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Any person with a working pair of eyes could see that Arian Lavellan was beautiful.
The moment Cullen had been introduced to her in Haven, it was all he could think about for weeks after. Her long, wheat-colored tresses, her light periwinkle eyes, the faint freckles that speckled her face; everything about her screamed beauty and grace, though with time and familiarity he'd learned that she didn't necessarily think the same.
"I couldn't keep my eyes off you, but we'd only just met," he later admitted to her, embarrassingly so. Thankfully only a bashful smile graced her rosy lips instead of a mockery of any kind, and he remembered generously kissing that smile away but seconds after.
Halamshiral had its own selection of pretty women, most far too pale or bony, however, and it was obvious that the moment Arian had entered the ballroom in her flowing lavender gown, she had stolen the show away from even the empress herself.
But standing here, watching from a far corner as suitors and nobles of differing standards approached the young elf and made their interest for her known, Cullen could audibly hear his own teeth grinding in anger.
Their relationship wasn't public, in fact most of the people to know about it were either the individuals who were closest to the two, or the recruits who happened to wander by the battlements while the Commander and Inquisitor were wrapped up in one another. Because of this, no one at the Winter Palace suspected anything between them, and therefore both he and Arian had continuously received offers of private engagements throughout the evening. He simply ignored his, or brushed them off, but Arian was far too kind for that sort of thing, and she listened to each and every offer intently before letting them down easy.
That included a rather handsome-looking diplomat who gracefully walked up to the elf at one point during the masquerade, bowing to her and kissing her hand with ease. Cullen stood off to the side, carefully watching the interaction with a rising blood pressure.
"My Lady Inquisitor, it is such an honor to meet you," he said to her in a thick Orlesian accent, and Arian gave him an odd look as he removed his mask to waggle his brows at her.
The elf, obviously awkward at his stunt, curtseyed to him then, replying with, "And, uh, it's an honor to meet you, Ser...?"
"Lord Antoine De'Vero, My Lady," the man corrected politely, then moved his arms to grab at the young woman's waist. Cullen growled and made to intervene, but Arian gently pushed the lord's arms away, offering him a smile instead.
"My Lord?" Arian inquired, but the man chortled the rejection away, waving his hands to emphasize his error.
"Apologies, I just meant to dance with you, my dear. Perhaps it would've been better if I had just asked?"
Arian nodded, disbelief etched in her features, and Cullen's fists clenched as he nearly stormed up to the snooty lord to show him indeed what would've been better in this situation. "Yes, that would've been preferable," she laughed nervously.
Apparently this had been an affirmative to his request, however, because the diplomat was then whisking her off to the dance floor, twirling her around until she looked like she was about to be sick. Cullen had had enough though, not able to stomach the way these disgusting lords and messeres and whatever other titles they possessed were treating his woman. Taking a glass of something off a passing tray, he took a swig and disappeared off into the vestibule. Perhaps his soldiers were ready to move into formation at this point, or perhaps he could convince Leliana to send assassins after certain men attending the party, whatever worked best.
Hours later, after he was pretty sure the alcohol he had swallowed had dulled his anger, he returned to the ballroom, hoping to find Arian among the sea of dresses and suits. No matter where he looked though, that specific lavender color didn't appear in his vision, and he began to panic.
He, Leliana, and Josephine had told the young woman before they had even entered the Winter Palace to not go off alone, for nearly every person present at the ball wanted her dead. His thoughts drifted to the lord who he had seen her accompany last, and he mentally kicked himself for allowing his emotions to get the better of him and letting her out of his sight. What if the noble had snuck her into some other deserted part of the palace and slit her throat when no one was looking? What if he had taken her to a balcony on the very top floor and pushed her off into the courtyard below? What if he-
He nearly shouted in alarm when an arm shot out from behind a corridor and yanked him into a hidden alcove, and upon examining his attacker, he immediately recognized light periwinkle eyes and rosy lips smiling up at him.
"Arian," he chided, catching his breath in both fear and relief, "are you trying to give me a heart attack?" To his chagrin the elf just giggled in reply.
"I didn't think I'd catch you by surprise, I'm sorry. I just needed to get away for a moment. That man, what's his name? Dev-ro? Dev-er-o? Whatever, he's been tailing me all night, and I keep insisting I'm not interested but he doesn't seem to have functioning ears. Or maybe my accent is too understandable for him, I don't know."
Cullen frowned, the bitter envy he had experienced earlier kicking in once more. "He didn't put his hands on you or anything again, I hope?" he asked, his jaw tight.
Arian gave him a humored look, but shook her head anyway. "No," she replied, "I would've stabbed him the first time if we hadn't been in front of everyone, honestly."
The Commander groaned as his hand flew up to rub at his neck, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. "I'm sorry," he then muttered. "I just...watching all of those men act like dogs around you put me in a tight spot. I wanted so badly to just check each one in the face with my fist," he admitted.
"Why, dear Cullen, are you trying to tell me you were jealous?" Arian gasped in feigned shock, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. Despite his worry and disgruntlement the man couldn't help but offer her his distinct smirk, and his body shifted closer to hers as he settled his hands on her hips.
"And what if I was?" he asked huskily, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "It's no secret that you are the most beautiful attendee of this ball, Arian. Many would kill to have your hand after what they've seen tonight."
Arian hummed, her arms winding around his shoulders as she leaned up on her toes and directly pecked the scar on his mouth. "Would they? It wouldn't really matter though. I seem to have a preference for strapping ex-templars; blonde, brown-eyed, stern at first glance but soft as silk when you get to know them better."
Cullen chuckled at that, bending down slightly to press a gentle kiss to her lips, which lasted longer than he intended but he really didn't care.
"Soft as silk, hm?" he asked when they parted, raising a brow at her. She giggled in reply, before pulling herself away from him to step out from the corridor, much to his disappointment.
"I have to get back to the party," she said apologetically. "I have a feeling Leliana will be dogging me for information if I don't start investigating the servants' quarters soon." she reached for his hand before she was completely out of his range, however, giving his fingers a squeeze and then retreating back to the ballroom with a reassuring smile.
Cullen stood dumbstruck for a moment, watching her hips sway temptingly as she walked away, and he too found himself smiling confidently as he released a dreamy sigh.
"And to think that she's all mine," he boasted aloud with a laugh.