to the gazebo, bringing the faint scent of roses that seemed to follow her everywhere. The Inquisitor held out a hand to stop him. “Please don't let me interrupt.”
“No,” Cullen said quickly. Then, more firmly, “You're not.”
“Good.” She smiled again — his smile — and he felt his stomach take one slow lurch. “Good. I — it's good to see you, Commander. I haven't seen you since we returned.” He saw Selena was twisting her fingers in her grasp. She glanced down and stopped, clasping her hands tightly behind her back.
“Yes. That is — yes. I — ” Missed her. Cullen cleared his throat. “That is — ” He felt it, every moment she was gone. The sense of emptiness that he hadn’t known, hadn’t minded, until she had been there. It sometimes felt as though he’d missed her before he ever knew her. “I hope you’re doing well.”
“I am. Very well. I’m glad to be back. Here.” She tucked a lock a hair behind her ear, slanting a look at Dorian over her shoulder. Too quickly for Cullen to catch, but it made Dorian smile. "I had hoped to stop by earlier, but Josephine cornered me with our newest guests," she went on, "and I had to play the proper Inquisitor."
"Oh? Is that two distinguished-looking gentlemen from Ferelden. Bann..." Dorian furrowed his brow thoughtfully. "What was his name?"
"Bann Sighurd, and his son Oswyn."
"Ah yes. Handsome, don't you think?"
Cullen ordered himself to ignore Dorian's smug look, but he couldn't help glancing at Selena.
She raised an eyebrow. "I suppose. At least, I hope Madame de Fer thinks so. She was passing by," Selena admitted as Dorian grinned, "and, well, when escape is in sight you resort to drastic measures."
"I am glad you managed to join us at last," Dorian informed her. “You’re just in time to see me crush the Commander here.”
Cullen saw the laughter in her eyes when she turned to him. “Am I?”
Dorian gestured to the board, where his ivory pieces well outnumbered Cullen’s obsidian ones. “Victory is all but assured. It’s only a matter of time, I’m afraid. Make it easy on yourself, Commander,” he went on as Cullen took his seat. “There’s really no point in drawing it all out — ”
He stopped when Cullen neatly checkmated him. With his queen.
“Venhedis.” Dorian glared at the board, holding out a finger as Cullen grinned. “Not one word.”
“Perhaps,” Cullen suggested, “next time you should pay more attention to the game than to tactics.”
Dorian glared at him, but he took Cullen’s queen and, after weighing it in his hand for a moment, set it in front of him. Then he stood. “The Commander is all yours, Selena. I leave it to you to see if you can do any better.”
“You’re leaving?” The Inquisitor glanced at Cullen, and then back to Dorian. “I thought — ”
“No, no. To the victor, and all that,” he said, giving Cullen a pointed look. “I believe I shall head over to the Rest, see what mischief Sera is up to.” Dorian squeezed her shoulder briefly and strolled off.
Selena watched him go before she turned back to Cullen. “Do I want to ask?”
Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work away some of the tension there. “I’d rather you didn’t.” He realized that she was still standing there and cleared his throat. “Would you care for a game?”
The smile again. “I’d like that.” Selena settled in Dorian’s chair, tucking a leg underneath her as she leaned forward to help him set up the pieces. “I feel I should warn you. I’ve been practicing,” she explained when Cullen glanced up. “Dorian and I played a few games on the way back, before Bull would inevitably goad him into a match. I think he appreciated it. I didn't give him much of a challenge.” She gave him an arch smile. “He doesn't let me win.”
“I don’t — that is, ‘let’ is not the word I would — I didn’t want to discourage you,” he admitted in a low tone.
“I’m not. Discouraged,” she added quickly. “I enjoy...this.” He could see the blush rising in her throat.
“As do I.” Friends, Cullen told himself as she lifted her eyes to his. They were friends. But he recognized it for the shield it was.
It would be wiser to excuse himself, to shut himself away in his office with the work that inevitably waited there. To put some distance between them, so that he would stop watching for her, so that the scent of the rose cream she smoothed on wouldn’t fill his head. Perhaps that would make things easier. It would be wiser to go.
But he stayed. “Shall we?”