Hidden Truths and Masked Desires
Cullen Rutherford/Female!Warden (Amell)
Though it had been ten years since Cullen had last seen the Hero of Ferelden, his traitorous heart never let him forget the pain and guilt that came with loving her. While attempting to atone for his past sins, of which he is sure he'll never fully absolve himself from, he's met with a familiar face in the depths of the Orlesian court. Though, he's unsure if seeing Eliana Amell here, of all places, is a blessing in disguise, or a disaster waiting to happen.
a/n: you can take this pairing out of my cold, dead hands :)
w/c: 3.5k
“Care to dance, Commander?”
Cullen Rutherford never thought that he would hear that voice again. The one that haunted his every move, that seemed to mock him no matter what he did. Yet, here he was, in his–what he thought to be ridiculous–Inquisition-mandated formal attire, looking almost as out of place as he felt, surrounded by a dozen or so Orlesians who thought of him as an exotic exhibition in and of himself. And just to his right, her smile hidden behind a gloved hand, was the woman he thought he'd never see again.
Eliana Amell.
She was as beautiful as the day he'd last seen her all those years ago in that miserable Circle. She looked older, her black hair, which reminded him of an endless night sky, was pulled up and away from her face in a soft-looking bun, save for a few framing pieces; her silverite colored grey eyes peered into his golden ones; as if the moon were looking at the sun during an eclipse. Peeking beneath her masquerade mask was the faintest sliver of a scar, stopping just before her chin. It must’ve happened long ago, the color now tinged pink, with a slight silvery sheen to it. It was one he hadn't seen before.
Just before Cullen could respond, or, more likely, stumble over his words, an Orlesian woman beside her interrupted, her voice just as shrill and condescending as he imagined it, “Good luck with that, Lady Amell, it seems as though the good Commander's feet are rooted to this spot.”
“It's Warden-Commander, my good Lady,” Eliana replied, her eyes ever leaving Cullen's, “And, forgive me, but I do believe that the Commander can answer for himself.”
Even someone as inadequately learned in the fine art of politics as Cullen knew that Eliana had committed a serious crime in the world of etiquette, not only correcting the woman but completely ignoring her. Shamed as he was to admit it, it only stood to further endear her to him.
“I apologize, Warden-Commander Amell,” He started, a rueful smile on his lips, “But I am afraid I must decline. I am to stay here, should the Inquisitor need me,”
Though Eliana kept her face neutral, Cullen could tell she was leveling a rather unamused look at him, and it took all of his resolve not to backtrack completely. Had this happened all those years ago, when he was simply Cullen Rutherford, a man whose hands were clean of any blood, and she simply Eliana Amell, a woman who'd tease him for his ineptitude, then perhaps he would have said yes. Perhaps he wouldn't have balked at the idea of embarrassing himself in front of a crowd of Orlesian nobles, not if it meant getting to hold her close for just a few moments longer.
However, as it stood, Cullen was a man who had committed too much sin, and Eliana was a woman who had looked an Archdemon in the face and laughed. She was too bright, too perfect, to be seen with a man as tarnished as him.
Just as Eliana opened her mouth to speak, another man jumped in, his over-the-top attire forcing Cullen to bite his tongue. “If the Commander is unavailable, I would be more than happy to escort you to the ballroom floor, Warden-Commander Amell.”
Her gaze flitted over to Cullen one last time, her eyes raking over his form once more, before turning her full attention to the new man in front of her. “I would be honored, my Lord.” Taking the man's outstretched arm, she glanced back at Cullen once more, “Perhaps we will talk later, Commander.”
With that, she was whisked away to the dance floor, Cullen begrudgingly watching from the sidelines as the Orlesian Lord spun her across the space, his hands far too low for Cullen's liking.
Deep down, Cullen knew that it was stupid of him to be so jealous. He was the one who rejected Eliana, after all; but he couldn't help the tightness in his chest, nor could he stop the slight flush of irritation from traveling up to his face as he watched her laugh at something the lord had said, her head tilting back ever so slightly, her hair tickling her ears as she moved.
Cullen tried to convince himself that it was for the best. What else was he to do? It had been nearly ten years since he'd last seen the Hero of Ferelden, and they hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms.
“No,” the traitorous voice whispered in his head, venom seeping through every word, “Not only did you make a fool of yourself while captured, but you told her that everyone she knew and loved in that tower should die. That mages were to not be trusted. What if it had been her trapped in there with Ulder? What would you have done then, you templar mutt?”
Crossing his arms across his chest, Cullen dug his fingernails into his biceps in an attempt to ground himself. The little voice in the back of his head would never let him forget what he had done, all the damage he had caused in the aftermath. Even if he had done his best to atone for his past mistakes, nothing would ever suffice for him to even breathe the same air as the Hero, let alone dance with her. To even wish for a connection with her.
No matter how desperately his traitorous heart wanted to.
So, Cullen was content enough to simply watch as Eliana spun around the ballroom floor, moving from lord to lady, engaging in conversations that seemed to leave her audience in awe and admiration. An impressive feat, especially for a Ferelden mage. Every so often, he swore that he caught her staring back at him, as if her eyes were as dutiful as he was on her figure. Every time he caught her eye, however, she would look away, being pulled in another direction.
"Commander," An Antivan accent called out; Josephine, her hands smoothing down the wrinkles on her own uniform, "The Inquisitor seems to have landed herself into some, diplomatic trouble.”
At her cryptic words, Cullen allowed his eyes to wander away from Eliana, only to find the Inquisitor herself being spun around the ballroom with the Grand Duchess Florianne, both of them locked into some serious discussion. The sight of the two seemed to send Josephine into a panic, with her muttering something about never preparing dance lessons for Lavellan and whether or not the Dalish had their own dance traditions. In all honesty, Cullen was more worried about the bigger, less subtle, Quinari mercenary slowly heading towards the door to the Vestibule, an empty champagne glass already in one of his hands and an exasperated look in his eye.
Right then, to work.
Despite the—what Josephine would call—resounding success of not only keeping Empress Celene alive but forcing her and Gaspard to work together for a "better" Orlais, Cullen finds himself never wanting to step foot in one of these events ever again. If all the pomp and circumstance weren't enough to give the man a headache, then the whole politics of Florianne's betrayal and alliance with Corypheus certainly had.
Though he was sure that once this whole political matter was resolved, they would be able to leave the party, Cullen unfortunately found himself standing in his corner once more, an even greater flock of Orlesian nobles surrounding him, going on and on about how wonderful it must be to work with the Inquisitor, how she should be so lucky as to have someone like him in her inner circle.
A point which he needed to refute several times.
Just as Cullen is about to resign himself to his fate, a familiar mask passes by him in the crowd, accompanied by a woman in a red and black ballgown, her black hair also held up in a bun, but her face fully revealed; familiar, yet he can't seem to place where he knows her from.
"Lady Morrigan," A voice beside him helpfully mentions, though it seems less than thrilled about the guest.
Looking to his side, he finds Leliana leaned up against the wall, her eyes tracking Eliana and Morrigan's every move. Cullen lets out a sigh of relief, before tensing up once more at the realization of being caught.
"I would've thought you'd have caught up with her," He replies, hoping to circumvent the rather embarrassing conversation he knew was about to arrive.
A humorless laugh leaves the red-headed woman, as if the mere thought of interacting with Morrigan was implausible, "We may have been companions once, but that doesn't mean I would voluntarily seek out her company."
"And El—Warden Commander Amell?" He chastises himself for his slip-up before turning to face the woman beside him.
At the Hero’s name, she pauses, a small smile gracing her lips as she becomes lost in thought, before she stamps it down. "I've already spoken with Eliana," She starts, her eyes now settling on Cullen, as if to gauge his expression, "I've requested that she comes back with us to Skyhold."
"You've what?" He asks, almost as if praying that his ears were deceiving him.
Leliana merely shrugged at his shock, her arms now behind her back, "Josephine and Inquisitor Lavellan have already agreed, we could use all of the support from Ferelden we can get," Guestering over to Eliana, she smiled once more, "And who better to win over the kingdom than their Hero?"
At his silence, she pushed herself off of the wall, heading towards the two women, but not before giving the Commander one last look.
"This may come as a surprise, but I do care for you, Cullen," She starts, her eyes never leaving his, "And above that, I care for Eliana, more than anyone else in this world. So, who are you doing a favor by avoiding her when she so clearly wishes to speak with you?"
With that, Leliana moves towards her old companions, her head tilting forward as she whispers something in Eliana’s ear, causing the other woman to stiffen slightly. Before Eliana can even retort, the spymaster steals the arm of Morrigan, rolling her eyes at some remark from the other mage, leaving Eliana alone. Steeling himself, Cullen gives a curt bow to the nobles around him before heading toward the woman who haunted his every waking dream.
She noticed him before he even had the chance to formulate a greeting, “Ah, Commander Rutherford. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Feeling the urge to run away like he'd done all those years ago, he holds his hands behind his back, gripping his wrist tightly as if to ground himself. "If you've the time, I'd like to discuss your arrangements at Skyhold."
A lame excuse, one that he hoped she wouldn't latch onto. But the unamused look he'd been subjected to earlier in the night made him feel that he wouldn't be so lucky.
"Correct me if I am wrong," She started, her head tilting slightly, the scar peeking beneath her mask catching the light, making it take on an almost silver sheen, "But I thought that Lady Montilyet would be the one to organize my accommodations. She is the one who deals with these kinds of things, no?”
A shaky laugh escaped Cullen, his hand immediately moving to rub the back of his neck. “Would you be terribly upset with me if I told you that I simply wanted to talk with you and couldn't find a better reason?”
Eliana’s face was unreadable, something that unnerved Cullen. Her eyes bore into his, as if trying to ascertain the truth of his statement. She then glanced over towards the balcony, not unlike the one where the Inquisitor had disappeared just moments ago, with a certain ambassador in tow. Sparing a glance at him, she held her head high as she took a step closer, crowding his space.
“You may escort me to the balcony, Commander.”
Cullen's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, unsure of whether or not the woman before him was plotting his demise—although perhaps being pushed off the balcony would be a better demise than he could've hoped, so long as it was her. When she continued to look at him expectantly, he held his arm out for her, sucking in a breath as she linked her arm with his.
Though the walk itself was not far, it felt like an eternity to Cullen. Neither of them spoke as they approached, with Eliana removing her arm from his as she walked towards the edge, leaning her arms against the stone railing.
Sensing that Cullen would not move from his spot without permission, Eliana let out a light laugh, looking back at him as she extended her hand, “Well? Come join me, I promise I don't bite.”
Letting out a chuckle of his own, he hesitantly moved beside her, mirroring her posture. "That's not what I'm afraid of."
Once again, silence took hold of the two of them, still as suffocating as the first time. Cullen couldn't help but steal a few glances at her, admiring the way the moonlight lit her features. He had to hold his breath as Eliana took off her masquerade mask, her striking grey eyes now fully visible, along with the scar that went all the way down the side of her face. She was still as beautiful as he’d remembered, and although both of them wore the scars and tiredness that came with a life of service, looking at her here and now, her face being kissed by the thousands of stars in the night sky, it felt as though no time had passed. He could almost forget that it’d been nearly ten years since he’d last laid eyes on her, could almost pretend he were still the same foolish boy he once was all those years ago.
Being able to gaze upon her once more made him feel as though he were just Cullen Stanton Rutherford, a farm boy from Ferelden who had nothing more to offer her than just his love and admiration, however much that was worth to her.
Mistaking his silence as hesitancy, Eliana sighed, turning away from him as her mask dangled at her front, “Cullen, if this is too much, I can always tell Leliana no—”
“No!” He exclaimed, bowing his head in a silent apology at her startled expression, “I am sorry, I meant—or what I am trying to say is—”
Cutting himself off once more, he let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his face harshly before soldiering on, “I was never any good at this.”
"At words?” Eliana teased, intertwining her hands with his at his disheartened look, “That was mean of me. I apologize. Please, continue.”
Feeling more relaxed at her touch, he took in a deep breath, “Having you alongside the Inquisitor is politically advantageous to us, as I’m sure Leliana’s told you,” Pausing, he rubbed his thumb absentmindedly over the back of her hand, “Though, I would be lying if I were to say that was my only motivation for having you in Skyhold.”
Eliana hummed thoughtfully, the slight widening of her eyes betraying her surprise at his boldness, “Oh? What would be your reasoning for wanting me in your Inquisition?”
“If I were to be completely honest with myself, there have been moments where I find myself thinking of you, all those years ago; of what I would say to you if given the chance to be near you once more, of how I might atone for those mistakes,” Letting out a humorless laugh, his eyes looked to anywhere but her, “Especially what happened after Kirkwall, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had just been stronger, bolder, then perhaps none of this would be happening. Perhaps, if I had been able to think for myself, you would never had have to been cast away from Kinloch to become a Grey Warden, and maybe we could even—”
“I don't think it would have changed anything,” Eliana interrupted, a sad smile playing on her lips. “Anything we could've had wouldn't have lasted. I was a mage, and you were a templar; there's nothing that could've been done.”
Though he knew she was right, having it laid out in front of him was like a stab in the heart. Part of him had hoped, as small and fleeting as that hope was, that perhaps they could've been something.
Before he could even think to stop it, his traitorous mouth opened up, “And now?” The shocked look on her face made him bite his tongue, already reprimanding himself for assuming too much, “Or, what I mean to say is–”
“Now,” She spoke; her hands leaving his in order to smooth away the wrinkles on his uniform, “Now, you are the Commander of the Inquisition, and I the Warden-Commander of Ferelden. I'd say that puts us on even ground, would it not?”
Looking at her with disbelief, Cullen found himself frozen in place, unable to believe what he'd just heard. At her hopeful gaze, he straightened up, a newfound sense of courage rippling through his body.
“Well then,” he started, holding out his hand for hers and then bowing once she'd taken it, “Let me re-introduce myself. I am Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition forces.”
Letting out a small giggle, Eliana curtsied, her eyes shining with unbridled joy, “Warden-Commander Eliana Amell, it's a pleasure to be reacquainted with you, Commander.”
“Cullen,” He corrected, his cheeks turning a wonderful shade of pink once he realized that she wasn't letting go of his hand any time soon, “Just Cullen.”
Eliana bit her lip, trying to stop the large grin from erupting on her face; a fruitless endeavor, as Cullen was already beaming back at her.
“Well then, Cullen,” She started, squeezing his hand gently in her own, marveling at how perfectly they fit together, “Would it be terribly crass of me to ask you to dance with me again?”
The way that she looked at him, rubing the back of his hand soothingly, made him believe that she wouldn't be mad if he were to say no. Eliana was simply content to simply stand there with him in the cold evening air.
But for once, Cullen wanted to be brave.
Hesitantly, as if scared she'd disappear at his touch, he shifted one hand to her waist, moving their intertwined hands into the air, leading them in a simple waltz.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
Cullen couldn't hear anything other than Josephine's chastising at his inability to dance, her constant counting behind the soft lull of the orchestra.
Maker, did he wish he’d taken those lessons more seriously.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
Instead of stepping back, Cullen nearly stepped on the hem of Eliana's dress, causing the two of them to stumble, and Cullen felt his stomach begin to turn.
Here he was, with the most beautiful woman in all of Ferelden, and possibly in the entirety of Thedas, and he couldn't even lead her in a simple dance without embarrassing himself.
He was going to be sick. This was an absolute mistake.
One, two, three. One, two, three—
Instead of following their pattern, Eliana's face erupted into a mischevious grin before yanking the two of them off to the side, where they very nearly tumbled off into the shrubbery had it not been for Cullen reaching out to right them, his hands now dangerously low on her waist.
After he was able to recollect himself, Cullen threw the woman in his arms an unamused look, though it didn't seem to deter her as Eliana snorted, failing to hold back her laughter.
Lifting a hand, she caressed the left side of his face, her thumb rubbing soothingly across the scar near his lip, “I'm sorry; you looked like you could stand to get out of your head,”
Sighing, he turned his face to press a gentle kiss to her palm, before standing them both up, content smiles on both of their faces. He pointedly tried not to think about how she had not let go of his hand, nor did he think about how utterly clammy his hands must have been. Instead, he leaned in closer, as if to share a secret. Just as she tilted her head upward, a sparkle in her eye, he'd heard a small cough, followed by three more, louder coughs.
Glaring over at the culprits—of which consisted of not only an utterly nosy Tevinter mage, but the Inquisitor herself—he sighed through his nose, his head bowing in apology.
"I apologize, Warden-Commander Amell," A faux air of gravitas filling his tone, "But I am afraid duty calls."
Rolling her eyes, Eliana gave his hand one last squeeze, not wanting to let go. "Of course. I hope to see you soon, Commander."
Pressing a kiss to her hand, he smiled; a real one, one that he hadn't felt in years.
"Of that, I'm sure of."
unpopular opinion but i enjoyed wicked eyes and wicked hearts :o