Chapter Text
Cullen was still staring at the report in front of him when Rylen let himself into his office. His second-in-command was there for their daily morning meeting, but Cullen’s head was elsewhere. He read over the words of the report again as Rylen’s footfalls filled the otherwise silent space. Her handwriting was perfect. How was it so perfect? She managed to be amusing in her letter without even trying. She had a gift for being amusing without trying. It was endearing.
“Isn’t it a wee bit early for reports?” Rylen had his head cocked curiously as he tried to peer at the page Cullen was looking at from the other side of the desk.
It was early for reports. The sun had barely risen but Cullen had made an exception. “Finley gave it to me late last night when she returned.” He let it drop out of his hand and fall limply amongst the other papers that covered his desktop.
“Ah, now I see why ye’re so transfixed.” Rylen’s teal eyes twinkled as Cullen looked up to meet them. He had that smile on his face that he always got when he was about to meddle.
“Rylen,” Cullen groaned, “don’t start.”
“Come on mate, when are ye going to tell her?”
“We’ve talked about this.” He stood and busied himself with pretending to clean up his desk. It was a lousy distraction. His cheeks were already burning fiercely.
“Aye, and ye still haven’t done anything about it. If ye wait too long she’s going to slip right through yer fingers. It’ll be just like that mage lass from the tower.” He snapped his fingers in thought. “What was her name again?”
Cullen swallowed hard. Bright green eyes and a smile that used to light up the tower halls came to mind, but he pushed the thought away before it could take hold. He had waited too long then but this was different. At least, that’s what he told himself.
His eyes slid closed as he groaned. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Don’t worry, ye don’t have to talk. I’ll do all the talking.” He stepped closer, his voice losing its humorous edge. “Look mate, I’ve seen lives cut short in the blink of an eye. War is on the horizon and life is too short to wait. Now—”
“Rylen,” he cut his friend off with a sharp look.
He put his hands up innocently. “I’m just trying to help.”
“I don’t need your help.” He made sure to speak clearly so that maybe for once he would be understood.
“Clearly, ye do.” He shot him a smile. That unnervingly disarming smile of his.
Cullen groaned again in defeat.
Rylen took that as a sign of surrender and launched into his speech. “Now,” he began, “I spoke to her in the bath last night and—”
Cullen’s hands shot up. “Wait, wait, wait… you saw her in the bath?”
Rylen gave him a flat stare. “Would ye like me to say no?”
Cullen resisted the urge to smack him. “She doesn’t take baths.”
“Well, then the person I saw did a great job impersonating her,” Rylen said with a shrug. “They even got the pout and bad manners down perfectly. Ye can ask the other man who was there if ye don’t believe me.”
That gave Cullen pause. “There was another man there?”
“Aye.”
And there it was again, that infuriating glint in Rylen’s eyes. He had mentioned it on purpose, hoping for a reaction, and Cullen knew he’d taken the bait the moment he felt the heat rise in his chest.
It was ridiculous, he knew that. She was a grown woman, and she’d spent most of her life in barracks, sharing space and bathhouses with soldiers—men and women alike. It wasn’t a big deal.
But the idea of another man seeing her naked made his stomach twist unpleasantly. Rylen was one thing, he didn’t count, but the thought of some other man seeing her in the bath made a seed of jealousy begin to grow in his chest. He could imagine it too clearly: the water clinging to her pale skin, dripping over the scars on her back, the other man’s gaze lingering far too long. He hated it. He felt the fire in his cheeks reignite and blinked hard to force the image from his mind.
Rylen was watching him intently. “Don’t like the thought of that, do ye?”
“Rylen,” he growled in warning. But it was no use—his facade was shattering quickly. Indifference was hard to maintain when your heart was in it.
“Ye know—” he shifted on his feet and the creaking of the floorboards interrupted him “—ye would feel a lot better if ye just told her.”
Cullen let out a frustrated breath and rubbed a hand down his face. “I will. I’m just—” He hesitated, his fingers dragging to the back of his neck. “I’m waiting for the right time.”
“And when exactly is the right time?” Rylen questioned, arching a brow.
“To the Void if I know,” he admitted in defeat as he rubbed at his neck.
Rylen planted his hands on the desk and leaned over it. “That’s why ye have to do it now. Before something happens. Before it’s too late.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to scare her,” he admitted, but it was so much more than that. He was a leader—responsible for so much more than his own heart. But every time he saw her, spoke to her—Maker’s breath—touched her, everything else faded away. And that, more than anything, terrified him, and he knew it would terrify her too.
Rylen leaned back at that. “She is a bit uneasy about that sort of stuff, isn’t she?”
“You have no idea.” He sighed.
Rylen stepped away and stroked his stubbled chin in thought. His finger ran absentmindedly over the tattoo that sat beneath the bristles of hair. “Alright, when ye tell her—which needs to be soon,” he clarified. “Don't, I repeat, don't just spring it on her. Ye need to work her up to it. Ease her into it.”
He laughed but it had no mirth in it. “And how do you propose I do that?”
“Well first of all ye have to get her alone and then, I don’t know, just smooth talk her.”
“Oh yes, smooth talk her.” He gestured at his friend. “That’s easy for you to say.”
“Aye, it is.” He smirked.
“Don’t look so smug. When was the last time you had a woman in your bed?”
“That’s not what’s important.”
He laughed again, but this time in genuine amusement. “It’s been that long, has it?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He looked incredulous. “When was the last time ye slept with a woman?”
Cullen shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”
“Been that long has it?” He mocked in his best Ferelden accent.
Cullen didn’t dignify the question with an answer.
“Well now might be yer chance.” He sounded far too excited about it.
“Rylen, I doubt she’ll accept my feelings let alone an invitation into my bed.”
“Ye bring it up later, not right away. Maker’s balls do ye know nothing about women?”
“I’ve heard you bring it up on the first meeting.”
He waved a hand. “That’s different. That’s just a bit of fun. That’s not I love ye and perish to be with ye which is most certainly what’s going on here.”
“Oh, well thank you for clarifying,” he replied sarcastically.
He put his arms out dramatically. “That’s what I’m here for.”
Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. Since the withdrawal rarely gave him headaches anymore he was beginning to discover the source was more external than he had thought. One of the sources certainly seemed to be a shaggy-haired Starky who wouldn’t let him rest. “Can we just go one day without talking about this?”
He crossed his arms defiantly. “No.”
Cullen opened his eyes to glare at his friend. “Why not?”
“Because then what kind of friend would I be?”
“One that lets me live in peace?”
“No, I would be a terrible friend. I’m not just going to sit by and watch ye ruin this. I don’t want ye coming to me in twenty years when ye’re single and alone because ye never took a chance on the one lass I’ve ever seen ye so invested in.”
Cullen rounded the desk. “Oh don’t worry, I won’t be coming to you.”
“Ye say that now.” Rylen threw an arm around his shoulders. “She’s all ye could ever want in a woman, and more since she’s clearly troubled.” Cullen tried to shove him off but he just laughed. Then his face turned serious again. “Ye do love her, don’t ye?”
Cullen swallowed. “Yes.”
“Would ye die for her?”
“Yes,” he admitted quietly, “in a heartbeat.”
“Then why won’t ye tell her that?”
He considered him for a moment before finally groaning.
Rylen knew what was coming and broke out into a wide grin. “Say it.”
“Rylen,” he groaned.
“Come on, say it.” He shook him gently.
“You’re right,” he grumbled reluctantly.
Rylen pulled away with a triumphant grin plastered to his face. “Now, actually tell her this time.” He turned and walked to the door.
“We haven’t had our meeting yet,” Cullen called after him.
He waved a hand and made a disinterested noise as he strolled out the door.
Cullen shook his head as the door banged shut. Questionable advice and blows to his ego, what were friends for? He glanced back down at the report Finley had written, where it still sat amongst the other papers that lay scattered on his desktop. Her perfect handwriting stared back at him mockingly. He’d tell her. He had to. Soon. But as he sat back down at his desk, he couldn’t shake the feeling that soon might still be too soon.