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Caroline sat alone in the war room, studying the pieces on the board as if they held divine knowledge. The pieces never changed. Little lumps of ceramic, pretending to be places and forces. Over the last few months, the pieces had rotated around the board. The Inquisition gained ground, chipping away at their opponents bit by bit. From this perspective, the pieces made it look easy. Shove them northward. Overwhelm the forces of darkness. Eliminate Corypheus. Make the world a better place. Return to Skyhold and toast her victory with her companions.
If only, if only.
Since the board did nothing but vex her, she peeled herself away to chase diversion elsewhere. She hated sitting idle, but her people were in desperate need of rest after their last encounter with red lyrium warriors. Injuries needed to heal. Nerves needed to settle. It didn’t mean she had to like it.
Josephine's domain, just outside the war room, was a frequent destination for important meetings of nobles, so she entered cautiously, lest she interrupt and get pulled into someone's grievance. The woman sat alone, scribbling in one of her many ledgers amidst her voluminous gold sleeves. She glanced toward the wooden doors as the groaning hinges gave away Caroline's presence.
“Ah, I was beginning to wonder if you got lost,” she joked. “Did the war table divulge anything helpful?”
“No more than usual.” She slouched over to perch on the edge of Josephine’s desk. “No Orlesian aristocrats that need babysitting?”
“That is what we have pages for. Speaking of, one of mine has gone missing.” She set aside her quill and folded her hands primly.
“Don't look at me! I didn't take him.”
“While I can't rule you out as a page-snatcher entirely, I had something else in mind.” She lifted a scroll from the left side of her desk. “Would you mind running this to Cullen for me?”
She made a long, exasperated noise in her throat. “I have to do everything around here, don't I?”
“You are the Inquisitor,” Josephine reasoned with a chuckle.
She swiped the scroll and hopped down from the desk. “You find that page, you let them know that the Inquisitor herself stepped in to do his job. Put the fear of the Maker into him. Tell him if I end up doing his duties one more time, I’m strapping him to a shield and letting Iron Bull use it to bash Tevinters with.”
Josephine fought a smile. “I will pass your message along.”
“And I will pass on yours. Don’t work too hard, Josie.”
It was late enough in the day that the bustle of Skyhold had died and Caroline could cross without anybody else intercepting her. She really wished Cullen would move his headquarters closer to everyone else. No wonder pages skipped their duties. They probably dreaded running letters between him and Josephine and Leliana’s tower all day long. She wondered how they would respond if she demanded they converge their offices closer together.
Skyhold would catch fire.
That was what would happen. Skyhold would burn and she would be to blame. Her advisors worked well together, but they valued their solitude too much to tolerate close quarters.
She would have Sera to bring it up, instead.
Caroline didn’t knock before letting herself into Cullen’s turret, but he was missing from his desk. Unconcerned, she dropped Josephine’s letter off in the center of his things where it would be visible for his return.
A conspicuous grunt stopped her before she could leave.
She turned her attention upwards.
Cullen lived and breathed work, so it made sense for him to sleep in the space above his domain. It afforded him less idle time, such as what it would take to cross from the main keep to Skyhold’s battlements.
Another suspicious grunt filtered down to her.
It didn’t take three guesses to narrow down what he could be up to. A bit of a childish giggle escaped her lips, muffled quickly by her hand. Did he have somebody up there with him, or was he taking care of business on his own? Perhaps the missing page? She struggled to imagine their somber, poorly socialized commander with the time or skills necessary to entice someone for intimate companionship, but she supposed she was guilty of flirting with him shamelessly--if only to watch him blush, of course--and had seen other men and women in the keep make longing eyes his direction. It probably had something to do with his majestic ruff and manly stubble.
She wasn’t polite enough to leave discreetly. Instead, she sat down in the chair behind his desk, cocked an ear, and eavesdropped.
Unless his companion was virtually silent, she concluded that he was alone. His stamina was nothing to sniff at, either, but listening to his huffs and umphs lost its scandal after a few minutes. She ended up nosing through the letters on his desk, reading through most of Harding’s missives when she could find them. Harding had a mastery of the double-entendre that made for highly entertaining communications, but she had little doubt it was entirely lost on Cullen’s drab sense of humor.
Eventually, things up above quieted down, but he didn’t immediately descend to resume work. Caroline kicked her feet up onto the corner of his desk, resolving to wait at least another minute. It would be a shame to miss an opportunity to watch him turn red as a beet and stutter out an explanation, but she had other things to attend. Perhaps tracking down errant pages for Josephine.
Just before she gave up and left, her patience was rewarded as Cullen descended down the ladder. He got to the bottom rung before noticing her, visibly startled by her presence. His cheeks were ruddy and his blond hair stuck to his forehead.
Caroline flung Harding’s messages back on the desk and folded her hands in her lap. “Ah, finished up then?”
“Inquisitor!” He took the effort to compose himself. “What are you doing here? Did you need something? And...were you reading my mail?”
“Just seeing what Harding had to say from the front. Josephine sent this.” She dropped her feet to the ground and picked up the scroll to wave before setting it back.
“Oh. Excellent. I was hoping to hear from her. Thank you.”
To her disappointment, Cullen seemed unfazed. Perhaps he feigned aplomb in hopes that she hadn’t heard what was going on right above her head. She couldn’t imagine leaving this room without eliciting a look of genuine horror from him. His prudishness was her absolute favorite thing to prey on. It shouldn’t take much.
“Were you having fun up there, then?” she purred.
He blinked, eyebrows raising slightly. “Well, I suppose. I was just blowing off some steam. It’s been a rather frustrating afternoon.”
“Really? Well, I hope it helped.”
“It usually does.” He shrugged.
Caroline squinted his direction. She couldn’t be certain this was actually Cullen she was speaking with. He should have lit up like a fire beacon and tried to run the other direction. She leaned forward in the chair, studying him with enough intensity that he actually took a step back.
“What?” he asked, finally showing a hint of anxiety.
“Nothing, I suppose. I just didn’t expect you to be so forward about it.”
“Why not? Everybody does it.”
If her jaw hadn’t been attached to her face, it would have dropped to the floor. He couldn’t possibly be messing with her. Not Cullen. Sera. Iron Bull. Possibly Blackwall, but never Cullen.
“Ah. Yes.” How Caroline became the stammering party in this exchange, she would never know. “I agree, of course. Everybody does do it.”
He nodded, as if that settled it. “I’m sure even you must.”
“I...I do,” she found herself confessing, flabbergasted. Perhaps a demon had taken over Cullen’s body? It was as likely an explanation as any.
“If you would like, I could give you some pointers,” he continued.
Not. Possible.
There was only one solution. She would have to match him for the discussion. He wasn’t winning this. He wasn’t going to make her the uncomfortable party.
“My dear Cullen, I doubt there is anything you could possibly show me that I don’t already know. I’m a bit more familiar with my equipment, after all.”
“Of course, of course. I just thought, if you were ever interested in picking up a sword, I could show you how to handle it.”
“I’ve handled swords before.”
He eyed her critically. “Really? You don’t seem the type. I’m not sure you’ve ever shown much interest in swordplay.”
“I really thought I was being obvious, actually.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you show interest in learning how to handle a blade, but perhaps I misjudged you. You and I could spar sometime. It would be good for both of us. Maker knows we’re all wound up these days.”
Caroline blinked, trying to keep up with his euphemisms, but her thoughts fell off a cliff as they registered his proposition. It was then, and only then, that their conversation rewound in her head and played back in a literal sense.
“You’re talking about sword fighting,” she blurted. The words fell out of her mouth without permission. She made a snatching motion with her hand, as if she could grab them back, but it was too late. They were out.
Cullen’s blond brows snapped together. “That is...that is the discussion...isn’t it?”
“Of course it is.” She rose quickly from the chair, pushing away from his desk and heading toward the door. “Good talk, Cullen. Carry on, then.”
“Wait, what were you talking about?” he protested, it finally dawning on him that she hadn’t been on track with him the entire time.
“Nothing. Swords. Practicing with them. Obviously.”
“No, no. You thought we were talking about something else. What on earth could you have thought I was…?”
She watched it evolve in his eyes. She knew the moment it clicked for him, because his face, already slightly flushed, turned an inescapable shade of crimson. His face lit with horror. It would have been a beautiful transformation, but Caroline was in no mood to appreciate it anymore. Her goal slipped away from her and she only wanted to flee. Sera was going to piss herself laughing when she recounted this.
“I...I...you...you thought…I was up...that I...”
“I will take you up on those pointers someday, and that’s a promise.” She yanked the door open. “Good day, Cullen.”
“Wait! I wasn’t...I wouldn’t…!”
Caroline cut her losses and headed out, leaving him thunderstruck and spluttering. She would find a way to tease him forever about this, but later, after she sat down and went over the conversation to figure out what was said, how it was said, and what was actually meant by it. For now, she was happy that he was up there dying of embarrassment while she wrestled with her own shame.
She cut across toward the tavern. She needed a drink and for someone to laugh about this with. She would be considerate and warn Sera to use the latrine and sit down before telling her what happened. The girl might never forgive her if she ruined her breeches.