Dragon Age Inquisition: Faith

Confessions, Part II

Cecily was whisked away from Skyhold soon after her conversation with Cullen in the tower—Samson’s letters had revealed red Templar activity in Orlais. Fighting these men felt harder, now; Cecily couldn’t help but wonder if Cullen might have been among them, had Cassandra not recruited him to the Inquisition.

When she returned to Skyhold two weeks later, she managed to hold out an hour before she sought him out. But he was missing from his office, and that worried her. And so, with nothing else to do, she set out for her tower.

To her surprise, she saw someone else emerging from it as she crossed the battlements. It was the Commander.

She raised her hand in a slight wave as they drew closer. Cullen smiled at her, almost shyly—a little quirk of his mouth, quickly gone, but definitely present. “Inquisitor! You’ve returned.”

“I have. And Samson no longer has his supply,” she assured him.

“I had no doubt,” he said.

“You look better.” Cecily couldn’t keep the relief from her voice.

“I am better. Much better, in fact,” he said, the smile returning. His eyes were bright and the lines between his eyebrows weren’t there, maybe for the first time since Haven. 

He turned to face the mountains, resting his hands on the edge of the battlements. “I … when you came to see me … I should not have pushed myself so far that day. I am sorry you saw that.”

“I’m just glad you’re feeling well again.” Cecily stepped next to him and breathed the mountain air as deeply as she could. Warmth spread through her chest. He is all right. At that moment, she felt as if she could want for nothing else.

“I’d never told anyone what truly happened to me at Ferelden’s Circle,” he said, almost as if to himself. “For years, it blinded me. I was angry, and I’m not proud of the man that anger made me.”

“What you went through would have broken most people beyond repair,” Cecily said gently.

“For a time, I thought I was broken beyond repair,” he admitted. “But now I can put some distance between myself and what happened. It’s a start.”

“A good start,” Cecily added. “For what it’s worth, I like who you are now.”

Cullen shifted uneasily. “Even after … even after what you saw?”

The uncertainty in his voice made Cecily’s heart hurt. “Cullen, you have nothing to be sorry or ashamed for. You had a bad day and you leaned on a friend. I was glad to be that friend.”

“Thank you. Truly.” He gave her a considering look, that shy half-smile returning. “It occurs to me that I never told you how marvelous you were at Haven.”

“Are you mad?” Cecily laughed. “I nearly fainted. I had no idea what to do. I assumed everyone could see it on my face.”

“For weeks, all I could think about when I saw you was the way you looked in the Chantry hall, when you said that you would stay behind to draw the dragon’s attention. I don’t think anyone had ever snapped at Cassandra like that. ‘That was the plan, not an invitation for opinions,’ indeed.”

“And then you supported me. You said I might find a way to get out alive,” Cecily remembered. She hadn’t thought much about those moments before meeting Corypheus, not since coming to Skyhold. “And I did. Or maybe a way found me.”

She shivered a bit and crossed her arms, rubbing her hands under her shoulders as if trying to stave off a chill. “I thought I was going to die out there in the snow. I cast spell after spell, trying to keep myself warm, but there was only so much I could do. I thought you were a hallucination at first. When I realized it was really you—you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” Heat flushed her cheeks when she realized how that sounded. “Maker, what a stupid thing to say. I’m sorry. It seemed better in my head.”

“Don’t apologize,” Cullen said earnestly. “I had the same thought when I realized that figure stumbling through the drifts was you. Of course, I usually think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Cecily’s breath caught. She couldn’t seem to make her mouth work; she couldn’t get a single word out. Not that she knew what to say.

Cullen’s eyes went wide. “Oh, Maker. I didn’t mean …”

“No, of course not,” Cecily managed, her heart falling.

“To make you uncomfortable,” he finished. “But … gah. I’ve no skill for these things.” He shook his head. “I’ve thought about what I might say, in a moment like this, and still I cannot seem—I still don’t know how to put this.”

He took a breath and turned to face her. “Cecily. You’re the Inquisitor, and we’re in the midst of a war, and there are a thousand other, more important things that you have to pay attention to. But I care for you, and if you thought you might care for me in the same way, I … It seems too much to ask, and yet, I want to. Ask, I mean.”

Cecily’s head was swimming; her heart pounded in her chest, so loud she was sure half of Skyhold could hear it. She reached out and took Cullen’s hand. “Would it help if I told you that the answer would be yes?”

Cullen caught her hand and turned it, twining his fingers through hers. “You could do better, you know,” he said, half-seriously. “I’m still recovering from lyrium use, I tend to obsess over my work, and I have it on good authority that I can be impossibly stubborn.”

“Cassandra said that?” Cecily guessed.

“You’ve got it in one.”

“Well. I’m terrified of heights, overly formal with people I don’t know, occasionally imperious, and there’s an insane Darkspawn magister trying to kill me because I stole his Veil-ripping anchor.” She tilted her chin up and arched her eyebrow at him. “So don’t bother trying to scare me off. It won’t work.”

Cullen laughed. “I could say the same to you. Claim as many flaws as you like. You won’t convince me that you’re anything short of wonderful.”

His smile and his laugh were so warm, and the way he was looking at her—she’d never had anyone look at her like that. She squeezed his hand and stepped closer to him. Cullen bent his head in response, and their lips met in a kiss.

It was a bit awkward, a little unsure, and absolutely perfect.

Cecily released his hand and slid her arms behind his neck; he responded by cupping her cheek and jaw with his freed hand. His other hand found the small of her back and he pulled her close. Cecily opened her mouth and he responded in kind, meeting her tongue with his. She whimpered a bit as the kiss deepened, and Cullen’s arm tightened around her.

“Oi! Cecily! Where are you?”

Startled, they sprang apart, as guilty as teenagers caught on a ballroom balcony.

When Cecily realized that Sera’s voice had carried up from the courtyard below, that she wasn’t nearly as close as she seemed, she began laughing. “I think Sera actually thinks my name is Oi-Cecily. I should talk to her about that.”

“Cecily! Come on, you’ve got to see this! There’s a man here who threw goats at us!” Sera yelled. “You’re supposed to judge him for it on yer big throne, or something. But goats!”

“Did she say someone threw goats at the Inquisition?” Cullen asked, looking intrigued in spite of himself.

“This sounds like it requires my attention,” Cecily said ruefully. She looked over at Cullen, wondering if he’d want to take back what had just happened.

Apparently not; he stepped closer to her and brushed his thumb across her cheek. “That was … really nice.” His smile was tentative and affectionate and hopeful all at once.

She smiled back at him. “So we’ll continue this later, then?”

Cullen leaned in for one more kiss. It was just a brief brush of his mouth against hers, but it made every nerve in her body stand at attention. “Count on it,” he promised.