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Maker knew she deserved a rest after the week she had just had. Closing the breach, discovering the identity of the Elder One, and nearly dying in the frozen snow should be enough for anyone, let alone leading the weary survivors through yet more snow and discovering an impenetrable stronghold to house them. But newly-titled Inquisitor Trevelyan couldn't sleep. After retiring from the War Room well past sundown, she had found herself staring down from her balcony at all the tents and campfires in the inner bailey, thinking of each life below her and feeling terror of the responsibility she now held over every one of them.
Decisions. Life and death decisions. And no matter how good she was, even if she was perfect, some of those lights would be snuffed out in the days and weeks to follow.
Evelyn dropped her face into her hands and let out a shuddering sigh which sounded dangerously close to a sob. Her shoulders curled inwards with the weight of fear pressing on them, and her knees almost buckled with trembling.
"Fear. Sadness. I can't cope, how to keep lives living, what to do what to do, no rest, so tired..."
Commander Cullen looked up from his desk at the boy - or man? Spirit? who had somehow managed to enter his office without apparently opening the door.
"What?" He sounded more angry than he intended - Cole made him uneasy, despite the assistance he had provided before the fall of Haven.
"Go to her. She is so sad, so frightened. And you can help. You can take the pain away."
"Go to her? Now? She's sleeping." He didn't ask who 'her' was - there was only one woman on his mind. Always on his mind.
"No. Can't sleep. The dreams, of burning, of the dark magister, they hurt and wake and won't stop. You... like her. You always want her near you. Be near her. She needs you."
"I... I could... I'll see if she's awake."
Cole nodded, clearly relieved, and then seemed to drift out of focus. Cullen was left with no more memory than the idea of looking up at the castle keep to see if a light burned in the topmost tower.
Evelyn jumped as there was a smart rap on her door. She hurriedly dried her tears on her sleeve and prayed that her red eyes would be attributed to tiredness. The Inquisitor could not be weak, could not doubt.
"Come in?"
Her heart lifted as she recognised instantly the silhouette in the stairwell. "Inquisitor? I... ah... saw your lights were still burning, so I thought we... um, that is to say, I thought you could use some company." Cullen crossed the threshold, proffering a tray holding a steaming travel kettle and two tin cups. "If you're having trouble sleeping..."
Evelyn smiled wearily. "I am. I always seem to be, these days." She gestured for him to join her on the balcony.
"Magnificent view," he remarked as he poured two cups of black, strong tea. She took the proffered cup with a smile of thanks.
"All I see is people. They all need... help. They all need me to be the Herald, the Inquisitor." She gazed downwards. "We lost so many good souls at Haven. Each time, each one... could we have done more?" Her voice wavered, "Could I have done more?"
Cullen took a deep breath, his hands clamped around the hot cup, to stop him reaching out to her, to hold her in his arms. "Every good Commander feels this way when they lose men," he said, his gaze following hers down to the infirmary tent. "If they don't, if they start to think their peoples' lives are expendable, then they take too many risks and lose many more." He circled the cup in his hands. "But do not let fear cripple you. Inaction can be worse than carelessness, and many more lives lost if you cannot bring yourself to do what must be done."
"But how? How will I know when the time is right for either? How can I act when every decision I make is certain to lead to death for someone?" She turned from her vigil and looked directly into his eyes, her own filling with tears not yet fallen. "How, Cullen?"
Forgetting propriety, forgetting what was appropriate, forgetting the gulf he had placed between them when she was appointed his leader, he set his cup on the ramparts and wrapped his arms around her. "You cannot do more. You give everything you are. Never doubt that."
Cole was right.
She needed him.
Evelyn stirred sleepily in his arms. They had not spoken much after he had broken down the walls between them - he merely held her as she cried into his shoulder and, when she was exhausted, picked her up as gently as a child and carried her to bed. He lay there still, uncomfortable in his shirt and trousers, but certain that the only reason this powerful, captivating woman was sleeping was because she felt safe in his arms.
She whimpered slightly in her sleep and he stroked her hair to soothe her - she quieted, and he smiled. Let her be strong for the Inquisition. Let her be all powerful, the Herald of Andraste for her followers, for the Army. For him, she could be fearful, and for her, he could be the guiding hand in the darkness, the candle flame to light the way. And he knew, at that moment, that he loved this woman with all his battered heart.
Dawn came. Cullen woke with a start, from a dream in which he hunted the fade for her, lost to shadows. He looked through the windows at the risen sun and swore softly. He attempted to untangle his arms from her without waking her, but, as she woke abruptly, realised he had been so unsuccessful he had managed to tangle her hair in a button.
"Sorry," he kissed her chastely on the forehead, "I should have been supervising the training ten minutes ago."
She smiled blearily, "It's me who should be sorry. Did you get any sleep at all?"
He smiled - "Some. But no matter. It's more important to have a rested Inquisitor than a rested Commander - you're off to the Fallow Mire today, and all I'll be doing is training and reading reports. No undead slaying."
"Ugh. I know the saying is 'no rest for the wicked', but lately it seems there's 'no rest for Andraste's chosen', either."
He grinned and swung his legs from the bed, stretching and yawning as he did so.
"None. I'd better-"
There was a mad hammering at the door, and a breathless scout ran in.
"Inquisitor! The Commander! He's not at training, or in his office, his bed hasn't been slep.." the scout trailed off as he saw Cullen sitting on the bed.
"Uh... never mind... sorry..." he mumbled as he backed away down the stairs and almost slammed the door behind him.
"-get going before someone misses me," Cullen finished. He sighed. "That was Forbes. At least he's unlikely to spread the information that he found me in your bed."
Evelyn grinned, "It'd be rather nice to be gossiped about for something scandalous rather than death-defying for a change."
"I... suppose you're right." He was relieved that a night of rest had restored her good humour. He reached for a boot.
"Cullen?"
He turned and felt his heart skip as her deep eyes caught his and held them. "Thank you."
Several times over the course of the following week Cullen caught himself staring absentmindedly into the distance. His mind wandered to that night more often than he cared to admit to himself. How soft she had seemed, pressed against him, and how small. It was easy to forget how young she was - not even past her mid twenties, nearly a decade younger than he, and with most of her life shut up in the ivory tower of the Ostwick Circle. But her accomplishments, the strength she showed, and the love she showed her people, made it easy to overlook her youth and vulnerability.
He did not regret that night, but feared that all he was to her was... safety? The arms of an older brother? Or, Maker forbid, even a father figure. There had been nothing sexual between them that night, and he did not know whether, if he had kissed her as he wanted to kiss her, she would have kissed him back.
Why in the name of Andraste hadn't he kissed her?
He sighed and began reading a report of Orlesian troop movements in the civil war to the West. Yet another mess for the Inquisition to sort out, as if fade rifts, demons and thousand year old magisters weren't enough to worry about.
There was a knock at the door.
"Come."
"Sir," the private saluted and began immediately, "There has been a new rift spotted in the mountains, less than four hours' ride from Skyhold. Apparently... it's red."
Cullen looked up sharply, "Red? That's new. Summon a war council in the Inquisitor's absence, and request Solas, Varric and Dorien attend. Immediately."
The private saluted and turned sharply on his heel.
Placing a small knife on the report to hold it open, Cullen stood and made his way to the war room to await the others.
(Continued in The Red Rift)