Chapter Text
Helena Trevelyan's legs swung from her perch atop Cullen's desk, a mixture of playfulness and nerves as she waited for him to return. Next to her sat a quaint little basket, filled with hot food and adorned with a few flowers she found growing in the Skyhold garden. She even plucked up the nerve to bring a bottle of nice wine she picked up in a market the last time they went to Ferelden. Not that she was assuming anything, but she was going to be prepared.
Between training new recruits, tying up loose ends with the red templar business and the strain of his withdrawal symptoms, Helena noticed he was pushing himself just a little too hard for her liking. The man didn't sleep well and he was a workaholic by nature. But not tonight. He was going to relax, dammit. They both would, for once.
But even as she did her best to exude confidence, a small voice in the back of her head nagged at her. He doesn't really want you, it whispered. One wrong move... One misfired spell and he'll snap. Just like the templars at Ostwick.
Helena knew in her heart it was wrong. Aside from the initial hesitation he showed when she sided with the mages over the templars, Cullen had been nothing but kind to her. And later, he had become one of her good friends. Now, the two of them were evolving into something more. She could feel it. A few shared kisses on the battlements lead to longer, more intense kisses in Cullen's office... Some atop the very desk she sat. Looking down at the dark wood made her blush. And then there was that lovely time they spent together in Fereldan a few weeks ago.
Helena was scared to put a word to her feelings, her experiences in the Circle reminding her she wasn't allowed an emotional connection. But this wasn't the Circle.
When Cullen looked at her, Helena felt herself became lighter, his smile lifting her spirits and allowing her to forget her inhibitions, insecurities, and troubles. When he touched her—caressed her cheek or kissed her forehead, she felt like one of the most beautiful women in Thedas. Her scars disappeared, her nose wasn't broken, and her hair wasn't an unruly mess. She felt complete.
“What have we here?” came a voice.
Surprised, Helena whipped her head up, hands raising instinctively to shield herself. Electricity crackled in her fingertips, but she suppressed the magic that desired to escape.
Cullen backed away, a worried look on his face. “Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you.”
“No!” Helena said, just a little too loudly. Embarrassed, she looked down. “I should be saying that to you... I came in unannounced, after all.”
“And made yourself at home, it seems,” Cullen chuckled. Helena looked up, and he flashed her an amused smile. She began to relax.
“I noticed you didn't have any lunch today,” she started as he took off his large overcoat.
“You noticed?”
Helena hesitated a moment. Biting her lip, she considered whether or not this was a good idea after all. Was it weird to bring someone you liked food? She didn't know. But regardless of her romantic intentions, it was important for him to eat. “Cassandra was complaining about how you forget to eat sometimes and I didn't notice you during dinner, so I asked the cook if she saw you at lunch and she said no so I decided to bring you something special... There's also wine,” she gestured to the bottle next to her.
A soft look came across Cullen's face as he examined the basket of food. “You did this...?”
Helena tucked a lock of hair behind her ear—an old habit now rendered useless as it did nothing for the wayward locks of her pixie cut. “The cook did the cooking. I have to admit that's not my strong suit. But I helped with getting the ingredients and deciding what to make,” she confessed. Nodding to the basket, she added, “Go ahead, it'll get cold.”
Cullen rummaged through at the basket, digging through fruit, rolls, and a nice cut of pork to find a small clay pot, still steaming. He lifted the lid and his eyes grew wide as the hearty smell of its contents hit him. He looked back at Helena with what she could only describe as puppy eyes. “Is this...?”
“Ferelden stew,” Helena confirmed. “And there's some good Ferelden cheese in there, too. I think it's from Denerim, actually. Apparently it's the king's favorite.”
Cullen kissed her tenderly. When they parted, Helena couldn't help but giggle at Cullen's enthusiasm over the Ferelden food.
“May I?” Culled asked. Helena nodded, turning on the desk so she faced him as he ate.
He did his best not to make a mess in front of her, she could tell. Smiling to herself, Helena resumed some of her daydreaming, as Cullen ate. A conversation earlier in the day with Leliana came back to her.
“Cullen...?” Helena asked.
“Mmn?”
“If you don't mind me asking... The Hero of Ferelden was a Circle mage... Did you know her?”
Cullen nearly choked on his stew.
“I... attended her harrowing, actually...” He said, when he regained his composure. “She was a lovely woman.”
Helena arched a brow as she saw Cullen's cheeks go pink. “Lovely?”
He swallowed. “There was some... youthful infatuation on my part,” he admitted. “A feeling I had forsaken,” he looked up at her. “Until recently.”
Helena smiled. “So, you never acted on it?”
Cullen shook his head. “She was one of my charges. Even if she felt the same it would have been inappropriate.” He set down his spoon, and leaned back in his chair. “I saw her once, after she became a Warden. She freed the tower during the Blight. I would be dead or mad if not for her.” He sighed. “I was in a sorry state when she found me. The things I said were... unkind. Untoward. I regret them, now. I wish she knew that.”
“Leliana says she might be able to get into contact with her.” Helena took Cullen's hand. “Maybe one day you'll get to tell her.”
Cullen smiled at her, gently squeezed her hand. “Maybe. I'm sure you two would get along.”
“Really?” Helena's eyes brightened. “I've always wanted to meet her. I used to want to be a Warden, actually.”
Cullen chuckled. “Truly?”
Helena nodded. “It seemed so romantic at the time. Back at Ostwick, when we heard of her story... She inspired us: a young mage from a life of poverty rose up to unite a far-off land and defeat the Blight with all odds stacked against her and her party. Who wouldn't want that? When I was younger, that's all I dreamed of.” She shook her head. “Pretty silly of me,” she sighed.
“I thought similar things of templar life,” Cullen said. “Although, there was no Archdemon in my daydreams.” Helena laughed.
Cullen took both her hands, now. “Regardless of what we aspired to be when we were younger, I'm thankful that the course both of our lives have taken have lead us to each other.” He brought her fingers to his lips, softly kissing them. He glanced up at her from under his eyelashes.
Helena felt a surge of heat course through her, her heart beating double-time. “There's no place I'd rather be,” she found herself saying, and she meant it. Cullen pulled her from the desk and with a surprised gasp, Helena was on top of him, nestled into his lap.
She curled into him, soaking up the warmth he radiated and sighed contentedly. He wrapped his arms around her, lingering at the curve of her waist, and rubbed circles at the small of her back. They stayed like that, for a time, just holding each other. As vulnerable as Helena knew it made her, she found she didn't care anymore. She'd never felt so at home.
Cullen spoke first. “Thank you for the wonderful meal. It felt nice to have some food from home.”
Helena sat up in his lap. “There's still wine,” she offered. He nodded, but made no move to release his hold on her. She smiled. “For that, you'd have to let me up,” she told him. Cullen pulled her down for a kiss, and Helena was suddenly uninterested in anything other than the commander's soft lips and ticklish stubble.
“Maybe we can skip the alcohol tonight,” she murmured against his lips.
Cullen chuckled. “You say that like we do this every night!”
“Maybe we should,” she suggested playfully, moving to kiss Cullen's neck. He gasped as her tongue danced over his jawline, and squeezed her waist tighter.
In that moment, Helena became aware of exactly the position she was in, as when she tried to move closer on his lap, she felt him press against her. She gasped at how hard he felt, and felt her own arousal burning with desire for attention.
“Oh,” she breathed against his neck, forgetting herself as her body buzzed with excitement. Small bites of her storm magic escaped from her fingertips.
Cullen stood suddenly, depositing Helena back onto the desk. He backed away, a hand messing his hair nervously. “I... I apologize.”
“No—I'm so sorry, Cullen, I wasn't paying attention. I...”
He shook his head, turning away from her. “Inquisitor, if you'll excuse me.”
Helena's face fell. “Cullen... Please. I'm not the Inquisitor right now. I'm just... me. I'm still Helena.”
He nodded, his back to her. “Forgive me... I need some time..” he trailed off.
Helena nodded, slowly, tears threatening to fall. She wanted to kick herself. “All right. I'll... I'll be going, then.” She slid off the desk, and looked at the bottle of wine she had brought, unsure whether to take it or leave it.
After a moment of consideration she resolved to leave it. Next time they would open it. As she left Cullen's office, she found herself praying there would be a next time.