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He said he didn’t dance. He had, in fact, been very adamant about not dancing, and had refused Helena’s request quite firmly. Yet here he was, standing before her, his hand outstretched and a hopeful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, stretching the scar above his lip that she adored so much. So she placed her hand in his, and allowed him to lead her in a surprisingly graceful waltz around the empty balcony, the strains of the orchestra drifting out through the open doors.
‘You dance surprisingly well for someone who doesn’t dance,’ she teased playfully. One of his hands held hers firmly, the other rested almost tentatively on her waist, as if afraid to overstep his bounds. He squeezed her hand lightly as he laughed, his golden hair catching the light with the movement.
‘I’ve had lots of time tonight to observe how this is done,’ he replied. ‘I’ve never had occasion to do this before, so I apologize for any missteps.’ As if to prove his point, he stepped on the toes of her left foot, his face turning charmingly red when she laughed.
‘Well, I’ve never had occasion, either, so I suppose I’m on no authority to tell you how you’re doing. We shall have to muddle through this together.’
‘I’m perfectly fine with that,’ Cullen murmured, his voice pitching lower and he made eye contact briefly, sending a shiver down Helena’s spine. He glanced away a second later, leaving Helena wondering if she had imagined that interaction. He led her through the rest of the dance, only tripping up occasionally, and when the song ended he stepped back, bowing at the waist and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She dropped into an awkward curtsy in return, wobbling on the way up and grinning when he quickly tried to conceal his laugh with his free hand. She brushed a stray curl out of her eyes.
‘It was a pleasure, Commander,’ Helena said as Josephine came back out through the doors to find them.
‘There you are. Come along, you two, the horses are waiting and I fear if we make Cassandra stay any longer there will be casualties.’
‘We’re not heading back to Skyhold tonight, are we?’ Helena asked in some alarm. ‘It’s so late, and I’m sure all of us would like a good night’s rest.’ Cullen made a small noise of agreement and turned to follow Josephine back into the palace, one hand resting ever-so-lightly at the small of Helena’s back, guiding her. The touch was barely a whisper, but she could feel the heat of it through her formal jacket.
‘I’ve made arrangements at the vacant residence of a friend in Halamshiral,’ Josephine assured her as the three of them made their way around the edge of the Grand Ballroom. It was slow going - they seemed to be among the few partygoers who were leaving, the rest seemed content to carry on dancing and gossiping, the night’s events surely already being exaggerated and sensationalized, to be unrecognizable by morning. ‘We will stay there tonight then make our way back to Skyhold tomorrow, midmorning.’
‘You do think of everything, Josephine,’ Helena smiled, releasing a contented sigh at the thought of a warm bath and a comfortable bed after the long day she had just been through. They finally made it to the vestibule, where Cassandra, Varric, and Dorian were all waiting at the top of the stairs, each of them looking very impatient to be going.
‘About time,’ Varric grumbled, turning on his heel and stomping down the stairs as soon as he saw them coming, coattails flapping behind him. ‘I was about to go in there after you, and we all know that wouldn’t end well.’
The horses, as Josephine had promised, were waiting for them just outside the palace gates, and as much as Helena would have appreciated a nice, cushy carriage, it felt wonderful to be back on her horse, riding away from that den of intrigue and lies. Their party rode in silence, each of them either too tired or too lost in their own thoughts to say much of anything as they followed Josephine through the streets to the lodgings she had arranged for them.
Helena was relieved to find that the house in which they would be staying that night was relatively small but comfortable, nothing like the decadent summer home Helena had pictured when Josephine had informed them of their night’s plan. They handed their horses over to the stableboy in the stables behind the house and trudged up the back stairs directly into the guests’ part of the house. There were four bedrooms around a well-appointed sitting room, where a fire was already crackling merrily in the hearth. Leliana and Josephine claimed one of the rooms, while Varric and Dorian claimed the one nearest the door to the courtyard, both of them preferring a quick escape route, should the need arise. Cullen, ever the gentleman, offered to sleep on the floor in Varric and Dorian’s room, allowing Cassandra and Helena each a room of their own, but Helena refused, knowing how much Cullen’s privacy meant to him, especially at night when his lyrium withdrawal nightmares often struck hard. Besides, it would be no great trouble sharing a bed with Cassandra, who talked little and slept soundly.
Thank the Maker, there was already a wooden tub set up in the room and the two women took turns bathing as quickly as they were able, the elven servants refilling the basin between baths to keep the water warm and clean. Cassandra was asleep almost immediately after Helena finished her bath and allowed the other woman back into the room, but Helena found that she wasn’t at all as ready for sleep as she had thought. She sat for a while in the comfortable chair provided in the room, reading a book on the history of the Winter Palace. The book proved to be rather boring and dry, so she set the tome down with a sigh and tiptoed out of the room, making sure to not wake Cassandra as she left. She headed back out the door they had come in, stepping out into the cool night air and taking a deep breath.
She could still see the bright lights of the Winter Palace in the distance, illuminating the night sky in a harsh yellow and white glow. She found it absolutely astounding that those people could simply go on dancing and partying as if nothing had happened, as if a rift hadn’t opened up in the heart of the palace, as if people hadn’t been murdered on the other side of the wall. She knew there was so much left ahead of them, that the victory in the Palace tonight had been a small one in the grand scheme of thing.
With a heavy sigh, Helena trudged down the back steps and turned into the door to the kitchen left of the stairs. The fire had been allowed to die down to embers for the night, so Helena stoked them back up into a cheery blaze before helping herself to a pint of ale from the cask on the rough-hewn butcher block table in the center of the room. She sat down at one of the stools at the table and took a deep draught before resting her elbows on the surface and burying her head in her hands. She wished the she could allow herself to enjoy this moment - she had won the night and was in a comfortable house with some of her best friends - but she had lost the ability to live in the moment when she had woken up on a cold dungeon floor with the anchor on her hand and a price on her head.
A soft knock from the door to the courtyard alerted her to the fact that she was no longer alone with her thoughts, and she looked up to see Cullen standing in the doorway, his fist resting on the frame.
‘Mind if I join you?’ he asked, waiting for her nod before stepping into the warmth of the kitchen. Helena smiled at him slightly as he pulled a pint from the same ale cask and sat down across from her.
‘Couldn’t sleep?’ she inquired after he had taken a drink.
‘I was about to ask you the same,’ Cullen admitted with a smirk. Helena chuckled, then grew more somber.
‘Was it the nightmares again?’ she asked softly, and the smile faded from Cullen’s face. He took another long drink before nodding.
‘They’re getting worse,’ he murmured, staring down into the depths of his mug. ‘I was hoping they would lessen the longer I am away from the lyrium, but….’ He sighed. ‘It matters not,’ he said after a moment. ‘Either this withdrawal will kill me or I will come out the other side stronger.’
‘You will make it,’ Helena said firmly, placing a hand over his. ‘I know you will.’ She could feel the muscles in his hand tense slightly under hers and she almost pulled away before he turned his hand over and wrapped his fingers around hers.
‘You can believe enough for the both of us,’ he murmured. His voice was low and full of something very close to want, and Helena felt that same shudder from the balcony trip down her spine. Over the last two months since the Inquisition had moved to Skyhold, she and Cullen had grown...close. Neither of them had explicitly said anything - after all, the Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste, leader of hundreds of faithful, could not have more than a professional relationship with her Commander. A mage especially could not have more than a professional relationship with a former Templar.
But there was an undeniable something between them, crackling between them at the war table, hanging over their heads as they played at chess during their rare moments of rest. Helena could tell that Cullen felt it, and it was just as obvious that he was fighting with himself, denying himself the luxury to act on these feelings. Maker, did she ever want him to act on them. She shifted slightly so that she was leaning closer across the table, and saw him swallow convulsively, his throat looking strangely bare when not surrounded by his furred pauldrons. He made as if to lean forward as well, closing the gap between them, then pulled back abruptly.
‘I should get to bed,’ he said gruffly, pulling his hand away and standing up so swiftly he almost knocked his stool over. ‘I imagine we’ll have an early start in the morning.’ He turned and strode towards the door, pausing with his hand on the handle and glancing back at where Helena sat, still leaning forward, a look of surprised bewilderment on her face. ‘You should get some sleep, as well, Inquisitor.’ His voice was gentle, his eyes tortured. Helena nodded mutely, and Cullen nodded once, firmly, before yanking open the door, his quiet oath of ‘Maker’s breath’ faintly reaching Helena’s ears as she watched him stomp up the stairs back to their quarters.
-:-:-:-
They did indeed have an early start the next morning, and a quiet one at that as they rode out of Halamshiral and began the two-day journey back to their mountain stronghold. Barely a word was spoken by either Cullen or Helena, but Varric and Dorian filled their silence by taking turns sharing the bawdy ballads they knew. They stopped for the night and set up camp a ways off the main road in a small clearing, and Helena tried to shut out the sounds of Varric and Dorian talking Cullen down from one of his nightmares.
They reached Skyhold shortly before suppertime the second day, and Helena immediately left her horse at the stables and retired to her chambers after confirming with Josephine that she wouldn’t be needed for the rest of the evening.
Helena’s private quarters were her favorite area in Skyhold. Two balconies - each accessed through a set of beautiful stained glass doors depicting Dalish forest scenes - overlooked Skyhold and the surrounding mountains, and the sumptuously decorated bedroom was complete with its own stone bathtub and a private water closet. If she could simply spend all of her time up here, away from the bustle and responsibility of the rest of Skyhold, she would be content. Today, however, she was restless, unable to relax on her plush sofa as she would have liked. She paced in agitation between the sofa and her desk, from her desk to one balcony, from that balcony to the other. She couldn’t stop thinking about her interaction with Cullen two night previous. She wasn’t fully sure how she felt about him, but she knew that his abrupt departure had left her feeling a strange sense of loss. She knew that any concerns he might have were valid, and the logical part of her brain knew that he was too practical to allow anything as risky and nonsensical as a relationship interfere with their duties to the Inquisition - and the Thedas itself.
Or maybe he felt nothing for her after all.
That thought caused her to pause in her pacing, her hands stilling on the stone balcony railing where they had been twisting together nervously. Maybe he simply didn’t reciprocate her feelings, whatever they may be. Perhaps she had read too much into his body language, and he wanted nothing more than a professional relationship, or a friendship at the most. Once that thought surfaced, she couldn’t help but laugh at herself. Of course that was it. He saw her as nothing but a friend - a chess partner, a training partner, his Inquisitor - and he didn’t know how to tell her. Once she accepted that, she could move on from her little infatuation.
Whether she wanted to or not.
A knock sounded at her door, drifting up the stairwell, breaking her out of her reverie. She sighed and left the peace of her balcony, mentally preparing herself for the Inquisitorial duties Josephine would no doubt be waiting with on the other side of her door. When she unlocked and opened her door, however, Commander Cullen was waiting on the threshold, looking decidedly nervous. He had changed out of his traveling clothes and back into what Helena thought of as his casual armor, fur pauldrons rising majestically around his neck.
‘Commander Cullen,’ she gasped. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you until the war council tomorrow morning.’
‘Yes. Um,’ he paused, clearly unsure of himself. ‘May I come in?’
‘Oh! Oh, yes, I suppose.’ She stepped back to let him in, closing the door behind him and watching a moment as he made him was up the stairs into her chamber. He had never been up there before, and he was clearly taken aback by how well-appointed it was.
‘You have a wonderful view,’ he said once she had joined him, gesturing out the glass doors at the surrounding mountains.
‘Yes, I suppose I do,’ Helena replied. She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands, suddenly, and found herself twisting her fingers around the hem of her tunic. ‘Was there something I could help you with, Commander?’ she inquired after a long moment of silence.
‘Cullen,’ he replied.
‘What?’
‘Please, call me Cullen.’ He looked so earnest she couldn’t help the smile that tugged on the corner of her lips.
‘Was there something I could help you with, Cullen?’
‘I wished...I would like to talk with you...about what happened at the palace. And afterwards.’
Helena felt a surge of disappointment. Of course this was a business call. ‘Yes, certainly,’ she replied, crossing the room to her desk. ‘I was going to turn in my full report to Leliana tomorrow morning, but you may read through them, if you would like.’
‘Not about that,’ he said gruffly. ‘About...about our dance. And then after, in the kitchen.’
‘Oh.’ Helena suddenly felt a bit breathless. Maybe her conclusion had been incorrect. ‘What...what about it?’
He was quiet for another agonizing moment before he burst out, ‘Would you care to dance again?’
She paused, flabbergasted. ‘Would I...would I like to dance?’ He looked out of his depth, as if he hadn’t quite meant to ask that, but he nodded all the same. ‘Right now?’ He nodded again, looking a little more nervous the longer she delayed. ‘There’s no music.’ He nodded once more, then held out his hand, bending at the waist. She looked at his hand, then back up at his hopeful face, before shaking her head once and placing her hand in his. He kissed her knuckles then pulled her close, other hand resting firmly on her waist, warm and heavy through her thin tunic. He began leading her through the familiar steps of the waltz, steps slightly shaky and unsure. ‘Cullen, what-’ He cut her off.
‘I’ve wanted to do this since I first saw you,’ he admitted in a rush, as if wanting to get all the words out before he could stop himself. ‘Ever since that day you came jumping over that barricade, and you closed that first rift. The determination on your face was...astounding. I wanted...I couldn’t….’ he broke off with a stutter. ‘Maker’s breath,’ he muttered, closing his eyes as he led her through a turn. ‘I’m sorry, Inquisitor-’
‘Helena,’ she interrupted. ‘If I’m to call you Cullen, then you may as well call me Helena.’
‘Helena,’ he breathed, her name sounding like a benediction on his lips. She tried to stifle the sigh that threatened to escape upon hear him say her name like that. ‘Since that very first moment. And then when Cassandra and I found you in the Frostbacks, you looked nearly dead. My heart just about stopped beating, until I picked you up and felt your pulse, still strong. You’re always so strong….’ He trailed off and stopped their rotations around the room, his hand leaving her waist to cup her cheek, other hand still holding hers firmly. The hand on her cheek drifted up to wrap a deep brown curl around his finger. ‘I’ve wanted to touch this hair for so long,’ he murmured, almost to himself. He cupped her cheek again and she sighed, closing her eyes and leaning in to his palm. ‘I understand if you don’t feel the same,’ he whispered, and she opened her eyes to see the hopeful look in his. ‘But please, Helena, I have to know either way. Could you care for an ex-Templar?’
‘Could you care for a mage?’ she asked in return, her voice low.
‘I’ve often asked myself that same question,’ he admitted.
‘And?’ she prompted.
‘And I’ve decided it doesn’t matter.’ His voice was firm. ‘It may have, at one point. Had I met you just a year ago, even, we may have never been in this situation, but getting to know you, and seeing how you work with magic, and seeing how the other mages work their magic, it doesn’t bother me nearly as much as it-’ Helena could take it no longer - she cut off his words with a swift kiss, standing up on her toes, one hand coming up to rest at the base of his neck, his fur pauldrons tickling her fingers. He gasped into her mouth, clearly not expecting this outcome, but his surprise lasted a mere fraction of a moment. The hand that had been cupping her cheek moved to tangle in her curls, the hand holding hers coming to rest on her waist, tugging her closer, bringing her flush against his body. His lips were gentle but hungry - clearly he had wanted this longer than she had.
When they broke apart, they were both flushed and breathing heavily. Cullen’s eyes look slightly dazed and Helena was sure that hers did, too.
‘Oh,’ she said after a moment, hand still tangled in his hair, the other one coming up to rest on her own cheek, which was warm to the touch. ‘Well….’
‘Yes,’ Cullen replied, voice low and gruff. He was still holding her close, and he leaned down to rest his forehead on hers. ‘Maker’s breath,’ he breathed again, eyes closed.
‘Indeed,’ Helena agreed, letting out a breathless giggle. Cullen grinned in response, pulling away and cupping her cheek again.
‘I should go.’ This was not what Helena would have expected after that.
‘What? Why?’ She couldn’t help but feeling a little bit hurt. He came to kiss her and now he was just going to leave?
‘I should leave before I do something...stupid. Thoughtless.’ She must have let the hurt show on her face, for he caressed her cheek tenderly, his eyes soft. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, Helena. I want to do this right, I want this whole thing to be right.’ Helena sighed in relief.
‘I do appreciate that,’ she responded. ‘Just...just one more kiss.’ He threw his head back and laughed at that, and oh how she loved that sound. He obliged, however, leaning down and pressing an almost too gentle kiss to her lips, then another to her forehead. She groaned, but respected that he would, at least for the moment, wish to take things slowly.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Helena.’ He kissed the back of her hand, backing away slowly, keeping his eyes on her the whole time until the backs of his legs hit the railing on her staircase, and he finally turned and went down the stairs, leaving Helena with a hand pressed to her chest, trying to stop her heart palpitations. After a moment standing still, she grinned to herself and began waltzing around the room, humming softly to herself and holding her hands as if Cullen were still there.
‘I’ll have to learn to waltz better,’ she chuckled to herself, ‘if this is going to be a regular occurrence.’