Summary: Enver Gortash is gripped by the loss of Agnes (the Dark Urge). Her memory lingers in everything he does, the grief is overwhelming.
Pairing: gortash x fem!durge (named)
Word Count: 1.2k
Tags: heavy angst, grief
While writing this I was listening to: While writing this I was listening to: Creatures in Heaven by Glass Animals
‘Scared of the crack where the light comes through, I'm only really me when I'm here with you’
Agnes traced her fingers along Enver’s face, down his cheek and across his lips, smiling to herself as she took in every inch. In the dim candlelight, shadows danced across their skin as they lay bare with one another, Agnes lying on top of him, one hand resting on his chest. She hummed to herself, her finger tracing over the bump of his nose.
Enver sat still, the tenderness of her touch causing him to hold his breath. Agnes was a lot of things, intelligent, clever, beautiful, lethal, but not tender. Not often. He could watch her like this forever, deep grey freckles peppered across her skin. The black tendril tattoo on her face was nearly hidden by a wave of raven hair falling over her eye. He lifted his hand, tucking the silky hair behind her ear and gently stroking her cheek. He wanted to savor the moment, to be in this moment. She leaned into his touch, her finger falling to his lips as she smiled at him. They stayed in comfortable silence, hands wandering as they lay entangled together, mapping out each other’s bodies as if trying to memorize one another.
“What time is it?” Agnes asked, peering over to Enver’s night table at a pocket watch. It was nearly 3 in the morning.
“Too late for you to have me awake,” Enver chuckled, his fingers kneading into the plush flesh of her backside. She rolled her eyes, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. He chased after her, cocking an eyebrow at her as she pulled away. Agnes nuzzled her nose to his before dropping her head to his chest, one hand tangled in his hair.
“I’m only really myself when I’m with you,” Agnes said, her head leaning against Enver’s bare chest, listening to the beating of his heart. She twirled a piece of his dark hair in her fingers, eyes closed as she took a deep breath.
“What do you mean?” He asked, wrapping his arms around her, his fingers ghosting across her back.
“You don’t cower when I reach out for you. You aren’t scared off by my… tendencies,” she said with a sigh, nuzzling her face against his chest. “I can just be with you. I’m not The Dark Urge, I’m not Bhaal’s Chosen. I am just me, just Agnes,”
“I like ‘Just Agnes’,” Enver said, his fingers carding through her long hair. He felt her pull herself up closer to him, her arms wrapping around his neck. She looked at him, her expression turning more somber than before. Her gaze dropped as he felt her stiffen up, attempting to pull away from him. He held on to her, letting out a sigh. He knew that expression all too well, the way her demeanor shifted and her gaze dropped. She was thinking about the inevitable end to the two of them. She usually was.
“Don’t do this, not now. Just be here, be in the moment,” he said, holding on to her tightly. She looked back up at him, her good eye finding his gaze. He pleaded with her silently, his thumb resting against her bottom lip. Agnes took a deep breath, pressing a kiss to his thumb before nodding and resting her head back on his chest. Enver held her as closely as he could, feeling her relax back into him. He sighed in relief, cradling her head against him.
Enver opened his mouth to say something, but the words disappeared into thin air.
Enver awoke in a cold sweat, his hand falling to the empty space in his bed. A small dip where Agnes once would lay was now cold and empty, his fingers gripping the sheet in frustration. He wondered how long these memories would haunt him, trickling their way into his subconscious over and over again. Waking him out of a dead sleep with an ache in his chest.
3 in the morning. It was always 3 in the morning.
He’d only said it once. Such small words, they flowed off of his tongue so easily for her. Love was not something he was sure he had felt before. It was a weakness, a distraction. He had used those words, ‘I love you’, plenty of times in manipulation, of course. He knew what love did to people, how it clouded their judgement, how easy it made it for him to get what he wanted.
It clouded his judgement, too. Agnes’ sheer presence was enough to distract him, his eyes falling on her in meetings where he was meant to be paying attention. Feeling her foot nudge his under the table, a smirk crossing her lips as she watched the way he reacted to her touch. It was a visceral reaction, the feeling of her touch electric against his skin. Now she was gone, but her memory lingered. His breath would hitch at the sight of her belongings, a dagger hidden under his pillow, that red dress he had convinced her to wear hanging in his closet. He couldn’t get himself to get rid of them, though it might have made things easier.
Wherever she was, if she even still was, he wondered if his absence haunted her in this way. If she felt the same pang of grief that would tear through him, knocking the air from his lungs. He hadn’t imagined heartbreak to be so incredibly loud, leaving him feeling even more hollow than before. Each time taking something else with it. He felt himself become more numb as the days passed, feeling her slip through his fingers as he struggled to recall the finer details. Enver cursed to himself, sitting up and resting his head in his hands.
Why did everything remind him of her? Each success in his grand plan felt that much less sweet with her gone. Each step closer to victory was marred by her absence, nothing felt right anymore.
Enver stood from his bed, walking towards his desk. On it sat a journal, the binding stretched thin from papers stuffed inside. He reached for it, carding through the pages and landing on a neatly folded piece of parchment. Enver sank into his desk chair, unfolding the paper and laying it out in front of him. A sketch of the Banite sat at his desk, hearts littered about in red ink. On the bottom of the page in neat, small writing read
“-From your favorite assassin”
Enver traced his finger along the words, her handwriting was surprisingly neat and orderly. You’d never guess the destruction she was capable of by the way she wrote so beautifully. He could feel anger boiling inside as he thought about the night Orin informed him of Agnes’ undoing. How the changeling came to him covered in bits of her, flitting about his room and causing destruction. He slammed his fist on his desk, folding the drawing back up and shoving it back into the journal. He grabbed the book, standing swiftly and walking towards the crackling fire place across the room. Enver stood, watching the flames, holding in his hand the most real pieces of her he had left
Perhaps burning what was left of her would bring him peace. Maybe it would stop the dreams, the thoughts, the grief. He held it out in front of him, watching the light from the fire flicker off the worn leather cover.
“Damn it,” he hissed, pulling the journal to his chest. He couldn’t. This was all he had left of Agnes.
He couldn’t get rid of her like that, like Orin had.
Summary: Cullen tries his best to hide the fact that he has growing feelings for Lavellan, though he doesn’t seem to be very good at it. Watching her grow closer to Warden Blackwall leaves him frustrated, he tries his best to fight these bitter feelings. If only she know how he felt.
While writing this I was listening to: All the Pretty Girls by KALEO
Pairing: Cullen x Lavellan
Word count: 2.6K
Tags: So much pining and yearning, Cullen fumbling as per usual, awkward flirting, Blackwall Flirtationship
Find me on Ao3 here
“I like a man with a nice beard,” Eve said with a laugh, shooting Blackwall a flirtatious grin. He sat beside her in the tavern at Haven, his arm resting on the back of her chair. The tavern was fairly full with the Inquisition’s scouts, chatter creating a low rumble. Eve had her hands wrapped around a mug, rubbing her thumb against the glass.
“A woman of taste, I see,” he laughed, the hand behind her grazing against her shoulder.
“Elven men don’t have beards, they’re all… naked in the face,” Eve replied, picking up her mug of ale and taking a big swig.
Cullen sat a table over, picking at a plate of food as he watched Eve and the Warden from afar. He felt his face grow warm as the two shared glances, Blackwall shifting to be closer to the elf. The commander couldn’t understand why he felt so… jealous. It’s not like he and Eve were anything more than two people working towards the same cause.
She was the Herald of Andraste and he the commander of the Inquisition’s forces. Any time they spent together was simply work, though Eve did ask him to train her along side his soldiers. She was interested in learning to defend herself without the use of magic. He liked that about her. She was a near hopeless cause at first, hardly even able to hold a sword. Cullen enjoyed the time he spent with her, training her one on one in the evenings. She was dedicated, never missing a lesson with him and he admired her determination. She was, after all, very busy. But she dedicated as much time as she could to improving her form, running drills, observing Cullen as he taught the other soldiers.
Eve was funny, she was smart, and the commander couldn’t help but notice the fact that she was also quite beautiful.
He looked back up at her across the tavern, noticing her eyes on him. She shot him a quick smile, returning her gaze back to the man sitting next to her. He watched as her eyes flicked quickly to Blackwall’s lips, meeting his gaze once again and laughing at his joke. Cullen loved her crooked smile, the way one of her eyes squinted when she laughed.
What he wouldn’t give to have her look at him like that.
“You’re not very subtle, Commander,”
Cullen jumped at the voice, turning to see Leliana leaning against the wall behind him. He grumbled to himself, looking back down at his plate of roast and potatoes.
“Sweet Maker, how are you so quiet?” He huffed, resting his head in his hand.
“Practice. It also helps that I don’t wear 10 layers of armor like you,” she said with a laugh, sitting down in the chair across from him. “She isn’t going to magically know you feel for her, you know,” the spymaster said, leaning back in her chair.
“What? Why would you? I don’t feel… anything for-“
“It’s quite obvious that you do,” Leliana replied, cutting off his stumbling. Cullen sighed, looking up at her.
“It would be… inappropriate,” he mumbled, hiding his face in his hands.
It didn’t matter what he felt. He was the commander and she… she was important. Eve was their only chance at sealing the Breach, the fate of Thedas rested on her shoulders. He couldn’t let his feelings cloud his judgement, now was not the time to indulge his feelings. Besides, she was a mage. He still struggled with feeling safe near magic users and Eve was no exception.
“And sitting here seething, staring daggers at the Warden is appropriate?” Leliana asked, raising an eyebrow at Cullen. He rolled his eyes, training his glare on her.
“Who asked you anyway, Leliana?” He huffed, his hands balled in a fist on the table.
“Oh my, Commander. You’re in trouble,” she said with a chuckle, turning her head to look at Eve and Blackwall. Eve still had her hands wrapped around her mug, her legs crossed under the table. Her foot rested against Blackwall’s shin, slightly rubbing against him as they talked. The Warden’s arm remained on the back of her chair, his hand now resting against her arm.
“Maker’s breath,” Cullen groaned, shoving his plate forward and swiftly standing up. He looked over to Eve once more, seeing her cheeks and the tips of her ears blushed as she laughed. He turned on his heel, storming out of the tavern.
“Good night, Commander!” Leliana shouted after him, shaking her head. She looked over to Eve who raised an eyebrow at her. Leliana shrugged, pulling Cullen’s abandoned dinner towards her and picking at the potatoes.
Cullen stood outside the tavern, his back leaning against the building. He hated how worked up he felt over this. His heart raced, his stomach felt like it was in knots, his face was warm. He had no right to feel jealous, Eve had no idea how he felt. He didn’t even really know how he felt. She just had this effect on him, made it hard to focus, to think. Cullen cursed under his breath, making his way to his tent for the night.
“It would probably be best for me to head to bed. I think Josephine has quite the list of tasks for me to do tomorrow,” Eve said, looking down at her hands. She felt warm from the ale and the crackling fireplace in the tavern, feeling Blackwall’s hand resting against her arm.
“Let me walk you back,” he said, getting up from his chair and extending a hand to Eve. She smiled, placing her hand in his as she stood. His hand was warm, but rough from callouses. Blackwall gently squeezed her hand before releasing it, gesturing for her to walk ahead of him.
“You’re quite the gentleman, aren’t you,” Eve chuckled, making her way out of the now empty tavern.
“A lady such as yourself deserves to be treated with respect,” he said, following behind her. As she stepped outside into the cool air, Eve took a deep breath. She wasn’t used to spending so much time indoors, the night air on her skin felt like home. She looked up to the sky, it was clear, the stars beautifully visible and sparkling.
“Being trapped inside so much is strange for me. I’ve practically lived in the forest my whole life,” Eve said, looking over to Blackwall.
“That must’ve been an exciting life, traveling so much,” he said as they walked, his hand brushing hers.
“You can’t tell me your life hasn’t been exciting as a Grey Warden,” Eve said, allowing her pinky finger to rest against his.
“Hah, yes. I suppose my life hasn’t exactly been boring,” he replied, his eyes dropping to the ground.
As the pair approached Eve’s door, she turned to face him.
“Thank you, Blackwall. I enjoy your company,” Eve said, leaning her back against the door frame.
“And I, yours,” he replied, resting his hand next to her head against the door. Eve cocked an eyebrow at him as he moved his face closer to her, dropping her gaze to his lips. Blackwall pressed his lips against hers, letting his free hand fall to her waist. She could feel the rough scratch of his beard against her face as he moved his lips against hers. She rested her hands against his chest, leaning in to his kiss. He smelled of leather and pine, she could taste a hint of ale on his breath. He pulled away, averting his gaze as he let out a chuckle.
“Good night, my lady,” he said, bowing his head slightly.
“Good night,” she replied, watching as he walked away.
Eve smiled to herself as she unlocked her door, slipping inside. She rested her back against the door, taking a deep breath before walking towards her bed. Eve quickly removed her boots followed by her coat and scarf. She kicked off her trousers, left only in her small clothes and shirt and slipped into her bed.
As she closed her eyes to sleep, Eve thought about the kiss with Blackwall. She had never kissed a man with a beard, it was rough and coarse, though she did like it. Eve liked Warden Blackwall. He was kind, determined, and dedicated to their cause, albeit a bit intense. It felt nice for someone to treat her as he did, her last experience with a man colored her ideas of how she deserved to be treated. As she lie in her bed, her mind began to wander to another man.
The commander.
Eve spent a lot of her time with Cullen, whether that be in meetings with her other advisors or when she trained with his soldiers.
Though Eve was a mage, she was determined to show the Inquisition’s soldiers that she was one of them. And learning to wield a sword was something she’d always wanted to do. Keeper Istimaethoriel always discouraged her from doing so, as she needed to focus on her studies. Cullen was so willing to teach her, taking time out of his day to train her one on one. He was kind with her, despite how awful she was at first. He was patient and thorough, making sure to explain things in a way she could understand. Eve was always surprised at how gentle he was when he helped her adjust her form, making sure to show her how to hold her body and where to place her hands on the sword.
Eve wondered what it might be like to feel his gentle touch in other ways. How his hand might feel in hers, how it might feel to kiss him.
Eve’s eyes snapped open. The elf rolled over on to her back, staring at the ceiling of her room.
“Oh,” she mumbled to herself, feeling her pulse race as she rubbed her forehead.
Eve always thought Cullen was handsome, she enjoyed flirting with him as it always made him blush. But he was the Inquisition’s commander. And an ex Templar. Surely, there could never be anything there. It would be too… complicated. Now wide awake, Eve knew that sleep would not be coming for her any time soon. She took a deep breath before sitting up, sliding off of her bed and pulling on her trousers. She slipped a sweater over her head and pulled on her boots.
“A walk… yes, that’s what I need. A walk and a cold shower,” she huffed, trying to shake the thoughts of the commander from her head. Eve grabbed her staff before heading out the door, securing it across her back as she walked into the cool air.
Cullen lay in his cot, staring up at the ceiling as his mind raced. He couldn’t get the image of Eve out of his head, the way she flirted with Blackwall, her smile, the way she batted her long white eyelashes, the curve of her nose. He huffed, rolling over on to his side and closing his eyes. He felt himself grow flustered all over again, imagining how he would react if he was in the Warden’s position. Would he be able to hold his composure if she rested her foot against him, running it up his leg? What would it feel like for her to place her hand in his? For her to lean in to him, looking into his eyes, her lips pressed to his?
Cullen opened his eyes, breathing heavily and his face warm. He grumbled to himself as he sat up, swinging his legs off the side of his cot. He could feel the frustration building inside him, he hated the way his body reacted to the idea of being close to Eve. Any time they’d touched, he thought about it for days after, overanalyzing every interaction.
He stood from his cot, shoving his feet in a pair of boots and sloppily lacing them.
I need to hit something He thought to himself, pulling on a sweater and picking up his sword. As he ducked under the flap of his tent he saw a figure standing near the stables, a hand outstretched petting one of the Inquisition’s horses.
Short in stature with snow white hair that nearly glowed in the dark.
“Of course,” he mumbled to himself, debating whether he should just pretend he hadn’t seen her. In a moment of boldness, he made the decision to walk over to the elf.
“Herald?” He said as he approached her, sheathing the sword at his side. She turned to face him, smiling at him with that crooked smile. He froze for a moment, already feeling warmth rush to his cheeks.
“Hello, Cullen,” she said, gently stroking the horses muzzle. She turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t call me that, please just call me Eve. What has you put so late?” She asked, cocking her head to the side as she looked at him.
“I, ah, couldn’t sleep,” he said, watching as she turned back to face the horse. He observed the way she traced her finger along the swirl on the mare’s forehead, whispering quietly to her. The mare bowed her head, allowing Eve to rub gentle circles along the swirl.
“I have a horse, Hugo. Something told me to travel to the Conclave on foot, my clan was staying just a days travel away. I’m glad I made that choice, I don’t know if I ever would’ve found him again had I brought him,” Eve said quietly, gently petting the mare’s cheek.
“Do you miss him?” Cullen asked, watching how gentle she was, how the horse responded to her touch.
“I do. He’s been my best friends since I was a girl,” Eve said, chuckling to herself. “That’s a bit embarrassing,” she admitted, reaching in to her pocket and pulling out a sugar cube.
“I don’t think it’s embarrassing. It’s cute,” Cullen said, biting hid lip as he looked down in embarrassment. Eve smiled, placing the sugar cube in the palm of her hand and offering it to the mare. “Don’t tell Master Dennet,” she whispered to her, giggling as the horse’s lips tickled her palm.
“Eve I-“ Cullen started, looking at her. The elf turned to face him, raising an eyebrow as he spoke. “I just wanted to tell you that-“ Cullen felt his face grow warm, anxiety bubbling in his chest. What was he doing? Surely he wasn’t about to tell her that he had feelings for her, this was not how he’d want to do it. If he ever did it.
“What is it? You can tell me anything, Cullen,” Eve said, taking a step closer to him and placing her hand on his arm.
“I just needed to tell you that I have to cancel our lesson tomorrow… something came up,” he blurted out, the feeling of her hand on his arm making his heart pound.
“That’s alright, I’m sure Josephine can find me something to do,” Eve said, patting the commanders arm before turning back to face the horse.
“I’m sure she can,” he sighed, shaking his head.
“Well, I suppose I should head to bed. Have a good night, Cullen,” Eve said, flashing him a smile before walking back towards Haven, shoving her hands in her pockets. Cullen watched as she walked away, rubbing the back of his neck. He turned to face the horse, who blew a snort at him.
“I know, I’m an idiot,” he grumbled, patting her cheek before turning back towards his tent. “Always such an idiot.”
Summary: Lavellan has struggled to get restful sleep since the events at Haven. Though, her nightmares may be the least of her worries as she tries to navigate her relationship with one Commander Cullen Rutherford.
Pairing: Cullen x Lavellan
Word count: 2.4K
Tags: mentions of nightmares, Cullen fumbling as per usual, awkward flirting, Varric being a good friend
While writing this I was listening to: Distance by Christina Perry
Find me on Ao3 here
Eve could feel the fire against her neck as she ran. Her legs felt as if they were going to turn to jelly as she sprinted towards the gates of Haven. As she ran it felt as though her destination was growing farther out of her reach. Eve turned to see a wall of fire coming towards her, stumbling on her feet and beginning to fall.
The elf shot up in her bed, breathing heavily as she tried to orient herself. Her room at Skyhold began to materialize around her as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, sweat dripping down her brow. Eve couldn’t remember the last night she didn’t have a nightmare since making it out of Haven. The feeling of the archdemon’s fire at her back haunted her every night, the screams of those lost at Haven ringing in her ears.
She took a deep breath before swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She waved her hand, conjuring a small ball of light to illuminate her room. Eve stood, stretching her sore muscles and walking towards her desk. She reached for a robe slung over the back of her chair, pulling it on and tying it tight. The mage slipped into a pair of boots, messily lacing them and heading towards her bedroom door. The light she conjured followed behind her a she made her way down the stairs.
Eve was beyond grateful for the suite she was provided at Skyhold. The room was massive, much more space than she would ever know what to do with. She had never had this much that was just hers. Among her clan she had a tent and a few belongings. But nothing like this. A large row of doors to her balcony let in the most beautiful morning light, she even had her own storage of wine. Eve did wish, however, that her room wasn’t so far from the kitchen.
The mage sleepily made her way through the halls, savoring how quiet Skyhold was this late at night. No soldiers running about, no visitors to make nice with, no one running up to her yelling “Inquisitor!”. Just stone and moonlight shining through the windows. Eve yawned as she rounded the corner into the kitchen, jumping as she saw a silhouette of a person sitting at the table in the center of the room, facing away from her.
“Maker's breath!” The figure hissed, jumping up from the table and turning to face Eve, fists raised for a fight. Eve froze for a moment, recognizing the voice immediately.
“Cullen?” Eve asked, waving her hand to bring the ball of light forward and illuminate the person before her.
“Inquisitor! I apologize, I didn’t mean to startle to you,” he said quickly, lowering his fists and bracing himself against the table. The commander wore loose trousers and house slippers, his upper body bare, the taut muscles of his stomach illuminated in the light. Eve’s eyes lingered on him, her cheeks going warm as she took in his form. The light she had conjured began to glow brighter for a moment, buzzing loudly. She ripped her gaze from his body, looking up to find him watching her.
"Erm, what was that?" Cullen asked, cocking his head to the side as he looked at her.
“Uh, nothing," she said with a sheepish grin. "It looks like I startled you a bit more than you startled me,” Eve deflected, watching Cullen’s jaw flex. He took a breathe, a smile crossing his lips as he relaxed. “May I ask why you’re sitting in the kitchen in the dark? We’ve got candles, you know,” Eve said, looking up at the chandelier hanging above the table.
“That’s true, however I couldn’t find a-,” Cullen started, but cut himself off as he watched Eve shoot flames from her index finger, lighting the candles one by one. “Match,” he finished with a chuckle, the room now illuminated with a warm light. Eve smiled, waving a hand and dismissing the light she had been using to illuminate her way.
“That’s something I’m growing used to. You using magic to do stuff like that,” Cullen said, pulling out his chair and sitting back down at the table. His eyes lingered on Eve for a moment, noticing that her robe was beginning to fall open slightly.
“I can’t imagine not doing so, it’s just habit,” Eve admitted pulling her robe closed and walking towards the counter. “Why are you even awake, Cullen? I was joking when I asked if you ever sleep,” she said, facing away from Cullen and searching the cabinets for a tea cup.
“Hah, I- I do struggle to sleep some nights. So I come in here and scrounge for something to eat. It’s a bad habit, I know,” he said, running his fingers through his blonde hair. Eve pulled a tea cup out of the cupboard, looking inside to ensure that it was clean.
“I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other before then, making tea in the middle of the night has become somewhat of a routine of mine,” Eve said, searching through canisters for the right blend of tea leaves.
“Well, I… have seen you. In here. At night. I just figured you’d want some time to yourself so I always just… turn around,” Cullen said, picking at a half eaten loaf of bread that sat on a plate before him.
“Time to myself?” Eve asked, turning to look at Cullen. He shrugged, popping a piece of bread into his mouth.
“You’ve got so many people demanding things of you all day, I suppose I thought you might cherish some alone time,” he said, looking over to her.
“That is true, though I cherish time with you more,” she said, immediately turning away from him to hide how deeply she was blushing. Eve closed her eyes, cursing under her breath as she placed the bag of tea into her cup.
“I- I enjoy spending time with you too, Inquisitor,” Cullen said rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Eve looked over her shoulder, rolling her eyes at the commander.
“Cullen, I’ve told you, you don’t need to call me Inquisitor. I much prefer my name, I’m just Eve,” she said, pouring some water into her cup over a teabag. She brought her tea over to the table, sitting down across from the commander and resting her elbows on the table.
“You’re more than ‘just Eve’,” he said, watching puzzled as she stuck her index finger into the water. The tip of her finger glowed red, heating up the water inside her cup. “You do things like that,” he laughed as she shook the water off of her finger.
“You know what I mean. I just... everyone else sees me as this big important person here to save the world. I need at least one person who still sees me for me,” she said, fiddling with the string on her bag of tea.
“I can understand that,” Cullen said with a nod, his eyes falling to the table. “I’ll do my best to refrain, Eve,” he said.
“Thanks, Cullen,” She replied with a smile, bringing the mug up to her lips.
“What has you making tea in the middle of the night? Is something troubling you?” Cullen asked, watching her intently. Eve took a sip, sighing as she set the cup down.
“I’ve just… had a difficult time sleeping since Haven,” Eve admitted, her hands wrapped around her mug of tea.
“I know what you mean,” Cullen said, shooting her a sympathetic glance. The two sat in silence for a moment, Eve drinking her tea and Cullen picking at the bread on his plate.
"You have them too, then? Nightmares?" Eve asked, watching Cullen as he pushed around bread crumbs on his plate.
"I do. Not just from Haven, but those are the most prevalent right now," Cullen sighed. Eve nodded, toying with the string of her tea bag.
"Every time I close my eyes it's like I can feel the fire at the back of my neck. Nightmares always worry me. There are enough demons around when my eyes are open, I don't need them trying to plague me when I'm asleep too," Eve said quietly, letting out a huff of air. Cullen watched her closely, trying to hide the concern from coloring his expression.
"Yes, I understand your concern. I'm always here for you, if you need anything Inq-, Eve," he corrected, leaning back in his chair.
“Don't make promises you can't keep. Be careful Cullen, I might start to think you like me,” Eve chuckled, her fingers wrapped around the now long cold cup of tea.
“I, uh, I do. Like you, I mean. Uh, you’re a great friend, Inquisitor,” Cullen said, stumbling over his words. He buried his head in his hands, letting out a sigh as he felt his ears and face flush red. Eve nodded, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck.
“Right, thanks,” Eve said, pushing her cup away from her. “I suppose I should go back to bed. Get some sleep commander, you look like you need it,” Eve said, standing up from the table and swiftly turning towards the door.
“Eve I-“ he began, however when he looked up the elf was already gone. “Andraste guide me,” Cullen huffed, resting his forehead against the table.
“Let me get this right, he said, ‘you’re a great friend’?” Dorian asked, his eyes wide as his hand covered his mouth. Eve groaned, her forehead resting on the table in the Herald's Rest. The tavern was mostly empty, probably because it was mid morning and most people had jobs to attend to.
“Oh, that’s rough Boss,” Iron Bull said, tossing back a mug of ale. He slammed it down on the table, eliciting a huff from the mage sat beside him.
“Ugh, thanks Bull,” Eve sighed, softly hitting her forehead against the table.
“My dear, I think your commander might be a bit daft,” Dorian chuckled, watching as Eve sat up and rolled her eyes at him. She leaned her elbow against the table, resting her chin in her hand.
“The more likely scenario is that I’ve made this whole thing up in my head,” she huffed, reaching for a bottle of wine on the table and taking a long swig.
“By the Maker, Eve. Don’t you Dalish use glasses,” Dorian huffed, pulling the bottle away from her. “Besides, everyone in Thedas can tell the commander has a thing for you. He turns red just at the mention of your name,” he said, pouring some more wine into his glass. Eve rolled her eyes at the other mage, threading her fingers through her white hair.
“This feels more like a ‘drown my sorrows straight from the bottle’ kind of moment, don't you think?” Eve huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“I’ll drink to that!” Bull laughed, grabbing the bottle from Dorian and downing most of it in one swig.
“Eugh,” Dorian huffed with disgust, swirling the wine in his glass before taking a sip. "Go back to the part where you said he was shirtless," Dorian said, leaning back in his chair.
“What are we drinking to?”
Eve looked towards the door to see Varric entering the tavern, Bianca slung over his back. She swiped the bottle of wine from Bull, swirling it around to see if there was any left.
“My sorrows,” Eve huffed, downing the remainder of the wine and slamming the bottle on the table.
“Count me in,” Varric chuckled, taking a seat next to Eve. "What's troubling our hero this morning? Orlesian politics, all of the holes in the sky, the kitchen is out of pie?"
“The commander called Eve a ‘great friend’,” Dorian said, leaning back in his chair.
“Oof, that’s..,” Varric said, patting the elf on the back.
“It would be a lot better if we all just stopped talking about it,” Eve hissed, resting her head in her hands.
“Let me just say my piece and we can let it go,” Varric said, cocking his head at Dorian and Bull, signaling for them to leave him with the Inquisitor. Bull nodded at the dwarf, laying a hand on Dorian.
“Come on Dorian, let’s go get some more wine,” Bull said, getting up from the table. Dorian narrowed his gaze at Varric, who widened his eyes at the mage.
“Ah, yes, let’s. It’s certainly a two man job,” Dorian said, getting up from the table and flashing Eve a smile.
“Where are you two-“ Eve said, watching as the other two men swiftly made their way towards the bar.
“Here’s the thing about Curly. He's great with the soldiers. With order, discipline. He’s not so great with the touchy feely stuff. He’s been through a lot,” Varric said, his hands folded in front of him on the table.
“So what do I do, Varric? Every time I feel like there’s something there, he just, deflects,” Eve said, looking over to the dwarf.
“Have you directly told him how you feel?” Varric asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
“What? No! Of course not,” Eve huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.
“He’s not going to be the first one to do it, Lucky. If you truly care for the man it’ll have to come from you first,” he said, resting his hand on her shoulder.
“Ugh, I hate it when you’re right,” Eve hissed, letting her head fall back.
“And I’m always right, you must be miserable,” Varric laughed. Eve rolled her eyes, pushing his shoulder playfully. “So, you going to do it?” Varric asked after a moment.
“Do what? Now?? Certainly not,” Eve huffed, shaking her head. “I need some… time. To think,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Time to think about what?” Dorian asked as he and Bull returned to the table, two bottles of wine in hand. Bull placed three wine glasses on the table.
“Dorian insisted we use these,” Bull said, rolling his eyes at Eve.
“Yes, it’s so terrible that I ask you to use a glass and not drink from the bottle like a couple of heathens,” Dorian huffed, sitting back down at the table.
“Time to think is later, time to drink is now,” Eve said, pulling a glass towards her.
“You got it, Boss,” Bull laughed, pulling the cork off of a bottle and pouring Eve a hefty glass.
“Cheers,” she mumbled, downing the whole glass in a one swig.
“Slow down there, Lucky. You're going to have a headache tomorrow,” Varric laughed.
“Maybe that’ll serve as a distraction,” she huffed, belching loudly.
"Nice one!" Bull cheered, pouring himself a glass. Eve laughed, shaking her head at him and leaning her shoulder against Varric.
"You'll be alright, Eve," Varric laughed. "Who's up for a game of Wicked Grace?"
jbbartram-illu
dededos
yousharknotpass
janainaart
kaledo-art
stormborns
