and I already have some chapters for the middle and plan for how to move it forward but I am have this big writer’s block in the beginning and I don’t know how to break. I could jsut have him meet Herah but I want a little bit of a build up before that. If anyone has any suggestions that would be sweet.
Summary: Cullen has hidden secret feelings about the Inquisitor; pining and stuff
“You look rather dashing, commander.”
Cullen blinks at the sunlight shining through the horns of the herald. She grins like a wildcat, breathless and smiling with fierce joy, her hands tightly gripping the reins of her horse. He gives her a curt nod, brief but refusing to give into her teasing. He learned a long time ago that her comments were to get a reaction, make him blush. Or at least that's what Leliana said.
Cullen nods to the herald at her kind comment, a well meaning grin on his face as hers broadens. Its one of the those moments when the inquisitor is not the inquisitor. She chuckles, before spurring her horse onward, out of the courtyard and into the wild. The braid between her horns flies in the wind as she rides away for a brief respite from planning, papers, and orders. He's learned not to ask where she's off to when Lady Adaar leaves. It only distracts her. He turns back to the recruits he's coaching, watching as their weak grips slowly grow strong as they learn from their mistakes.
Its not that he wants her. He respects her. At least, that's what he tells himself.
It started not long after they first met. Cassandra had properly introduced the herald of Andraste, this tall fierce looking creature, who was slouched in a chair trying to tie the end of her hair together. She greeted him with a polite, if cheeky, grin and asked who he was trying to impress with all that armor. The words had little bite and served as an ice breaker as she invited him to take part of the meal she had just had laid out. For a mercenary, for a qunari, she was very kind. She had none of the rough manners and angry stance he had heard of whispered by the soldiers.
But the soldiers had been right all along. She had been practicing one day, with one of fighters at Skyhold. Her face was fixed with cool determination, her eyebrows furrowed and her back arched like a bear, waiting to strike. The steel clashed loudly and Cullen could appreciate her form. She's a good fighter, with the mass to wield a great sword properly but also the footwork to make it count. The fight is a practice, a tossing of various moves between two experienced fighters. A block there, a missed thrust of of her blade against the shield of her opponent. She was surprisingly quiet in battle, soft grunts; none of the roaring and shouts he typically associate with the gray horned people. She only speaks after several rounds of casual if rigorous play.
“C'mon! Fight me! I want more than just to be slapped around!”
Her opponent grunts and the next time they meet, the shield meets her face. She staggers back, lip bleeding, slightly off balance. Cullen can hear the collective gasp from the audience. Smiling and bleeding, she gives her all.
It makes him only slightly hard. At this point, Cullen has assumed it was merely a fantasy, the kind of thing one only thought about when you were in bed and desperate for something new and deliciousy strange. Her bleeding smile as she pulled his head back, licking up his neck to kiss his mouth. Him pulling back her head, by her horns, in a similar fashion. Sparring that becomes rutting and then sex that feels rough, straining and oh so relaxing. Its a good fantasy.
But when the fantasy morphs from rough sex to the quiet breathing after, Cullen is slightly troubled. Its no longer just about idle release in the dark of night which he'll ignore in the morning. This is about the fact that he dreams of being the shoulder she leans against when she's about to fall asleep in those too small seats, of pushing the hair out of her face, fastening her braid, weaving their fingers together as they drift off to sleep. Its becoming difficult to not think about her.
