Chapter Text
It started innocently enough.
Ella had been walking the battlements above the Armory, partly for the exercise, mostly because if she spent one more moment in the Commander's company, she would make some very unfortunate decisions regarding her mouth and his scar and mapping the shape of that mark on his upper lip with her tongue, which would obviously then lead to him tangling his fingers in her hair and pulling her closer, his body hard and ready, hers soft and wanting…
The brisk mountain air helped to clear her head.
She was nodding at a passing guard when she heard them.
"Oof, that one's got thighs, yeah? Could crush my bits happily."
"Crushed? Oh no, my dear—those thighs could be put to much better use."
The backsides of two of Ella's companions came into view as she passed by the Armory roof, the pair bowing over the battlements toward the courtyard with a level of dedication usually reserved for visits with Orlesian diplomats considering funding their cause.
"Dorian? Sera? What are you—oh. Oh."
Ella wandered over to see what held their interest so completely, sliding into a gap between them on the stone.
Below, the training yard was a sea of rhythmic motion and sweat. At its center, Ser Barris was demonstrating a mid-height parry, the recruits surrounding him shedding their clothing in the warm sun like trees shedding their leaves in a gale.
"See?" Sera didn't even look up, her chin resting on her folded arms. "Widdle-bits over there, third from the left. He’s doing that thing with his legs. Sturdy, innit? Like a... a big hairy tree you want to climb."
"Hairy tree?" Dorian scoffed. "Sera, your metaphors are more atrocious than Blackwall's manners." His eyes slid over to Ella, her body now equally… demure in its bowed position on the battlement. "Ah, the Herald joins us. Come to inspect our troops, have you? Or did you simply find the air in the War Room to be getting a bit… stifling?"
"I have no idea what you mean." Ella shimmied back—just enough to remove herself from the direct line of Dorian's knowing gaze, but not so much that she couldn't still observe the training exercises. Her cheeks were rosy enough—they didn't need further encouragement.
"Shh, let her Inquisit all she likes," Sera said. "Maybe getting stuck up a hairy tree will convince the Commander to finally get under her. Save her from falling, yeah?"
"Sera!" Ella hissed. "I'm not—I don't—"
"That's… not the worst idea you've had," Dorian mused. "Yes, this strategy may actually help me win the—Ella, my dear, please, climb all the furry trunks you like."
"Yeah, innit? Knock your bits on some hairy hardwood until Cully-Wully's bits are hard enough for you."
Ella let out a choked laugh. She should go before someone heard these two and thought she condoned this type of—
"Inquisitor?"
Ella froze. No. No no no.
"Commander! What a pleasant surprise!" Dorian straightened, then twisted until he was leaning back upon the stone, legs crossed. A slow smirk spread on his lips. "We were just talking about you."
Ella's eyes went wide. She couldn't turn around. How long had he been there? How much had he heard?
"Y-you—me? What?"
Ella exhaled. Obviously not enough. The wind must've been in the right direction to muffle their voices rather than carry them.
"Hello, Commander," Ella said as she turned around, her words far too breathless. Dorian made no effort to hide his snort.
The cold mountain air and thirty minutes of reprieve from the Commander's presence had apparently done nothing for the throbbing between her legs that started just at the sight of him.
"Inquisitor, I thought I recognized your, um, your…" Cullen trailed off, his hand coming to his neck, his gaze looking anywhere but at Ella.
"Her what, Commander?" Dorian was inspecting his nails, his voice entirely too nonchalant.
Cullen coughed, a flush rising up above his fur mantle. "I… um—"
"Her arse, I'd bet. Stares at it often enough when he thinks no one's looking. Bet he'd recognize it straight 'cross Thedas," Sera drawled, her attention still on the training recruits below.
"No! No, that's not—" Cullen said at the same time that Ella cried, "Sera!"
Dorian quirked a brow, positively glowing at the events unfolding before him. "Are you quite all right, Commander? You seem flushed."
Ella met Cullen's gaze, both of them sharing a look that agreed—Dorian was entirely ridiculous and Sera was a menace.
"I'm fine, Pavus."
Dorian's mustache twitched. "If you say so."
"Maker's breath," Cullen muttered. He turned to Ella again. "What are you all doing up here anyway?"
"Book club," Ella said, the words escaping her mouth faster than her mind could process them.
Book club? Book club?! Andraste's tits, what was wrong with her?
"Book club?" Cullen asked. His eyes slid to Sera, then to Dorian before finally settling on Ella. "You three have a… book club?"
"Oh yes," Dorian said smoothly. "And I must say, the narrative structure of today's selection is quite... gripping. Truly a thick, penetrating read."
"And Chapter Four over there has a really nice arse."
Cullen's brows furrowed. Ella's eyes fell shut. She clenched her hand into a fist. Maybe if she squeezed hard enough her mark would open a rift right there and suck her into the Fade. Surely that was a better alternative to—
"Chapter Four?" Cullen stepped up beside Ella, her lungs filling with the smell of him—leather and steel, the normal smell of any soldier she crossed paths with, but underneath was something more, something that was just… Cullen. It left her thinking of a secluded forest meadow—damp earth and wildflowers. The fresh, clean air you could only find deep in the woods.
She breathed deeply, opening her eyes to have her vision fill with the curve of the Commander's jaw, his stubble glinting gold in the sunlight. Warmth radiated off him in waves, the chill of the wind completely disappearing.
He scoffed. "Nice arse or not, Chapter Four's form is leaving him wide open on his left flank." He released a heavy sigh and gave Ella a pained look. "I swear this latest batch of recruits are a different breed. It's no wonder Queen Anora sent them our way."
He leaned forward, hand coming to rest on the battlements next to Ella's, his voice carrying easily as he called down. Ella's toes curled in her boots at the sound, the throbbing between her legs begging her to shift just an inch to her left—just enough to close the gap between them.
"You there! Square your shoulders! You're swinging from the elbow, not the core!"
Chapter Four squinted up toward the battlements, scowl clear on his sweat-drenched face. He said nothing in response to the Commander, but turned his back, his voice echoing up along the stone walls as he muttered loudly to a nearby recruit.
"Big words from a man who sits at a desk all day."
The other recruit—Chapter Five, Ella decided—laughed.
"Ha, yeah, easy to hide behind that fancy armor. I ain't seen him pick up a sword since we arrived. Bet he'd never be willing to take a blow for the Inquisition."
The air on the battlements went still.
"Oof," Sera said. "Them hairy trees 'bout to become firewood, yeah?"
Cullen stepped back, his eyes dark. His expression shifted to something focused and dangerously calm—a predator stalking his prey.
Ella held her breath. Dorian yawned. A muscle twitched in Cullen's jaw.
"Excuse me, Inquisitor," he said. "It appears my recruits require a more… practical demonstration."
"Pavus, Sera," he said, nodding to each of them. "You may want to take your book club elsewhere."
Then he twisted on his heel and marched off before any of them could respond.
"Oh, I am not missing this," Sera said, throwing herself even further over the battlements. Her feet were no longer touching the ground, instead waggling in the air behind her. "Let's see what your Cully-Wully's got in his pants, right? An arse tight enough for the climax?"
"For the Herald's climax, at least," Dorian drawled as he joined Sera.
Ella's mouth fell open. She fixed Dorian with a glare that had once been strong enough to scare off a wraith, but the Tevinter mage was unaffected. And before Ella could hiss a reprimand to Dorian, Cullen's voice filtered up from the training ring and she forgot she'd even wanted to say anything at all.
"Stand down, Ser Barris."
Every sword and shield in the training yard stilled, the rhythmic clacking falling to silence.
"Commander…" Ser Barris began.
Up on the battlements, Ella gripped the stone until her knuckles went white.
Cullen strode into the middle of the ring, the recruits forming a wide circle around him. He looked so calm, so poised, so… exceedingly competent that it was clear why Cassandra had appointed him as Commander in the first place.
"It has come to my attention," Cullen said, his voice sending a shiver down Ella's spine, "that some of our recruits found my instruction from the battlements… insufficient." Cullen turned to stare at Chapters Four and Five, both of whom were refusing to make eye contact.
"And that my armor"—Cullen prowled toward them, stopping mere feet from the two trembling recruits—"is just for show."
"Ooh, they've done it now," Sera said gleefully, her feet thumping against the stone. "No more firewood, he's gonna turn 'em into mulch."
Cullen reached up to his left shoulder.
Snick.
The heavy leather clasp of his fur mantle gave way. He unhooked the right side, shrugging off the pelt and tossing it carelessly to one of the wide-eyed corporals standing behind the fence of the training ring.
Ella stopped breathing.
His belt was next, the wide strip of leather loosening to release the fabric of his cloak. He tossed those to the corporal as well. The breastplate followed. It fell to the ground with a thud that vibrated up through the stone and directly into Ella's chest, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"My, my, our Commander is full of surprises, is he not, Herald?"
Ella had lost her ability to speak. Her brain was currently short-circuiting as Cullen unfastened his vambraces, then carefully untied his pauldrons, a small pile of shining metal thunking into the mud by his feet. His doublet was next. He slid the thick jacket from his shoulders to reveal a wrinkled, damp linen shirt that left nothing to the imagination.
"Maker's balls," Ella murmured finally, biting at her lip in an attempt to distract herself from imagining what she would do if she could get her hands under that shirt.
"Or Cullen's, if you get your way," Sera said, just as entranced by the scene unfolding below them.
Cullen held out a hand toward Barris, the now ex-Templar tossing him one of the weighted wooden swords. Cullen didn't even turn, he just caught it in the air behind him. He turned instead to one of the nearby recruits. "Your shield."
The shield shook in the recruit's hands as he handed it to Cullen. Cullen tucked it onto his arm, then rolled his shoulders, his attention fully on Chapters Four and Five. He stepped back into the center of the ring and beckoned to them.
"Both of you," he said, his voice soft. "Come."
The two recruits finally looked at Cullen, then at each other, then back at Cullen.
"I didn't—we didn't mean—" Chapter Five stammered.
"Let's see if my time behind a desk has… dulled my reflexes, shall we? Get into position."
The two men stumbled forward, swords raised, shields hanging uselessly by their sides.
The fight was over in two brutally efficient moves. Chapter Four swung his sword down, his left flank wide open. Cullen struck, but his sword had barely made contact—Chapter Four only just releasing a sharp exhale of all the air in his lungs—when the Commander twisted, throwing his shield out to bash Chapter Five. The recruit had tried to exploit the distraction he thought his fellow soldier had created. Instead, Cullen's shield threw Chapter Five clear across the yard, the man slumping down into the dirt, sword limp in his hand.
Chapter Four, who was still trying to heave air back into his lungs, threw down his sword and shield and held up his hands.
"I yield!" he cried.
"As I said before, swing from your core, not your elbow. And watch your form. You left your flank wide open." Cullen pointed his sword toward Chapter Five, who was still slumped in the dirt. "If I were Venatori, both of you would be dead."
A cluster of muffled laughs echoed across the yard.
Cullen twisted, pointing the tip of his sword toward three wide-eyed recruits in turn.
"You three are next," Cullen said, his voice lethal. "Pick up your swords."
These recruits took four moves. Duck. Parry. Bash. He had the three of them lined up in a row, then smashed his boot into the shield of the young man at the front, sending all three of them falling back into the mud.
Murmurs gave way to chatter, the energy among the recruits growing restless. Men were picking up their swords and starting to strategize, making plans for how each group might finally be the ones to take the Commander off his stride.
They all failed.
And Cullen? Cullen was magnificent. Even Dorian and Sera went quiet, only their shocked gasps and Dorian's murmured, "My word. This book club is… compelling," filling the gaps between each of Cullen's strikes, and Sera's quiet, almost reverent, "Right. So that's what he's got under there. Oof."
With each fight, the fire in Cullen's eyes grew brighter, his muscles bunching and twisting under the cream-colored linen of his shirt, the fabric clinging to his skin as the laces at his neck slowly unraveled. Ella licked her lips, her breaths coming slow as Cullen once again knocked three men on their asses with a single shield bash.
Not a single person had managed to even touch him.
"I'm more than willing to take blows for the cause," Cullen said once all of the recruits had been bested, "though it appears impossible for any of you to land one."
"Barris could," someone muttered.
A wave of shocked whispers rippled across the growing crowd, more than just soldiers now gathered around the training ring to watch the Commander school the new recruits.
The crowd parted as Ser Barris stepped forward.
"Commander," he nodded.
Cullen nodded back, a wolf-like grin spreading on his face. "Delrin."
Barris's eyes narrowed, his lip tugging back in a smile.
"No shields?"
Cullen huffed a laugh. He tossed his shield to the side. Then, without breaking eye contact with Barris, he reached down toward the hem of his linen shirt.
A collective, sharp intake of breath swept through the training yard. Even Sera went dead silent. Ella was sure the rift she'd wished for earlier must've swallowed her up. There was no way this was actually happening.
Cullen pulled the fabric up and over his head in one smooth motion, the linen attempting to cling to him in a way Ella couldn't blame it for. She wouldn't want to be torn away from him either. The afternoon sun hit the sweat-slicked skin and smattering of hair on his chest until he glowed, the scarred landscape of his torso thrown into sharp relief. He tossed the shirt toward the same stunned corporal now buried under a pile of the Commander's belongings.
"No shields."
Barris lunged, sword swinging to meet Cullen's with a loud, wooden thwack.
Thwack, thud, thwack. The two men met each other blow for blow, both of them grinning.
They stepped back, circling each other, Cullen twirling the sword in his hand.
Barris raised a brow, his gaze flicking up toward Ella and her growing entourage on the battlements. "Showing off, Commander?"
"Oh ho ho," came Iron Bull's deep tenor somewhere to Ella's left. "Delrin's going to regret that."
When had Bull arrived?
Cullen's eyes flashed, sensing an opening for an attack. Barris blocked him at the last second, teeth gritted.
"I've no need to show off," Cullen drawled, throwing Ser Barris back onto his heels. He recovered just in time to block Cullen's next attack.
Thwack. Thud. Thwack.
They circled each other once more. Cullen loosened his neck, his attention never leaving Barris. They matched blows again, though this time Barris managed to take the offensive, his sword flying down toward the Commander in one long slice. Cullen blocked, using his other hand to steady the wooden blade as a loud, low grunt escaped him.
Ella's breath caught, the sound he'd just made shooting straight to the throbbing heat between her legs. She squirmed as Cullen threw Barris back. The longer the fight continued, the more… animalistic each of them became. It didn't help that Cullen's hair had begun to curl at the edges, either; the sweat from his exertions obviously interfering with whatever product he used to style it. Leliana had been taunting him about his hair for weeks now, but he refused to confirm if he used any styling products at all. The spymaster already knew he did, of course—Aethelgard's Royal Paste, she'd told Ella—but teasing their too serious Commander was half the fun. Ella had joined in, on occasion, not that it got her anywhere. All of her attempts to charm the information out of him had failed spectacularly.
Cullen and Barris faced each other, breaths ragged. Barris dragged an arm across his brow while voices rang out from the crowd.
"Show 'em who's boss, Commander!"
"Knock the old cat down a peg, Barris!"
Barris adjusted his stance. Just a fraction, just enough to give him better leverage for a heavy swing, but it was enough that—given the grin spreading across his face—Cullen could predict what Barris would do next.
"Oof, gave himself away with that one," Bull murmured. "Cullen'll have him eating shit in a minute."
"I'll take that bet," Dorian said. "Two silver it's less than a minute."
Varric's dulcet tones carried from Ella's right. "Curly's strong, but he just fought off twenty men. Three silver says Barris knocks him down first."
"Five silver our Commander sacrifices a single hit to break Barris's guard and disarm him," Cassandra added from somewhere behind Ella.
Now Cassandra was here too? Maker's breath, was the entire Inquisition watching this fight? The curiosity to see who else had joined her newly formed book club was nearly enough to get Ella to turn around, but then the Commander was advancing on Barris and the crowd's murmurs grew to a fevered pitch and not even Coryphaeus could've dragged her eyes away.
Bull huffed a laugh. "Heh, I've seen this before—look how he's herding him. Won't be long now."
"Are all Fereldan fighting styles based on farming, or is it unique to our Commander?" Dorian's words might have been flippant, though his tone was anything but.
Iron Bull was right, though. Cullen had backed Barris into a corner, and it made the man reckless, his swings wilder. But Barris also came close to making contact with Cullen's skin at least a few times. It was enough to make him take a risk.
With a shout, Barris pressed forward, going on the attack. Cullen yielded a step and then another before he froze, as if waiting for Barris to actually hit him. But just as Barris's sword glanced along Cullen's bicep, the Commander crouched low, taking his opportunity to lunge forward. He shoved his full weight into the knight, driving his shoulder into the man's chest. Barris's breath exhaled in a long grunt as Cullen swept a foot behind the knight’s ankle and knocked him to the ground.
Barris's sword dropped to the dirt with a thump. Cullen kicked it away, then turned back to his friend, the tip of his sword a hair’s breadth from Barris’s neck.
"Yield." Cullen’s voice was steady despite his heaving chest.
Ser Barris held up his hands, his words gasping. "I… yield."
A cheer rang up from the crowd.
"The Lion of Ferelden," Dorian murmured, hand resting on the bare skin at his chest. "I find my taste in exotic cats has improved significantly. Wouldn't you agree, Inquisitor?"
Ella wasn't listening to Dorian. Ella wasn't listening to anyone. The only thing she could hear was the roaring in her ears as her eyes tracked a bead of sweat trailing its way down Cullen's collarbone, his chest, and then down into the tangle of hair that delved below the waist of his pants, hinting at the treasure hidden underneath.
"I—uh—"
"Speechless, I see. Can't say I blame you."
Cullen tossed his sword to the side. He dragged a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, then held out his other to Ser Barris, helping the man back up.
"Well-matched, my friend," he said, a heavy hand finding the knight's shoulder. "You do the Inquisition great credit."
Ser Barris nodded in thanks as he wiped sweat from his own brow. "As do you, Commander."
"As for the rest of you," Cullen called out, his gaze sweeping over the recruits, "let this be a lesson to never…" Cullen's eyes flicked up toward the battlements, locking with Ella's. A confident smirk pulled at his lips, his gaze predatory in a completely different way.
Ella's stomach swooped clear down to the vaults.
Cullen straightened, then dragged his eyes back down to the recruits. "…to never judge a book by its cover."
Sera snorted. "'Specially not his cover. 'Specially not now we know what Cully-Wully's hiding 'neath it all."
"Our dear Commander can make jokes?" Dorian huffed a laugh. "I didn't know he had it in him."
Ella was clinging to the stone beneath her, her lips parted. She didn't know he had it in him either. And it only made her want him to stick it in her even more. What would it feel like to drag her hands over the hard planes of his chest? To drop her mouth to his neck and taste him? She dug her fingers into the stone, eyes glazing over as she imagined it was his shoulders she was gripping, holding tight as he drove himself into her. A soft, strangled moan escaped her.
Cullen's gaze snapped back up toward the battlements and the growing collection of book club members, his eyes widening just a fraction when they snagged on Ella once again. It was enough to bring her thoughts back from the edge, mortification replacing desire. Had he heard her moan?
Maker's breath, had anyone else?
Cullen raised an arm to his neck, fingers stroking the skin as his smile began to falter. Ella couldn't decide if she was more jealous of his hand, or his neck. A delightful shade of pink began to creep up his neck toward his ears, but he kept his attention on her, a battle being fought in his expression that his blush made clear he was losing.
"I hope—" He cleared his throat, pitching his voice louder to ensure it would reach up the battlements. "—I hope the book was up to your standards, Inquisitor."
Well, apparently he wasn't willing to give up the battle that easily.
"Book?" Cassandra asked. "What book?"
"Wait, have Curly and our Herald finally—Dorian, pay up! I told you he'd make the first move!" Varric said.
Ella flushed. Every head on the battlements and below was turned in her direction. She scrambled back, trying to stand straight, but needing to keep her palms on the balustrade for balance. She opened her mouth to respond, only to find nothing was coming out. She should say something. Make it seem like she was surveying the troops rather than… rather than—
Sera called out.
"S'alright, but you'll have to come help her with the climax, Commander!"
Iron Bull snorted. A series of snickers echoed out from the training yard, followed by a hissed "stop or he'll make us run drills again!"
Cullen's eyes flashed wide, his hand now frozen at his neck. Ella wasn't sure she could turn a brighter shade of crimson. Their eyes were locked on each other, neither willing to look away.
Then, everything went silent—the murmur of the crowd, the distant clang-clang of the blacksmith, even the wind. For one, maybe even two terrifying heartbeats, it was just the two of them. Only, they weren't Inquisitor and Commander; they weren't even mage and (ex-)templar. No, they were Ella and Cullen—two lonely trees caught on opposite ends of a clearing—reaching for, but never quite reaching, the other.
At least, not yet.
